Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain
Page 24
The engineer aboard the base of the howitzer showed von Wolgast a sign, then pointed to one of the distant buildings, then another, then another.
With the sound of massive chains breaking the big gun fired, and the air shuddered. A moment later one of the most distant buildings burst and collapsed. Around the gun the crew rushed to clear and reload as the alignment of the barrel was adjusted by the gunner. The men on the platform had set aside their binoculars and were holding their
Writ in Blood
179
hands to their ears as the gun fired a second time, and another distant building—this one of brick—flew apart. There was another flurry of activity around the gun, and it fired a third time; a moment later the third building, the most distant of the three, was reduced to rubble.
On the platform the observers broke into applause, interrupting this only to adjust their binoculars, the better to inspect the destruction.
“At the conclusion of this demonstration,” said von Wolgast, “you will have the opportunity to inspect all the target structures.” That would give his men time to remove all signs of the explosive charges he had had placed in the now-ruined buildings to enhance the effect of the artillery shells.
“It would appear you have increased the initial velocity of the shell,” Sisak called out. “How long a range do you think you can achieve with that?”
“We haven’t established that yet, not in terms of absolute accuracy of the sort you have just seen, but we are hoping for ninety-five to one hundred kilometers, in the next three years. That would require a longer barrel, and higher speed of the shell fired, of course, and probably less speed in reloading, but we are working on just such a siege gun.” He let them think about this for five seconds. “We have hit a specific target at sixty-six kilometers, with this gun. Those structures are less than half that distance.”
“That’s amazing, if the speed of reloading can remain beyond three shells fired,” approved Spalavsky. He was certain the report he would present to his superiors would be enough to convince the Czar that military preparedness was essential to preserving Russia from Germany.
“Thus far, the speed has been good for up to twenty-four shells,” said von Wolgast. “And if speed is of the essence, we have developed a machine gun, with armored mounting, suitable for armored cars or trains, that has a new design in the cooling jacket of the barrel which allows the gun to be fired longer and at greater speed.” He signaled his next team, who drove up in an armored Mercedes, the machine gun mounted above the rear seat. “Those two nearer structures will be your target,” he announced grandly. “If you can, cut the brick one in half.”
The gunner saluted briskly, then shouted to the driver and the automobile lurched away across the uneven ground.
“I haven’t seen an automobile armored in that way before,” said Sisak, his eyes calculating.
“It is a design of my engineers; they developed it especially for this machine gun. I bought five Mercedes and had them adapted to this use.” Von Wolgast considered Sisak a moment. “You might want to
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
offer for the complete unit, automobile and gun, as a maneuverable unit. We have taken the problems of such a weapon into consideration, and have added two extra tires to the rear axle for increased stability; otherwise the machine gun would make the vehicle top heavy. The space under the platform has been protected as well, so that ammunition can be stored there. Fully equipped, one of those armored motor cars and the machine gun with it, can deliver more than ten thousand rounds without need of resupply.”
“And the petrol consumption?” Sisak asked shrewdly.
“Ah,” von Wolgast conceded. “There we have a problem; I admit it. We have converted the boot to a second petrol tank, because with the extra weight, the efficiency is reduced.” So was the speed, but his engineers were designing a modified transmission that they hoped would make a difference; he went on about the more obvious problem. “We are planning to modify the engine somewhat, to make it run more efficiently. We expect to have our first armored automobile prepared by September. I have ordered another five Mercedes to adapt. If orders justify it, we will develop individualized motor cars for specific needs.” He did not add that he had argued with the aging Wilhelm Maybach about adapting his White Jewel to this use. “We are trying to find ways to improve the whole design, of course, and may eventually produce an armored automobile wholly of our own design—we will have to see how much demand there is for this one. But what we have achieved already is impressive.”
Sisak motioned von Wolgast into silence as the armored Mercedes neared the first target building. “Let me watch this, Baron, if you will?”
