Security Solutions, page 27
. . . which wouldn’t be necessary. Neustatter was in full SoTF dress uniform now: a dark blue coat of a slightly different cut than NESS’ with shoulder straps straight from the up-time Union Army and trousers of fustian dyed the lighter blue of woad. A pair of leather riding gloves was tucked under his right shoulder strap, and one of the new helmets sat off to his left on the table. Outlandish as the uniform might be, it still screamed “professional soldier.”
“Guten Abend,” Neustatter began. “May I have your name, bitte?”
The man remained silent.
“The up-time tradition is soldiers may give their name, rank, and serial number,” Neustatter continued, “while remaining silent on other matters. You are a soldier, ja?” After the man did not reply, Neustatter went on. “It is easy to see. You had some skill in the forest, and you handled your weapon well. My men said you told the others not to talk to us. All this suggests you are in command.”
Neustatter paused to see if the man would say anything. But he stared straight back at him without saying anything. Neustatter asked a few more questions without receiving a response. He nodded to Karl, who stepped forward.
“Stand up.”
The man’s face finally held an expression. Curiosity, Neustatter thought. Karl ushered him to the door and knocked. Ditmar opened the door, and the two of them took the man back to the room he’d been held in. They were back in a few minutes with the man who had been first in line.
After he had been seated and the lantern half-opened, Neustatter opened the same way.
“Guten Abend. May I have your name, bitte?”
This man also remained silent.
“The up-time tradition is soldiers may give their name, rank, and serial number while remaining silent on other matters. You have a sense of competence. Sneaking through the forest is not something you do often.” Neustatter waggled a hand. “Maybe a soldier, but if so, one used to the old-style units. Perhaps something else altogether. It makes me wonder—why are you here?”
The man said nothing.
“This seems late. Desperate. Anyone can see what is coming. Why send spies to Grantville now? Last year or the year before? Sure.”
Still nothing.
Neustatter nodded to Karl, who ushered the man from the room. He and Ditmar and Astrid returned with the first couple. Meanwhile Neustatter had added a second chair to each side of the table. After seating the couple on one side of the table, Astrid circled it and sat down to Neustatter’s left. Then Neustatter half-opened the lantern.
Both looked away from the lantern, and the woman raised her left hand to shield her eyes. Neustatter waited a few moments.
“May we have your names, bitte?”
The man and woman exchanged glances.
Astrid cocked her head to one side. “Are you . . . together?”
Neither answered.
“Should we send you off to separate prisoner of war camps, or would you like to be kept together?”
She glanced at the man, who made a calming gesture with one hand.
“Do you have a preference?” Astrid pressed.
The woman seemed to have regained her composure, though, and no answers were forthcoming. Neustatter nodded to Karl.
A few minutes later, they had the other couple in the room.
“May we have your names, bitte?”
This man and woman remained silent, too, although this woman was already fidgeting.
Astrid followed with the same question as before. “Are you . . . together?”
Neustatter saw the other man’s face tighten just a bit. He hoped Miss Schäubin had seen the woman’s reaction, if there had been one.
Further questions got them nowhere. Neustatter signaled Karl.
Once all the prisoners had been returned to their respective rooms, Neustatter, Astrid, Georg, Barbara, and the USE Lieutenant Schmidt gathered in the room they’d used for the interrogations.
Neustatter summarized. “They refused to answer questions. I think they are scared.”
“Terrified,” Miss Schäubin stated.
“Did any of them protest? Proclaim their innocence?” Lieutenant Schmidt asked.
“Nein.”
“Strange,” Schmidt mused. “We would not believe them, but why not try?”
“We need at least one of them to talk with us,” Barbara Kellarmännin said.
“We can tell one of them another has confessed—” Schmidt began.
“Nein.”
“The authorities are not required to tell the truth at this stage of an investigation,” Schmidt explained. “At hearings, at trial, ja. In interrogation, nein.”
