Security solutions, p.17
Security Solutions, page 17
“I will check the Exchange on the hours,” Woodruff said. “I can question shopkeepers downtown and describe Casimir.”
Grantville’s north side
12:30 p.m.
“I do not expect any violence,” Neustatter stated. “But if I am wrong, Fräulein, run. Miss Schäubin, run with her and provide close security.”
“I will,” Barbara Kellarmännin agreed. “Does one knock on the door?”
Neustatter nodded to Astrid, who knocked and pulled the door open. He stepped inside, right hand close to his holster.
“Afternoon, Ma’am. Miss Kellarmännin here is investigating a stalker. It might be this person has been bothering people here. Might she have a few minutes of y’all’s time?”
The woman sitting at a small table gave him a hard look. “Time is money.”
“Ja. We very politely did not bring the polizei so as not to take up much of your time. Just a few questions, bitte, so we can be gone long before any, ah, guests arrive.”
Astrid had to admire Neustatter’s approach.
The woman crossed her arms and sighed. “I am not pleased.” She rose and left the room. Astrid could hear her hollering. Within a few minutes, several women began filing into the room, almost filling it.
Neustatter nodded to Barbara.
“Guten Morgen. I am a profiler. I study criminal behavior. Stopp! At this time, in my official capacity, your activities are not of interest to me.”
A couple of the women who had bolted for the door cautiously returned.
“I will describe a particular man. Tell me if this sounds like anyone you know, bitte.
“He is a down-timer, no taller than five feet four inches American system. He wears a cloak and hat. He is older than 30 but younger than 50. He is careful—very careful. He plans to the smallest detail, but if he is surprised or angry, he might forget his planning and act impulsively. He will not challenge another man unless he is surprised or angry. He works in the shadows.
“He is awkward around women, very bad at conversation. He would not know how to sweet talk you. But he leaves little presents. Jewelry. He takes things, too. These items might not be expensive but would remind him of you.”
Barbara watched them all, especially a blonde young woman who seemed little older than Barbara herself. The girl’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“You know whom I mean, do you not? Fräulein . . . ”
One of the older woman laughed harshly. “She is not a fräulein.” She went on to describe what she was.
“Enough!” Barbara snapped. “What is your name?”
The girl ducked her head. “Maria.”
“What is this man’s name?”
“Tobias. Tobias Sprunck.”
Sprunck? Astrid knew her eyes were just as big as Maria’s had been.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No!” Maria shouted.
“We . . . ” Neustatter began, but Barbara cut him off with an upraised hand.
“Why do you not know?” Her voice was quiet. “It sounds like you do not want to know.”
“We work here, Fräulein. We do not go home with the men. Well, sometimes. But never with him.”
“Why not?”
Several of the women muttered, but Astrid couldn’t hear what they said.
“Go on. Tell her, girl,” one of the others urged Maria.
“There is something wrong with him,” Maria said. “He is not right inside. You are correct when you say he does not know how to talk to us. He brings little presents. We think he steals things. And afterwards, he always asks if we enjoyed it.”
Astrid heard Barbara mutter something that sounded like “power reassurance” but didn’t know what it meant.
Barbara was scanning the others. “Do you agree?”
The older woman who had spoken up before shook her head. “Sprunck never asks for me.”
Barbara nodded to the woman beside her.
“Ja.”
And to the next.
“He never asks for me, either.”
“He wants only blondes,” Barbara realized. Astrid watched her entire body tense. “Young blondes, am I correct?”
A chorus of ja answered her.
Neustatter tossed in a question. “Is Sprunck often in the company of another man named Giovanni D’Ambrosi?”
Barbara turned to stare at him. But several of the women giggled, and Barbara’s head snapped back around.
“What is funny?” she asked.
“Giovanni,” one of them said. “We do not mind seeing him at all. Do we, Maria?”
Barbara could have sworn the girl blushed.
“What is Giovanni like?” she asked.
