by Eric Flint
Sooner or later, Noelle supposed, the issue would come to a head. But she was just as glad that she could sidestep it personally. True, if she ever decided she wanted to run for a seat in the USE’s House of Commons, her title as the Countess of Homona would be an obstacle. (Presumably—but, here too, the situation was murky. Did a noble title in another country disqualify someone from running for a seat in the Commons? The laws were murky.)
The chance that Noelle would ever want to do such a thing, however, ranged from cold day in hell to hell freezes over. She was, by training as well as temperament, someone who naturally gravitated toward the executive side of government, not the legislative one. And within those executive functions, her liking and strengths ran toward accepting and carrying out assignments. Not—very much not—toward running for office so she could decide on someone else’s duties.
All things considered, despite the nervousness she’d felt at the start of the day, her wedding went extremely well. It was a long and fatiguing event, of course, as big official weddings always were, especially when they were taking place within the imprimatur of the Roman Catholic church in all its full and formal glory.
But, now, it was over. There was still a bit of an ordeal left, which was the post-wedding reception. This would not be the party-in-all-but-name that American wedding receptions typically were, but a genuine reception—which was to say, the long and tedious process of meeting and greeting all of the many dignitaries who’d come to pay their respects.
Noelle wasn’t looking forward to it. But she didn’t imagine it would be all that bad, either.
* * *
Two hours after it began, she was having some doubts. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so bored in her life. Thankfully, the actual meet-and-greet part was done, but it seemed she and Janos were expected to stand around just in case someone else felt like coming up to them and saying something completely inconsequential.
So, she was relieved when Emperor Ferdinand came up, took both Janos and her by the elbow, and led them away.
“That’s enough, I think,” he said. “And there’s a matter I need you to assist me with.”
The three of them did a stately procession out of the public portions of the palace, nodding graciously to one and all as they passed through. The advantage to having the emperor himself as their escort was that very few people—only two, both of whom were inebriated and quickly brushed aside—were bold enough to stop them for a chat.
Less than three minutes later, Ferdinand ushered Noelle and Janos into a small audience chamber.
The first thing she noticed were the other occupants in the room, all of whom were already seated: Gustav II Adolf, Mike Stearns, Rebecca Abrabanel and Francisco Nasi.
The second thing she noticed was that all the seats, including three vacant ones clearly intended for the emperor, herself and Janos, were arranged in a circle.
The third thing she noticed was that there were no servants in the room. No guards, either.
Not one.
Oh, hell’s bells, she thought. This is not good.
* * *
As soon as Ferdinand took his seat, he gave everyone a quick, hard look. “What you are about to hear may not be discussed with anyone—no one—who is not already present in this room. Is that understood?”
Mutely, Noelle and Janos nodded. None of the others did, which Noelle took to mean they already knew what the emperor was about to disclose.
Oh, hell’s bells. This is really not good.
She wondered if she could make it to the door before someone tackled her. Probably… not.
Ferdinand nodded toward Francisco Nasi. “He received a radio message yesterday from Vienna. They are still alive. Unhurt. My brother and sister, and their two companions. The American Judy Wendell and a woman named Minnie Hugelmair. She works for Don Francisco, it seems, and was the one who sent the message.”
Janos grunted softly. “They made it to the secret cellars, then?”
“Exactly so,” said Ferdinand.
“What supplies do they have?” Janos asked.
Ferdinand looked at Nasi. The Jewish spymaster made a small shrugging gesture. “I don’t know, exactly. All the message said in that regard was: ‘supplied for months.’ Understand that this message was sent in code, using Morse, and they must have been at some risk while sending it so they would have kept it as brief as possible. But I know Minnie. She’s as steady as a rock and not given to hyperbole. If she says they’re supplied for months, that can be taken at face value.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “I know Minnie too, Your Majesty,” said Noelle. “Leopold and Cecilia Renata are fortunate, to have her for a companion in this situation.”
She glanced at Janos. “If someone could explain… what are these secret cellars?”
The explanation took a few minutes. From the attentive way they listened, Noelle thought that these details were also new to Mike, Rebecca and Gustav Adolf. Ferdinand had probably just filled them in on the gist of the situation before Noelle and Janos arrived.
Once the explanation was over, Ferdinand looked to Mike Stearns. “I must ask—is it possible your Captain Lefferts might be able to rescue them?”
Noelle couldn’t stop herself from blurting: “Oh, no!”
Everyone looked at her. “Why not?” asked Gustav Adolf. “The captain is the world’s—well, Europe’s—most accomplished gaol-breaker, is he not?”
Noelle groped for a way to explain, all the while silently cursing herself for not keeping her blasted mouth shut.
“Yes, that’s true, but…” She began with a quibble: “Your brother and sister—all of them—are not in a gaol, Your Majesty. No one is holding them captive, after all. What they are is in hiding. And—and—” She didn’t know where to go from there.
Thankfully, Mike took up the slack. “I have to say I’m with Noelle on this one, Your Majesty. Harry Lefferts… How to say it? You want courage, boldness, tenacity—Harry’s your man. Cleverness, too. But we’re not talking about breaking someone out of prison here. I can’t see any way that Harry’s skill set is going to be all that useful to us.”