Neustatter jumped in before Miss Kellarmännin could. “Of course, once any of them realize they were lied to, we would get no more information at all.”
“Nein,” Lieutenant Schmidt argued. “At least one of them will turn state’s evidence to avoid being hanged as a spy.”
“What if that approach just gets you six dead spies and no answers?” Barbara asked.
Schmidt shrugged.
Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “You want their targets, ja?”
“Without knowing their goals, it would be difficult to stop a second group that came a different way,” Neustatter pointed out.
“The war will be over by then,” Schmidt countered.
“Unless the mastermind is—or becomes—a mercenary.” Neustatter said. “We need to know where they were going.”
“We need someone to break.” Schmidt’s words were blunt, but none of the rest of them could disagree.
“We need someone to trust us.” Barbara Kellarmännin spoke quietly. “We need to find their rock, and we need to deal with it. Neustatter, may Otto join us?”
“Why?”
“Because I think I know what is coming, and I want to pray about it first.”
Lieutenant Schmidt rolled her eyes, then stopped as she saw Neustatter didn’t look surprised.
“Can’t see as how it’d hurt.” He got up and returned with Otto. Lieutenant Schmidt’s expression conveyed she didn’t understand why Otto Brenner was necessary for this part. Neustatter was pretty sure he knew.
“Otto!”
“Miss Kellarmännin.”
Barbara smiled at his formality, the first time she’d done so since arriving. “Will you pray with us before Astrid and I question the women?”
“Ja.”
Georg began. “Lord God, You know all things. Please reveal why these people have come . . . .”
Next, Barbara prayed briefly. Then Astrid. After Neustatter, Otto, and Schmidt declined to say anything aloud, Georg Meisner concluded.
After the amen, Barbara looked up. “Leutnant, do you have a file for this case? It need not be complete—just something we can have in front of us.”
“Und paper, ink, and a quill, bitte,” Astrid added.
“And food and drink, bitte.” Barbara repeated her earlier advice. “Nothing fancy. Cheese toast and small beer will work.”
Once everything was in place, Lieutenant Schmidt addressed Barbara. “You should be in uniform.”
“Herr Chief Richards has not told me to wear a uniform,” Barbara answered.
“The other Leutnants Schmidt and I will not be in the room because we do not want to draw the Saxons’ attention to us. If you are not in uniform, they will assume you are with Intelligence.”
“I can introduce myself as a profiler from the Grantville Police Department.”
“Nein! That is the very last thing you ought to say!” Schmidt threw Neustatter a rather desperate look.
“It is important not to draw attention to Leutnant Schmidt’s people or even to what your do, Miss Kellarmännin,” Neustatter said. “The simplest thing to do would be for you to wear a uniform.”
“But I am not in the National Guard. It would be a lie.” Then Barbara took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. “This is like AF, is it not? Herr Miller told me about Midway Island radioing it was short of fresh water when it was not. Before the Battle of Midway.”
“Ja, it is like AF,” Lieutenant Schmidt answered. “I do not need you to say you are in the National Guard. I need you to look like you are in the National Guard.”
“Where are we going to find her a uniform?” Neustatter asked.
“You can wear one of mine,” Schmidt offered. “We are about the same size. So, a correction: I need you to look like you are in the USE Army.”
Barbara looked stubborn.
“Fine. I can swear you in for the day.”
Barbara, Georg, Astrid, and Neustatter all said it together. “Brethren don’t swear oaths.”
Lieutenant Schmidt leaned over and bonked her head on the tabletop. Twice. Then she looked up at them. “Is there going to be a problem with guns, too?” She saw the nods. Thrice.
Then her head came up again, and she focused on Neustatter. “You know up-timer movies. Explain Sergeant York to her, bitte.”
At the end of Neustatter’s explanation, Barbara appeared unconvinced.
Astrid spoke up. “I’m wearing. Neustatter, you and Ditmar and Karl will be ready to burst in, right? So we are prepared.”
