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Chapter 4: Now Hiring

June 1634


The rest of the Bibelgesellschaft mission went very well. As soon as the team returned to Grantville, Hjalmar and Ditmar told Neustatter that the SoTF National Guard had sent the men’s annual training orders. They wanted NESS for June’s Eagle Pepper exercise.

The men reported for duty on Friday, June 16 and stayed through Monday, June 26. That left Astrid running NESS for ten days. Most of that was sitting in the office and occasionally explaining to potential clients that Neustatter and the men would not be available until they finished helping with the current basic training cycle. Astrid started another letter to Pastor Claussen. Anna wrote to her family. She had started walking the short distance to the livery stable most afternoons to brush the horses.

The USE had expanded during and after the Baltic War. The Congress of Copenhagen had created entire provinces. Most were some assembly required, as the up-time expression went. But the beginnings of industry were starting to spread, and soon NESS had a contract to guard a shipment of machine tools to Frankfurt that summer. It would take at least three weeks, which was going to be lucrative for NESS. The clients were actually a group of businesses which could split NESS’ fee.

NESS was doing well as a business. But Astrid realized she was going to bed exhausted. She thought about that the next day, and realized it had nothing to do with NESS. She was spending a lot of time chasing after Johann after work. Ursula was five or six months along, and, although she insisted otherwise, not really able to keep up with an eight-year-old boy.

Astrid rethought her tactics. Johann had been a handful when they lived in the village. Since they’d come to Grantville, he’d been a pretty good kid most of the time, becoming a handful again only recently. Ursula tended to ascribe it to Stefan being gone more. But the longer Astrid thought about it, the more she thought there was more to it than that. Certainly, there had been a change in Johann’s behavior since Stefan had come back from the war, but Stefan and the rest of the men had been gone for days at a time since the beginning of spring. Nein, this had more to do with summer vacation. Johann had a lot of time on his hands.

At dinner that evening, Astrid asked him, “Johann, do the friends you met in Spring Branch and Murphyhausen still live in Grantville?”

“Ja! Hans and Fritz live in different places now. Josef still lives in the same place, but it’s not the refugee housing. It’s down the road.”

“Were they in your class at school?”

“Ja, of course.”

“And school is out . . . Johann, what do Hans and Fritz and Josef do during the summer?”

“Josef plays baseball!”

Aha! “He plays baseball?”

“Ja, he is on a team.”

“How does that work? Not baseball,” Astrid hastened to add. “How does being on a team work?”

Johann enthusiastically explained. Astrid learned all about T-ball and summer leagues and how it all worked. After Johann went to bed, she asked Ursula about it.

“Ja, sure, it would be good for him—if we could afford the equipment, and if we had a way to take him to the games.”

“What if I found a way?”

Ursula shrugged.

The next day at work Astrid decided that as long as they had a phone, she might as well use it. It took a while, but she learned that the first season ended in July, and then there would be a second season in July and August. She also learned about fundraising and sponsorships and team names.

Anna readily agreed to watch the office the next day. Astrid volunteered to watch Johann for the day. She had an idea, and she figured Neustatter was either going to like it, or he was going to think she was crazy.

“Johann, if we go over to Murphyhausen, do you think you can find Josef’s house from there?”

“Ja, I sure can! But let’s go to the refugee housing where we lived at first.”

Astrid discovered that Josef lived in Spring Branch, which seemed even more crowded than before. Johann found Josef’s house with ease, leading her to believe that he and his friends had ranged over a much larger area than the adults had been aware of.

Johann knocked on the door. It opened moments later.

“Johann!” a dark-haired boy exclaimed. Astrid figured he must be Josef.

Josef’s mother was only steps behind him.

“Can I help you? Oh, gut morgen, Johann.” She looked up at Astrid. “Are you his mother?”

“Nein. I bin Astrid Schäubin. I come from the same village as Johann and his parents. Do you have a few minutes? I would like to ask you about the baseball league.”

Frau Forster was only too happy to enlighten her. “Josef is a very good player. He is the shortstop.”

By the end of the conversation, Astrid understood they simply needed a way to get Johann to practice and to games—and that the person she wanted to talk to about this was not Stefan or Ursula, but Neustatter.

* * *

NESS ran into another problem that was not nearly as easy to fix. The first Sunday the men were on annual training was also the first Sunday after they had returned from the Bibelgesellschaft meetings in Jena. Astrid saw the dark looks that Pastor Holz and a few others were giving her, Anna, and Ursula.

“Was it like this last Sunday, too?” Astrid whispered to Anna.

“Ja.”

After the service, as they were filing out, Pastor Holz took them aside.

“You should warn your men they are treading dangerously, dealing with heretics.”

Anna cringed. Astrid grasped for something to say, but Ursula beat her to it.

“If you have something to say to Stefan, tell him yourself, Pastor.” After the briefest of pauses, she added, “Guten Tag.”

Once they were safely outside and on our way home, Astrid gave Ursula an inquiring look.

“I have not decided if our men acted wisely or foolishly,” Ursula declared, “but if you have a problem with a man, go to him directly. Not through his wife.”


Tuesday, June 27, 1634


After the men returned from their National Guard training and had a day to get some sleep, Neustatter sat down with Astrid in the office to go over the books and upcoming missions.

“Gut,” he pronounced. “We have enough money to start hiring additional agents.”

“How many?” Astrid asked.

“Four, I think. We will need a weapon for each, of course.”

Neustatter allowed himself to lean back in his chair. “The SoTF National Guard has changed basic training some since last summer, based on lessons learned in the Baltic War. Eagle Pepper—you are more likely to hear it called Adler Pfeffer these days—is a lot more . . . professional, I guess I would say. It is not that we were goofing off last year, but actual war changes things. Everyone from the drill sergeants on down took it more seriously. Us, too. We still broke Adler Pfeffer. But not to prove we could win. To train what we would do to an actual enemy. They have begun teaching MOSS MOUSE, an up-time way to remember the principles of war, even to enlisted men, on the grounds that anyone could find himself in a key position. The two great heroes of the Battle of Ahrensbök—Engler and Hartmann—were both sergeants at the time, so it is not hard to see why.”

Astrid nodded. That made sense, even though she was not familiar with the specifics.

“We are going to do Adler Pfeffer again in August,” Neustatter continued. “By then some veterans of Ahrensbök will rotate to Camp Saale. The training will be the best yet. Quite a few of the recruits we have trained with are very promising. A lot of them are now active duty, of course. But there are a couple Reservists I want to visit in the next few days.”

“You are telling me this because you met recruits you want to hire.”

“Ja. One of them is a Jakob Bracht. He was in our recruit class last year. I think he has been in some tough places in life.”