“Mitt Vergniigen,” said von Wolgast sincerely.
The rattle of the machine gun cut across the morning more sharply than the wind. The Mercedes was steady enough to support the constant firing of the machine gun without having the steering compromised: the automobile kept on a steady course around the brick building while the machine gun continued to spit bullets at a steady rate.
There were three minutes of silence while the gunner reloaded, and then the noise began again. This demonstration, von Wolgast knew, was the most compelling of all. The mobility of the motor car combined with the firepower of the machine gun would be of greater interest to all but two of the men watching. The Croatians would want weapons that could be deployed rapidly, which the howitzer could not. Sisak s customers were more often seeking adaptability in their guns than long-range firepower. The Russians would probably find the howitzer the more attractive of the two. What the Austrians might want would be
Writ in Blood
181
nothing but guesswork until and unless an order was placed.
Finally the Mercedes completed its course and came thundering back toward the platform, its transmission moaning, its tires leaving deep ruts in the wild grass.
“Most impressive,” said Sisak to von Wolgast. “And very clever.”
“How do you mean?” von Wolgast asked, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice.
“Oh, nothing to your discredit, Baron,” he soothed. “I am only aware that you began by showing us a piece of artillery few can afford or have the skilled soldiers to use, and having established that you have the most accurate and rapid-fire howitzer, you then show us something we are all likely to want. It was particularly wise of you to mount the machine gun on the automobile. The Russians would worry about their rail width if you had run the gun on a train.”
“They would realize they could adapt the mounting to their own rolling stock,” said von Wolgast, as if Sisak s notion had never occurred to him. “It struck me that there are many places where rails do not reach. The Orient Express, for example, does not cover all of the Balkans.”
“Indeed,” said Sisak, and took a long breath. “This was more than I anticipated, I confess. I had supposed you were imitating Krupp, but that is not the case. Is there anything else in your new arsenal we are going to be shown?”
“Yes, two things more,” said von Wolgast with a dawning satisfaction. “First I have a new quick-fire field gun—using the same firing mechanism used on the howitzer. The firing rate is thirty percent faster than those new French field guns. We are modifying an armored tractor to carry the field guns. We anticipate having a working unit in six months.” The armored tractor was nearer readiness than that, but he wanted to provide for the licensing from the manufacturer to come through.
“And the last?” Sisak inquired, running out of patience.
“Something new, for a single soldier. It shoots a stream of flaming petrol. The greatest distance we have achieved thus far is only twelve meters. And the weapon itself is quite heavy, in large part due to the shielding needed to protect the man carrying it.” He did his best to look encouraged. “But for small forces fighting in isolated areas, it could be useful.”
“That it could,” Sisak agreed at once. “When does that get demo
nstrated?”
“Shortly,” said von Wolgast, annoyed at being pressed when he was beginning to think everything was going well. “When we have shown
Chelsea Quinn Yarhro
the field guns. You will be impressed with their speed of firing; the same mechanism we use on the howitzer can be made to fire even faster in these seventy-fives.” He got to his feet. “Gentlemen, if you would care to inspect the machine gun and the armored Mercedes?” This would give his staff time to put the howitzer back in its assembly building, clearing the tracks for the smaller, lighter field guns.
The men on the platform prepared to climb down, permitting von Aehrenthal to go first, as befitted his rank. Von Wolgast brought up the rear, taking pains to pull Colonel Spalavsky aside just before he started down the stairs.
“I was wondering if I might have a word with you, Colonel? Bitte? It will not take long,” von Wolgast said politely, taking care not to stand too close to the Russian. “Not about this”—he waved his hand to take in the whole arms display and the expanse of fields—“but something else. Actually, someone else.”
Colonel Spalavsky regarded von Wolgast speculatively. “Who?”
