His fellow silk weaver, Abraham Levasseur, made a calming gesture. "Guillaume is getting impatient, André. Here, we are planning. Focusing. Preparing various projects, such as the one we have already given to Abraham Levasseur. In Frankfurt, he and the others are merely waiting. These little enterprises will occupy their minds and give them something to do."
"I disagree." Delerue waved one hand at the report that had just come in. "They are only using the demonstrations as excuses to not make any real effort to carry out the assassinations we ordered. A piddling attack on a hospital. A minor action against a synagogue. What is the point?"
Ducos chimed in, very forcefully. "I don't intend to let them lose sight of the ultimate purpose. Reiterate my instructions to Guillaume. Between the election and the transfer of power. No matter who wins the election, Stearns or Wettin. Think—the emperor, Stearns, and Wettin dead. All that welds these Germanies together gone. With Kristina dead, the new union of Kalmar, fragile enough at the best of times, will be broken. There is no other obvious heir in Sweden, either, so Oxenstierna and Brahe will be pulled out of Germany to handle civil strife and two generations of attempts by the Vasas to build a centralized kingdom will collapse. Poland will intervene, again. Which will tempt Russia to send another tentacle toward Poland. Which will distract both Wallenstein and Ferdinand III, opening a gate for the Ottomans."
Ducos sat back, in happy contemplation of the impending chaos. Armageddon would be welcome, if that was what it took to remove Richelieu from his post.
If only the lever he needed to move the world proved adequate to the task.
"Again, Antoine. Repeat my instructions in your reply. Remind them again. All five. On the same day. In the same place. As soon as possible after the election."
"Guillaume has brought up the difficulty of getting them all in the same place at the same time. Not to mention security."
Michel Ducos narrowed his eyes. "Guillaume, too, is a tool in the hand of God. I have seen a vision. He has done better, perhaps, than he believes. These demonstrations that he is planning—minor in themselves, just as you say—will occur in Grantville. If they should turn out not to be so minor? If the consequences of these actions should become greater? All five of our real targets might, by some happy chance, gather in Grantville itself. Leaving, necessarily, most of their excessive security apparatus behind."
Delerue clasped his hands behind his head. "I read the newspapers, too. On this 'Thanksgiving' festival, Stearns and his wife went to Grantville by plane. Leaving the sturdy Yeoman Warders behind in Magdeburg. Accompanied, the whole time they were in the town, only by a few soldiers from the SoTF forces who met them at the air field with a single truck. Standing for a period of time, quite out in the open, on the sidewalk in front of his house."
Ducos nodded. "An invitation, Antoine. A clear sign. An indication of the will of divine providence."
Grantville
What they called the "dry table" at the 250 Club wasn't exactly dry. That just turned out to be Ken Beasley's description for wine instead of 'shine or beer. The people who sat there seemed to spend a lot of time talking politics.
"I'm not going to vote for Wettin. No way." Bryant Holloway wasn't yelling, but his voice didn't give any hint of flexibility.
Dumais had received instructions directly from Rohan and from Locquifier via de Ron through Mauger to make contact with the up-time firefighter as soon as he returned from Frankfurt. For, of course, different reasons.
"Ah, but why, then? Although you oppose Stearns, you do not support his opponent?"
"Because Wettin is one more goddamned Kraut, Dumais. Surely you can figure that out for yourself. We're overrun with them. This stupid Stearns immigration policy. Come one, come all. Stay a while, take an oath of allegiance, and 'presto, you're a citizen now.' No standards at all. Good God, considering how long you've been working here, all you would have to do yourself would be walk down to the administration building, enroll in their little class, and bingo!"
Jacques-Pierre looked at Holloway consideringly. This was one aspect of his current assignment in Grantville that had not, for some reason, crossed his mind previously.
The man was steamrolling along. "Sure, Stearns is married to a Kraut, but at least he's an American himself. Wettin, even if he's changed his name, was born a Kraut nobleman and he's still a Kraut nobleman, no matter what he calls himself. He's married to another one. He's got a brother who is fighting us. He'd not be any improvement. Worse."