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It sounded to her as though someone had fallen against the wall. “What was that?” she asked, standing.
“Nothing.”
She eyed Rolfe’s telling temple vein pounding away. Before he could object, she walked over to the door and pulled it open, surprised to see the tall, bearded man holding an old man by his throat.
Tatiana, recognizing the aggressor as Leopold Gaudecker, stormed into the room, stepping over a brass-headed cane on the floor, as Leopold raised his hand, about to strike.
“Stop!” she demanded, grabbing Leopold’s arm. “What are you doing?”
Leopold, still holding the old man by the throat, glared at her. “I’d suggest you remove your hand from my arm before I hit you instead.”
“Try it,” she said, whipping out a stiletto, holding it just below his sternum. “Exactly what is going on here?”
He looked down at the point piercing his shirt, then at Rolfe. “Your Russian princess annoys me.”
“Regardless, I’d do what she says,” Rolfe said. “I’ve heard assassination is one of her specialties.”
She pressed the point farther, drawing blood. “Let him go.”
Leopold stepped away, both hands raised. “You’re crazy.”
“So they say.” She waited until Viktor entered the room before closing and putting away her knife in its hidden sheath. When he positioned himself between her and Leopold, she rounded on Rolfe. “You have no idea what you’re involving yourself with by bringing that man here.”
“The groundskeeper? You know him?”
She wasn’t about to admit that she had no clue as to who he was. “You forget what country you’re in. I make it my business to know. Why is he here?”
“He knows where the Fargos are.”
“Does he?” She looked at the old man with renewed interest. “And you think beating him is going to work? As old as he is, you’re likely to kill him first.”
“You have a better way?” Leopold asked. “By all means. Show us how it’s done.”
“Clear the room,” she said, “and I’ll be glad to.”
No one moved.
She leveled her gaze on Rolfe. “I’m sorry. Was my German a little rusty?”
He studi
ed her a moment, then gave a sharp nod to Leopold. “Go,” he said.
The man stalked out, not happy about taking orders from her.
Rolfe hesitated.
“You, too.” She walked up to him, putting her hand on his arm, guiding him from the room.
“Just curious how you plan on getting this information.”
“We have our ways,” she said, then turned to Viktor. “You know what to do.”
He gave a slight nod.
She glanced at the old man, his eyes widening in fright as Viktor approached. Closing the door, she returned to her seat. Leopold stood, arms crossed, glaring at her. Ignoring him, she turned to Rolfe, who was pouring himself another drink. “It shouldn’t take long,” she said.
Five minutes later, Viktor opened the door. The old man sat in a chair, his gaze on the ground. Viktor walked up to Tatiana and whispered the information in her ear.