“The opposite,” Maria answered. “Giovanni is nothing but sweet talk. He is adel, so he says, and has the fancy house and the servants to prove it. He calls it his embassy.”
“We call it ‘going to Italy,’” one of the other women said.
“Where is it?”
Neustatter took out his pad and copied down the answer.
“D’Ambrosi and Sprunck know each other?” Barbara asked.
“Ja. Maybe friends, maybe business partners,” Maria answered again.
“Maria is quite taken with Giovanni,” one of the other women told them. “Sprunck is a good German from Chemnitz, but no, she must have the Italian.”
“Easy for a brunette like you to say,” one of the other blondes retorted.
“Danke,” Barbara told them. “Especially you, Maria.” Astrid watched her pause. Then the Brethren girl blurted out, “Why do you stay here?”
The other women laughed.
But Maria didn’t. “I do not know how to do anything else.”
“The school?” Barbara prompted.
“No one wants a prostitute in their classes.”
“That can change.”
Astrid saw Barbara was looking at Neustatter. She could practically hear her boss’ eyes roll.
“I cannot hire everyone,” he protested.
“There must be something,” Barbara muttered. She raised her voice to a normal tone. “Danke.”
Some of the women were muttering, too. But Maria looked wistful, in Astrid’s opinion.
12:55 p.m.
Once they were outside, Neustatter hurried them down the block and around a corner. He stopped and looked Barbara in the eye.
“Casimir Wesner is missing. His classmates—fellow spies, I should say—think Sprunck and maybe D’Ambrosi have something to do with it. Why are you after Sprunck?”
“Someone was stalking Sunshine Moritz, one of the lifeguards at the swimming pool. She is also young and blonde. Now I am sure Sprunck is the one who followed her, left items, and took others.”
“And possibly took Casimir,” Neustatter added. “Well, we know where he lives.”
“We need to tell Herr Chief Richards.”
Astrid was sure Neustatter was rolling his eyes again.
1:25 p.m.
Nevertheless, Neustatter led them back to the police station.
“We need to see Chief Richards,” Neustatter told the woman at the front desk. “Miss Kellarmännin has new information on both our cases.”
“The chief’ll be right back. There’s a problem at the State Library.”
“I was just there!” Astrid exclaimed. “It was quiet.”
“Just a couple of the adel trying to throw their weight around.” The dispatcher continued in an unruffled tone. “And a scaffolding collapsed at the fairgrounds and a couple people got hurt, so Chief Richards might swing by there before he comes back here.”
“Scaffolding?” Astrid asked. “The scaffolding in Buffalo Creek?”
“Yeah.”
Neustatter turned. “Miss Kellarmännin, stay here and wait for Chief Richards. Miss Schäubin, take Church Street to Kircher’s aqualator and make sure they are okay. Exchange information with Otto on the way.”
Astrid nodded. Neustatter wanted her to use the back way rather than go past the road Sprunck’s apartment was on. “Where will you be?”
“I will check to see if anyone is waiting at the Exchange and catch up to you.”
Hough Park
2:00 p.m.
“Ja. The scaffolding in the creek collapsed,” Otto reported. “Lifeguards from the swimming pool saved a couple people. Ditmar and the Dutch girl got there right after it happened. He sent Hjalmar over here to tell me.”
Astrid frowned. “Sounds suspicious. The project was sabotaged yesterday, and it collapses today? Where is Hjalmar now?”
“He said he was going to meet the rest of you at the Exchange.”
“Gut. Neustatter will find him there.”
Astrid continued on to the aqualator site. She found Frau Boekhorst and Ditmar there. And Georg. He looked up from examining some large boards long enough to give her a wave and a brief smile.
“Ditmar, Frau Boekhorst, do the polizei need you?” she asked.
“No,” Father Athanasius Kircher answered for them. “We cannot do anything until Georg is finished. There is no need for the rest of you to wait on pins and needles.”
