Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (13 page)

"Georg was telling me about how fingerprints were used in the up-time. Police officers did the same sort of things we're going to do. They didn't follow every line to make an identification—they looked for memorable features. If enough of these points of comparison matched, they could say that the fingerprint came from a certain person. Six or seven was considered a probable match, but they really wanted ten or more. Just to be sure."

"A good comparison," Kircher acknowledged. "These seals show that at a minimum Charles's advisors, if not necessarily the king himself, approved this letter. They may have even told Master Young what to write or what not to write." He held up a hand as speculation began. "My point is merely that lawyers were involved. So it would be a good thing to have more points of comparison than strictly necessary."

"In that case," Horst said, "let's modify the challenge. Positive identification with the fewest possible points but with enough additional points to convince even a lawyer."

"Perhaps a whole second set of proof texts," Johannes agreed.

Katharina carefully avoided making eye contact with anyone at all.

"Are you in, Kat?" Horst asked.

She desperately tried to change the subject. "I was just thinking. This gives us A and E 08. We know where
Aleph
, B, and D are. We should make sure they're being protected."

Johannes went back to appendixI. "
Aleph
should be at St. Catherine's monastery. We need to meet with the Orthodox priest at the Russian embassy and see if he can contact his fellow Orthodox. B is in the Vatican. . . ."

"I've been assured it is safe," Kircher said. He sounded quite certain.

"D?"

"Cambridge," Joseph said.

"What about C?" Marta asked. "We skipped it."

"Ephraem Rescriptus," Kat supplied as she looked it up in Metzger. "It's a palimpsest. The biblical text was erased, and the pages were reused for sermons of Ephraem the Syrian. It's in . . . Paris."

"How did that happen?"

She read on. "I don't believe this. It was part of Marie di Medici's dowry when she became queen of France."

"So Richelieu has it," Johannes muttered in obvious disgust.

"Yes, he does," Katharina said slowly. "But does he know it? And should we tell him?"

"What do you mean?"

"The men who studied it—the ones who are listed here are Tischendorf and later. I can't tell if anyone knows it's a palimpsest yet."

"Why include it in a dowry if it's not a Bible?"

Kat remembered to check the clock. It was time to wrap things up.

"I don't know."

Dr. Green had followed her glance. "Well, that will make a good project. Everyone see if you can find out if anyone besides us knows that C is actually a biblical manuscript. But—don't let anyone know that we know. Also, be prepared to discuss whether or not we should tell Richelieu and why."

Just then the door burst open and a student who attended St. Mary's rushed in. "Father! There's been an excommunication!"

Earlier that afternoon

Edgar Neustatter leaned against the wall as Astrid Schaubin gave him her weekly report. Things were going well for Neustatter's European Security Services.

"So," he summarized, "we've got enough cash right now to hire two more men but not enough cash flow to guarantee them payroll, ammo, and feed for the extra horses?"

"That's correct," Astrid told him.

Neustatter shrugged. "Then we'll wait. We haven't had the third team all that long anyway. Everyone will be just as happy if I don't have to switch the teams around again already." He pushed away from the wall. "I signed us up for the evening business class at the high school so we'd learn how the up-timers thought and to make contacts. But it's actually pretty useful in its own right."

"Last night was a very important lesson about property taxes," Astrid noted.

"You asked around?"

"This morning I called a few other businesses that belong to the Chamber of Commerce. Everyone agrees that property taxes will go up, most likely by the maximum allowed by the county government."

"And our landlord will raise our rent by that amount and a little bit more."

It was Astrid's turn to shrug. "What do you expect? That's just good business."

"We need to find some more assignments to pay her, then. Ditmar's team should be back from Schleusingen in a day or two. Escorting shipments of guns to the Thuringian backbone and the Elbetal is steady income, but now that the Ram Rebellion is over, that's going to be just one team from now on. Let's start at Cora's for information and then stop by the stock exchange."

Astrid put on her coat and then her gun belt.

****

It was a cold enough day that there were fewer people than usual in the streets. On the other hand, Cora's Courthouse Café was more crowded than usual. Neustatter and Astrid found seats at the counter.

