Bam! Bam!
Two shots smashed through the thin internal door about where a man's stomach would have been if he'd been standing in front of the door. Then one of the entry team kicked open the door and they went in shooting. Michael followed, barely able to see anything in the gun smoke generated by over a dozen black-powder rounds being fired in such a confined space.
****
Puss became aware that he was staring at Matthias Schön, the man who, if he didn't actually kill Yorick and the others, was certainly responsible for their deaths. He walked up to Matthias, took two fistfuls of his jacket and hauled him off his feet and shook him. "Why did you do it? What were they looking for?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Matthias said as he struggled in Puss' grip.
His bodyguards made as if to interfere. "Back off!" Thomas ordered them before putting a hand on Puss' shoulder and shaking him. "Let him go, Sarge."
Puss let him go. Matthias might have fallen if one of his bodyguards hadn't steadied him.
"You were providing sanctuary to a pack of murderers," Thomas said.
Matthias brushed the wrinkles Puss' grip had made in his clothes with his hands. "Clearly, I am at fault for allowing those men into my establishment, but they claimed they had been caught up in a fight. As for what they were looking for? Money of course, what else do petty criminals look for?"
"Hermann and Anna wouldn't have had more than twenty dollars between them," Thomas said. "People don't commit multiple murder and ransack a place like their room was for the kind of money a soldier might have hidden."
"But it is common knowledge that the five of you have the very first beckies that were printed, and everyone knows such low serial number bills are worth three thousand dollars each."
"Anybody trying to find those beckies in Hermann's lodgings was wasting their time. The Sarge sent them to his family in Grantville for safe keeping," Thomas said.
Matthias looked back towards the room where the murderers had been held up. "But would they have known that?"
It was all too logical, and Puss was starting to worry that they wouldn't be able to hang anything on Matthias. Then Lenhard stepped out of the room and looked their way. "You might want to arrest Herr Schön."
"On what charge?" Matthias demanded. "You can't even prove those men were your murderers."
Lenhard held up a revolver in each hand. "Corporal Behrns' revolvers. I'd sure like to hear how they came by them if they aren't the murderers."
"But the only people who could tell you that are dead," Matthias said.
"Whatever makes you think that?" Lenhard asked.
Matthias looked suggestively at the gun smoke still drifting around the room Lenhard had walked out of.
Lenhard smiled and called back. "Michael, Herr Schön thinks they're all dead."
Michael Cleesattel appeared at the door and smiled at Matthias. "I'm happy to be able to tell you that only one of your men is dead, and with proper medical attention the other two will live to have their day in court."
Puss had been distracted by Michael appearing at the door; otherwise Matthias might not have got away. But he had been, and Matthias did. He pushed one of his bodyguards into Puss and shot into a room, slamming the door shut behind him. Puss was slow to react, and tried to make up for it by going into the door shoulder first. Fortunately it was his left shoulder, but the recently healed right clavicle protested at the shock of impact.
The interior doors in a brothel aren't normally designed to do much more than provide privacy. They certainly weren't designed to stop two hundred odd pounds of angry male slamming into them. When Puss bounced he knew this wasn't a working room. Before he could do anything more he was pulled to one side as axes were swung at the plastered brick interior wall beside the latch.
The wall wasn't designed for that kind of punishment and a hole big enough for Thomas to look through was soon made. He fired two rapid shots. There was the sound of glass breaking and something falling to the ground outside.
"He escaped through the window," Thomas said as he put a hand through the hole to unlatch the door.
An hour later
Matthias Schön got away. Private Steger had done his best, but too many people had walked across the streets Matthias had used for his escape. The brothel was empty of all but the military police and Corporal Schlegel. The soldiers, under the command of Corporal Martin Knorre, had taken the wounded men to the Medical Department clinic.
