Two more clicks. The door swung open, silhouetting a tall figure in the dim aisle lights.
Nyssa held her breath. He slipped in. The door shut behind him as his feet rustled on the carpets. He moved confidently about the cabin.
Wearing night vision goggles, perhaps? I would if I were him. I wish I had mine now.
He approached the stack of luggage.
Maybe he just wants to rob us. Let him take Amara’s suitcases. What do I care?
Her eyes adjusted to the faint light coming from under the door. Something glinted in the man’s hand. A knife?
He turned from the luggage and took a step towards the bed where Ellis lay sleeping.
Nyssa’s heart-rate spiked. Springing from the bed, she hurled the alarm clock at the intruder’s head. He stumbled back with a curse.
“Help!” Nyssa shouted.
Amara sat up with a shriek.
Renard leapt out of bed, fist first into the intruder. The man swiped at him, but not in time. Renard’s uppercut knocked him into the wall. The intruder toppled over the suitcases.
“Nyss, are you all right?” Ellis’s panicked voice rang out.
The man thrashed about, dodging kicks from Renard. Somehow he scrambled away. The door opened then slammed shut as he escaped. Nyssa plopped down on the bed, her whole body aquiver.
“Nyss?” Ellis repeated, his tone more urgent.
“I’m fine,” she managed to stammer.
He flicked on a light. “Who was that? What did he want?”
Nyssa turned a hard gaze on Amara. The girl’s mouth clamped shut.
“There’s obviously more going on here than a controlling guardian trying to prevent an unapproved marriage.” Ellis scowled at Renard. “Are you two ready to trust us yet?”
Renard shifted from foot to foot.
Amara rubbed her nose. “My uncle is a … determined man with many other men willing to do his bidding. I would not put it beyond him to hire someone to harm Renard. He had very specific ideas about the sort of man I should wed—wealthy, connected, pliable—and Renard isn’t any of those things.”
Nyssa fetched her toolkit. “Give me a minute. I can rig an alarm system with the clock. What about the revolver?”
“It’s in my suitcase … I’ve never shot a gun, though.” Ellis grimaced. “You, Nyss?”
“I have a general idea how to use one.” She swallowed.
“Renard’s a crack shot!” Amara piped up. “Let him have it.”
Before either Nyssa or Ellis could protest, Renard went for the suitcase. A moment later he withdrew the firearm. “I can sit up and keep watch. I won’t let him get to you, my love.”
Just so long as you don’t end up pointing that thing at me or Ellis again. What have we gotten into?Nyssa attached the doorknob to the alarm clock with a series of wires. It wasn’t elegant, but if anyone else broke in, they’d definitely hear it.
Tomorrow I’m going to figure out what’s going on, one way or another.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, dark circles ringed Ellis’s eyes, and Amara’s face was drawn and pale—well, paler.
Nyssa didn’t feel particularly tired. She’d endured nights with less sleep, and she wasn’t a stranger to the threat of violence. No, she’d lived under it for much of her life. That didn’t mean she liked it though.
Late in the morning, she left the room with the excuse of checking on their horseless carriage in the luggage hold. She hated to lie to Ellis, but if he’d known what she was up to, he would’ve insisted on coming along—or tried to forbid it. Also the pretense of visiting the dark and secluded hold allowed her to wear her trousers instead of being hindered by one of Amara’s fancy gowns. One annoying thing about gowns was the lack of pockets.
With her lockpicks securely in her back pocket, she slipped down the hall. According to the ship’s schedule, most of the passengers would be at brunch.
Nyssa approached the crew quarters. While she didn’t have much experience with zeppelins, she’d broken into a hotel once, and she’d already noted several similarities between the two. If those similarities held, the staff in charge of linens and such would have a passenger manifest, informing them which rooms were inhabited, by whom, and any special requests or needs of those passengers.
Amara had been tight-lipped regarding her family, but all her luggage was monogrammedC.B. It was likely she’d “borrowed” the luggage from her uncle.
She entered a room labeledFresh Linens. Sure enough, a clipboard with room numbers, names, and notations hung from the wall. She scanned the list.
Cabin 5: Cyril Blythe, Esquire, and manservant.
“Safe bet this ‘manservant’ was the fellow in our room last night.”
Brunch had at least twenty more minutes. Plenty of time for investigation. As a safeguard, she procured an apron and loose-fitting maid’s smock from another cabinet. In her new disguise, she headed straight for cabin number 5 .
The hallway was empty and quiet other than the steady whir of the ventilation system. Nyssa tried the handle. Locked, of course, but no alarms sounded.
Am I sure I want to do this? Nyssa stepped away from the door. Clearly, if Amara’s uncle had someone break into her room wielding a knife, he isn’t a good guy.She glanced up and down. The hall was still empty. She could leave and no one would know she’d been there.I need to know exactly what they’re hiding if I’m going to spend another night in the same room as them.
Nyssa rapped on the door. “Maid service.”
No answer. With her ear pressed the door, she listened. Silence.
She picked the lock before she could count to ten in her head. Darting into the room, she fumbled for the light switch.
This room was smaller than the one Ellis had booked, with only one bed, though a pile of blankets on the floor suggested another person had slept there: Blythe’s manservant, she presumed. A pair of black gloves and an open cigar box sat atop a steamer trunk. A trace of tobacco smoke lingered in the room.
Smoking on a zeppelin? This man is either stupid or selfish or both.
Nyssa pushed these items