“Franchot Ragoczy, Count Saint-Germain,” said von Wolgast, trying not to rush. “He is in Berlin just at present and—”
“I have met him a few times,” said Colonel Spalavsky. “The exile from the Carpathians. He raises some splendid horses. His house in Saint Petersburg is very grand. I have not seen the one he keeps in Moscow. I have been told it is very elegant.” His German was educated but formal, as if he were preparing for a school examination.
“Are you aware of any . . . any special position the Czar has awarded him?” This was a risky question, but von Wolgast decided that the direct approach would seem less suspicious to the Russian.
“Why do you ask?” Colonel Spalavsky inquired, his manner becoming more reserved.
“I ask because it is said that this man is attempting to undermine the efforts we are making in establishing the security of Europe.” Von Wolgast did not have to summon up much indignation to appear the troubled modem patriot. “If there is some reason the Czar would seek to—”
“The Czar seeks peace. Plehve and I are here only to see what we will have to confront if there is war. And to consider what we may need to ensure our domestic integrity. Nicholas has been adamant about maintaining peace with our European neighbors.” He broke away from von Wolgast and hastened to join the others around the Mercedes.
Von Wolgast descended at a more leisurely pace, watching the men inspect the automobile with as much interest as they gave the machine gun. This pleased him. He was proud of what his engineers had ac-
Writ in Blood
183
complished, and knew at last that his pride was not misplaced; his gamble was going to pay off, he was confident of it at last. He kept back from the motor car, not wanting to intrude when these men were convincing themselves of the superiority of his products.
Then von Aehrenthal detached himself from the others and strode over to von Wolgast. “Pardon me, Baron, but I thought I heard you mention Ragoczy to Spalavsky.”
“You did, Graff.” It bothered von Wolgast to realize he had been overheard.
“Is this the Ragoczy also called Count Saint-Germain? A man about forty-five, of less than middle height, with a deep chest, dark hair and arresting dark eyes, elegant of manner and intelligent?” von Aehrenthal pursued, his clipped beard and moustache bristling.
“I believe they are one in the same, yes; that is certainly an apt description,” said von Wolgast. Dreading the answer, he asked as blandly as he could, “Do you know him?”
“Oh, yes,” said Franz Ferdinands deputy. “I met him in Saint Petersburg when I was Ambassador to Russia. A most accomplished man, of great erudition and culture. I cannot imagine him ever embarking on any scheme that might disrupt the peace of Europe. It would be wholly unlike his character to do anything of the sort.” His keen eyes held von Wolgast. “That was what you were implying, was it not?”
Von Wolgast straightened himself and looked directly at von Aehrenthal. “I do not know what to think of the fellow, and was hoping to better understand his purpose here. He is known to have a chemical company outside Munchen where fuels are developed, and a few of them might well be useful in war. He is an exile from the Carpathians, by his own admission, and we are all aware of the terrible potential there. If he is increasing the production of fuels, it strikes me that we Germans should know his motives before embracing his work.”
“If you will forgive me for saying so, Baron, such caveats from a man whose family business has long been arms has more to consider from his own inventions than fuels which are said to bum more efficiently and give more power than most of what is presently available. His major buyers, I have been informed, are lorry makers, whose vehicles need more reliable fuel than they can often obtain. I had reports on him, six years ago, that confirm all this. He has commercial holdings, or so I understand, that flourish with the regular delivery of goods, which inclines him to put his efforts toward the same goals as lorry makers.” He looked squarely at von Wolgast. “It would pain me to hear anything to his discredit.”
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Doing his best to recover what he might have lost, von Wolgast ducked his head. “I am relieved to hear this from a man who has something other than rumors to form his opinion. I will put my mind at rest, then.” He coughed diplomatically. “It is probably my business, as you point out, that makes me doubtful of others. I deal in war, and it makes me assume many others do the same.” He was about to turn away, when he added, as if the idea were new to him. “If you knew him in Saint Petersburg, you probably know if he enjoys the confidence of the Czar.”
“I am not aware of an especial favor that Nicholas has shown Count Saint-Germain, at least not during my time as Ambassador,” said von Aehrenthal, choosing his words with the precision born of long years in foreign courts.
