Ferdinand waved his hand. "You're just guessing. And in the meantime, the Swedish bastard is marching into Poland. After taking Saxony and Brandenburg. It's obvious that once he conquers Poland we'll be the next meal on his plate."
Janos took a deep, slow breath. Calm, calm. Always essential, when you were arguing with an emperor.
"Ferdinand, ‘once he conquers Poland' is far easier said than done. And even if he succeeds, why would he come south? He'd have to break his alliance with Wallenstein to get to us. Far more likely he'd go after Muscovy."
"Yes, exactly!" The emperor leaned forward in his chair, which was not quite a throne but very close. "He'll keep the alliance with Wallenstein. They'll both attack."
Janos saw his chance. "In that case, Ferdinand, the logical thing to do is send all available forces to guard our border with Bohemia." He squared his shoulders, in the manner of man valiantly taking on a perilous task. "I offer to lead them myself."
Ferdinand stared at him suspiciously. The logic of the argument was impeccable, but . . .
The emperor was very far from being a dull-wit. He understood perfectly well that another effect of Drugeth's proposal would be to keep Austria from taking any irrevocable steps. Any nation had the right to protect its own borders, after all. Gustav Adolf could hardly use such a mobilization as a pretext for invasion. And it would keep Austria's army close to Prague—and close enough to the frontier with the Turks, should Drugeth's fears prove justified.
"I'll think about it," said Ferdinand, in a surly tone of voice.
Wismar, Germany, on the Baltic coast
The up-time radio operator frowned. "Say what?"
"Grain futures," Jozef Wojtowicz repeated.
The tow-headed young fellow's jaws moved, much like a cow chewing a cud. It was difficult to imagine that his people had once, in another world, put a man upon the moon. This particular American seemed about as bright as a sheepdog.
Eventually, Sergeant Trevor Morton confessed. "I don't exactly know what that is."
With a genial expression on his face, Jozef leaned forward across the table.
"It's not complicated. As you know"—which he certainly didn't—"Poland is the world's greatest exporter of wheat."
That might even be true. Close enough for these purposes.
"The grain is shipped through the Baltic. But the process is slow. Grain is bulky." Best to use short sentences. One syllable words as much as possible. "By the time it reaches the market, prices have often changed. Those who speculate"—no way to avoid that term—"in grain can lose a lot of money."
He paused, enabling the sergeant to absorb this mountain of knowledge.
"Yeah, okay, I get it," said that worthy eventually. His jaws were still moving back and forth. Jozef wondered what he could possibly be chewing? It couldn't be the bizarre material the up-timers called "chewing gum." That had vanished years ago. Jozef had never actually laid eyes on the stuff.
Perhaps Sergeant Morton, having gotten into the habit of chewing gum, had simply continued the process when the gum disappeared. Who could say?
"Well, then," Jozef continued. "Nothing has more effect on the travel time of Polish wheat down the rivers and across the sea than the weather."
That was probably true also, although Jozef was grossly overstating its importance to grain speculators. The real effect of the weather on grain prices was seasonal, not daily or weekly. But that wouldn't do for his purposes here.
"Yeah, okay, I can see that."
Jozef smiled. Mission accomplished?
Alas, no.
"But what's that got to do with me?" asked the American sergeant.
It was all Wojtowicz could do not to throw up his hands. Instead, in as gentle a tone of voice as he could manage, he continued the lesson in remedial bribery.
"The weather in northern Europe generally goes from west to east. As you know. Especially over the open waters of the Baltic. Where you are located, here in Wismar."
The reason the sergeant was located here was because of the USE air force base in Wismar. But the base was no longer used much for active air operations. It had become a sleepy garrison post. Hence the presence of sleep-walking soldiers like Morton. In earlier times, Jozef wouldn't have had to do all this, since the weather forecasts were broadcast openly. Lately, though, once it became clear that Gustav Adolf was going to invade Poland, the USE had decided that a knowledge of the upcoming weather might be a military asset, so they now kept the information as private as such information could be kept—which was not at all, as Jozef was now demonstrating. But then, no knowledgeable man expects a government to be any smarter than a cow.