The Dauphin Deception

by Urcelia Teixeira

  Sam glimpsed at his watch. "It's only just gone sixty minutes. I'm sure he’ll be back any minute now."

  But Sam's attempt at putting Francois at ease had little effect on the man.

  "Why don't you get some rest? I'll make you a cup of tea," Alex offered, already popping on the kettle. But much to their joy, the kettle hadn't even reached a slow boil when they heard the coded rap on the door. Gabriel limped more than usual down the long corridor.

  "Are you okay?” Sam enquired when he noticed Gabriel dragging his false leg.

  "I'll be fine, just all this walking tonight. I'm not used to it anymore." He hated to admit it, confirming their reasons for him staying behind even further.

  "We couldn’t do this if you weren't helping us from this end," Sam said with an empathetic tone as if he knew the contempt Gabriel felt in the moment.

  When they reached Alex and Francois in his quarters, Gabriel's voice took on a more upbeat tone, resolved to his mission being from behind the desk. "I brought a couple of extra gadgets I thought we'd need." He emptied his backpack on the coffee table. "Thought these in-ear mics might come in handy. They're undetectable at first glance and have a two-mile radius connecting to my laptop. It's not the latest in spyware, but it should do the trick. I also figured we could record a bit of extra footage in support of our case file. Looks like a button but it's a camera. Neat, huh?"

  Gabriel's enthusiasm over his small supply of spy equipment was a joy to watch, making it more than evident that the mission excited him and that he was eager to get back into the game.

  "Oh and this is my pièce de résistance, no pun intended," he chuckled, waving what looked like an ordinary flash drive in the air. "It's a two-in-one flash drive that not only decrypts just about any code but also copies it within thirty seconds. Just insert into the device, and it does it for you."

  "I thought you said we're looking for a physical ledger. Doubt we'd need to use the flash drive," Alex commented.

  "And I'm not even going to ask where you got all this stuff, my friend," Sam spoke while inspecting the gadgets up close.

  "Well, if you're an investigative reporter this is par for the course. Got it from a Russian contact of mine. We go way back. Anyway, what's the plan?"

  "Do you have the blueprints?"

  Gabriel fixed his hand drawn map to the wall. "I have more than a blueprint, my friends. I have undercover recordings, dates, events schedules, you name it, an entire file made possible by my contact, may he rest in peace."

  Over the following twelve hours, the newly assembled team researched and studied every inch of The Resistance's meeting place at La Conciergerie and their assembly sequence along with all the information Gabriel had in his possession. With access to the national library situated on the floor above them, they managed to trace historical events and fraudulent documents, confirming what little known facts existed about the clandestine exploits The Resistance had been associated with over the past two decades. A methodically constructed covert operation to locate and retrieve the dossier with members' names was formulated and rehearsed down to the finest detail.

  Wearing the ear mics, Sam would pose as a member, carrying one of the pawns to gain entry to the meeting. Guided from their headquarters, Gabriel would talk him through the sequence of events, and aid in navigating the tunnels all while Sam was recording whatever footage was available through his secret camera. Alex would be positioned in a small antechamber next to one of the prison cells, waiting for Sam's signal to access the underground tunnels that would lead to an office. According to their intel, there would be a vault containing the dossier. Once they had it, Alex would return with it to her secret hideout until daylight and escape the same way she’d entered—posing as a tourist. Sam would return to the meeting and leave as if nothing happened. Their plan was faultless.

  "I think we're ready," Alex announced.

  "Quite the odd twist of comedy that The Resistance will be exposed in the very place where they held their Revolutionary tribunals, and Marie Antoinette spent the last days of her life." It was Francois who spoke when he closed a thick history book he held in his hand. "To think, all these decades and centuries they were single-handedly responsible for bringing down the French monarchy and instigating the entire Revolution. France's very own people. They're a disgrace to our country."