“Let’s meet up with Otto’s team,” Astrid suggested. “Neustatter told me to, so I know he will check for us there.”
Ditmar looked to Frau Boekhorst, who sighed and allowed him to talk her into it.
Within a few minutes, Astrid, Ditmar, and Otto were exchanging information.
“Neustatter!” Phillip Pfeffer called out.
Astrid looked up to see Neustatter and her brother Hjalmar hurrying toward them, along with Frau Želivský, Brother Václav, and Mathew Woodruff. Even at a distance, they looked grim.
“Gut. Everyone is here,” Neustatter said by way of greeting as NESS agents gathered around him. “Team leaders and Casimir’s associates, bitte. What happened here?”
Frau Boekhorst explained the scaffolding had collapsed and lifeguards had rescued a man trapped underwater.
“Whoever did this almost has to be connected to Sprunck and D’Ambrosi,” Neustatter declared.
“Maybe the lifeguards saw something,” Ritter Friedrich suggested.
“It is possible,” Neustatter allowed. “Go ask, then come back here and report to Otto.”
The boy’s face lit up.
“Neustatter!” Krystal von Kardorff protested. “He just wants to see that girl.”
Neustatter raised an eyebrow but continued. “Otto, you and your team have to stay here. We do have a contract. So go patrol,” he told them. “Otto will update you later.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Neustatter pointed to Brother Václav. Astrid noticed the monk was wearing workman’s gloves.
He held out a torn piece of paper. “I checked Casimir’s boardinghouse again. This was delivered, addressed to Casimir Wesner’s associates. It is a ransom note. The kidnappers demand one hundred thousand USE dollars by tomorrow.”
Neustatter frowned. “The letters are not cut from a newspaper like they should be. Who handwrites a ransom note? Look at the backwards slant and those O’s. Anything else written by this man will be easy for the police to identify.”
He looked at each of Wesner’s classmates in turn. “Do you or Wesner or his patrons have this much money?”
“No,” Frau Boekhorst answered. “Oh, there was probably that much money wrapped up in the stock IPO Herr Wesner set up. But most of it belonged to the adel, not us.”
“The police are busy,” Neustatter stated. “Since Herr Woodruff found out where Sprunck lives, I think we should check it out.”
“Neustatter . . . ” Astrid began.
Neustatter held up a hand. “If the kidnappers are holding him there, I will send someone to go get the police. But now we know for sure someone kidnapped Casimir, so we must check.”
Franklin Manor
3:30 p.m.
An hour later, Neustatter and Astrid crept closer to the apartment buildings off Franklin Street Sprunck lived in. The long, narrow buildings were two stories tall. Instead of opening off a central hallway on each floor, every apartment had two floors and its own exterior doors. One was at ground level, and the one on the other side opened off the second floor, which put it right at the level of the parking lot on the steep slope behind the buildings.
Neustatter found Sprunck’s apartment number and tested the second-floor door. It was locked. He pulled something from his back pocket and slid it into the lock. After a couple minutes of fiddling, he swung the door open and slipped inside. Astrid paused and listened. She could just make out her brother’s voice on the other side of the building, asking directions to the fairgrounds to distract the neighbors. She followed Neustatter inside, making sure to close the door gently.
Neustatter was standing there in the middle of a sitting room, listening. After a couple minutes he made a zero with his thumb and forefinger, indicating he thought the apartment was unoccupied.
Astrid nodded in agreement.
Nevertheless, Neustatter pointed at Astrid and motioned with two fingers of his left hand toward his eyes, then pointed left and at the stairs. His meaning was plain enough; she was to watch the stairs and the door to the left while he cleared the room to the right.
Neustatter cleared right and left, then they made their way downstairs. The lower floor was one big room. A kitchen area, a dining area, and a sitting area were apparent, but there were no walls between them. There was a small bathroom in one corner, and Neustatter cleared it.
Neustatter holstered his .45. “What do you see, Miss Schäubin?”