“Do you think he needs another chance?” Astrid was skeptical.

“Nein. I think he took his other chance when he joined the SoTF National Guard. But he is in the Reserves, and he is doing day labor the rest of the time. There is another man, Gottlieb Seidelman, who would be a good addition, too.”

“And the other two?”

“I think we are going to have to advertise.”

Astrid had her doubts about that, but they placed classified ads in the Times, the Freie Presse, and the Daily News.


Tuesday, July 4, 1634


All of them went into Grantville on July 4. It was the up-timers’ Independence Day, but most of them just called it the Fourth of July. They had held a parade in 1631, just a little over a month after the Ring of Fire, and now it was what everyone expected. There were flags everywhere—the new USE flag, the SoTF flag, and the up-time American flag. Grantville was crowded. A lot of people had chosen the Fourth of July to visit. Some came for the tech fair. The regular fair—the agricultural one—would be later in the summer. At night there would be fireworks.

Most of all, there was food. Up-timers—Americans, Astrid corrected herself, because it might not have been the same in other up-time countries—had specific foods they ate outside in summer. Hamburgers, hot dogs, barbecue, potato salad . . . She’d had some of these before. They ate a little here and a little there, and it all added up to a lot.

At the same time, they were walking around Grantville in uniform. Their uniforms were not anything more than tan shirts and trousers (or skorts in Astrid’s case), with halstücher and hats. But it was enough. Passersby frequently greeted Neustatter.

Some of the other companies were doing the same thing. They saw men from Bretagne’s Company and men from Schlinck’s Company, even a few Hibernians.

“Some of Schlinck’s men are trash talking,” Ditmar reported when they all met up near the town square.

“Have your team keep an eye on each other. Do not talk back. Not today. But if they follow one of your team members, the other two should trail behind their guys and involve the polizei sooner rather than later,” Neustatter directed.

Astrid tried to watch passersby carefully, but there were so many people in downtown Grantville that it was difficult. She certainly noticed that the same group of four of Schlinck’s men kept crossing paths with them. She spotted other people more than once, too. One was a striking dark-haired woman who reminded her of Anna, enough so that she did not focus on the man or the two children with her. For a while, Astrid was not sure why she reminded her of Anna. Her hair was dark, shorter (but still long), and styled differently. Her face was nothing like Anna’s. The third time Astrid saw her, she realized it was her clothes. Unless she was very mistaken, the woman came from peasant stock. Her clothes were simple but well-made, and she had added some color here and there. That was what reminded Astrid of Anna. Leigh Ann would say that she knew how to accessorize.

The two children—a boy and a girl—also wore simple but neat clothing with small touches of color. The man wore standard workman’s clothes.

“What do you see?” Neustatter spoke quietly, which he did not do often.

“She sews like Anna. They are what the up-timers call working class but could be mistaken for middle class.”

“Interesting. We keep crossing paths, and it is the husband who is choosing their way.” Neustatter studied the family.

The man returned his gaze.

“Do you want me to intercept the wife?” Astrid asked.

“Nein.” Neustatter turned and scanned the crowd. With a jerk of his head, he sent Wolfram instead.

“You want me at the interview,” Astrid realized.

The man approached them near the middle school.

“Guten Tag.” He paused and seemed to gather his words. “I bin Phillip Pfeffer. I know you are Herr Neustatter.”

Astrid smiled. It was always funny when someone called Neustatter herr.

“I heard you might be hiring.”

“We are. Are you looking for work, Herr Pfeffer?”

“Ja.” He glanced downward and generally seemed uncomfortable with that answer. Very stiffly, he added, “I have been taking day labor jobs in Grantville for two years now. I am looking for something steady.”

Neustatter was nodding slowly. “What are your skills?”

“I can farm. Quite well.” Pfeffer shrugged. “But I cannot buy a farm or buy into an arrangement inside the Ring of Fire. Outside the Ring . . . I have asked to join several gemeinde, but they choose people they know, and it is hard to fault them for that. I take day labor jobs with villages around the Ring as often as I can, to make myself known to them.”

Neustatter was still nodding. Pfeffer was doing everything right. It just had not worked out for him.

“Have you tried the USE Army or the SoTF National Guard?” Neustatter asked.

“I looked into it,” Pfeffer answered. “I have my wife and children and my parents. If I enlisted, all of my pay would not be enough to keep them in Grantville. I want my children in school, and my parents near Leahy.”

That was . . . a really good reason, Astrid thought.

“Ever been in a fight?”

“Ja, a few.”

“I will not say ja or nein today.” Neustatter handed him a business card. “Our office is on Route 250, out past the high school. Come see me tomorrow.”

“Danke, Herr Neustatter.”

Pfeffer excused himself and collected his family, who had been talking with Wolfram and Anna.

Neustatter raised an eyebrow as Wolfram and Anna joined him and Astrid.

“I like Agathe,” Anna pronounced.

Johann darted up before anyone could say more.

“There’s a fight!” he blurted out. “Well, there will be. Ditmar’s team.”

“Take us there,” Neustatter directed.

Johann sped off down the road, across the bridge, and toward the post office. A crowd had gathered, leaving open space in the middle. Ditmar, Stefan, and Lukas were facing off against half a dozen men.

Neustatter pocketed his halstuch and motioned for Wolfram and Astrid to do the same.

“I said you’re a coward!” one of the men roared at Ditmar.

Ditmar eyed the man’s nondescript clothing, boots, buff coat, and hat. He saw no indication of rank or unit anywhere. “You talk a lot,” he told the man.

“We are going show you who the toughest mercenaries are!”

“Six of you. Three of us. Does that make you tough?” Ditmar asked.

“I am going to . . . ”

Neustatter eased out of the crowd behind the men and stepped up between two of them. He threw his arms around the shoulders of both and put all his weight on them.

“Looks like a fight.” His tone was cheerful.

One of the men tried to shove him away. Neustatter clung to him all the harder. Then the pushing and shoving started.

Wolfram pushed out of the crowd and stepped up to another of the men confronting Ditmar’s team, taking him out of the play.

“Three and three right here,” Ditmar told their leader. “Now you look a lot tougher.”

They did not appear to want a fair fight. But then a couple more showed up.

“What is going on here?” the first demanded. He shoved a couple observers out of his way. “This is . . . ”

“As far as you are going.” Astrid stepped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. She did not draw. Yet.

He was a lot bigger than she, but he paused long enough to consider that. His partner, a thin, wiry man, did not. A small bludgeon appeared in his hand, and he gave Astrid a wide berth as he bore down on Neustatter.