Puss and his patrol were sitting in on anything they could find in Schön's office watching Corporal Georg Schlegel searching through Schön's desk. Of course it wasn't a desk as Puss knew desks. It was more of a lectern, with nearby drawers and cupboards packed full of papers and boxes.
"I still don't understand why Herr Schön would want to kill everyone," Hermann said.
"Pimps don't like girls walking out like that. It gives the other girls ideas," Puss said.
"But that's no reason to kill people. A simple working over would be enough to send a message to their other girls," Michael said.
"Maybe Corporal Behrns and Anna came to the girl's defense," Puss suggested.
"Yeah," Michael said. "I can't see Hermann or Anna just standing by and watching a girl being beaten up.
"Okay, so that explains why everyone was killed, but why was the room turned over like that?" Thomas asked. "I mean, they even emptied the mattress,"
"They were looking for beckies," Michael said. "At least that's what they say they were told to look for.
"But we sent them to Grantville," Lenhard said.
"Herr Schön didn't know that," Georg said.
Puss shook his head. "Even if they were worth three grand each, that'd be small change compared with what this place is bringing in."
"Herr Schön doesn't own this establishment, Sergeant Trelli," Georg said. "It is owned by the city council. He was just the manager."
"It still doesn't make sense," Puss muttered.
Early morning, Thursday, November 29, Grantville
Sveta Andreyevna woke with a start, her heart racing. What had woken her? Surely she was safe in her husband's bedroom in his parent's house? She felt a weight moving up the bed and took in a deep breath in preparation to screaming. And then she heard it, the self-satisfied purr of a cat secure in the knowledge that she had just terrified a human.
She poked her head out from under the covers and stared into the murky blackness where the purr was coming from. "You've had your fun, now get lost," Sveta muttered towards the Trelli family's cat.
Naturally, Hero, who was nothing like her namesake in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, completely ignored her. Instead of graciously jumping off the bed and leaving the room, she continued her majestic march up the bed until she reached Sveta's face.
Something cold and wet bumped into Sveta's face. That was bad enough, but Hero insisted in breathing right under her nose. Sveta didn't quite gag, but even lutfisk smelt better than whatever Hero had been eating. She freed an arm from under the covers and tried to push the cat away, but the silly animal seemed to think Sveta wanted to play.
The phone rang and Sveta froze in mid-push. Surely it was too late for people to be calling? She turned on the bedside lamp and checked the time on her watch. It was just after midnight, and telephone calls after midnight were never good. She used both hands to move Hero so she could get out of bed. She thrust her feet into her sheepskin slippers and grabbed the robe from its hook on the back of the door. In the light of the bed lamp she could see Hero making herself comfortable.
She was beaten to the phone by Sue Trelli. "It’s the duty operator from your office," Sue said, handing over the phone.
Sveta felt her stomach clench. There was no good reason for the duty operator to call her. Not at this time of night. "Sveta speaking."
The news wasn't as bad as she'd feared, but it wasn't good. She hung up, and turned to Sue, who'd been joined by her husband. "Our man in Tetschen just filed a brea
king news story that John's patrol was involved in a raid on a brothel, and that there are six dead."
"John?" Sue asked as she held on tightly to her husband.
"He's okay, but at least one of his men is dead." Sveta retired to her room where she slumped onto the bed. Hero nudged her, and Sveta started to caress the cat as she wondered about her feelings. Of course she was extremely relieved that John was okay because of how it would affect Máma and Pápa. It couldn't possibly be because she had feelings for her husband. She was aware of a pair of arms wrapping around her, and she buried her head into Máma's shoulder as the tears fell.
****
Later that morning Sveta was back at work at the Joint Armed Services Press Division, Grantville Office. The events in Tetschen had only rated an easily-missed column-inch on page four of the Grantville papers. There were more important things to worry about than a raid on a brothel in some remote and unimportant outpost. Gustav's health and the debate about the succession continued to dominate the news, especially after the assassination of the queen and narrow escape of Princess Kristina and her betrothed. And of course, there was always the war. In her reading of the paper, Sveta almost missed the notice asking all people who'd traveled on the previous evening's train to contact the Sanitary Commission. She read it, but was none the wiser as to why the Sanitary Commission wanted to talk to them.
