by K. T. Tomb
“Yeah, only, we might get smashed by that huge boulder,” Mark commented in a dry tone.
“That’s why we’ve got to be alert and covering each other’s backs,” Chyna responded.
“So, who is going to run the sting?” Lana asked. “Assuming we’re considering doing that.”
“Chyna can’t,” Mark stated immediately. “She’s a little too high profile, too much of a risk that she’ll be recognized.”
“It’s Sirita’s idea, let’s let her run with it,” Chyna suggested, turning to smile at her as she spoke.
“I was just suggesting…” Sirita said, her eyes widening. “I mean, I didn’t intend for it to be me.”
“It’s perfect, actually, if we’re trying to draw out Antoine,” Lana put in. “She never met Antoine. But who do we team up with her? Both of those two met Antoine or were seen by him.”
Chyna considered for a moment, looking from Oscar to Mark and then allowing her eyes to continue on around the room until they came to rest on Thorin and Demetri, who were sitting quietly out of the way of the others.
“Demetri,” Chyna called out. “Come here a minute.”
Demetri wrinkled his brow and rose up from his seat. Thorin nudged him and smirked, knowing that Demetri was getting volunteered for something and he wasn’t.
“What you need, boss?”
“Can you act normal?” Chyna asked.
“I don’t understand,” Demetri asked, turning to glare at Thorin, who started laughing.
“I mean, can you not act like a wolf that’s hunting caribou or a bodyguard, but like the husband of this beautiful young lady?”
Demetri looked at Sirita and turned one corner of his mouth up in a grin and then shrugged. “I think so.”
Before that moment, Chyna had never seen Sirita turn suddenly shy. Did she have a thing for Demetri? Was she missing something? Had she been missing something for a while or…? Lana interrupted her thought.
“I like it. They make a good couple and you’ve got some muscle with her in case something goes down.”
Everyone nodded their agreement except for Demetri and Thorin. Demetri was still a bit confused at what was going on and Thorin was about to wet himself from laughter.
“We’re going to have to practice with Demetri,” Oscar suggested. “He looks like he’s going to eat somebody.”
Demetri looked at Oscar, still confused.
“We’re going to pair muscle with everybody,” Chyna announced.
“Math doesn’t work, boss,” Oscar pointed out. “Five of us and four big guys.”
“You weren’t going anyway,” she quipped. “We’re going to keep you on cams and comms.”
“That’s my specialty,” Oscar beamed.
“Okay, so, Lana, you work with Demetri and Sirita and see if you can help him tone down his inner wolf and make them look like a normal high society couple. I’m going to work with Chuckles and bring him up to speed on what I want to do.” She started toward Thorin, who had suddenly become serious when he realized that he was the one to whom she was referring. “Oscar and Mark, get our list narrowed down and pick out the half dozen fences that are likely to be involved. We’ll cut that in half again. Let’s break off into groups and concentrate for two hours and then put our heads back together, alright?”
She led Thorin into the kitchen and started her explanation. She filled him in on Antoine and how she thought he might be involved and then explained how she wanted to have muscle linked with each team member, just to be safe. In reality, she would have rather had Thorin with Sirita, but the match didn’t work like the one between Demetri and Sirita. Besides, she was a primary target and she wanted her best man watching her back.
“Are we all going to have to act like Demetri?” he asked. “’Cause those other two guys are even worse than he is.”
“No, everyone else will be tailing, watching from the perimeter and staying in contact with Oscar while he coordinates communication.”
“Sounds like a pretty tight plan,” Thorin replied. “You think this will draw Tony out?”
“No. If he’s up to something, I think he’ll play it later, but we might draw out Antoine and who knows what sort of backup he’ll have. He’s connected with the French National Police and Interpol, so he has resources to bring to the party. That’s why we have to be damned tight with our security and communications.”
“Gotcha,” Thorin replied. “I’ll get my guys ready.”
“I’m counting on that,” Chyna grinned.
“Except Demetri,” he chuckled, nodding in the direction of Demetri, who was being taken through the wringer by Lana and Sirita. “Looks like they’re working him over pretty good.”
“He’ll be ready for the cover of GQ by the time they’re done with him,” Chyna laughed.
Several hours later, Demetri had improved dramatically. By the time the tailor that Chyna had called to measure him for a tailored suit, Lana and Sirita had been able to take most of the wolfishness out of the way he walked, stood and looked around the room.
“I sure hope this works,” Lana whispered to her.
“It’ll work,” Chyna answered with more confidence than she felt.
Chapter Nine
“With an almanac and a watch, you could be three hundred leagues from here and say, with immense accuracy, exactly what those at Versailles were doing.” —The Duke of Saint-Simon.
“There is a person here who says that he has a delivery for you, Your Grace,” Luka announced in his deep voice after knocking and being summoned to enter Louis’ office.
It had taken some time to get it to stick, but Luka had finally caught onto addressing Louis by at least one of the proper forms that he had commanded of those who worked with him or followed him. He was, after all, Louis XX and not some commoner.