He did not see the man who tripped him. He sprawled on the pavement, and the new arrival grabbed one of the men wrestling with Neustatter by the back of the collar. Astrid was exchanging glares with the man she had stopped and did not have time to look. But she heard someone hit the ground.

“I am going to take that gun away from you,” her opponent told her. He drew a knife.

Voices in the crowd contributed helpful advice about taking knives to gunfights.

“Break it up! Break it up!” came an authoritative voice.

“Polizei.” Neustatter’s voice carried over the crowd. “NESS, collapse into formation.”

Astrid knew what Neustatter meant, so she backed up a few steps. Her opponent’s knife disappeared as if by magic.

Officer Estes Frost wanted to arrest everyone, but the crowd was giving him an earful. Astrid was standing between Neustatter and Wolfram, back-to-back with Ditmar, Stefan, and Lukas. Then she realized there was someone else on the other side of Wolfram. She caught a glimpse of workman’s clothes and thought it was probably Phillip Pfeffer.

“Does everyone have eyes on your families?” Neustatter asked. He was not looking for them. He had locked eyes with the nearest opponent and was very deliberately tying his halstuch around his neck.

Astrid realized what he intended and started doing the same.

“Ja,” came Stefan’s voice.

“Ja,” Wolfram said.

“Ja.” That was definitely Phillip Pfeffer’s voice.

One of the men who had been confronting Ditmar’s team was quick-witted. He followed Phillip’s gaze and quickly spotted his family.

“It would be a shame if anything happened to your fam—”

Officer Frost was right there. Or rather, his nightstick was. He deftly placed it alongside the man’s jaw and turned the man’s head to face him. Astrid noticed a scar just above the nightstick and wondered if the man had been hit with one before.

“I do not like threats. There had better not be threats. You do not know what anyone’s family looks like or where they live or work. Is that understood?”

The man swallowed, considered his options, and muttered agreement.

Estes Frost turned toward NESS. “You, too.”

“No idea who they were or where they were going next, Officer,” Neustatter belted out.

The way he said it told Astrid that Neustatter knew exactly who these men were—and that made them mercenaries from Schlinck’s Company, of course. She did not know if Officer Frost realized that.

“Everybody, clear out.”

Officer Frost sent them off in separate directions. NESS ended up on Buffalo Street, headed in the general direction of Spring Branch and Murphyhausen.

“Is everyone okay?”

When they had assured Neustatter they were all fine, he asked, “What would everyone like to see in Grantville today?”

Everyone exchanged glances.

“I am sure there must be something at the fairgrounds.”

Astrid watched Anna and Phillip Pfeffer’s wife Agathe walking along, already deep in conversation. Johann had just as obviously already introduced himself to the Pfeffers’ son, who looked about his age. Astrid had to look around for Neustatter. He was trailing along behind everyone else, talking with Ditmar and Lukas in low tones. The two of them broke away and crossed the Marshall Street bridge.

Asking Neustatter what he had sent them to do would just call attention to them. Besides, Astrid was pretty sure what the answer was: find Hjalmar’s team. She was a little worried for her brother, but not much. After all, Ditmar and his team had been holding their own, and she was certain that Officer Frost would have radioed Mimi Rowland. All the polizei would be watching for trouble.

Neustatter sought her out next. “You already know they were Schlinck’s men.”

“Ja. If you were not sure of that, you would have said more to Officer Frost.”

“Ja. Describe each of the men you saw,” Neustatter directed.

Astrid did so.

“Write it down when we get home. I will send the men to describe the ones they saw.”

“You want me to build files,” Astrid said.

Neustatter gave her a sharp, quick nod. Then he changed the subject.

“What do you think of Pfeffer?”

“I think you should hire him. Anna and Johann obviously think so, too.”

“I will give everyone a chance to object, but I think that is what I will do.” Neustatter was quiet for a minute. “Schlinck may have helped us today. Others saw the confrontation. You did well. All of us did.”

“I do not know about that, Neustatter,” Astrid told him. “The big man was within twenty-one feet. If he lunged, I was going to have to try to shoot him.”

Neustatter nodded. “True. But, Miss Schäubin, why do you suppose a man twice your size felt he needed to pull a knife on you?”

Huh.

* * *

Something was certainly happening in Hough Park. Long rows of tables and other displays stretched across the playing field between the community center and the fairgrounds.

They wandered over.

“Cool!” Johann and the Pfeffer boy exclaimed together.

The tables displayed mechanical devices. Some were obviously kitchen appliances, and some others placed next to them probably were as well. Astrid saw what she thought was a radio. At least it looked like a larger version of what polizei officers had on their shoulders. Another was a record player. She had seen those before. She had no idea what some of the other items were, but as she looked more closely, Astrid realized that often a single up-time item was paired with newly made . . . not copies, exactly . . . versions that could be made now.

“Where are the guards?” Neustatter muttered.

They looked around.

“Polizei over near the parking lot.” Stefan said it without pointing or staring.

“Looks like he has just broken something up,” Neustatter remarked. “Wolfram, Miss Schäubin, wander over. Be useful if the officer needs help.”

As Wolfram and Astrid strode away toward the community center and parking lot, Astrid heard Neustatter giving the kids directions. “Look for anyone taking something that does not belong to them.”

They were almost to the polizei officer when they heard shouting behind them. Astrid turned just in time to see Neustatter lay a man out with a right to the jaw.

“Officer! Officer!” she called. “Over there!”

“We have these two!” Wolfram shouted.

The officer glanced back and forth and then hurried toward the disturbance at the technology displays. One of the two men he had separated immediately bolted.

“Mine!” Wolfram accelerated after him.

Wolfram was not as big as Karl, but he was not a small man, either. Astrid heard the impact. But she was looking at the other man, hands on her hips again.

She tapped the butt of her pistol. “Sit. Down.”

He did.

Wolfram herded the other man back.

“What is this all about?” Wolfram demanded.

“He shoved me!”

“Nicht.” Did not.

From watching Johann and his friends, Astrid knew the correct response was Auch gemacht. Did too. It was not to glance at whatever was going on at the technology display tables.

“How much did he pay you to be the distraction?” Astrid asked.

Two mouths dropped open.

“Guilty consciences?” Wolfram asked. “Let us go for a walk.”

Astrid and Wolfram took the two of them over to the polizei officer. He had just finished handcuffing the man Neustatter had punched.

“I think that was just a fight,” the officer told them. “I wasn’t going to book them.”

“We think you should search them. See if they each have an equal amount of money,” Astrid said.

“Ooohhhhh . . .  Well, men?”

At the officer’s prompt, both of them emptied their purses. Each had a handful of various change, a couple crumpled bucks, and a crisp USE twenty-dollar bill.