“In any event,” Rebecca chimed in, “Captain Lefferts is far away from here, on another assignment.”
Gustav Adolf cleared his throat. “Indeed, he is. He may not even be on the continent, at the moment.” He raised his hand. “But I should say no more about that.”
Ferdinand looked back at Mike. “Indirection, you’re saying?”
“Yes—and strategic indirection, not simply tactical. Harry Lefferts can head-fake in a fight with the best of them, but we’re not in a fight. Not yet.”
“It is more like a game of go than chess,” added Rebecca. Seeing the incomprehension on most faces, she fluttered her fingers. “Go is a Chinese game. A few of the Americans play it and I have watched them. It is more of a game of position than maneuver. Hard to explain—but what I am trying to express is this: What we need to do first of all is determine a way we can insert a rescue team into Vienna. That will almost certainly have to be done through diplomatic subterfuge, however. This is really a task for a very capable agent, not a commando leader.”
Again, she fluttered her fingers. “At some point, it may be necessary to bring in what my husband would call ‘the muscle.’ If so, and if he’s back from—wherever he is—Captain Lefferts may be called upon. But we need to begin by choosing the agent.”
Everyone now looked at Nasi.
“I agree. And I know just the right person for the job.”
He now looked at Noelle.
“I just got married,” she said. Well, squeaked.
Vienna, former capital of Austria-Hungary, now occupied by the Ottoman Empire
“The name of the person I am thinking of starts with an ‘M’,” said Minnie.
“Is the person female?” asked Judy.
“Yes.”
“Of course she’s female,” said Leopold. “Minnie always picks women when she�
�s defending.”
“Just as you always pick men,” said his sister, unsympathetically. “Is the person you are thinking of a resident of Europe? Defining Europe as always—west of the Urals, north of the Caucasus.”
“Yes,” said Minnie.
“Is she active in politics?” asked Judy.
Minnie shook her head. “That question’s posed too broadly.”
“I’ll restate it. Is she a head of state?”
“No.”
“Is she married to a head of state?”
“No.”
“Does she hold any official title?”
“Yes.”
Cecilia Renata pounced. “Does she hold any official post?”
“No.”
“Ha!” Judy clapped her hands. “Title but no post. That narrows it down to…”
“Thousands of women in Europe,” said Leopold. “Assuming that she isn’t dead—which we still don’t know—in which case the number climbs to tens of thousands of women in Europe.”
“You’re right, I forgot,” said Judy. “Is the woman you are thinking of still alive?”
“Yes.”
Leopold shook his head. “That still doesn’t—”
“Is she a real woman?” asked Cecilia Renata. “Not mythical or legendary.”
“Yes.”
“I am sick of Botticelli,” groused Leopold.
“Would you rather play Ghost?”
“God, no.” As an archduke of Austria-Hungary, Leopold considered himself exempt from the third commandment, so long as the blasphemy wasn’t heartfelt. “That’s the most boring word game there is. Why didn’t any of us think to bring a deck of cards?”
“Do you want me to haul out the shit wagon?” asked Minnie. “I’m sure I could find a deck of cards somewhere in Vienna.”
Without waiting for an answer to that—oh, so very rhetorical—question, Cecilia Renata pressed on. “Is the person you are thinking of active in the arts?”
“Yes.”
“Ha!” Judy clapped her hands again. Vigorously enough, this time, to cause the candle to flicker. In that dim, unstable light, she looked like a predator. “We’re hot on the trail! Is this fun, or what?”
CAST OF CHARACTERS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I got a lot of help from many people in writing this novel. I can’t possibly thank all of them without turning this into a longwinded essay, but I would like to single out a few people who were of particular assistance:
Stanley Roberts was extraordinarily helpful to me in dealing with all of the Ottoman material. The history of that great and long-lasting empire is both complex and difficult to grasp for anyone who, like me, has never devoted specialized study to it. Stanley, as he has in previous novels, was invaluable in steering me away from errors and toward the things I needed.
Iver Cooper and Kerryn Offord were of great help when it came to the material dealing with airships.
Finally, I want to thanks Judith Lyons for her assistance with regard to the Episcopal Church. Institutions—certainly religious ones—always look simpler from the outside than they really are. Judith was very supportive in guiding me through those intricacies and subtleties.
Errors that may remain, with respect to the matters touched upon above or any others, are entirely mine.
Note on the transliteration of Ottoman Turkish Words
Ottoman Turkish was written using a modified Arabic script. As many of my readers may not be familiar with this script, I have elected to transliterate the Ottoman words using the more familiar Roman characters of English, with the addition of some special characters which I define below.
In those cases where an Ottoman word has entered English (e.g., janissary, vizier), I have used the standard English spelling. For less common words, there are several different transliteration schemes that are used by scholars. While for those familiar with them they present a clear guide to pronunciation, for the general reader each has its advantages and disadvantages. Because this book is aimed at the general public, rather than use a single scheme, I have elected to use the transliteration which, in my opinion, will give the reader the best chance of pronouncing the word correctly.