Just after noon a messenger arrived with the mail sack. Sveta took it into Lieutenant Johann Dauth's office. "What's happening in Tetschen?" she asked as she handed it over.
"Give me a chance to open it," Johann protested as cut off the seal.
Sveta pulled up a chair and sat opposite Johann as she waited. He opened an envelope to reveal three letters. Johann slid two of them across the desk to Sveta and picked up the other one. After a quick glance he quickly tossed that towards Sveta as well. "The company clerk at Tetschen apologizes for using the official post bag for personal letters, but he's sure I'll understand." He looked at Sveta "Why should I understand?"
"I don't know." Sveta looked at the letters. One was obviously a legal document, but someone had been careless with it, as it had a dirty footprint on it. The other was just a standard military mail service letter. The return addresses didn't help, because they both listed John as the sender. She opened the legal letter first, and smiled when she saw what it was. "It's John giving me permission to write a book based on his movie script."
"I don't think that can be what Corporal Schlegel meant," Johann said, staring at the other letter.
Sveta turned her eyes to the other envelope. Surely if John was okay he would have written? The fact that there was no letter from him in the mail sack scared her. Finally she reached down and broke the seal. Then she slowly opened the letter. The first place she looked was to see who'd sent the letter.
"It's from Corporal Cleesattel, one of John's men." She read a little of the letter. "John is okay, but Corporal Behrns and his partner were killed, as was a twelve-year-old girl they were looking after. Oh, and they murdered Yorick as well." Sveta lowered the letter and stared at the wall. John had talked a lot about Yorick in his letters. For someone to go from terrified of dogs to having one as a pet said a great deal about the bond between them, and then to find his pet bludgeoned to death . . . She wasn't surprised that Corporal Cleesattel thought John was taking Yorick's death hard.
"Okay, so maybe I forgive him for sending that letter by special channels," Johann said. "Anything else?"
"Just a few more details about what happened."
"Right then, you've got what you came for. How about getting back where you belong and doing some work?"
Sveta took the not-so-subtle hint and hurried back to her desk. The first thing she did was add the permission form to the outgoing mail. Then she got back to reading the latest reports on the health of the king.
That evening
Sveta was sitting comfortably on the sofa stroking Hero, who was purring like a buzz saw, watching television with the rest of the household when the phone rang. All eyes turned to Felix Trelli as he picked it up.
"It's for you, Sveta. Dr. Shipley's office."
Sveta stared at the phone as if it was a dangerous snake before accepting it. "Sveta Andreyevna speaking." She listened as she was told what her life was going to be for the next couple of weeks and hung up. She smiled at the rest of the household as she made her way back to her seat and returned to Hero. She needed the comfort stroking the cat gave her.
"What was that about?" Sue Trelli asked.
"There has been an outbreak of measles, and because they don't know if I have ever had measles, Dr. Shipley wants me to stay at home until the outbreak is under control," Sveta said.
"That'd be wise, dear," Sue said. "If a pregnant woman catches measles it can damage the unborn child."
Sveta swallowed. "Damage?"
"Deafness, blindness, mental retardation: lots of things," Sue said.
"Oh!" Sveta ran a hand protectively over her swollen belly. Any intention she might have had to protest had been silenced by what Máma had said.
"You'll be able to work on your book," Elisabeth suggested.
That wasn't a great help. Sveta was used to being around people these days. She liked having people around her. She glanced down at Hero. It looked like the two of them were going to get very well acquainted.
Monday
Over the weekend, the Sanitary Commission had been flooding the airwaves and papers with news of the measles outbreak, announcing travel restrictions, and the fact that the school term would finish early for the Christmas break, so it hadn't come as much of a surprise to Lieutenant Johann Dauth when Sveta rang to tell him that she was under doctor's orders not to leave the house until the new year.