Marlo broke off a conversation with the patrons at one of the tables to take their order.

"Coffee, black."

Astrid didn't know how Neustatter could drink that stuff. She ordered beef broth. When the waitress returned with their order, Neustatter asked, "What's new, Marlo?"

"Well, Hans Dietrich Mueller says the pastor of that storefront church is back in town. The Lutheran one that's here but ain't s'posed to be. Leastwise that's what Frau Piscatore, Pastor Kastenmayer's wife, says. You go there, too, don't you?"

Astrid had to struggle to keep from looking at Marlo. Instead she watched Neustatter.

"Yes, we do," Neustatter said calmly. "I hadn't heard Pastor Holz was back. We should stop by later and pay our respects." But Astrid saw that the look in his eyes was his professional business expression.

After Marlo moved on to another table, Astrid quickly asked, "What is it, Neustatter?"

"I saw Hans Dietrich Mueller yesterday. He and Wilhelm Trauber delivered the kegs of small beer and picked up the empties."

Astrid nodded. Much of the new construction in West Virginia County had city water, but many of the down-timers (and not a few up-timers) preferred small beer. With the ban on daytime traffic downtown, there wasn't a practical way to take beer home in quantity. A few enterprising souls had noted the existence of paper routes and garbage routes and set up a beer route. Grantville proper got deliveries early in the morning. The development where Neustatter's men lived was on the Monday afternoon route.

"Maybe Pastor Holz just got in last night," Astrid suggested.

"Maybe." But Astrid could tell Neustatter didn't believe it for a minute.

They found no leads on new security assignments at Cora's. The exchange was little better, but the stock market was having a good day.

"
The Street
says it's a post-war boom," Neustatter told Astrid. "The Ostend War, the Ram Rebellion, and the Dutch War are all over. I don't know how they distinguish that from the fact that times have been good ever since we've come to Grantville. Probably since Grantville showed up."

Astrid frowned. "The only thing I notice is that the Dutch guilder has gone up."

"That makes it easier for the Dutch to buy goods here," Neustatter said. "If they come here to buy, they'll come with their own security. But if they're ordering from a factor here and additional shipments are being sent, that could work out for us. If I understand correctly, it should help tourism from the Low Countries, too."

"But tourists bring their own security," Astrid pointed out.

"Yes, they do," Neustatter agreed. He shrugged. "I'm glad everyone here is having a good day, but there's no reason for us to stick around. "

"You want to go to the church."

"Yes."

****

As they approached the church, Neustatter spoke softly. "Two men, outside the door."

"Neustatter, those look like sentries."

"
Ja
. If Pastor Holz needs sentries . . ."

"Why didn't he call us?" Astrid finished. "That's Martin Rausch."

"And the other one is one of Schlinck's men." Neustatter sounded disgusted, and for good reason.

"Seven contractors in town and Pastor Holz called Schlinck?" Astrid asked.

"Well, they're cheap. And if all you need is people shoved out of your way, they're effective."

"They're also responsible for half the incidents of 'liberated' items that led to all the government paperwork security contractors have to file," Astrid reminded him. Quite unnecessarily, she was sure.

Neustatter raised a hand in greeting as they drew near.

"Martin. Are things well at the machine shop?"

Rausch didn't answer. Neustatter ignored the rudeness and turned to the mercenary.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Neustatter."

"I know."

"Please tell Captain Schlinck I said hello."

"Wait here." The sentry went inside.

Neustatter and Astrid looked at each other. "Schlinck's inside."

The sentry was back in a couple minutes. "Tell him yourself," he said.

Neustatter opened the door for Astrid. She stepped inside. The door opened right into the back of the nave; the storefront church wasn't very big. A semi-circle of five men were waiting for them.

"Pastor Holz. Welcome back." Neustatter began greeting them. "Captain Schlinck. Herr Krause. Herr Bruenner. Herr Ziegler."

"How did you find out we were here, Neustatter?" Bruenner asked.

"I didn't know you were here. We heard Pastor Holz had returned and came to pay our respects. Clearly we're interrupting something, so we'll see you all at the service on Sunday." Neustatter turned to go.