Her answer was immediate. “No women live here. There is no decoration at all. The central room upstairs is unused, as is the sitting area over there. The kitchen is clean and organized. I suspect Tobias Sprunck does not eat at home very often.”
“It fits with what I saw in the bedrooms upstairs. One really is a bedroom. The other appears to be his laboratory.”
They searched the lower floor.
“There is nothing here, Neustatter,” Astrid stated. “This is a lot of room for one man, and he uses very little of it.”
“It is. Sprunck must have money and desire privacy. Let us search upstairs.”
Astrid assessed the bedroom. It was neater than she expected. Sprunck seemed to collect knickknacks, particularly colorful ones. She’d once heard an up-timer refer to that tendency as “bright shiny object syndrome.” Up-timers had some strange ideas. But after she saw a pocket calculator, a stapler, a four-color pen, an up-time woman’s compact, and a couple handfuls of change, she decided perhaps they had a point.
She stepped back to get an impression of the whole room. Framed sketches on the walls drew her attention—they seemed out of place for a spy. She crossed the room and studied each sketch up close. Each was of a different light-haired woman. They were quality work—but disturbing. Every single one of the women looked scared. And one of them looked like one of the women from the brothel.
She spotted another framed sketch lying on a side table and frowned. It is framed, so why is it not hanging on the wall? Astrid picked it up and recognized Maria at once. That’s creepy. And it is heavy. She turned the picture over. It had a wooden backing. Why bother? Oh—I think this slides . . . She fumbled—gloves were awkward—but managed to slip the backing out of the frame. It was two thin pieces of wood . . . with folded pages between them.
She flicked them open and saw rows of letters and symbols. The key to the coded message Bühler carried!
Neustatter stuck his head in. “I searched the laboratory. I am no scientist or mechanic, but seems to me to be a little of this, a little of that. There is no single purpose. I cannot tell if any of the equipment is hot.”
Astrid showed him the sketch and the papers.
“Nice work.” Neustatter peered closer. “I think it is the same backwards slant the ransom note was written in.”
Astrid used his lockpick to flip to the second page. She gasped. “Neustatter! There’s a symbol for D’Ambrosi! And another for Bühler.”
“And a bunch of other words.” Neustatter already had his pad out and was copying those symbols.
Astrid spoke slowly. “I think I remember this sun and this box and shield from the note that Bühler had on him.”
Neustatter stopped writing and looked at the key. “It means ‘D’Ambrosi house.’ I bet they have Casimir over there. Quickly, put everything back as you found it.”
“What if there is more behind the other sketches?” Astrid asked.
Neustatter grabbed the nearest one from the wall. It, too, had a wooden backing. He slid it free of the frame. There were indeed pages inside.
Astrid saw Neustatter make a face. “What is it?”
Neustatter’s words were clipped. “More sketches of women. With no clothes.”
He reassembled everything and hung the sketch back on the wall. “We know where D’Ambrosi lives. It’s not far from here.”
As they locked Sprunck’s door, Astrid murmured, “Neustatter, I seem to do entirely too much breaking and entering.”
“Nein, just enough.”
A few minutes later, they met up with Hjalmar, Ditmar, and Casimir’s classmates.
“I was about to bring the cavalry,” Hjalmar stated.
“Astrid found the key to the message Bühler carried,” Neustatter stated. “I think the writing matches the ransom note, which means Sprunck’s group kidnapped Casimir, stalked the up-time girl, sabotaged the scaffolding, and stole the rabbits. Everyone is working the same case. And we are running out of time. We need to storm that house. Come—we will talk as we walk.”
“Neustatter?” Astrid pulled him aside. “I think Chief Richards will want the police to do it.”
“We do not have time for that.” Neustatter held up a hand. “No, I am serious. Everything we just learned at Sprunck’s will not count. The police will have to discover it for themselves.”
“But—”
“Yes, Georg could do it. But could you and I guide him into discovering everything in time?”