  "Let's get some rest boys. We're going to need it tomorrow night. We'll do a quick run-through again before we deploy, but I think we've got it," Alex said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You clean up nice for an archaeologist, Sam,” Gabriel mocked when Sam stepped out in the black tailcoat and top hat Gabriel had discovered amongst his late informant’s belongings. “I always thought being an archaeologist was boring, digging around in tombs all day. But you two make it look much more exciting.”

  Sam chuckled. “If only, mate! Truth be told, our careers have veered far off the track of late. Each time we get plunged into a mission, we never know if we’ll come out alive. You’ll be surprised how much evil there is in the world.”

  “Money has always been the root of all evil, my friends. Power, greed, and money—the evil tri-factor. Since the early days of man, it’s ruled the world, and I’m not sure it will ever change,” Francois added.

  “Well, what do you boys say we deal with them one at a time, starting with The Resistance?”

  “I’d say, there’s never been a better day for that than today, my love. Let’s go get them!” Sam cheered.

  When the sun cast shadows long and wide across the city of Paris, the team deployed. Using D’Andignés luxury car, Sam looked every bit the part of the hidden movement’s elite when he arrived at the historic building. He glanced at the clock on the car’s console. It was 19:55, and he was right on schedule as planned.

  “Testing, testing,” Sam checked his earpiece.

  “Receiving loud and clear, Sam. Alex?” Gabriel sent back.

  “Copy that, HQ. In position,” Alex responded from her tiny hiding place where she had gained access into the building just before they shut down the main admission area to the public at 1800 hours. She had sneaked inside the historic building taking on the part of a tourist and used the interactive guide-maps available to the public to navigate her way. Her position had her stationed in the small antechamber, which was once used as the grooming room, a place where prisoners had their hair cut before execution by guillotine. Being there alone in utter darkness was horrifying and ghostly and sent shivers down her spine.

  Satisfied their comms were operational, Sam left the car south of the River Seine from where they would make their escape. It was the only accessible route across the narrow bridge since the entire building was constructed on a small island in the middle of the river. When he approached the back of the monument, he reached for the brass pawn in his inside breast pocket. As researched, the low palisade gave way to a matching black cast iron pedestrian gate. He cast his eyes on the green door with its crisscross iron bars just inside the fence. A solid limestone staircase lined by sculptures built into the building’s walls, ran above the green door; leading to another door slightly bigger in size. Over the door, the sculpted head of a lion protruded from the stair’s railing, marking The Resistance’s secret entrance.

  Sam’s heart pounded against his chest. They might have had intel from Gabriel’s informant, but the facts were that any of the details could have been changed since he’d been killed almost five years before. His palm was clammy when he turned the gate’s copper doorknob; twice to the right, four times to the left and ended with seven times to the right. Like a combination to a vault, the gate parted from the fence. He turned around and looked over his shoulder once more. Behind him, the small parking area was quiet. There wasn’t a soul in sight. He moved toward the green door in front of him. The brass pawn figurine fitted perfectly into the slightest of indentations where the distressed double green wooden doors joined in the middle. Again he heard the click, making his heart surg
e with a new dose of adrenalin.

  “Granted,” he whispered.

  “Copy that, Sam. Standing by,” Alex whispered back.

  Sam pushed the doors open and stepped inside a wide corridor with a domed roof. The walls were made from large limestone squares upon which small torches were mounted every few yards. It was unattended with no sign of surveillance cameras or anything similar. Sam’s shiny black shoes echoed between the solid walls as he walked along the thirteenth-century structure. At the very end of the corridor, it ran dead at a wall equal in structure to the rest of the passageway. Again, Sam took his pawn and placed it in the center of the third limestone square from the right of the seventh row from the floor. The now-familiar click was heard again before the wall gave way to a narrow stairwell in which the staircase ran far steeper than he’d anticipated.

  “Granted,” he reported again.

  “Copy that, Sam,” Alex responded once again.