“Where did you get those?” the officer asked.

Two sets of eyes cut toward the handcuffed man.

“Guess I’ll check your purse, too.”

The officer found $160 in new twenty-dollar bills.

“Half up front, half on delivery, right?” Neustatter asked.

The prisoner started. He did not say anything, but they all saw it was so.

The officer spoke into the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, patrol eight. Three to transport. And, uh, call Schmidt.”

* * *

The polizei took statements. By the time they were done, Ditmar, Lukas, and Hjalmar’s team showed up.

“It sounds like we missed all the excitement,” Hjalmar commented.

“We will bring you up to speed,” Neustatter promised. “First, though, dinner.”

They split up and bought food from a number of booths set up in Hough Park and in the fairgrounds. By the time they had eaten and exchanged stories, it was almost time for the fireworks.

Light blossomed in the sky, and a loud explosion rolled across the fairgrounds. The next one threw colored bits of light—embers, perhaps?—out in a circle. The next one was a different color. Some of them even tried to scatter the lights in patterns.

According to the up-timers, these were fairly primitive compared to what they remembered. Astrid considered what a sight up-time fireworks displays must have been. So much gunpowder and so many chemicals, just for fun. Maybe that was why God permitted only one up-time town to come to their time.

The fireworks were thoroughly enjoyable. Astrid was not thinking about NESS business at all as they walked home. They dropped the Pfeffers off at their apartment and went back to our own. Neustatter took a couple of the men to check on the office. But everything was fine.

Then Astrid discovered Neustatter’s other reason for checking the office. He had brought paper and ink. Astrid started writing down everyone’s recollections of Schlinck’s men.


Wednesday, July 5, 1634


NESS was very busy the next day. Astrid worked on a file for each of Schlinck’s men. Ditmar and Karl went to the livery stable to make sure NESS’ timeshare horses were still available for the upcoming mission to Schleusingen. Neustatter, Stefan, and Johann were talking about baseball.

That actually was business, because Astrid had convinced Neustatter that one of the best ways to advertise NESS would be to sponsor a baseball team. Instead of a few weeks of classified ads, little kids would be running around in team jerseys with the team name “NESS Agents.”

The phone kept ringing, and it still startled Astrid every time. Most of the calls were men looking for work. A couple were businesses looking for a security service.

Phillip Pfeffer arrived for his interview. Neustatter kicked out everyone except Ditmar, Hjalmar, and Astrid. They all took chairs near the Franklin stove. It was not lit in July, of course, but it got them away from the desks.

“I was going to start out by explaining what you would be getting into,” Neustatter began. “But I think yesterday you found that out. That is, what, our fifth fight in a year and two months.” He stopped and thought a moment. “Ja, fifth. Three of them have been with Schlinck’s men. But that does not mean that the next mission cannot turn into a firefight. You handled yourself well in the brawl. How are you with firearms?”

“I have brought down small game.”

“I would spend quite a bit of time on the range with you,” Neustatter assured him.

Phillip nodded. Astrid thought he looked relieved.

“All of us currently at NESS came from the same village,” Neustatter explained. “We live together. Well, in two adjacent apartments—although I suspect that may need to change soon. So far, we set aside money for NESS’ expenses, then we have bought food and other things we need, and given everyone a relatively small amount of spending money. I do not mind adding more partners to the current arrangement, nor do I object to switching to individual shares. Or some of each. What are your thoughts on this?”

Phillip was sitting very straight in his chair. “My main concern is for my family to be able to live in the Grantville area, close to the schools and Leahy Medical Center. I have to be able to pay for that.”

Neustatter nodded. “As long as NESS is making money, I would give you your share, however we work that out.

“We are often away on missions. Usually these are a few days to a couple weeks, but we have one coming up that will be about a month. Is that something you can do?”

“Ja.”

“All right. I will talk it over with the rest of NESS and contact you tomorrow,” Neustatter told him.

After dinner that evening, Neustatter asked for everyone’s attention.

“We have been running NESS a certain way, sharing the profits,” he began. “It is time to hire more agents, and they may not want to be part of that arrangement. We could include them in the food and common supplies and pay them a share of what is left. Or if they do not want to be included in that, pay them a larger share.”

“If we are hiring,” Stefan ventured, “I say we start with Pfeffer. He is a good man in a brawl.”

“Ja,” Karl agreed.

Neustatter checked with each of them, and they voted unanimously for Phillip Pfeffer.

“Phillip has a wife, two children, and two parents,” Neustatter stated. “He obviously wants to provide for them.”

Heads nodded right away. None of them could really explain economic theory, but anyone who grew up in a German village could explain reality. Nine of them were NESS agents. Ursula and Anna’s cooking, cleaning, and sewing enabled the rest of them to do what they did. Johann was the only one who did not have a job.

If they added Pfeffer, then they had to provide for five more people, too. They did not want to not add them, but there was a limit to how many times they could do this.

“Neustatter,” Anna asked, “are you still planning to hire four men?”

“Ja.”

“Two of us run the apartments for nine of you,” she pointed out. “If there will be thirteen of you, we need one more, too. Especially since Ursula and I are expecting. Hire Agathe, too. That gives the Pfeffers two shares.”

“I like it,” Neustatter pronounced.

So did everyone else.


Thursday, July 6, 1634


In the morning, Neustatter and Astrid went to the Pfeffers’ apartment. It was south of Route 250, between the Church of Christ and Buffalo Creek, more or less across from the Grantville cemetery.

“Come in, bitte,” Agathe urged.

They were introduced to Phillip’s parents.

“Herr Pfeffer. Frau Pfeffer,” Neustatter greeted them.

Phillip’s elderly father shook hands firmly. He was a little stooped but appeared to be in good health.

“I cannot get used to being called herr,” he said. “I am not sure what to think of it.”

Phillip’s mother was a short, grandmotherly type. With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “If everyone is a herr or a frau, how does anything get done? It seems to me that if everyone is noble, then no one is.”

“Ah, but it is easier to give it to everyone than to take it away from the few who already were,” her husband said.

Astrid smiled politely, then took a moment and realized it was true. She hadn’t heard it said quite that bluntly before. Phillip might be concerned about his parents’ physical health, but clearly there was nothing wrong with their minds.

Then she realized the Pfeffers were waiting expectantly.

“Phillip, I would like to offer you a job as a NESS agent,” Neustatter told him. “And Agathe, I know you have your own home to take care of, but we would like to offer you a job, too, helping Ursula and Anna. Unless, of course, you would like to be an agent,” he added quickly.

“Ja to the first, nein to the second.” Agathe spoke just as quickly. “Und I cannot neglect our own household.”

