The Musicians

Chapter 11: Scarlet Bird

It was midafternoon by the time Sara and Mozzie arrived at their destination—a forested slope in the Matra Mountains. They parked in a pull-off and hiked the rest of the way to Count Lamberg's estate. The mountain air was chilly, but they'd come prepared with warm parkas. They both had backpacks with birding gear and were carrying binoculars. Just a couple of ornithologists surveying bird populations.

The security gate to the property was close to a parking lot. At five o'clock, many staff personnel left the castle for their cars. Sara was able to scrutinize the outfits of several of the women. The housekeeping attire had the most promise, consisting of a black dress with white collar, black tights, and sturdy shoes. She'd assumed that domestic help of some sort would be her most likely role and had brought along black oxfords to wear. Mozzie opted for the look of a gardener—twill pants, a faded cap, and a heavy work jacket.

When they returned to the camper, they picnicked on the ground with supplies they'd bought along the way. Mozzie set up a portable propane heater to provide welcome warmth.

They intended to do their shopping the next morning. The closest town was a half-hour away. Most of the workers probably lived there. Mozzie was confident that if they couldn't buy suitable clothes, they'd be able to lift them from local laundries. He assured her that the local populace would be delighted to be rid of the scourge of Ydrus. A few clothes were ample repayment. Privately, Sara disputed his logic. If Ydrus was using the castle as their headquarters, the locals could hate to see the loss of an employer.

"You just have rookie jitters," Mozzie remarked, slicing cured sausage onto a paper plate. "You'll be fine. Didn't you and Neal break into the campus of Scima Workshop in London?"

"My part was to distract them with stories while Neal did the actual breaking in," Sara admitted.

"Still it was an excellent introduction to your new life of criminal intrigue. I thought the Doctor Who and Rose scam was quite entertaining, but it's time for you to broaden your repertoire." He uncorked a bottle of Hungarian red wine with his Swiss army knife and sniffed the bouquet. "Have you ever had Egri Bikaver—the bull's blood of Hungary?"

"I've never had the pleasure," Sara said, watching his activities with amusement. It was impossible to stress about the dangers ahead with someone who maintained such a cavalier attitude.

"It acquired its moniker from the Turks during the Ottoman siege of Eger. The Hungarian troops drank this wine and became such fierce warriors that the Turks fled in panic, claiming their enemies were drinking the blood of a bull."

Sara held out her paper cup. "I'm glad you bought several bottles." The wine was heavy with tannin and pungent with the taste of forest berries. A few sips of this and she'd be ready to head into battle too. She leaned against a tree trunk and munched dark bread and cheese. "I can easily picture you and me in a Doctor Who adventure. You're as irrepressible as the Doctor."

Mozzie beamed. "We are both all knowledgeable. And you make a worthy companion," he added generously.

"Why thank you, Doctor. Now that you've finished Henry's movie, you may wish to write a Doctor Who script. Have you ever considered writing for television?"

"Diana and I have discussed it," he acknowledged. "Perhaps when she no longer needs my assistance for Arkham Files, I'll branch out."

"Any clues about her next story?" she asked. By the time it was published, Neal would be rescued and the Mansfelds behind bars. If she said it often enough, she might believe it.

He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially as if the owls were enemy agents. "I wrote several scenes and added some references to my youth."

"Anything about Mozart the bear?"