  “You should descend into the small chamber first, Sam, then veer right toward the second chamber. I’m sure there’ll be quite a few members already. The camera is recording,” Gabriel affirmed.

  So far, everything ran according to plan, but Sam couldn’t help being anxious. He had no idea what to expect or worse, who to expect.

  “I’ve got your back, Sam. Just use our safe word,” Alex whispered in his earpiece as if she sensed his trepidation. Sam didn’t respond for fear of compromising their mission. He had now entered the larger chamber where a group of at least two hundred men in coat-tails and top hats were seated in chairs arranged in rows to form a horseshoe. At the open end of the U-shape, a distinguished man sat facing the members. With a striking resemblance to Abraham Lincoln, his authority was marked by the red satin sash that ran diagonally across his body. On it, an embroidered rook chess piece cemented his rank. To his right were two men, each wearing a blue rosette on their left shoulders, their rankings declared by a gold embroidered bishop.

  Two raised viewing galleries flanked the U-shaped seating area where Sam took his seat in the back row of the east wing as planned. The night’s proceedings hadn’t commenced yet, and Sam listened to the murmuring ramblings of the men surrounding him. Conversations were taking place in several languages some of which he didn’t recognize. From their intel, Sam knew the meeting was due to start any moment now. Directing his hidden camera toward the chamber, he captured several members’ faces across the room. On his left sat a rather pompous man with neatly cut white hair and a matching thick white mustache that curled up at the ends. His face, in contrast to his white hair, was red and blotchy in places. He merely nodded as Sam shuffled impatiently in his seat.

  “I always wish they would get on with these meetings too,” he leaned in and whispered in a thick German accent at Sam. “Herr Lichtenstein III,” he introduced himself.

  Caught off guard Sam introduced himself in reply. “Lord Wedgewood,” he said, quickly recalling the article his mother had once read on the creator of her Wedgewood fine china dinner service. “Do you come to all these meetings?” he asked before the stranger caught onto his deceit.

  “Oh absolutely, Lord Wedgewood. It is critical to our existence that we execute our plans with great precision.”

  Somehow, Sam anticipated the man to be a stickler for discipline. “Which motion do you support most?”

  “We have to get a grip on bitcoin, in my opinion. You?”

  Relieved to hear the speaker call the meeting to order, Sam only nodded in response.

  The Lincoln lookalike spoke in perfect English, his accent only vaguely recognizable as being French. Trailing his eyes across the large cavernous chamber, Sam recognized more than a handful of men. There were politicians, billionaires, oil magnates, and a vast array of incredibly influential people hailing from anywhere from Russia across to America—each sharing the same secret. He felt sick to his stomach as his thoughts wandered to the deceit and destruction this movement must have caused over all these centuries, unbeknownst to the regular man on the street.

  The first motion on the table was called in to vote, and soon after, they announced a short recess to tally the ballots. Sam followed the small gathering of men through a door positioned behind each wing.

  “Here’s our gap, Sam. See the door to your far left? That will take you to the chambers behind the main hall,” Gabriel spoke in Sam’s ear.

  Sam carefully moved through the group of men most of whom stood arguing over the motion’s ruling, creating for the perfect distraction to aid his getaway. He paused a few yards from the door and turned around to face the men who were too busy debating to notice his position. He slowly backed into the door, turned around when he was a few feet away, and exited the debating room.

  “I’m in,” he announced.

  On the other side of the door, the small dark passage led him fifty yards away to where it split into two. “Which way?” he prompted.

  “Hold on,” Gabriel answered back, “it’s not on the blueprint. Are you sure you took the correct door?”

  “Duval, you’d better not be messing with me. Of course, I’m sure, now which way?”

  “I’m not, I swear. There’s no mention of it. Pick either of them.”

  Annoyed, Sam took the left tunnel. The place sent chills down his spine. From their research, they knew these tunnels might have aided some prisoners to escape their fateful execution, many of whom never made it out. Strange sounds echoed behind him. He knew he was alone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had company. He wasn’t one to believe in ghosts but every hair the back of his neck attested to the opposite.