“Tell him to wait. I will be there in a moment,” Louis responded in an impatient tone.
“Your Grace, I’m not sure that he can wait much longer,” Luka answered.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s not all there.”
“Is part of him missing? An arm or a leg has suddenly vanished?” Louis asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
“He appears to be going insane, Your Grace,” Luka answered.
Louis rose from the chair behind his desk and went to the door. “Insane?” he asked as he followed Luka down the private hallway to the reception area.
Pushing the door into the reception area open, Louis was instantly aware of the delivery man’s insanity, if not by the fact that he was standing in one of the chairs and dancing, but by the look of horror on the face of Marija, his receptionist.
“I must insist that you get down from there this instant!” Louis ordered.
“Are you Louis Charles Bourbon?” the man asked. His expression and the formation of the words made it obvious that he was operating well outside a very limited mental capacity.
“I am,” Louis replied.
“Here,” the man said, extending a package toward him. “This is for you.”
Louis drew back from the package. Though he had not been warned about it, he was suddenly aware that the legend concerning the Rosary of Isabella was, indeed, true. Though it was a powerful talisman for foretelling the future and imparting wisdom to Isabella and any other person of her bloodline, it turned anyone who wasn’t of her bloodline insane from handling it.
“Luka,” he ordered. “Escort this man to the vault so that he can place the package inside. Be careful not to handle the package.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Luka replied, moving forward to pull the delivery man down from the chair.
Louis turned to go back to his office.
“You have to sign for the package,” the delivery man called out to him.
“Sign for the package,” Louis ordered, motioning toward Marija. He turned away, stopped and turned back to Luka, wrinkled his face as though there was a foul odor in the room. “And dispose of this… this c
reature.”
“It will be done, Your Grace.”
“Carry on, then.”
He would need to bring up the subject of the Rosary during his next conversation with the man who had only identified himself as the Seer. The Seer had given him no warning about the dangerous properties of the Rosary. Had Louis not been aware of some of the legends surrounding the handling of it, he might have fallen victim to an unfortunate situation. The Seer’s negligence was either an indication of his inadequacy or it was a deliberate attempt to undermine him. Likely, it was the first, but he would need to be prepared for the possibility of the latter.
The Seer had agreed to deliver the last two items personally, a part of the deal that served two purposes for Louis. It allowed him to make certain that the last two items were authentic and it gave him the opportunity to eliminate the only person who could connect him to the theft; not that it would really make any difference. When the Solstice arrived, his power would be consolidated in such a way that no one could harm him anyway. With that consolidation of power, he could command the Army of Reckoning with complete impunity and incontestable authority.
As the high priest of the Unconquered Sun, he already wielded a great deal of power over his followers, but he needed the magic of the items that the Seer had obtained for him in order to consolidate that power and make him completely omnipotent. His vault already held the Ivory Bow, the Minoan Mask, the Phoenician Falcon, the Mummy Codex, the Aquitaine Armor and the Basilisk of Ishtar. The Rosary of Isabella was about to be added to the set and he awaited the addition of one final piece that was necessary for the Solstice ceremony that would consolidate all of the forces of the gods within that one single object that he would place on his head; the Jeweled Crown of his greatest ancestor, Marie Antoinette.
With that power consolidated within the crown, he would lead the Army of Reckoning forward into battle and watch the entire world as it was laid waste before him. He would march upon Paris first, paying back with a furious vengeance the descendants of the fools who had removed his lineage from the throne. He would take over the Palace of Versailles and set up the world’s new throne there and he would watch, with great pleasure, the yoke of servitude being placed on the necks of fools. A knock at his office door brought him back to the reality that still surrounded him.
“Enter!” he commanded. Through the glass wall and door, he could see the form of Luka.
Luka entered, bowed slightly and then waited to be directed to speak.
“Well, then?” Louis said, as though he was speaking to a delinquent child with whom he had to retain an extreme amount of patience. “Is the package in the vault?”
“It is, Your Grace?” Luka replied.
“And the other matter?”
“Taken care of as well, Your Grace.”
Louis allowed a condescending smile to spread over his face. “Luka, when I come into my place of power and glory, you will be given great honor for having served me so well.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Luka replied. “Though I am certainly not deserving of such.”
“Of course you’re not, but that is why I am to be addressed as ‘Your Grace.’ It is due to my mercy and grace that you will be granted that honor and not because of your own worth.”
“I am truly humbled, Your Grace.”
“Good,” Louis replied in a stern voice. “Now, we need to begin making preparations for the ceremony of the Solstice. Before that day arrives, however, we are waiting for the delivery of two final objects. Those objects will be brought to us by a man who is powerful and dangerous. My security must be at its paramount. Is that understood?”
“It is understood, Your Grace.”
***
Diary of the Queen
1 June 1770
It’s been an impossible task but I believe I have mastered the activities of the morning. I tolerate the schedule until it is time for mass and pray for the wherewithal to stumble through the rest of the day but mostly I find grace and patience very lacking these days.