Astrid was pretty sure he had no intention of actually leaving. She noticed Holz and Schlinck exchanging glances. The mercenary nodded slightly.

"Just a minute, Neustatter," Holz said. "This concerns you." He held out a rolled parchment and slit the seal. Unrolling it, he began reading through a proclamation in Latin. Astrid had no idea what he was saying.

Holz finished reading and looked at Neustatter triumphantly.

"Well now, Pastor, you said this concerns me but I reckon I don't know anyone who would want to write me in Latin," Neustatter said in distinctly twangy Amideutsch.

"What it says, Neustatter, is that true Lutherans are not allowed to do business with heretics. In particular, you are forbidden from accepting contracts from heretics who want to change the Holy Scriptures."

"On whose orders?"

"Tilesius."

"Why?"

"Because they're
heretics
, Neustatter. They are trying to change the Holy Scriptures."

"So are you and Tilesius trying to forbid all Lutherans from signing contracts with any and all heretics or are y'all just trying to disrupt NESS's contract with the
Bibelgesellschaft
?" Neustatter asked sharply.

"Any Lutheran is forbidden from signing any contract with any heretic," Holz replied. He sounded quite pleased with that prospect. "It will be official as soon as it is posted on the church door."

"Have you really thought this through?" Neustatter asked.

"We have, Neustatter, and there will be no exceptions. So you will not be working for this so-called
Bibelgesellschaft
," Holz stated.

"Miss Schaubin?" Neustatter asked. "Last time we guarded the
Bibelgesellschaft
, who hired us?"

"Markus Fratscher did all the talking," Astrid answered. She had a pretty good idea where Neustatter was going with this.

"Ah, young Master Fratscher. A fine young Flacian scholar who'd really like to enroll in university in Wittenberg," Neustatter recalled. "Of course he's not old enough to sign a binding contract."

"Dr. Gerhard signed the paperwork," Astrid supplied.

"I'm confused, Pastor Holz," Neustatter drawled. "Are you sure Tilesius means to tell Dean Gerhard that he's not allowed to hire us?"

Holz's face turned an alarming shade of red. Ziegler sputtered and coughed.

"That's enough, Neustatter. These are binding orders."

"And if I refuse?" Neustatter's question came out in an Austrian-accented drawl.

Astrid cringed. She knew what it meant when her boss sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger playing John Wayne. But Pastor Holz wouldn't be familiar with up-time culture. . . . Too late!

"Then I will put you under discipline," Holz stated flatly. Alas, he had missed the signs.

"So that's how it's going to be?" Neustatter asked.

"That is how it
is
," Holz answered.

"Are you trying to force me to drop the
Bibelgesellschaft
contract or all contracts with non-Lutherans?" Neustatter asked again.

"All contracts with non-Flacian Lutherans."

"Pastor, I cannot possibly stay in business if I limit my client base to no more than every sixth or seventh—or tenth—person in Grantville. Captain Schlinck will have the same problem." Neustatter turned toward the mercenary. "Guarding the misdemeanor prisoners on the road crews and at the tannery is still one of your big contracts, isn't it?"

"It is, and it's a contract you won't get anytime soon," Schlinck replied.

"Of course not," Neustatter agreed. "I don't have enough men to bid on that contract. But what I'm wondering is whether you realize that the partners who own that tannery are all Philippists. Or you, Herr Krause. Your employer is Catholic and employs everyone from Calvinists to Anabaptists. Or you, Herr Bruenner. Stockyard Number Three is a joint venture with Jews, and you keep the whole operation kosher because it's less of a hassle that way. If anybody's got a problem with it, you just tell them to buy meat tagged from Stockyard Number One or Number Two. What are y'all going to do with this order from Tilesius?"

Bruenner and Krause glanced at each other uneasily.

"This doesn't apply to situations like those," Holz stated.

"Why not?" Neustatter asked. "They're all heretics."

"It doesn't apply," Holz repeated stubbornly.

"Then it doesn't apply to NESS and me, either," Neustatter stated.

"Since you refuse to comply, Neustatter, I hereby. . . ."

Neustatter cut him off. "I excommunicate you, Pankratz Holz."

"You can't do that!" the pastor blurted.