“We are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves for a few hours, dear,” Frau Pfeffer declared.

After they left the Pfeffers, Neustatter told Astrid, “You are going to have to work out those finances.”

“I know. At some point, Neustatter, you are going to need a second secretary.”

“At some point,” he agreed. “Right now, though, we should go find Jakob Bracht and Gottlieb Seidelman.”

* * *

Gottlieb Seidelman lived in one of the many boardinghouses in Grantville. This one was right on Buffalo Street, one of the houses that Astrid had mistaken for schlösser the day they arrived in Grantville. It had a recent addition in what had been a side yard which was equal in size to the front part of the house. The builder had matched the overlaid boards on the exterior of the building.

Seidelman directed them to a parlor in the old part of the house. The couches and chairs were completely different from what Astrid had seen in the Hauns’ home and appeared to be old and somewhat worn. She supposed they might have originated only two hundred sixty years in the future rather than three hundred sixty-some. But they seemed sturdy enough.

Seidelman politely listened to Neustatter.

“I wish I could, Neustatter, but I cannot. I am enrolling at the tech school. I have to take a job that will work with my class schedule.”

“What program?” Neustatter asked.

“Applied Law. My family thinks I should try to be a lawyer, but I might apply to the polizei.”

“You would be good at it,” Neustatter told him.

Seidelman sighed. “Neustatter, I am going to take a job with Schlinck’s Company. It is not personal. He can give me steady work on the graveyard shift at the tannery.”

Neustatter simply nodded. “So they got the contract guarding prisoners?”

“Ja.”

“That will give you some good experience with what the up-timers call the criminal justice system.”

“It certainly will,” Seidelman agreed. “I do not know what to think about sending common criminals to prison and then putting them on work crews.”

“It is a technique,” Neustatter allowed.

When they left a short time later, Astrid asked Neustatter, “What is this about Schlinck’s Company guarding a tannery?”

Neustatter shrugged. “Grantville does not have enough prison space. Jail space, ja, for drunks and brawlers. But for men sentenced to a number of months or years . . . there simply is not space. At the same time, Grantville needs a huge amount of leather. Think of how much we use. Only the most hard-up refugees will accept a job at a tannery, so someone realized that prisoners—prisoners of law rather than prisoners of war—could do the work. Prison was an attractive option for desperate men—’three hots and a cot,’ they called it. Now that they have to work in the tannery, there is no incentive to get arrested. There are road crews, too, for men sent to prison for lesser crimes.”

“And Schlinck’s Company?”

“The prison is right at the tannery. Someone has to guard it. Schlinck put in a bid and won.”

“Why did you not put in a bid?” Astrid asked.

“I found out the requirements from the polizei. They wanted at least a dozen men on duty in each of three shifts, plus guards for the road crews. We would have had to make a joint bid.”

“That would be nothing but trouble,” Astrid stated. “Unless it was with Bretagne’s Company.”

“Captain Bretagne was not interested.”

“You did not tell me this.”

Neustatter thought. “I should have. I had decided not to bid on it and did not think about it again. But you are correct. I should tell you about jobs I turn down so that you can keep track of them.”

“I should start a file on Seidelman.”

Neustatter thought about that. “Hmm. Ja. He is someone we could contact when there are tensions between NESS and Schlinck’s Company. But do not leave that file in the office at night.”

“Oh?”

“In how many mysteries does the detective’s office get broken into?” Neustatter asked.

“A lot of them,” Astrid answered. She thought it through. “We need a briefcase, because it would be just as bad to be seen carrying a file.”

* * *

Jakob Bracht was much more amenable. Neustatter had tracked him down on a day labor job moving construction supplies. Bracht looked more than happy to take a few minutes to talk to them. He waved a hand, fingers spread, at the foreman. That man frowned but nodded. Astrid interpreted the conversation as “I need five minutes” and “Only five.”

“I accept.” He had not even bothered to find some place to sit down.

Neustatter described how NESS worked.

“That is fine. I need the work.”

“Do you have family?” Neustatter asked.

“Not here.” Bracht’s forthright manner seemed to vanish.

Neustatter remained quiet, and eventually Bracht said more. “I am unmarried, but I have family at home. I will send money to them.”

“Naturally.”

Neustatter waited a moment and then said, “Jakob, during basic, it seemed to me that you might have been in some hard places in life.”

Bracht stared out across the worksite. “True enough.”

“Security consultants need to stay on the right side of the law. Mostly. The trick is knowing when.”

“I would like to stay on the right side of the law,” Bracht agreed.

“Have you seen any up-time detective movies?” Neustatter asked. “Or television shows. Either will do for this.”

“Nein.”

Neustatter smiled. “Jakob, we need to watch some movies. Come see me after work Friday. NESS is on the left, past the high school.”

* * *

Neustatter and Astrid, and sometimes Ditmar or Hjalmar, met with a couple dozen men over the next week. Most were responding to the help wanted classified ad. A few had seen the baseball team’s jerseys. Johann, Willi Pfeffer, Josef Forster, and their teammates were certainly doing everything they could to publicize NESS.

Some applicants they could rule out right away. Others seemed promising. Neustatter asked them for references and sent Ditmar and Hjalmar to check those out. A few he followed up himself.

In the midst of this they found out that the mission to Frankfurt had been delayed. Friction had arisen among some of the businesses in Frankfurt and between them and the machine shops in Grantville. Some of the machine tools had already gone to the next buyers in line. Assuming they could work out their differences, the Frankfurt group would get the next available tools—which would push the mission into September.

A replacement mission showed up almost at once. Astrid heard a knock at the door, and Pastor Al Green entered.

“Guten Morgen, Miss Schäubin,” he greeted her. “Doctor Gerhard has finished negotiations with the University of Erfurt, and the theology faculty has invited the Bibelgesellschaft to meet with them. In August.”

Astrid blinked. “In August?” she repeated.

“Yes. The students were praying that NESS would be available.”

“We had an August mission reschedule for September two days ago.”

“Huh.”

Astrid was not sure what to think about that. On the other hand, guarding the Bibelgesellschaft was a good mission. “I will talk to Neustatter, but I anticipate NESS will be able to take your mission. Will you be taking a wagon again?”

“I expect so,” Green answered.

“Do you have specific dates? We can reserve horses.”

* * *

Neustatter always asked Astrid’s opinion after meeting with someone applying to be a NESS agent. After Reinhold Grötzinger left, Neustatter shut the door and resumed his seat in the semi-circle of chairs around the Franklin stove. He and Hjalmar both looked at Astrid.

“Nein,” she said at once.

“Why?” Neustatter asked.

