Cynthia turned slowly, her heart pounding, her legs wobbly with adrenaline rush. It took her a moment to focus on what she was seeing. “Who's the redhead?” she asked finally.
"Albin.” Raphael's voice was so cold it made her shiver, and she knew without asking that she was looking at the traitor.
The rest of the scene unfolded on screen as they watched. Cynthia sucked back a gasp of disbelief when she saw Matias literally dusted and gave a hard smile as Alexandra shook Albin off and strode from the room ahead of him. Duncan gave a little tsk of disgust when Albin paused before leaving the room to cast a contemptuous grin right at the camera. “He knew the cameras were there,” she commented.
"Of course,” Raphael agreed.
The remainder of the video was a montage of images cut together from the hallway and exterior cameras, showing the rest of the abduction and including Albin's obviously human accomplices. It ended with a shot of the rear end of the black van as it drove away, leaving bodies scattered on the ground around the gate.
"Who found the bodies?” she asked, subdued.
"My security forces, when they rose for the night. Alexandra's room was empty, unused, as were those of Albin and Matias. Alexandra's ... former security chief immediately instituted a search of the house and grounds. His men reported back from the gate with the unfortunate news."
"Unfortunate,” Cynthia repeated. She drew breath to go off on him for his callousness at the human guards’ deaths, remembered the loss in his voice when he spoke of Matias, and said instead, “The human deaths. You didn't call the police. What happened to them?"
Raphael was watching her, and with that uncanny intuition of his seemed to understand the realignment she'd just worked out ... and the question she was really asking. “It has been some time, Cyn, since my people were reduced to scavenging bodies for sustenance. These,” he gestured at the monitor, “were cared for and sent to their families, if they had them. If not, they were cremated and scattered to the winds even as our own bodies are. Their families were compensated, to the extent money can compensate for life, and their funeral expenses, if any, were paid. I treat my people well, Cynthia. All of my people."
She nodded, not having really expected anything else. She looked down at the floor, thinking over what she'd seen and heard, then raised her head. “Albin spoke to the human abductors, not much, but a few words. It was Russian, wasn't it?"
Raphael gave her another one of those long, assessing stares. “It was,” he confirmed. “Nothing of substance. He asked the status of the gate, then ordered them back to the vehicle, saying he would bring Alexandra. The humans’ response was too low to distinguish."
"May I ask...” She had learned from her earlier mistake. “Why would Albin speak Russian?"
"Like many of us, Albin lived in several countries before coming to this one. Imperial Russia was one where he dwelt for some time."
She wanted to ask if that was why Raphael also spoke Russian, but didn't want to press her luck.
"Okay,” she said, thinking. “I'd like to see the room they were in, the one with the piano, and I'll want to follow the route they took out of the house. And also...” She drew a breath, knowing Duncan, at least, would not want to give her what she was about to ask for. “I'd like a copy of all the footage from that morning. That—” She gestured at the now blank screen. “—was edited together from several cameras. I want the actual feed, including any audio, from every camera you have. The gate, the hallways here, the room Alexandra was taken from, anyplace Albin might have been before he showed up in that room."
As predicted, Duncan's face flashed immediate refusal. He stood from the console and gave his master a beseeching look, but Raphael again held up his hand to forestall him. “Why do you need it and why can you not simply watch it here?” he asked.
"For one thing, I'm not familiar with your equipment, and I don't know if you even have what I need. I have specialized programs of my own that can go over the video frame by frame, letting me zoom in on details that might mean nothing to you, but which can tell me quite a bit. And I might be able to enhance some of the audio for you. The equipment is in my home office, which is more private and more secure than the office you visited, so you needn't be concerned about confidentiality. No one will see or hear it except me. If I think a sound or image can benefit from enhancement beyond what I can do myself, I will show you the segment and ask your permission before letting anyone else work with it. As for the other, I don't mean to offend you, my lord, but this place creeps me out a little bit."
Raphael blinked, then laughed. It was a genuine sound, not the harsh bark from earlier.
"Duncan,” he said, still smiling. “Make a copy for Ms. Leighton."
"Sire, please.” Duncan was in obvious distress.
"Make the copy, Duncan,” Raphael said softly. “Ms. Leighton has guaranteed its confidentiality and I'm sure she understands the negative consequences of betraying that guarantee.” He fixed her with a gaze which promised a very short future for anyone who crossed him. “Don't you, Cyn?"
"Yes,” Cyn whispered. “Yes, of course,” she said louder. “Thank you."
"I'll show Ms. Leighton the rest of the house while you make the copy, Duncan. Meet us out front when you finish."
"My lord,” Duncan agreed, bowing his head. He sounded so depressed Cynthia almost felt sorry for him.
"Come, Cyn,” Raphael said. “Let me show you the rest of Alexandra's cottage."
* * * *
Cynthia followed Raphael up the broad staircase, around the balcony and through an open set of French doors. It was the room in the video, although it was much larger than it had seemed. The Steinway concert grand was at the far end of the room, near west-facing windows overlooking the front of the house and the checkerboard courtyard. What were probably genuine Louis XVI antiques were scattered throughout the room—brocaded settees, armoires and tables with fluted legs and carved reliefs of leaves and flowers. Cynthia located the security camera, barely visible within the deeply projected crown molding. She followed the line of sight of the camera across the room to the piano and beyond, to where Raphael stood at the window gazing down at the gaudy marble below.
Cynthia watched him silently for a few minutes, then crossed the room to stand next to him, trailing her fingers lightly over the keyboard as she went by.
He glanced around. “Do you play?"
"Not anymore. I took lessons for years; my first nanny insisted on it and no one else cared enough to stop them.” She shrugged. “I don't think I could even read a piece of sheet music now. I heard Alexandra playing, though. It was lovely."