Just because the schools were closed to students didn't mean they were closed to staff, or that other businesses were closed. So Pápa, Máma, Elisabeth, and even Elisabeth's baby sister, Katy, had abandoned her while they went to work. It did mean Sveta could get on with her book, and thanks to the wonders of John's desktop computer, she was making good progress. She would have made better progress but for the other three inhabitants of the house.
There was, of course, Hero, who having finally decided to accept Sveta insisted on visiting her all the time. A cat walking over a keyboard was amusing. Once. When she kept on doing it, it ceased to be amusing. Sveta had finally been forced to deposit her outside the room and shut the door on her.
Then there was the housekeeper and her baby. Magdalena Meyerschmidt was a happily married woman of about thirty that the Trellis had employed after a spate of burglaries of houses left unoccupied during the day. It was a mutually satisfactory arrangement. Sue Trelli had someone happy to clean the house and do the other domestic chores while she was at work, and Magdalena had a job that allowed her work and care for her baby. Only now, because of the measles outbreak, Magdalena and her baby had moved in with the Trellis for the duration.
The baby was a distraction because she was a baby and Sveta couldn't help wandering downstairs every now and again to look at her. Magdalena was a distraction because she was not only a good cook, but she was operating under instructions from Máma to make sure Sveta ate properly. Just thinking about Magdalena had Sveta salivating. She sniffed the air and detected sure signs that something interesting was happening in the kitchen. Sveta followed the tantalizing smell to its source.
"Sit down," Magdalena insisted the moment Sveta entered the kitchen.
She had barely sat before a snack and glass of milk appeared in front of her. The snack was welcome, the milk not so welcome. Milk used to be a rare treat, but since joining the Trelli family she'd seen a lot more of it. Too much more. Máma insisted that a pregnant woman needed to drink plenty of milk for her and the baby's health. With Magdalena watching over her, Sveta dutifully drank it all down. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with drinking milk. She just didn't see why she had to drink it with every meal.
"How is the book g
oing?" Magdalena asked, returning to chopping vegetables for the evening meal.
Sveta thought of the manuscript currently saved on her computer. She knew how she wanted to start and finish it. It was just the bit in the middle that was causing her problems. "John's story calls for a fight scene where the hero beats a villain who is bigger and stronger than he is, but I don't see how he can win."
"I'm sure your husband knew what he was doing when he wrote the scene."
"It was flashy nonsensical Hollywood style fighting," Sveta said. "I grew up with four older half-brothers, and I know how hard it is to beat someone with a greater reach and more strength."
"So do what women have always done, and fight smarter. Use whatever is lying around as a weapon."
"Like a knife?"
"That's probably a bit too obvious for a hero like Commander Erik Zeetrell." Suddenly Magdalena grinned. "What about a skillet or rolling pin?"
Those were two of the classic up-time woman's weapons. Usually used against an erring husband, they would have been a comical moment in a story staring Erik Zeetrell. "But then the fight would have to be in a kitchen, and I can't really see Commander Zeetrell in a kitchen."
"I can," Magdalena said. "Your problem is you're thinking too small. Put the fight in the kitchen of a castle. Then you could even have him fighting with roasting spits."
"Or swinging at each other with fish," Sveta said, getting into the spirit of things. "Thank you, Magda." She wrapped her arms around in the housekeeper to give her a quick hug before heading back to her room, her head brimming with ideas.
Wednesday
Sveta was in her room hard at work when Magdalena knocked lightly on the door. "Yes?" she called.
The door opened and Magdalena poked her head into the room. "I'm just slipping out for a moment to do some shopping. Can you keep an ear out for Maria for me?"
"Sure, just leave the door open so I can hear her if she wakes up."
"Thank you. I shouldn't be long."