“He spent half the time asking about promotion and the other half looking at me.”

“Eh. More like a quarter each,” Neustatter allowed.

“The new men will give you the opportunity for a third team,” Astrid pointed out. “But you are not going to put them all together and make one the team leader, are you?”

“Who do you think I should make the team leader?” Neustatter sounded genuinely interested.

“Otto could do it if he decided to. Wolfram is a specialist. Karl is, too, really. Stefan would not want to. Lukas should not.” She knew Neustatter and Hjalmar would appreciate blunt honesty.

They exchanged glances.

“Not too surprising that my sister has the same thoughts I do,” Hjalmar remarked.

“Some of the same thoughts,” Neustatter clarified. “You both read our men the same way, and I agree with you on all of them. But what did you think of Grötzinger, Hjalmar?”

“He sounded like he knows how to guard someone or something. He is ambitious, although I do not know if that would be a problem. Und I agree he kept looking over at Astrid. It is not that he looks. It is how he looks.”

“I trust all you men,” Astrid said. “None of you look at me like that. Not even Lukas, because all of us from the village are family. If I were a tavern maid somewhere, I might not trust Lukas.” She stopped short. “I am sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

“You never need to apologize for accuracy,” Neustatter responded. He stood and began pacing back and forth across the office. “We do need a third team, and I think I will lead it myself, at least at first. Miss Schäubin, I think you will be on my team.”

Both Hjalmar and Astrid looked at Neustatter in surprise.

“Hjalmar, I need you to run your team in a fight, not protect your sister. Especially since I am going to give you one of the new men to train.” He paced some more. “That is not criticism, Hjalmar. If I had a sister who was an agent, I would not leave her on my own team after her initial training.” More pacing. “I think I will take Karl and put Wolfram on your team.”

Astrid worked it out. Neustatter would want a couple men from the village on his team, men who could handle themselves while he ran all of NESS. He would put at least one of the new men on each team. If Neustatter had two men from the village and her and a new agent, that meant he was putting Wolfram on Hjalmar’s team because Ditmar was getting two of the new agents.

“Who are you pulling from Ditmar’s team?” Astrid saw Hjalmar smiling in approval at her question, but it was not that hard to work out. Neustatter’s new team had five agents to the other teams’ four because in a sense both he and Astrid would be part-time on that team.

“Lukas. Und Grötzinger is a no-go,” Neustatter continued. He returned to his chair.

“We will see him again, working for one of the other companies,” Hjalmar predicted.

“If he fits somewhere else, then he fits somewhere else. We have many options. Who do you recommend, Hjalmar?”

Hjalmar’s brow furrowed, and he thought about it for some time. “Deibert.”

“Why?”

“He told us what he knew and what he did not. Well, he tried. He was mistaken about a couple things, but he was honest with us. He had experience in his town militia, and he has actually been in a couple battles. Including Grantville.”

“That is a good point,” Astrid agreed. “NESS would benefit from having a veteran of the Croat Raid.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“Ditmar would tell you Richart Stroh,” Hjalmar answered. “He is a harder man than, say, Phillip Pfeffer. Not mean. Just unyielding. I think he would keep Bracht in line if Jakob started to stray. I have no problem with that. I think you are going to have to teach him when to step back.”

Astrid could see that. For all that Ditmar and Hjalmar looked enough alike to be brothers, they were not the same. Her brother was more easy-going, as the up-timers put it.

“Miss Schäubin?”

“I think Stroh would fit right in on Ditmar’s team.”

“I agree. What if I put both Stroh and Deibert on Team One? Hjalmar, you get Jakob Bracht.”

“Not Pfeffer?”

“Nein. You do not need two of Otto.”

Hjalmar frowned and looked at Astrid. She shrugged.

“Ottos are useful,” Neustatter went on. “You cannot have both of them. Besides, you will be a good influence on Jakob.”

The three of them were still seated around the stove when Ditmar came in a little later and told Neustatter he had found something. When asked about the applicants, he indeed recommended Stroh.

“Ask Anna if she and Agathe would be willing to buy enough cloth for four more halstücher, bitte,” Neustatter requested.

“I can go with them,” Astrid offered. She started to rise.

“Nein. Ditmar can ask them. I need you here, Miss Schäubin, because what Ditmar found is a weapon for sale. How much can we afford to spend on weapons?”

She frowned. “Not a lot. But cheap weapons are . . . ”

“Usually garbage,” Neustatter finished with her.

“How much is the weapon?”

Neustatter told her, and Astrid winced.

“What is it?”

“An up-time shotgun. 16 gauge. Not as powerful as a 12 gauge, but easier to handle. And it is an over/under.”

“Sixteen is less powerful than twelve?” Astrid wanted to be sure she understood.

“Gauge is how many lead balls of that size weigh one pound.”

Astrid shook her head. “That is the silliest up-time measurement I have ever heard! Why cannot shotguns have caliber?”

“The .410 does,” Neustatter told her. “The rest use gauge.”

“You are sure this is not just up-timers messing with us?”

“Check the library.”

“Nein dank.” She rose and retrieved the ledger from her desk. She took a deep breath and extended it to her boss. “Neustatter, we have this much money.”

“Oh, we have less than that,” he assured her. “We are going to have to pay the new men ourselves for the Schleusingen to Erfurt mission. We cannot charge the Strategic Resources Board for agents who are still in training.”

“You are right, of course.” Astrid sighed because she had done the math. Four weapons like that shotgun, plus paying the new men, and NESS would be nearly out of cash.

“Pistols cost less,” Neustatter pointed out. “Pistols in Suhl, Schleusingen, and Schmalkalden cost less than the same pistols in Grantville.”

“How much less?”

They went over the numbers and arrived at an almost-reasonable solution. They could have done it less expensively, but Neustatter did not want .32s or .36s.

“Nein, if we have to buy cap-and-ball revolvers, I want something that is going to hit hard enough to put the target down. Forties. I would rather have fourty-fours.”

“We cannot afford that. We have to leave money set aside for Ursula and Anna’s medical expenses.”

“We do,” Neustatter agreed.

On Friday, July 14, Neustatter and Ditmar told Deibert and Stroh they were hired—and that they would start training on Monday with their first mission later that week.

Anna and Agathe bought cloth, and by Monday they had made four new halstücher. Anna had requested enough money to include cloth for a flag, too, and began work on it.


Monday, July 17. 1634


On Monday, all nine agents from the village had assembled in front of the NESS office by the time the new men arrived at eight in the morning.

“Attention!” Neustatter ordered. “Present arms!”

All nine agents saluted crisply.

