Untercommandant Heinrich Darmstaedter of the Moravian Staat Polizei paused, sipped again, then placed the glass, ever so slowly, back on his desk. He was an unusually tall man with a thin, angular face, gray skin and gray eyes that flashed occasionally with flecks of green. Above those eyes a high forehead crawled up to a round head covered in thinning, but meticulously groomed, gray hair.

On this day he was dressed, as he was dressed every day, in the uniform of an officer in Moravian State Police, but this uniform was custom made, fitted his thin body perfectly and was suitably decorated with the ribbons of his many achievements in the service of the state and his Emperor. The hands that had just carefully returned the glass to the desk were long, thin and the bones and veins on their backs stood out prominently.

He looked at his guests, only one of which had touched his drink. By the window sat Monsignor Joseph Schrattenbach, Vicar General and, some said, the brains behind the lazy Bishop Schaffgotsche. A gentleman of great promise, and one on whom important eyes within the Politikteil had already been trained.

Beside him sat the only other man in the room who had sipped at his drink; the monk Brother Timothy, on whom a dossier had already been started and was growing fatter by the day.

Next to him, the Abbot of the Augustinian Monastery in AltBrunn, Cyrill Napp. A member of the regional Diet, and, in his own way, a person of some importance whose influence spread into some unusual places - for a monk. Napp was the only one of his guests to look him straight in the eye, a habit Untercommandant Darmstaedter found strangely disconcerting.

"Gentlemen," he said at last, "thank you for coming to see me on such short notice. I would not have bothered you with this trivial matter, but - " he let his voice trail off into a shrug. "I feel such things are better kept out of official channels, - " he paused again, then his voice went silky, "- until absolutely necessary."

"As you may know, two military supply carts were attacked last night and their contents destroyed by fire. Three Imperial soldiers were injured, and, while the physical damage was light, the psychological damage was great - very great indeed."

Msgnr. Schrattenbach sat forward in his seat. He had been brought the news of the sabotage late last night, but had thought nothing more about it until the messenger from the Polizeiwache arrived the next morning. The summons was strange in itself, as, by special arrangement, the police and the Catholic Church tried hard to have minimal contact with one another. In the Austro-Hungarian Empire of Francis Joseph, the State and the Church kept each other at arms length.

When he had arrived at the Polizeiwache, Msgnr. Schrattenbach had been even more surprised to be taken to the Politikteil instead of the criminal section where common crimes were investigated and dealt with. Untercommandant Darmstaedter was known to Schrattenbach, and known to be in charge of State Security, not common place crimes such as arson, theft or murder.

"His Imperial Majesty, in his wisdom, has decided to send his regiments into Moravia, where many of them will be stationed while preparing to defend his Majesty's Empire against the expansionist policies of the renegade Bismarck." There could be no doubt as to where Darmstaedter's loyalties lay.

"While these troops are our guests, they must be given all possible assistance and their mission must not be impeded or delayed in any way - it is a matter of great importance that our armies be ready to act in defense of the Sate as quickly as possible, and events such as took place last night can only be regarded as treason." His voice rose slightly, "Treason, Gentlemen, treason against the State and against His Imperial Majesty himself."

An uncomfortable stony silence settled on the room. These men were not used to being lectured, or threatened, but all of them were still mystified as to why they had been summoned here at all, or why they were involved in an attack on the military.

Darmstaedter was not long in enlightening them. "I have been informed," and his voice lingered on the word 'informed', "that a local band of Hussites was responsible for last night's atrocity. These thugs, in their pathetic attempts to bring publicity to their cause of Czech nationalism, are planning a series of incidents all aimed at disgracing the Imperial army and hindering it in it's duties. Foolishly destroying military supplies is one of the ways they intend to use to try and make us, and the army, respect them and their futile cause. Bah!"

"But why would the Czech nationalists attack the army?" Msgnr. Schrattenbach asked, feigning ignorance. "Surely even the most extreme Czechs realize that the army is here to defend them against attacks from Prussia. What can they hope to gain?"

Turning his gray eyes on him, Darmstaedter lowered his voice and answered. "I am told that the reason lies with the Abstimmungreservelists," he said softly. "These cowards do not want to serve their country by joining the army and helping defend it."

"You mean the Czechs feel that the ballots, and the lists of reservists to be called to their regiments, are unfairly prejudiced in favor of making them cannon fodder, while wealthier Germans escape from military service all together," said Abbot Napp, speaking for the first time, and making no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was no friend of the Hussites, or their cause, but he didn't like one sided arguments.

"Their feelings are irrelevant," snarled Darmstaedter, "Czech or German, each man has a role to play, and a duty to perform, in times of war. These Hussite scum are cowards, nothing more, and must be stopped at all costs." Mentally, Darmstaedter added another entry into the dossier with Napp's name on it. One day he would total up all those entries and pass the folder onto his superiors. Then the liberal Abbot would have more to think about than sympathizing with Czech traitors.

"Quite so," murmured Msgnr. Schrattenbach, "but I fail to see what any of this has to do with us, or with the Church." He was not happy at being here at all, and to see Napp openly express his neo-liberal tendencies before a man like Darmstaedter was the height of folly, annoying as the man was, or could be. The Untercommandant made a nasty enemy, and Schrattenbach felt he had enough of those already.

"Then I will tell you," said the policeman, regaining his composure. "The men that attacked the carts last night are all known local Hussites, they are part of a local cell we penetrated some time ago. They use numbers instead of names, but we are gradually finding their true identities. They will not evade us for much longer." He looked directly at Napp.

"In and of themselves, these men do not interest us much. They are simple minded and easily misled, but none of them have the intellect to plan incidents like this. No, we want their leaders, the brains behind their cause, the planners, the agitators. These are the men we want, and last night we had a stroke of luck. One of their leaders was seen watching his plans come to fruition. He was very foolish to expose himself so, and now we know who he is."

A cold sense of dread clutched at Abbot Napp's heart. Now it all made sense, but he waited for the next words.

"That Hussite leader is known to you all. He is one of you; a member of the Catholic Church. It was the traitor Klacel who was seen directing the attack on the carts last night. A monk in your Monastery, Napp!" and he pointed a bony finger directly at the Abbot.