“Oh.” Astrid grimaced. Nein, Georg would certainly realize we were trying to direct him. She had one last concern. “The women?”
Grantville’s north side
12:30 p.m.
“I do not expect any violence,” Neustatter stated. “But if I am wrong, Fräulein, run. Miss Schäubin, run with her and provide close security.”
“I will,” Barbara Kellarmännin agreed. “Does one knock on the door?”
Neustatter nodded to Astrid, who knocked and pulled the door open. He stepped inside, right hand close to his holster.
“Afternoon, Ma’am. Miss Kellarmännin here is investigating a stalker. It might be this person has been bothering people here. Might she have a few minutes of y’all’s time?”
The woman sitting at a small table gave him a hard look. “Time is money.”
“Ja. We very politely did not bring the polizei so as not to take up much of your time. Just a few questions, bitte, so we can be gone long before any, ah, guests arrive.”
Astrid had to admire Neustatter’s approach.
The woman crossed her arms and sighed. “I am not pleased.” She rose and left the room. Astrid could hear her hollering. Within a few minutes, several women began filing into the room, almost filling it.
Neustatter nodded to Barbara.
“Guten Morgen. I am a profiler. I study criminal behavior. Stopp! At this time, in my official capacity, your activities are not of interest to me.”
A couple of the women who had bolted for the door cautiously returned.
“I will describe a particular man. Tell me if this sounds like anyone you know, bitte.
“He is a down-timer, no taller than five feet four inches American system. He wears a cloak and hat. He is older than 30 but younger than 50. He is careful—very careful. He plans to the smallest detail, but if he is surprised or angry, he might forget his planning and act impulsively. He will not challenge another man unless he is surprised or angry. He works in the shadows.
“He is awkward around women, very bad at conversation. He would not know how to sweet talk you. But he leaves little presents. Jewelry. He takes things, too. These items might not be expensive but would remind him of you.”
Barbara watched them all, especially a blonde young woman who seemed little older than Barbara herself. The girl’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“You know whom I mean, do you not? Fräulein . . . ”
One of the older woman laughed harshly. “She is not a fräulein.” She went on to describe what she was.
“Enough!” Barbara snapped. “What is your name?”
The girl ducked her head. “Maria.”
“What is this man’s name?”
“Tobias. Tobias Sprunck.”
Sprunck? Astrid knew her eyes were just as big as Maria’s had been.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No!” Maria shouted.
“We . . . ” Neustatter began, but Barbara cut him off with an upraised hand.
“Why do you not know?” Her voice was quiet. “It sounds like you do not want to know.”
“We work here, Fräulein. We do not go home with the men. Well, sometimes. But never with him.”
“Why not?”
Several of the women muttered, but Astrid couldn’t hear what they said.
“Go on. Tell her, girl,” one of the others urged Maria.
“There is something wrong with him,” Maria said. “He is not right inside. You are correct when you say he does not know how to talk to us. He brings little presents. We think he steals things. And afterwards, he always asks if we enjoyed it.”
Astrid heard Barbara mutter something that sounded like “power reassurance” but didn’t know what it meant.
Barbara was scanning the others. “Do you agree?”
The older woman who had spoken up before shook her head. “Sprunck never asks for me.”
Barbara nodded to the woman beside her.
“Ja.”
And to the next.
“He never asks for me, either.”
“He wants only blondes,” Barbara realized. Astrid watched her entire body tense. “Young blondes, am I correct?”
A chorus of ja answered her.
Neustatter tossed in a question. “Is Sprunck often in the company of another man named Giovanni D’Ambrosi?”
Barbara turned to stare at him. But several of the women giggled, and Barbara’s head snapped back around.
“What is funny?” she asked.
“Giovanni,” one of them said. “We do not mind seeing him at all. Do we, Maria?”
Barbara could have sworn the girl blushed.
“What is Giovanni like?” she asked.
“The opposite,” Maria answered. “Giovanni is nothing but sweet talk. He is adel, so he says, and has the fancy house and the servants to prove it. He calls it his embassy.”
