The Tangled Web(122)

"Surely," Anna Marie von Dohna said, "we can just buy it somewhere else."



Sergeant Helmuth Hartke perched on a bale of dried peat and shook his head. "We know where they are, sure. But we can't get hold of them. If the general and the colonel just wanted them killed, maybe we could risk it. It wouldn't be smart, if you ask me, but we could. Go into Euskirchen, hang around, use any window of opportunity that presents itself to cut a throat, garrote a neck, put a dagger into a spinal cord . . ." He sighed, thinking how many lovely chances for close-in mayhem the world offered a man in the course of a normal day.

"But." He shook his head again. "General Brahe and Major Utt want them alive. They were very specific about this. Precise. Clear. So damned fucking clear that I can't even pretend that I misunderstood their orders. They don't want them dead at all. No, that's not quite true. They want them dead, real bad. But they want to put them on trial first, with a lot of publicity. Then they want to hang them."

Sergeant Lubbert Nadermann shook his own head, just as dolefully. "Not very practical, if you ask me. I've never understood officers. Me, I say, if you want to be rid of someone, then go ahead and get rid of him."

"That's why they make policy and we don't." Hartke looked back at the rest of the posse. "Pay attention now. The real point is that if we went in and just picked them off, we could leave the bodies there. But Brahe and Utt want them alive. It's a very different thing to bring a live body, no matter how tied up and gagged, through a guarded city gate, and then out through the camp where the dragoons are. Somebody's bound to ask, 'What's that?' Now I know that there are classic ways to smuggle live bodies around. One night, I remember, years ago, some Scotsman was telling a great tale around the fire about an queen from ancient Egypt, or maybe it was an ancient gypsy queen, who was rolled up in a rug."

Heisel nodded. "I heard that story myself. She was being smuggled in, though, not out, so she had time to plan and make arrangements. In the real world, trust me, you can't ever count on finding the right size of rug handy, and when you're going after somebody, carrying a rug with you is a real encumbrance. Awkward. It takes a pretty big rug, not one you can just roll up under your arm."

The younger soldiers sat wide-eyed, soaking in these words of wisdom from their elders.

"I 'accidentally' ran into that paddy in Geraldin's regiment—the one I used to know. We had a couple of beers and congratulated each other on still being alive." Heisel did his best to pat himself on the back. "He's not done too well, though. Pegleg. He's learned to be a farrier. He's willing to take on a boy to learn the trade from him. Not village blacksmith—just horse-shoeing and harness work having to do with the metal bits. That should place one of you."

Schild, one of the radio operators, stuck up his hand. "My dad's a blacksmith. Well, he was before he died. I was eleven, but I used to hang around the forge. I know what the words they use mean, at least."

Hartke nodded. "Heisel, introduce them tomorrow. But don't give the tuna tin transmitter to the blacksmith's apprentice. The paddy will be too interested in machinery. Anyone else?"

Bauer stuck up his hand. "I did good."

"How?"

"Colonel Butler's wife has this footman. He hates Butler—thinks that he's mean to his lady. The way this guy, Dislav is his name, thinks about the lady, it's like she was his daughter. If we can leave someone behind doing anything in Euskirchen, just as long as he can get to the tavern where this Dislav goes when he has time off, he'll be able to hear a lot."

Sergeant Nadermann shifted restlessly. "Nobody in the town is hiring strangers, though. Everyone's short of money, but the food is more of a problem. If they need someone, they hire a nephew or a godson or their friend's cousin's stepbrother's former student—someone from Euskirchen who'll be eating there anyway."

"The general gave us some money," Hartke said. "Is anyone game just to go into Euskirchen and hang around, paying his own way?"

"I can try giving the impression, no matter who asks me, that I'm working for some other of the archbishop's out-of-town hangers-on." Caspar Zeyler grinned. "My mother always said that she'd never known such a natural-born liar in her life."

An hour later, they had things sorted out. Hartke, as a matter of caution, did not leave the tuna tin transmitter with the natural-born liar, either. He gave it to one of his own men, a seasoned veteran from the Fulda Barracks regiment, with orders to report back to Mainz whenever either the colonels or the dragoons showed signs of moving. "You and Heisel stick together. Don't use it unless they do move, though. No point in taking risks. Somebody might see you throwing the antenna. As far as I'm concerned, no news is just no news. No point in telling General Brahe that nothing has happened."