More thunder sounded, a longer grumble this time, and closer. Storm thought he caught a bland silver flash over the far horizon. The yellow light outside grew thicker, dimmer. He could see isolated trees bending here and there before the wind. He could feel the heat of Sir Michael’s feverish eyes.

Let’s cut to the damned chase, he thought. But he glanced at Sophia again, got that look again, that shake of the head.

“I’ll make coffee, shall I?” she said softly.

And before either of the men could answer, she had risen and left the room.

Storm and Sir Michael sat in silence and listened to her footsteps fading down the corridor.

“I’m going to kill you, Mr. Storm,” Sir Michael said then.

Storm was spearing his last piece of beef. He heard another roll of thunder. He took this in a full second before he comprehended Sir Michael’s words. Then he raised his eyes to the other man. His lips parted, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Sir Michael had placed his glass down on the table now. He sat relaxed in his chair, with his hands folded over the belly of his vest. The great head seemed almost to have caved in upon itself. It reminded Storm of corpses he had seen in museums, half preserved, the skin clinging to the skull. Except for those eyes. Those eyes were alive enough, boiling, almost bulging out at him. Storm felt his stomach curdle, felt a point of pain stab at his temple.

“What?” he said.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sir Michael repeated quietly, hoarsely. “Do you think I care what happens to me? Do you think I’m going to sit back and let you or your people do this to me again? Good Christ, whom do you think you’re dealing with?”

“Whoa!” said Storm.

“You should be more careful, Mr. Storm. You should learn to leave a man something worth living for. I only have Sophia, and I won’t let you use her to get at me, to get what you want.”

“Hey, hold on a minute …” said Storm.

But Sir Michael plowed on irresistibly. “I’ve made inquiries. Do you understand? I’m not without contacts, here or in the States. I should hear back at any time, perhaps even today, perhaps within the hour. And the moment I’m certain you’re who I think you are, I’m going to put a bullet in your head.”

“Hey, listen up here a minute …” said Storm.

“No, you listen up. I’m going to blow your brains out, boy, with pleasure. In my wife’s memory and for Sophia’s sake, and the consequences be damned.” With a short, sharp motion, he snapped up his wine again. “I strongly suggest you run for your life.”