“We call it ‘going to Italy,’” one of the other women said.
“Where is it?”
Neustatter took out his pad and copied down the answer.
“D’Ambrosi and Sprunck know each other?” Barbara asked.
“Ja. Maybe friends, maybe business partners,” Maria answered again.
“Maria is quite taken with Giovanni,” one of the other women told them. “Sprunck is a good German from Chemnitz, but no, she must have the Italian.”
“Easy for a brunette like you to say,” one of the other blondes retorted.
“Danke,” Barbara told them. “Especially you, Maria.” Astrid watched her pause. Then the Brethren girl blurted out, “Why do you stay here?”
The other women laughed.
But Maria didn’t. “I do not know how to do anything else.”
“The school?” Barbara prompted.
“No one wants a prostitute in their classes.”
“That can change.”
Astrid saw Barbara was looking at Neustatter. She could practically hear her boss’ eyes roll.
“I cannot hire everyone,” he protested.
“There must be something,” Barbara muttered. She raised her voice to a normal tone. “Danke.”
Some of the women were muttering, too. But Maria looked wistful, in Astrid’s opinion.
12:55 p.m.
Once they were outside, Neustatter hurried them down the block and around a corner. He stopped and looked Barbara in the eye.
“Casimir Wesner is missing. His classmates—fellow spies, I should say—think Sprunck and maybe D’Ambrosi have something to do with it. Why are you after Sprunck?”
“Someone was stalking Sunshine Moritz, one of the lifeguards at the swimming pool. She is also young and blonde. Now I am sure Sprunck is the one who followed her, left items, and took others.”
“And possibly took Casimir,” Neustatter added. “Well, we know where he lives.”
“We need to tell Herr Chief Richards.”
Astrid was sure Neustatter was rolling his eyes again.
1:25 p.m.
Nevertheless, Neustatter led them back to the police station.
“We need to see Chief Richards,” Neustatter told the woman at the front desk. “Miss Kellarmännin has new information on both our cases.”
“The chief’ll be right back. There’s a problem at the State Library.”
“I was just there!” Astrid exclaimed. “It was quiet.”
“Just a couple of the adel trying to throw their weight around.” The dispatcher continued in an unruffled tone. “And a scaffolding collapsed at the fairgrounds and a couple people got hurt, so Chief Richards might swing by there before he comes back here.”
“Scaffolding?” Astrid asked. “The scaffolding in Buffalo Creek?”
“Yeah.”
Neustatter turned. “Miss Kellarmännin, stay here and wait for Chief Richards. Miss Schäubin, take Church Street to Kircher’s aqualator and make sure they are okay. Exchange information with Otto on the way.”
Astrid nodded. Neustatter wanted her to use the back way rather than go past the road Sprunck’s apartment was on. “Where will you be?”
“I will check to see if anyone is waiting at the Exchange and catch up to you.”
Hough Park
2:00 p.m.
“Ja. The scaffolding in the creek collapsed,” Otto reported. “Lifeguards from the swimming pool saved a couple people. Ditmar and the Dutch girl got there right after it happened. He sent Hjalmar over here to tell me.”
Astrid frowned. “Sounds suspicious. The project was sabotaged yesterday, and it collapses today? Where is Hjalmar now?”
“He said he was going to meet the rest of you at the Exchange.”
“Gut. Neustatter will find him there.”
Astrid continued on to the aqualator site. She found Frau Boekhorst and Ditmar there. And Georg. He looked up from examining some large boards long enough to give her a wave and a brief smile.
“Ditmar, Frau Boekhorst, do the polizei need you?” she asked.
“No,” Father Athanasius Kircher answered for them. “We cannot do anything until Georg is finished. There is no need for the rest of you to wait on pins and needles.”
“Let’s meet up with Otto’s team,” Astrid suggested. “Neustatter told me to, so I know he will check for us there.”
