“What about whoever hired Farkas? Are they to be allowed. .”
Vicky reached out and took his hands. He felt the strength in her hand and wrist that allowed her to use her pistol with such speed and accuracy. She squeezed hard. “Let me tell you something that Bill told me. He got it from Dan Frost. ‘The difference between the good guys and the bad guys isn’t who’s wearing the badge.’”
Apparently she saw his confusion, because she explained. “The difference between the good guys and the bad guys is not who has the title or the legal right. It’s not even entirely what you’re fighting for, because every despot in the history of the world has been convinced that he was on the side of right. The way you tell the good guys from the bad guys is by how well they follow their own rules.”
“If you say so.” Marton was still unconvinced.
“I know that sort of restraint is hard and, truthfully, most of the time I want to just go ahead, kick ass, and sort it out later,” Vicky said. “In fact, Bill and I argued about it all the time. After he got killed I pretty much gave up on the idea of civil rights for assholes. You want to know what changed my mind?”
“What?” Marton asked.
“Your Polyxena. You’re convinced that she was innocent. Amadeus is convinced that she was innocent. And even if she’d been guilty, execution is totally off the wall for helping someone duck out on a wedding. But what happened to her was all perfectly legal, and things like that happen all over the world, all the time. But they don’t happen in Grantville. You don’t need to worry about the cops busting in your door because someone next to the mayor or the president is pissed or wants something you own. What happened to Polyxena and what it did to you is what convinced me that we must be ruled by laws, not the whims of the powerful.”
Marton looked into those eyes glowing with conviction and wanted to believe. He even agreed that that was the sort of world there ought to be. But it wasn’t the world they lived in. So, instead of agreeing or continuing to argue, he simply lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them.
CHAPTER 35
December 1635
Marton von Debrecen’s Townhouse, Vienna
“Our young ladies have very noble beliefs, but they are not altogether practical,” Amadeus complained to Marton.
“Their up-time world must have been populated by saints,” Marton agreed. “Vicky gave me chapter and verse on the rights of the accused.”
“We need to talk to Jack Pfeifer, you think?”
“Do you think we can trust him not to go running to Princess Hayley? He’s her lawyer, when all is said and done.”
“I think he’ll respect our privacy. And I think that he can give us some practical limits. The thing is, Marton, I would prefer to stay as close to Hayley’s rules as we can. There is something that is just right about them. I’m not quite sure what, but something.”
“Me, too.” Marton agreed. “While we’re at it, though, we should have a talk with Dr. Faust and Moses Abrabanel. And what about your friends, Rudolph and Julian?”
“Not Rudolph. He’s a good and honest man, but he doesn’t think before he speaks. As for Julian. . he’s more circumspect, but Carla is the only von Up-time who didn’t get offered noble rank, and Julian’s parents are. .”
Marton waved off the explanation. He knew about the von Meklau family, and was sure that, within just a few more generations, they would accept fire as a useful tool.
“On the other hand, Julian is always up for intrigue,” Amadeus stopped. “You know who we really need to involve in this?”
“Who?”
“Hayley’s father.”
“He’s an up-timer and likely to have the same prejudices as his daughter.”
“Father says that Janos Drugeth says that he’s probably a spy for Francisco Nasi.”
“Is he in town?”
“No. He’s back along the rail line, negotiating rights-of-way and surveying routes. But he’s expected back at the end of the week.”
“Fine. In the meantime, I am going to go talk with Moses Abrabanel and Jakusch Pfeifer, and I want you to go have a chat with Dr Faust. Maybe the up-timers have some kind of magic technology to help them arrest criminals and Dr. Faust knows about it.”
Fortney House, Race Track City
“In a way they do,” Hertel Faust said. “They have what they call forensic science, which is a way of gathering evidence from the scraps and tiny bits people leave behind. Some of them we can do, and some we can’t. Brandon and I put together fingerprint kits last winter, and the barber surgeons at the water park hospital have learned to type blood.”
“What good does that do?”
“It can narrow down the number of your suspects.” Dr. Faust went over to a bookshelf that was too full by any reasonable standard. “I have a subscription to the Mystery of the Month book club.” Dr. Faust blushed a little. “Also the Romance of the Month book club and Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Month book club and Cheat Sheet Compilation book club.” Dr. Faust pulled a book from the shelf. “Dr. Quincy, M.E. This is a story about a medical examiner who helps the police solve crimes by examining the bodies of murder victims. He can determine who killed them by the marks left by the weapons on the bodies of the victims.”
Amadeus looked at Dr. Faust skeptically.
“Frau Fortney says that it’s fiction and only loosely based on actual up-time forensic techniques. But it’s fun to read about and I have done some of the things in the book to see if they work and they do, at least sort of.”
“What sort of things?” Amadeus was curious in spite of himself.
“Blood spatter, for instance. When a pig is stabbed, you get one kind of blood spatter. When it’s shot, you get another. And you can tell things about where the shooter was standing from where the blood spattered.”
Suddenly Amadeus was less curious. “That’s all very interesting, Herr Doctor, but we’re trying to find out what’s going on before-for instance, Gabrielle-is harmed.”
“Oh, yes. Quite right.” Faust scratched his head. “None of these seem to focus on determining what someone is up to before they do it. I will see what I can find, though.”
Moses Abrabanel’s Office, outside Vienna
“Honestly, I’ve been sort of expecting some type of reaction like this for months,” Moses Abrabanel said. “The changes are frightening and the up-timers are the center of them. While it was just Race Track City, the complaints were political and because the emperor liked his car, no one wanted to push their objections to extremes. Now, though, it seems that the Barbies are intent on subverting the social order.”
“Do you really think that?” Marton asked.
Moses put his hands to his forehead and rubbed his face for a moment. “Yes, in a way I do. But I’m not sure the Barbies are wrong. I think a world without pogroms would be an improvement.”
Marton closed his eyes for a moment. Moses certainly had a point, at least if you were a Jew. “My concern is that someone is going to try to kill the Barbies.”
“They have guards and they are armed,” Moses offered.
“And someone is having them watched. I want it stopped before the attack.”
“Then have your people pick up one of the mercenaries.” Moses shrugged. “I’m not going to tell Susan about it, and I’m not going to object.”
A Tavern in Vienna
Adorjan Farkas felt an itch between his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d had such an itch and he had learned to pay attention to them. Someone was after him. He could feel it. He looked over his shoulder and hid every time he turned a corner. Normally he drank in the common room, but he’d paid extra for an alcove because of his itch. When he saw the guardsmen entering the tavern, he slipped out the back before they saw him. There was a guard out back, but he wasn’t really expecting Farkas. The moment Farkas saw the guard, he attacked.