1635_ The Eastern Front - Eric Flint [158]
Chapter 41
Zielona Góra
"It happened weeks ago!" Thorsten Engler was a very even-tempered man, but he was feeling decidedly peevish at the moment. You could even say, angry.
"Weeks," he repeated.
The radio operator who'd handed him the message was looking simultaneously apprehensive and indignant, the way a man will when he can see he's about to get blamed for something that was no fault of his own.
Jason Linn put a hand on Engler's shoulder. Not to restrain him, simply to remind him that there was an external world that had an objective reality outside of the swirling furies of his mind.
"Captain, there's no sense in yelling at Corporal Schwab. He's just the one the message passed through."
Schwab gave Linn a quick, thankful glance. For his part, Thorsten took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it out slowly. He'd first discovered that technique for controlling his temper at the age of six.
"Indeed," he said stiffly. Just as stiffly, he gave the corporal a nod. "Thank you for bringing me this message, Schwab. You may go."
After Schwab left, Thorsten lifted the message sheet above his head, as if to slam it down somewhere. But, again, he took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly. Then, quite gently, he set the message down on a table in the officers' mess. The table was one of several that had been brought into the large main room of a house very close to the city's center. It was called the "officers' mess," but it was open to what you might call established sergeants like Jason.
Shaking his head, Thorsten pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I can't believe they didn't tell me right away. That was weeks ago."
Jeff Higgins came into the mess. "What was weeks ago?"
"Caroline was there—in Stockholm. When the queen was assassinated and Kristina almost was."
Higgins frowned. "I thought you knew that already."
"Of course I knew. But I didn't know what had happened to her. She was often at Kristina's side. Was she hurt? Killed? There was no news! And with those people in Stockholm, I could hardly assume that no news was good news." The term those people could have been milked for venom.
Jeff pursed his lips. "Um . . . Yeah, I see what you mean. They're still pretty traditional up there. That's a polite way of saying ‘medieval.' If you're not royalty, nobility or at the very least some sort of official, nobody will think to mention that ‘oh, yeah, and Joe the Butcher got killed too.' I take it she is okay? Caroline?"
"Yes, she's fine. As it happens—thank God—she wasn't at the site of the crime when it happened. She was still in her room, packing."
Like many down-timers who associated with Americans a lot, Thorsten was more relaxed about blasphemy than most. Eric Krenz had practically turned it into a art form.
"So how'd you finally find out?" asked Jeff.
Engler looked a bit embarrassed. He nodded at Linn, who had taken a seat at an adjoining table. "It was his idea."
Jason grinned. "He was having the radio guys send queries every other day. Waste of time, of course, because he was sending them as ‘Thorsten Engler.'" Linn jeered. "Who the hell is that? Sounds like a peasant."
Jeff laughed. "So you finally sent one as the imperial count of Narnia. Don't tell me. I bet you got a response the next day."
Thorsten finally smiled. "The same day, actually. I sent it early this morning."
Higgins took a seat next to Linn and folded his big hands on the table. "I'm lucky that way. The radio operators I deal with are CoC on the other end. You think you got problems, Engler? Where do you think my wife is?"
He didn't wait for their guesses. "Dresden. Guess how she got there?"
He didn't wait for their guesses. "Plane crash. Never a dull moment, being married to Gretchen."
Berlin, capital of Brandenburg Province
"So what's the verdict, James?" Mike handed Dr. Nichols a short glass filled halfway with some sort of clear liquid. Liquor, from