The Zenda Vendetta (TimeWars 4)

“I told you not to come here!” Sapt frowned. It was Sophia’s voice, kept low, scarcely above a whisper.

“I am growing tired of taking orders from you,” another voice said. It was a man’s voice, resonant and very deep. “I am growing tired of waiting.”

“You’re a fool!” she said. “You want to ruin everything?”

“You know what I want. I want it over and done with. I want him dead. As for the rest of your intrigues, I could not care less. It no longer matters.”

Sapt did not recognize the voice. Moving slowly, he began to edge around the urn so that he might see who it was.

“I thought you said that I could count on you,” she said. “Is that how much your word means?”

The man snorted derisively. “My word? What about yours?”

“What are you talking about?”

Sapt had edged around enough so that he could see Countess Sophia from the waist up, the rest of her blocked from his view by the stone steps. He could not see the man to whom she was speaking. Slowly, he began to crawl up the steps.

“What have you done with the other plate?”

Sapt frowned. Plate? Why would they be discussing plates while they spoke of murder?

“I’ve moved it.”

“Where?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because-”

“Sophia? Sophia!”

“Michael!” she said. “Go. Quickly. I’ll explain later.”

“You will explain now.”

“Sophia, we’ll be late!” Michael called.

“Go, I said!”

Sapt crawled up two more steps. The French doors opened and Michael came out on the patio. This should prove interesting, thought Sapt.

“Sophia! What the devil are you doing out here?”

“I thought I’d come out for a breath of air while I waited for you, Michael. Are you ready to leave now?”

“I have been ready for the past hour! I was waiting for you!”

Is Michael blind? Sapt risked crawling up one more step, staying low, now only yards away from them. He could see the patio clearly. He could see both Michael and Sophia. But no one else.

“Well, let us go, then,” said Sophia. “We can arrive fashionably late.”

“Why cannot women ever be on time?” said Michael. “Come, the coach is waiting.”

They went back into the house. Sapt had his pistol out as he crawled up the few remaining steps. He was alone upon the patio. How could that be? There were only two ways for the man she was speaking with to go. One would have taken him into the house through the French doors, where Michael was. The other would have taken him down the steps into the garden, directly at him. He had not gone past Michael and it was impossible for him to have gone down the steps without stepping on me, thought Sapt. Unless he vaulted the patio wall…

He could only have vaulted on one side, the side closest to where he had been standing. Going the other way would have brought him across Michael’s field of vision and his own. Sapt went over to the wall upon that side. He looked down over it into a fish pond with water lillies floating in it. It was wide enough that a man could not possibly have leaped over the wall and cleared it. There would have been a splash. Only there had been no splash. And there was no place on the patio itself where the man could have hidden.

“What the devil?” Sapt whispered aloud. “How could the man simply disappear?”

9