  “Duval, you’d better have found out where I am. I don’t have much time, and this place is creeping me out.”

  “Sam,” Alex’s voice came over the airwaves, “check your direction, you should be heading in a north-western direction.”

  “Copy that,” he said, clicking one of the buttons on his wristwatch, a high-tech survival gift Alex had given him for Christmas.

  “North-west. Affirmative,” he responded, slightly more at ease now that he appeared to have selected the correct tunnel.

  “Got it!” Gabriel interjected. “You should hit a dead end up ahead. When you get to it, let me know.”

  Several quickened paces further, Sam reached the wall. “Now what?”

  “It’s not actually a wall. You need to figure out how to open it. There should be a small lever or something.”

  “Are you kidding me, Duval? There’s nothing here. It’s a blank wall.”

  “Sam, perform a sound test,” Alex offered.

  He responded by knocking on the bricks in several places. Each delivered a hollow response except one positioned in front of his left foot. Using his hand, he applied pressure to the block and heard a series of grinding noises before the wall parted in the corner to his right, creating a gap just big enough for him to slip through sideways; he squeezed through. Expecting another dark passage, he was surprised to have found his way into a kitchen.

  “I’m in the kitchen.”

  “Copy that, coming down to meet you now,” Alex announced.

  Two minutes later, Alex joined him where he was inspecting a kitchen gadget the purpose of which was a mystery.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he joked when Alex walked in. “Mind telling me what this contraption is?”

  Alex giggled, “It’s a paddle churn, for making butter, silly. Makes you appreciate the convenience of it now, doesn’t it? Thought you’d never get here. This place is creepy.”

  “I know, I’m close to changing my opinion about ghosts. Could have sworn there was someone behind me back there.”

  “Shall we get on with it then so we can get out of here?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “Gabriel, do you copy?”

  “I copy loud and clear. Was waiting for you two to stop rambling.”

  “Which way is the vault, Duval?”

  “You need to go back through the secret door then
take the left fork about fifty yards in.”

  Alex and Sam slipped back through the secret door, closing it behind them by activating it the same way it opened. Gabriel’s intel was correct and fifty-two yards on further on, they reached the fork and veered left. Now grateful for Alex’s small flashlight, it was slightly less daunting as the pair navigated their way through the dark underground tunnel. The tunnel was substantially shorter, and it wasn’t long after that they found the ladder attached to the wall in the middle of the tunnel as was laid out on the blueprint.

  “Found the ladder, Duval,” Alex said, forgetting that the flashlight now afforded Gabriel a better view through the secret camera.

  “The button should be on the side next to the eighth step,” Gabriel followed through.

  “Copy that,” Alex responded as she ascended the ladder. Her fingers found the button and, upon pushing it, she heard the practically inaudible popping noise above their heads as the latch opened. Alex switched off the flashlight and peered through the narrow gap into a well-lit room. By their account, the room should be the private office Gabriel’s informant had said belonged to The Resistance. She slowly raised the hatch with her head, all the while keeping her eyes scanning the room for any occupants. The lights were on which might have meant there was someone there. Much to her relief, it was vacant. She lifted the top half of her body through the narrow floor opening which was positioned behind a sizeable mahogany desk. Caught waist-high in the hatch, she heard the door open revealing two male voices.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alex crouched down beneath the floor and rapidly slid the panel back in place above her head. They paused, hovering on the ladder in total darkness while listening to the subdued voices above their heads.

  “What’s happening?” Gabriel nudged through their earpieces.

  They ignored him, in fear of compromising themselves. Gabriel repeatedly pushed for answers.

  “Quiet!” Alex finally whispered back, praying she wasn’t heard. From the office above, the men’s footsteps moved away from the desk directly above their heads. They listened as the door opened and then closed. Alex remained in position, waiting, listening for any sounds.