“Is that a threat?”
“Don’t look at me!” he said sharply, but beneath his breath. “Keep eating.”
Annja did as she was told, her thoughts whirling. It seemed she might have misjudged the situation.
“It’s not a threat. At least, not from me.”
Keeping her voice low and her attention on her plate, she said, “That’s a bit contradictory, wouldn’t you say?”
He grunted but didn’t say anything more. The barkeep stepped over and asked what he wanted. The man ordered a lager and was quiet until his drink was set in front of him. Once the barkeep had gone back to his place at the other end of the bar, the newcomer said, “You’ve been asking questions about the killing the other night, flashing that girl’s picture about. That can be dangerous, Ms. Creed.”
The fact that he knew who she was didn’t surprise her. He had sought her out after all. But Annja had no intention of acknowledging his comments, at least not until she knew who she was talking to and maybe not even then. Instead, she asked him a question.
“Who are you?”
He considered his response for a moment and then said, “A friend.”
Annja shook her head as she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. “Not good enough,” she said, taking a bite.
“It’s going to have to be.”
Annja wiped her face with her napkin and made to get up from her chair. “Nice chatting with you.”
The stranger’s arm shot out and pinned her wrist to the bar, the bulk of his body hiding his action from the barkeep and the other customers.
“You can’t leave,” he said.
Annja’s free hand twitched and she almost called her sword, but she managed to resist the impulse at the last moment. Her anger, however, was less controllable. “Get your hand off me before I cut it off,” she said in an icy tone.
“There is a man waiting across the street. I believe he’s looking for you. It isn’t safe for you to leave,” he said. “Not yet.”
He took his hand off her arm as requested.
For a moment she considered marching over to the front door and going outside, just to see what would happen, but then her good sense asserted itself. She’d already had one confrontation tonight—she didn’t need another. Annja settled back into her chair and waited for her companion to make the next move.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he casually looked around the room, checking to see if anyone had noticed their interaction. Then he glanced at her and went back to staring at the bar top.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”
Annja accepted his apology with the slightest of nods.
“My name is Novack. I didn’t come here to harm you. On the contrary, I came to warn you that you’ve chosen a dangerous path. If you persist in asking questions, you’re only going to draw attention.”
“Attention from whom?” Annja wanted to know.
“The wrong kind of people.”
Annja leaned closer, her emotions flaring. “A woman was murdered. If my questions bring those responsible out of hiding, then so be it.”
“They’ve already killed once. Who’s to say they won’t make you their next target?”
Annja smiled but there was no warmth in it. “They’re welcome to try,” she told him.
Novack—first name or last name?—glanced around and then reached inside his coat. Annja stiffened, expecting him to pull a weapon, and was relieved when it turned out to be a small manila envelope.
He slid it across the bar toward her hand.
“I was hoping you might say that. Meet me in the Church of the Holy Savior in Čachtice tomorrow evening at seven if you want to know more.”
Annja frowned. “I’m not going to meet you anywhere,” she said, even as she picked up the envelope and opened it. “Why would I meet with someone who won’t even tell me their full name?”
She glanced inside the envelope and her breath caught in her throat. Staring up at her was a color photograph of a naked woman lying dead on the ground somewhere. The
“Don’t look at me!” he said sharply, but beneath his breath. “Keep eating.”
Annja did as she was told, her thoughts whirling. It seemed she might have misjudged the situation.
“It’s not a threat. At least, not from me.”
Keeping her voice low and her attention on her plate, she said, “That’s a bit contradictory, wouldn’t you say?”
He grunted but didn’t say anything more. The barkeep stepped over and asked what he wanted. The man ordered a lager and was quiet until his drink was set in front of him. Once the barkeep had gone back to his place at the other end of the bar, the newcomer said, “You’ve been asking questions about the killing the other night, flashing that girl’s picture about. That can be dangerous, Ms. Creed.”
The fact that he knew who she was didn’t surprise her. He had sought her out after all. But Annja had no intention of acknowledging his comments, at least not until she knew who she was talking to and maybe not even then. Instead, she asked him a question.
“Who are you?”
He considered his response for a moment and then said, “A friend.”
Annja shook her head as she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. “Not good enough,” she said, taking a bite.
“It’s going to have to be.”
Annja wiped her face with her napkin and made to get up from her chair. “Nice chatting with you.”
The stranger’s arm shot out and pinned her wrist to the bar, the bulk of his body hiding his action from the barkeep and the other customers.
“You can’t leave,” he said.
Annja’s free hand twitched and she almost called her sword, but she managed to resist the impulse at the last moment. Her anger, however, was less controllable. “Get your hand off me before I cut it off,” she said in an icy tone.
“There is a man waiting across the street. I believe he’s looking for you. It isn’t safe for you to leave,” he said. “Not yet.”
He took his hand off her arm as requested.
For a moment she considered marching over to the front door and going outside, just to see what would happen, but then her good sense asserted itself. She’d already had one confrontation tonight—she didn’t need another. Annja settled back into her chair and waited for her companion to make the next move.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he casually looked around the room, checking to see if anyone had noticed their interaction. Then he glanced at her and went back to staring at the bar top.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”
Annja accepted his apology with the slightest of nods.
“My name is Novack. I didn’t come here to harm you. On the contrary, I came to warn you that you’ve chosen a dangerous path. If you persist in asking questions, you’re only going to draw attention.”
“Attention from whom?” Annja wanted to know.
“The wrong kind of people.”
Annja leaned closer, her emotions flaring. “A woman was murdered. If my questions bring those responsible out of hiding, then so be it.”
“They’ve already killed once. Who’s to say they won’t make you their next target?”
Annja smiled but there was no warmth in it. “They’re welcome to try,” she told him.
Novack—first name or last name?—glanced around and then reached inside his coat. Annja stiffened, expecting him to pull a weapon, and was relieved when it turned out to be a small manila envelope.
He slid it across the bar toward her hand.
“I was hoping you might say that. Meet me in the Church of the Holy Savior in Čachtice tomorrow evening at seven if you want to know more.”
Annja frowned. “I’m not going to meet you anywhere,” she said, even as she picked up the envelope and opened it. “Why would I meet with someone who won’t even tell me their full name?”
She glanced inside the envelope and her breath caught in her throat. Staring up at her was a color photograph of a naked woman lying dead on the ground somewhere. The
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