Jakob Bracht returned the salute with equal polish. Phillip Pfeffer was a moment behind him and made all the same mistakes Astrid had made yesterday when Hjalmar and Neustatter had taught her how to salute. Richart Stroh and Johan Deibert were slower but realized what they were supposed to do.

“Welcome to Neustatter’s European Security Services. I bin Edgar Neustatter. At ease. This is not the USE Army or the SoTF National Guard. I have no need to keep you mentally off-balance and occupied with busywork every minute just so that you do not get into trouble. We leave Wednesday for a week-long mission, so there is more than enough legitimate work to do.

“Look, I do not disagree with how the up-timers set up basic training,” Neustatter continued. “If you have a handful of drill sergeants, a couple hundred recruits, and limited time, you almost have to do it that way. But with nine of us and four of you, it makes no sense. We will adopt what is useful to us and leave the rest.”

When heads nodded, he continued. “Ja, it should be just the leader of a formation who salutes. Ja, the lower-ranking should salute first, and that is you for now. I think that is the first time NESS has ever saluted. We do not do so on a mission, because that just shows everyone around who the leaders are. Just know how to do it if we end up at some formal occasion someday.

“Now, something more important. Ditmar Schaub”—Neustatter pointed—“leads Team One. That will be Stefan, Johan, and Richart. Hjalmar Schaub leads Team Two. Otto, Jakob, and Wolfram. I lead Team Three. Karl, Lukas, Astrid, and Phillip.

“We will start with two teams protecting their principals. Those are our clients. Phillip and Astrid, that is you. Teams One and Two have the bodyguard assignment. Take a couple minutes and get set up. Karl, Lukas, and I will be the attackers.” Neustatter grinned. “No weapons.”

Ditmar put his team around Phillip and Astrid in a diamond formation. Otto was drifting off to one side, Hjalmar and Jakob were out ahead, and Wolfram was trailing behind the others. They moved slowly across the gravel lot in front of the NESS office. Hjalmar and Jakob had passed the end of the building, and the central group was in front of the writing supply store next to NESS when Karl stepped out from behind the western edge of the building. Hjalmar and Jakob moved to intercept him, but soon had their hands full. Neustatter and Lukas appeared next, moving straight for Phillip and Astrid. Stefan and Hans moved to block Lukas, while Ditmar and Richart tried to stop Neustatter.

Lukas quickly stiff-armed Hans Deibert aside, and then Stefan reached for him. The two grappled, but Lukas was a decade younger. He forced Stefan back.

Ditmar prepared to intercept Neustatter. Richart was on his left and was bigger than Neustatter. But Neustatter dove right, surprising Richart. Neustatter came up out of the shoulder roll. Richart spun after him, getting in Ditmar’s way. Neustatter dashed over to Phillip and Astrid, tapping each in a shoulder with a closed fist. Then Ditmar tackled him.

Neustatter gave a sharp whistle and got to his feet. “Bring it in!”

Once everyone was gathered, he let each of them comment.

“We should probably move off the gravel,” Astrid suggested.

“Not a bad idea,” Neustatter agreed. “Now, how should you stop me next time . . . ?”

They ran through three more scenarios before Johann showed up. He watched wide-eyed. That time, Neustatter’s five defenders successfully held off seven attackers. When he asked for comments, Johann’s hand shot up.

“It’s adult Cowboys and Croats!” the eight-year-old proclaimed.

“Also not a bad idea,” Neustatter said. “Teams Two and Three, let us go get the horses.”

By afternoon, NESS was running drills with the four timeshare houses and a carriage drawn by another pair. They were using weapons now, but shouting “Bang!” Gunfire tended to alarm both horses and neighbors.

Astrid was not the only one who noticed that they had skipped lunch. Since on missions Neustatter made sure they ate and slept, she knew he was making them train through lunch for a reason—guarding clients or a shipment under adverse conditions. Hopefully he would quit before dark, and Astrid was reasonably sure Neustatter could not cause bad weather.

By dinner, they were exhausted. Neustatter called a halt and sent them all to the apartment where dinner was waiting. They lingered over dinner. Astrid realized this was part of the plan, too—team bonding.

Neustatter announced there would not be night training. The men were leaving on Wednesday for Schleusingen and eventually Erfurt. He wanted them alert, so they needed to sleep the next two nights.


Tuesday, July 18, 1634


Astrid was tired enough that she slept straight through the night. They were back at the office by eight in the morning. Well, they were back at the office by the time the second train from Grantville to Schwarza Station passed by, which was supposed to happen a few minutes before eight o’clock. The railroad was nothing if not punctual, so she assumed that train was on time.

“Circle up,” Neustatter directed. “Tomorrow we leave on a mission. I am planning on ten days: two to Schleusingen, one to Suhl, one to Schmalkalden, two to Eisenach, two to Erfurt, and two back here to Grantville. We are guarding a shipment of goods, so you know that could turn into twelve or even fourteen days if we break wheels or axles. We are taking our horses. Plan on four men on the horses, four on the wagons, and four walking. Miss Schäubin will be staying here, because someone needs to keep the office open.

“After this mission, some of us will be escorting the Bibelgesellschaft to a meeting at the University of Erfurt. Then those of us in the National Guard will be helping with the next Adler Pfeffer exercise. We have another long-range mission coming up in September. This one is to Frankfurt. It will take three weeks, minimum. Wolfram and Stefan will be staying here with their wives. Miss Schäubin will be running the office, and I may leave one other agent here since the contract is for nine.

“Today, however, is range day.”

The polizei had an indoor pistol range, but they certainly could not shoot rifles and the shotgun there. Instead they went to an outdoor range off Murphy’s Run. Their eye and ear protection were probably not up to up-time standards, but Neustatter insisted that they be as safe as possible.

NESS started on the pistol range. Neustatter loaded his .45 with black powder rounds. Grantville still had up-time rounds, perhaps millions of them. But they were carefully conserved.

An older up-timer was waiting for them. He wore an up-time cap, a long-sleeved shirt, a vest with numerous pouches, work pants, and boots. A whistle dangled from a cord around his neck, and his gun belt held what Astrid recognized as a semi-automatic pistol, although she did not know what kind.

“Hi, folks. I’m Thomas Jessup. The first time I shot a gun I was seven years old, and this is my seventieth year shooting. My job is to make sure y’all are safe and respect what you’re doin’. I’m gonna go over the rules . . . ”

Once they were all where they were supposed to be, Jessup carefully checked the range. “Ready on the right! Ready on the left! Ready in the center! Fire!”

Neustatter drew and fired six rounds one after the other. As far as Astrid could tell, they all hit the target.

“Cease fire!”