Ditmar looked to Frau Boekhorst, who sighed and allowed him to talk her into it.
Within a few minutes, Astrid, Ditmar, and Otto were exchanging information.
“Neustatter!” Phillip Pfeffer called out.
Astrid looked up to see Neustatter and her brother Hjalmar hurrying toward them, along with Frau Želivský, Brother Václav, and Mathew Woodruff. Even at a distance, they looked grim.
“Gut. Everyone is here,” Neustatter said by way of greeting as NESS agents gathered around him. “Team leaders and Casimir’s associates, bitte. What happened here?”
Frau Boekhorst explained the scaffolding had collapsed and lifeguards had rescued a man trapped underwater.
“Whoever did this almost has to be connected to Sprunck and D’Ambrosi,” Neustatter declared.
“Maybe the lifeguards saw something,” Ritter Friedrich suggested.
“It is possible,” Neustatter allowed. “Go ask, then come back here and report to Otto.”
The boy’s face lit up.
“Neustatter!” Krystal von Kardorff protested. “He just wants to see that girl.”
Neustatter raised an eyebrow but continued. “Otto, you and your team have to stay here. We do have a contract. So go patrol,” he told them. “Otto will update you later.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Neustatter pointed to Brother Václav. Astrid noticed the monk was wearing workman’s gloves.
He held out a torn piece of paper. “I checked Casimir’s boardinghouse again. This was delivered, addressed to Casimir Wesner’s associates. It is a ransom note. The kidnappers demand one hundred thousand USE dollars by tomorrow.”
Neustatter frowned. “The letters are not cut from a newspaper like they should be. Who handwrites a ransom note? Look at the backwards slant and those O’s. Anything else written by this man will be easy for the police to identify.”
He looked at each of Wesner’s classmates in turn. “Do you or Wesner or his patrons have this much money?”
“No,” Frau Boekhorst answered. “Oh, there was probably that much money wrapped up in the stock IPO Herr Wesner set up. But most of it belonged to the adel, not us.”
“The police are busy,” Neustatter stated. “Since Herr Woodruff found out where Sprunck lives, I think we should check it out.”
“Neustatter . . . ” Astrid began.
Neustatter held up a hand. “If the kidnappers are holding him there, I will send someone to go get the police. But now we know for sure someone kidnapped Casimir, so we must check.”
Franklin Manor
3:30 p.m.
An hour later, Neustatter and Astrid crept closer to the apartment buildings off Franklin Street Sprunck lived in. The long, narrow buildings were two stories tall. Instead of opening off a central hallway on each floor, every apartment had two floors and its own exterior doors. One was at ground level, and the one on the other side opened off the second floor, which put it right at the level of the parking lot on the steep slope behind the buildings.
Neustatter found Sprunck’s apartment number and tested the second-floor door. It was locked. He pulled something from his back pocket and slid it into the lock. After a couple minutes of fiddling, he swung the door open and slipped inside. Astrid paused and listened. She could just make out her brother’s voice on the other side of the building, asking directions to the fairgrounds to distract the neighbors. She followed Neustatter inside, making sure to close the door gently.
Neustatter was standing there in the middle of a sitting room, listening. After a couple minutes he made a zero with his thumb and forefinger, indicating he thought the apartment was unoccupied.
Astrid nodded in agreement.
Nevertheless, Neustatter pointed at Astrid and motioned with two fingers of his left hand toward his eyes, then pointed left and at the stairs. His meaning was plain enough; she was to watch the stairs and the door to the left while he cleared the room to the right.
Neustatter cleared right and left, then they made their way downstairs. The lower floor was one big room. A kitchen area, a dining area, and a sitting area were apparent, but there were no walls between them. There was a small bathroom in one corner, and Neustatter cleared it.
Neustatter holstered his .45. “What do you see, Miss Schäubin?”
Her answer was immediate. “No women live here. There is no decoration at all. The central room upstairs is unused, as is the sitting area over there. The kitchen is clean and organized. I suspect Tobias Sprunck does not eat at home very often.”