The day starts when I wake up around eight in the morning. The first person I see is Madame Etiquette.
A large book is presented to me which contains the pattern and description of every article in my wardrobe. I select my choices using pins and I make selections for the morning dressing, afternoon undressing and for the evening.
I am allowed to eat breakfast either in bed or at a little table placed in front of the couch in my bedroom. Breakfast is supposedly a light meal in Paris but, much to Noaille’s dismay, I call for a more hearty meal than is usually provided and I do so every day for once I am dressed for the day, I hardly eat at all.
I am allowed to have a tray placed over my bath tub with my breakfast on it. There are usually about six bathers in attendance, Madame Etiquette refuses anyone else entry while I wash. Sometimes I languish in the water until I am completely wrinkled so I can enjoy the privacy.
At the appropriate time, a large table containing my entire toilette is brought in and the attendants lay out the articles to be used in dressing me for the day. The Princesse de Lamballe, Jules de Polignac and the other ladies of honor would be seated waiting for me to emerge. This is called Le Grandes Entrees and any members of the court who had the right to be in my rooms would take the opportunity to be there. I am certain that this is just their chance to embarrass their princess and that they take much joy in the exercise; too much joy, in fact.
My hair is styled and then the dame d’honneur and the dame d’atours bring out the rest of my toilette. This is where the system of rank at Versailles gets ridiculous. I could be standing completely naked in my bedroom waiting for my clothing to be handed to me and I would remain so, shivering and exposed, if the ranking order of those in attendance changed suddenly. No, I am not jesting. It’s no wonder I didn’t emerge from my rooms until noon on most days.
The highlight of my morning comes once I am finally dressed. This is the time I do my small allotment of diplomacy and my mother would be so proud of me! There are usually up to twelve other people present, including my chief physician and my chief surgeon; even though I am not ill. I give signatures and receive presentations of any officers who are taking leave of Court. On Sundays, I am presented any ladies who are coming in or going and on Tuesdays, new and exiting ambassadors are presented.
After receiving and sending off the various courtiers and dignitaries, I would leave my apartments to attend mass. Any princesses, their attendants, as well as the courtiers who had attended the entrees would follow me, all arranged according to their ranking.
This constant squabbling and scurrying for pomp and position among the courtiers is exhausting. I long for the Hapsburg court back home in Austria, where people were left to be people and it was much easier to know them and where you stood with each one.
Marie.
Chapter Ten
“Eyes are up, Watcher One,” Oscar reported via Chyna’s earpiece. She waited for the second confirmation, which came a few seconds later. “Ears are up as well. You should have the feed in a few.”
Chyna watched the monitor inside the older model Renault that they favored for being more inconspicuous among the autos in the area than her more favored Range Rover would have been. The screen, which had moments before been nothing but static, suddenly displayed the image of the inside of a limo from two cameras, which were, at the moment, were side by side, in a split screen display.
“I’ve got your feed, Control,” Chyna responded.
“Watcher Two is go,” Lana’s voice responded.
“Watcher Three is go,” Mark’s voice added.
“Can you hear us too?” Demetri asked.
“One has ears,” Chyna answered. “Watchers?”
“Two has ears.”
“Three has ears.”
“Okay, Caribou,” she said, speaking into the mic attached to the earpiece. “You and Wolf are go. Relax, act natural and have fun. You copy that, Wolf?”
“Copy,” Demetri replied before he and Sirita removed their earpieces, waited for the chauffeur to open the door of the limo and then slid out. From that point on, the three pairs of watchers could see and hear everything that was going on via the hidden microphones and cameras that both Demetri and Sirita wore. The only downside was that they could risk the presence of an earpiece on either of them for fear that its discovery would blow their cover.
It hadn’t been easy, but Chyna, Lana and Sirita had been able to transform Demetri into a rather dashing and sophisticated gentleman in a short amount of time. It didn’t hurt that there was a little spark between Sirita and Demetri anyway, something that mad Chyna smile a little when she saw the two of them together. They made a very good pair, even apart from the operation and she wondered if she had unwittingly played matchmaker.
“Okay, Watchers,” she ordered. “Let’s be diligent. We have three stops to make and we can’t afford any screw ups.”
“Copy,” each of the other teams replied in turn.
Though the tone of her voice was somewhat shaky due to nerves, Sirita opened up the conversation with the man who was behind the counter.
“My husband and I are on our honeymoon,” she said. “We have had such a special time together in Paris.”
“Congratulations. I am certain that you have found Paris to be special. It has that effect on everyone who visits, but especially for lovers,” the man responded.
“We were hoping to find something unique to take home as a souvenir,” Demetri began. “Not something ordinary, you understand?”
“I understand,” the man replied. “There are many things here that are unique. Perhaps you will find something to suit your tastes, huh?”
“What we are looking for isn’t going to be in your shop,” Sirita said in a low tone.