At the safety officer’s signal, they all went forward to check Neustatter’s target. Neustatter circled the holes—they would be using the same targets until they were literally shot apart. Neustatter’s shots were all in the man-shaped silhouette.

“These four would have killed a man outright.” Jessup indicated those. “These two would have put almost anyone down and out of the fight. Thing you got to remember is that you can do everything right, and every once in a while, the other guy just doesn’t go down. He just keeps shooting back at you. It’s got nothing to do with whether he’s right or wrong. So there is no shooting to wound. None of you are the Lone Ranger, not even Neustatter here.”

Astrid did not know who that was and made a mental note to find out later.

“One other thing. Neustatter, I know why you’re using brass reloaded with black powder in that forty-five. But it’s not safe. You are using smokeless rounds from up-time when you’re out on a job, right?

“Ja.”

“Use black powder reloads as little as possible in a semi-automatic.”

After six years, the men from the village knew how to shoot. Ditmar and Otto were particularly good with pistols.

“Miss Schäubin, you are next.”

Astrid put a pair of shooting glasses on. She tried to remember everything she had been told about how to shoot, decided that was too much, and concentrated on her sight picture and breathing.

“Fire!”

She breathed out and squeezed the trigger slowly. The .22 fired. Astrid followed through, cocked it, fired again. She methodically emptied the revolver, then flipped the cylinder out.

“Cease fire!”

As they walked downrange, she hoped she’d done well. She was pretty sure the first two were in the middle of the silhouette. After that . . . She had probably scattered shots all over.

Neustatter studied her target and handed her the pen. “Not bad, Miss Schäubin, not bad at all.”

Astrid circled her shots. Four were close to the center, inside the line that defined them as kill shots. Three more would have been the sort of wound that ought to be incapacitating, except when it wasn’t.

“The head shot was just chance,” she admitted.

Thomas Jessup shrugged. “Do enough things right, and you make your own luck.” He pointed to the last two. “These two in the leg, though . . . Well, he definitely would not be running anywhere, but just those two shots would not necessarily prevent a man from returning fire.

“Phillip, you are next,” Neustatter announced.

Pfeffer, Bracht, and Stroh were beginners with pistols. Astrid could see they were about where she had been a few months ago. Deibert, on the other hand, was a natural. He was better than Stefan or Lukas and almost as good as Karl.

Then they switched to the U.S. Waffenfabrik rifled muskets. Those were completely different. Astrid thought she was terrible with a rifle. All the loading steps kept her from concentrating on shooting, and whenever she paused to try to clear her head, she realized how heavy the ten-pound weapon was.

Most of the men shot better with a rifle than they did with a pistol. Ditmar was almost scary, especially when he switched to the .22 rifle. Otto and Deibert were the exceptions, shooting significantly better with a pistol.

Finally, they all fired the shotgun. That was so much easier to handle than a black powder rifle, but it kicked a lot more.

After that, Jessup declared the range cold, and they passed around the cleaning supplies. Astrid was not a fan of this. She understood why it was important to clean a weapon. She also understood Neustatter was teaching field cleaning, and they would be doing a more thorough cleaning when they got home. They did not have the near-magical up-time products they’d heard about, like Break-Free and WD-40, but they knew how to clean. Once they were finally done, Neustatter stood and got everyone’s attention.

“Good shoot today. The only surprises were good ones. We will keep coming to the range and get better. I did not see anything that makes me want to change what weapons our experienced agents carry. New men, you will be starting out unarmed. That is not because I do not trust you. It is simply that we plan to buy most of the weapons you will be assigned once we get there.”

“One of them can carry the twenty-two,” Astrid offered.

“Nein. That stays with you. Wear it to the office. Use the shoulder rig. It is fine to wear a gun belt when a group of us are in town, but a lone person seen carrying would be anyone’s first target.”


Wednesday, July 19, 1634


The men set out bright and early. Hjalmar’s team lead the way, followed by Neustatter’s new Team Three atop the wagons carrying their loads of machine tools. Ditmar’s team brought up the rear on horseback. NESS looked impressive. Marching through Grantville might mean more inquiries at the office, so as soon as they were out of sight, Astrid hurried back to the office.

Those left in Grantville quickly settled into a routine. Agathe Traudermännin, Phillip’s wife, would come over to the apartments at some point during the day. Someone—usually Agathe, Astrid, or both—would take Johann Kirchenbauer and Willi Pfeffer to their baseball practices and games. Sometimes Willi’s little sister Elisabetha would tag along, but more often she “helped” with dinner. Astrid went to class in the evening. A couple times, Anna went with her to the high school. She spent the time talking to a researcher in the library but did not tell Astrid what it was about.

A few people made inquiries at the office, although Astrid talked to just as many while watching the kids play baseball. During quiet stretches in the office, Astrid wrote another letter to Pastor Claussen and sent it off.

The Volley Gun Regiment, which had played a key role in winning the Battle of Ahrensbök, passed by Grantville on its way south. The Ram Rebellion appeared to be settling into a standoff, and Mary Simpson, Veronica Dreeson, and Duchess Maria Anna were missing. None of the newspapers were quite sure which situation the Volley Gun Regiment was being sent to. Every couple days another regiment passed through Schwarza Junction, five in all. One of them was the Red Lion Regiment.

On the evening of July 26, a messenger brought a telegram to one of the apartments. Astrid was the only one there, and the messenger was startled when she answered the door pistol in hand. She paid him and quickly read the message. It was from Neustatter. The men had reached Erfurt on schedule and delivered the shipment. The new men were doing well. The message contained three dollar amounts with no explanation. That was okay. The amounts were about what they had expected to pay for pistols and holsters. So, the new agents were now armed.

The men pushed hard and arrived home late Friday night. They slept late on Saturday, but by the afternoon, Astrid was updating Neustatter on new inquiries. He updated her on Erfurt.


Monday, July 31, 1634


On Monday, Neustatter started assigning two men to each baseball practice and game. Both Ursula and Anna were approaching their delivery dates. Agathe was a tremendous help, but the Pfeffers had their own apartment, so Hjalmar and Ditmar started doing a lot of the cooking. Astrid helped out when she could, but Neustatter wanted her in the office.

NESS had a number of short missions. Ditmar’s team were bodyguards for a businessman who had to settle a particular contract in coin rather than with a letter of credit. Hjalmar’s team guarded an abnormally large payroll. One day Neustatter took his team and Ditmar’s to Saalfeld. A couple business owners and their employees split the cost for NESS to keep the peace during a meeting that ran late into the night as they worked out a contract between the businesses and the union.

As busy as they were, Neustatter still found time for the dinner-and-a-movie group. He came home one evening with very good things to say about The Heroes of Telemark.


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