“It fits with what I saw in the bedrooms upstairs. One really is a bedroom. The other appears to be his laboratory.”
They searched the lower floor.
“There is nothing here, Neustatter,” Astrid stated. “This is a lot of room for one man, and he uses very little of it.”
“It is. Sprunck must have money and desire privacy. Let us search upstairs.”
Astrid assessed the bedroom. It was neater than she expected. Sprunck seemed to collect knickknacks, particularly colorful ones. She’d once heard an up-timer refer to that tendency as “bright shiny object syndrome.” Up-timers had some strange ideas. But after she saw a pocket calculator, a stapler, a four-color pen, an up-time woman’s compact, and a couple handfuls of change, she decided perhaps they had a point.
She stepped back to get an impression of the whole room. Framed sketches on the walls drew her attention—they seemed out of place for a spy. She crossed the room and studied each sketch up close. Each was of a different light-haired woman. They were quality work—but disturbing. Every single one of the women looked scared. And one of them looked like one of the women from the brothel.
She spotted another framed sketch lying on a side table and frowned. It is framed, so why is it not hanging on the wall? Astrid picked it up and recognized Maria at once. That’s creepy. And it is heavy. She turned the picture over. It had a wooden backing. Why bother? Oh—I think this slides . . . She fumbled—gloves were awkward—but managed to slip the backing out of the frame. It was two thin pieces of wood . . . with folded pages between them.
She flicked them open and saw rows of letters and symbols. The key to the coded message Bühler carried!
Neustatter stuck his head in. “I searched the laboratory. I am no scientist or mechanic, but seems to me to be a little of this, a little of that. There is no single purpose. I cannot tell if any of the equipment is hot.”
Astrid showed him the sketch and the papers.
“Nice work.” Neustatter peered closer. “I think it is the same backwards slant the ransom note was written in.”
Astrid used his lockpick to flip to the second page. She gasped. “Neustatter! There’s a symbol for D’Ambrosi! And another for Bühler.”
“And a bunch of other words.” Neustatter already had his pad out and was copying those symbols.
Astrid spoke slowly. “I think I remember this sun and this box and shield from the note that Bühler had on him.”
Neustatter stopped writing and looked at the key. “It means ‘D’Ambrosi house.’ I bet they have Casimir over there. Quickly, put everything back as you found it.”
“What if there is more behind the other sketches?” Astrid asked.
Neustatter grabbed the nearest one from the wall. It, too, had a wooden backing. He slid it free of the frame. There were indeed pages inside.
Astrid saw Neustatter make a face. “What is it?”
Neustatter’s words were clipped. “More sketches of women. With no clothes.”
He reassembled everything and hung the sketch back on the wall. “We know where D’Ambrosi lives. It’s not far from here.”
As they locked Sprunck’s door, Astrid murmured, “Neustatter, I seem to do entirely too much breaking and entering.”
“Nein, just enough.”
A few minutes later, they met up with Hjalmar, Ditmar, and Casimir’s classmates.
“I was about to bring the cavalry,” Hjalmar stated.
“Astrid found the key to the message Bühler carried,” Neustatter stated. “I think the writing matches the ransom note, which means Sprunck’s group kidnapped Casimir, stalked the up-time girl, sabotaged the scaffolding, and stole the rabbits. Everyone is working the same case. And we are running out of time. We need to storm that house. Come—we will talk as we walk.”
“Neustatter?” Astrid pulled him aside. “I think Chief Richards will want the police to do it.”
“We do not have time for that.” Neustatter held up a hand. “No, I am serious. Everything we just learned at Sprunck’s will not count. The police will have to discover it for themselves.”
“But—”
“Yes, Georg could do it. But could you and I guide him into discovering everything in time?”
“Oh.” Astrid grimaced. Nein, Georg would certainly realize we were trying to direct him. She had one last concern. “The women?”