“How do we know someone will take orders without an oath?” Schmidt asked.
“Have you seen Spartacus’ pamphlet on why oaths are part of the old order and out of place in the new timeline?” Georg asked. “He argues they are an artifact of a system that valued order above justice.”
“Without order, all is chaos,” Schmidt shot back. “Neustatter?”
“I do not philosophize about chaos,” Neustatter answered. “I just use it.”
Schmidt let that pass without comment and touched the crutches leaning against her chair with one hand. “I will . . . affirm Miss Kellarmännin into my service, the USE Army, for the day. Unlike the SoTF National Guard, which is very committed to the idea that everyone goes to basic training, the USE Army makes exceptions for certain technical experts.”
* * *
A little while later, Astrid took Neustatter’s usual place at the center of one side of the table. Barbara, duly affirmed into the USE Army and wearing one of Lieutenant Schmidt’s gray uniforms, sat to her right, behind the lantern.
Neustatter and Ditmar escorted the woman Neustatter had captured into the room.
“Sit down, bitte,” Astrid began.
The woman’s eyes flitted back and forth but she sat readily enough.
Astrid stifled a grin as she looked over at Neustatter. “That will be all, Leutnant.”
As soon as he closed the door, Barbara threw the shutter on the lantern open and moved it further down the table to where to would provide illumination rather than a blinding glare. Then she went to the opposite end of the table and uncovered the cheese toast and small beer. After sliding the tray to the center of the table, she resumed her seat.
The woman eyed the food and drink.
“Go ahead,” Astrid told her.
The woman made no movement.
Barbara sighed. She stood and turned her back on the table, then reached behind her and found a piece of the cheese toast.
“Do you agree this is a random sample?” she asked.
“Ja,” the woman admitted.
Barbara sat back down and took a bite. “Then I think we can agree it is not poisoned, and you can go ahead and eat.”
The woman gave her a hint of a smile. Then she took a piece of cheese toast and all but inhaled it.
“Allow me to point out we are on a military base, and if the USE or the SoTF wanted to make you disappear, it would not be hard.” Astrid gave the woman a thin smile.
“Nein,” the woman blurted out.
“Nein, it would not be hard? Nein, it would? Nein, please do not make you disappear?”
The woman did not answer.
“Come. Help us, bitte. Why will you not talk?” Astrid waited. “It is possible the State of Thuringia-Franconia will execute you as spies. If you can give a reason not to do so . . . ”
At least a full minute passed. Then Barbara spoke up.
“Who are you protecting?” The woman’s mouth dropped open, and Barbara pressed on. “Family? Children? Nein. The man who stayed behind to delay Neustatter while you ran?” Barbara nodded knowingly. “He is important to you. Und you are blushing, so I think the two of you are not married. Another reason I think you do not have children. A sister? Younger than you. Just as blonde. Between fifteen and twenty years of age—and in danger.”
Astrid felt her own eyes go wide. From the woman’s shocked expression, at least a good portion of Barbara’s conclusions were correct.
“Is your sister shorter than you? Slender? Someone has threatened her, ja? But not just threatened. He would have given her small presents. Jewelry perhaps? Some shiny up-time item?”
“How do you know this?” The woman sounded like she was somewhere between awestruck and terrified—which seemed reasonable to Astrid. She felt the same. Well, nein, she wasn’t terrified. She was angry.
“Are you willing to talk with us now? Not to the SoTF National Guard or the USE Army. But with us women.”
“I cannot.” The woman’s voice broke as she choked back a sob.
“Dying to protect your sister will not work,” Barbara declared. “Let me tell you what else I know. The man who contacted you is a down-timer. He is short, and he speaks good Saxon German. You may not have seen his face because his hat was pulled low, and he wore a cloak. There may have been other women in similar circumstances but he left them alone because they are brunettes.”
The woman gasped. “How do you know these things?” Her eyes narrowed. “You must have already caught him!”