“But it is not impossible that he might? There have been changes in Russia—might not Nicholas repose more confidence in the man now that so much has happened? I cannot believe that the Czar is so without supporters in his own country that he would be driven to employ someone like Ragoczy unless he were convinced that the foreigner might act with more ... leeway than a Russian might,” von Wolgast persisted. “I am not asking from caprice; I have had it on excellent authority that Ragoczy has undertaken a mission of a private nature on the Czar s mandate. I know that Ragoczy has tried to see the Kaiser to deliver a message on his Russian cousin s behalf.” He had paid Reighert a handsome sum for this information and was beginning to wonder if it was worth it.
“I know nothing of this,” von Aehrenthal admitted. “But I cannot think of any man in whom Nicholas might repose more confidence than Franchot Ragoczy.” He scrutinized von Wolgasts features, to be certain the Baron understood him.
“Yes. I see. Most interesting, Graff. I am grateful to you for telling me this.” Von Wolgast cursed inwardly even as he managed to show von Aehrenthal his best cordial demeanor. “I will keep it in mind, in future.”
“That is sensible of you, Baron,” von Aehrenthal said. “I would like to feel that the matter is settled.”
“You may do so, at least on my account,” von Wolgast said, noticing that two of the other men were watching them—the two Colonels, Per-suic and Spalavsky, both with ill-concealed interest.
“Very good. For I would hate to have to tell Franz Josef that so capable a fellow as you was a poor judge of men.” Von Aehrenthal made the most of his opportunity. “And if Ragoczy is acting for Nicholas, I know the Czar will be well-served by him.”
“Just so,” said von Wolgast, achieving a sour smile. His full satisfac-
Writ in Blood
185
tion for the day had been tarnished, but he strove to make that unap-parent, even going so far as to remark at the end of the demonstration, when they had returned from
inspecting the demolished buildings, that he was much relieved to know that Ragoczy was a man of such unimpeachable character that he might now discount the rumors circulating about him.
“You might make an effort to dispel them,” von Aehrenthal suggested as he prepared to depart in his chauffeured Benz tourer. His condition now offered, he added, “I am sure Franz Josef will be eager to recommend your machine guns and the field guns. I will describe your howitzer, but I will not make any suggestion one way or the other in its regard.” He climbed into the automobile, adding as he did, “This was a most illuminating day, Baron. I congratulate you on your accomplishments.”
“Danke schoen,” said von Wolgast, all propriety, the words sticking in his throat.
“Bitte,” said von Aehrenthal, and closed the door.
“Do not let him trouble you,” said Colonel Persuic. “He is in an awkward situation, with Franz Josef on one side and Franz Ferdinand on the other. It is a pity that Franz Ferdinand is not as capable an heir as Rudolf was.”
“A libertine and a suicide, that was Rudolf,” said von Wolgast, dismissing Franz Josefs son. “A self-indulgent—”
Persuic stared at von Wolgast incredulously. “You don’t really think Rudolf committed suicide, do you? You can’t be that gullible. The man was murdered, and his mistress, for his support of Hungary.” He shook his head, regarding von Wolgast somberly. “Still, don’t give von Aehrenthal cause to turn against you.”
“I had not intended to,” said von Wolgast stiffly. “I listened to him, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Persuic. “And it might be wise to take his advice, at least until you have an order from the Austrians.”
“Which you will endorse?” von Wolgast challenged.
“Of course,” Persuic replied as if the matter were already settled. “I foresee a need for your weapons, and I would like to be supplied with them before some of the other . . . buyers get wind of them. I predict you will have more business than you ever dreamed possible. The firing speed of all your weapons is nothing less than remarkable.” He had gone to his Daimler, saying over his shoulder as he went, “Will I see you at the charity concert tonight? At seven-thirty, as I recall. Haydn’s Creation, isn’t it? I have been told everyone will be there.”