“Nein. We almost caught him in June.”
“Then how do you know all this?”
Despite her obvious distress, the woman had a lovely voice. Astrid could imagine her singing somewhere. She made a snap decision to ignore Lieutenant Schmidt’s instructions. “Barbara is a profiler. She studies the behavior of criminals.”
“Did you grow up in a village or a town?” Barbara’s voice was gentle.
“A town,” the woman answered.
Barbara smiled. “Think back to your town. Do you remember anyone who had very definite opinions about how children ought to be raised?
The woman actually giggled. “Ja.”
“Was this person older, crotchety, sure the younger generations are doing it wrong?”
“Ja.”
“This is a simplified version of what I look for,” Barbara explained. “People who have similar experiences and similar motivations do things in similar ways. The up-timers studied their most dangerous criminals and found it was true of them. It is the key to stopping them.”
Astrid saw the woman’s interest fade as if a light had gone out.
“You do not believe he can be stopped.” Astrid shrugged. “It is not hard to read you, Frau. May I know what to call you other than just Frau?”
“I am no Frau.”
“You will be if you stay here in the SoTF.” Barbara sounded a bit absent-minded, as if she were concentrating on something else. “What we need is information—anything else you know about him, where he is now . . . where your sister is.”
“If I betray him, he will . . . hurt my sister!”
“I think you mean ‘rape.’” Barbara’s hard tone surprised Astrid. “He has taken your sister to compel you to spy for him, ja? You think if you are executed after being caught, he might let her go free. This is why you will not talk with us.”
“Ja! It is! You must let us go or execute us quickly!” The woman surged to her feet.
“Siddown.” Astrid was on her feet, too, with her hand already on the butt of her pistol.
Barbara remained seated. She spoke calmly as the other two women faced off. “It is not in the SoTF’s interest—or the USE’s—to execute you. Sprunck will prey on more women and coerce others to come and spy for him.”
“It is true,” Astrid added. “This is his fourth or fifth operation against Grantville, depending on how you count them.” She waited a beat. “That we know of.”
“You cannot get caught,” Barbara began.
“But I am already caught!” the woman wailed.
“Sprunck does not know.”
Astrid let Barbara’s statement hang in the air for a few moments, then she said, “I assume Sprunck told you if you are a successful spy for him, your sister will be safe.”
The woman gave her a short, quick nod.
“Then it is what you must do—except the SoTF will tell you what you must spy. What are your instructions?”
* * *
An hour later, Lieutenant Schmidt, Neustatter, Astrid, Barbara, and Georg conferred.
“You flipped her,” the female Lieutenant Schmidt acknowledged.
“Maybe.” The white-haired Lieutenant Schmidt who had promoted Neustatter entered the room. “She may have said what she needed to get the two of you to leave her alone.” He smiled. “I might have done the same. No offense.”
Astrid smiled back.
“So what are we going to do?” the female Schmidt asked.
“Let them go to the places Sprunck sent them to but report what we”—Astrid’s hand circled, indicating the whole group—“want them to.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Neustatter drawled, “but they could give Saxony accurate information, and it wouldn’t make any difference. So Saxony steals some manufacturing processes. Torstensson is going to go through them long before they can build any factories.”
“You are not wrong,” the older Schmidt told him. “While it goes against the grain, the right thing to do is follow the Stearns Plan.”
“The right thing to do is to help these people,” Barbara stated. “All of our ‘right things’ align.”
“Now you just need to convince the other five,” Schmidt pointed out. “None of this will work if even one of them holds out.”
“Or pulls a triple cross.” The older Schmidt’s words were grim. “All it would take is a code word they are under duress.”
Neustatter’s tone was equally grave. “We need to know where Sprunck is. If we take him out . . . ”
The older lieutenant—the one wearing captain’s bars on his shoulders—shook his head. “Miss Schäubin, you said Anna said they set out from Zwickau.”
