Jeremy agreed. “So, we attempt a meeting, capture their contact, and force him to confess.”
Marcus smiled at him. “As good a plan as any, though we must be careful. He will certainly have someone, perhaps many, to watch his back. And remember, we have no idea if this will work. He may have no reason to be waiting for a contact attempt.”
Simon leaned forward. “But isn’t this the same method Mrs. Thibault used to notify him that Miss Girard was ready?”
Marcus nodded. “It is, which is why I have some confidence this may work.” He turned to his squires. “You two aren’t known to anyone involved as far as we know. You’ll leave the message, then return here as quickly as possible. Simon and I will take up position about an hour beforehand at the rendezvous point that our traitors have indicated, and see who shows up.” He turned to Thomas. “Thomas, I have a special assignment for you.”
The young man beamed. “I’d be honored to help in any way I can.”
“Excellent, for yours may be the most important job of all.” Marcus regarded the group gathered. “Now remember, nobody can know any of these plans. Nobody. You’ll note I’ve excluded Lord and Lady Joanne, as well as Mrs. Thibault from this meeting. Only those who need to be involved know what is happening tonight. Secrecy is essential, or all could be lost. Understood?”
His men answered in unison. “Yes, sir!”
Thomas gulped. “Umm, yes, umm, sir?”
46
De Montfort Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Are you sure we can trust him?”
Marcus eyed the heavy security now in place at Sir Denys’ residence, pleased to see the man was taking their warning seriously. Lord Charles had also increased the guard, though it appeared not to the extent that now greeted them. He glanced at Simon, riding beside him. “Yes, I believe so. He’s just a patsy in this.”
“Are you sure?”
Marcus frowned. “I’m not sure of anything, but I believe he was being used to draw Lord Charles into the scandal to discredit him as well, so the conspirators could remove four influential members of the Court in one fell swoop.”
“They should have stuck with three.”
Marcus chuckled. “Perhaps. Though should we have not become involved, Lady Joanne would have been arrested, and Sir Denys shortly thereafter. She would proclaim her innocence, as the other wives would have, but no one would believe her, especially after the three men turned themselves in and the other wives were tortured into false confessions.” He sighed. “Her fate would have been sealed with the others, as would his. No, I think he’s perhaps the only person we can trust.”
Sir Denys appeared surprised to see them, greeting them with a broad smile as they entered his office. Much had happened since they had last seen him at Lord Gaspard’s, and Marcus had no intention of sharing the plans now unfolding, even if he did trust him.
The fewer who knew, the better.
“Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I pray you have news?”
Marcus bowed. “None that we can share at this moment, though I do have a favor to ask of you.
“Anything.”
“I’m happy to hear you say that, sir. It is my sincere belief that all will be revealed tonight. In order to see this through, however, I will need a significant contingent to make the arrests, warrants sworn out by the Court, and the Court assembled tomorrow morning so the charges and proof can be presented.”
Denys’ eyes were wide, his eyebrows high. “You already know who is behind this?”
Marcus raised a precautionary hand. “I have my suspicions, and am confident they will be confirmed in short order.”
“Who, pray tell? I’m dying to know!”
Simon grunted. “So am I.”
Marcus smiled. “Neither of you would believe me if I told you, and we cannot have them named on the warrants in case someone at the Court warns them. For now, they must be nameless warrants. I will explain everything. There is much to do, and little time.”
47
St. Severin Church
Paris, Kingdom of France
David entered the church, an impressive affair, though nothing like he had experienced in the Holy Land. It was now evening, and a disappointing number of worshipers were present, though for their purposes, that might be a good thing.
As he went through the customary rituals, he scanned their surroundings for anything suspicious, finding nothing. He headed for the front, his eyes on the third pew, far left, sighing with relief that no one was seated there.
Time was of the essence, and a delay while waiting for some devout worshipper to finish, was not part of the plan.
He sat in the corner, Jeremy beside him, and surreptitiously stuck the note between the bench and the end of the pew requesting a meeting tonight in the gap. He bowed his head and prayed for their success, apologizing profusely to God for using His house in such a manner, and in using prayer to disguise their true purpose.
Though he was confident they would be forgiven. After all, what they were doing was for the greater good, and the lives of too many innocents were at stake.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, and they both rose, exiting the pew and making the sign of the cross before beating a retreat that David tried to make appear casual to any who might be watching. They had no way of knowing if someone was already in the church, monitoring for a drop, though Marcus had thought it unlikely. The appointed time for a meeting was still several hours from now, and according to the instructions provided by the imprisoned accomplices, as long as a message was left at least an hour beforehand, the meeting would take place.
And there was no way someone would wait for hours for a message that may never arrive—it would appear too suspicious.
David mounted his horse, urging it forward at a reasonable pace, not wanting to draw any attention lest Marcus was wrong, all the while keeping a wary eye out for anyone suspicious. He glanced at Jeremy. “That went as well as could be expected.”
“Assuming whoever is collecting it didn’t spot us.”
“What, you don’t trust your master?”
Jeremy smiled. “Don’t try and twist my words.” He shook his head. “Is your heart pounding as hard as mine?”
David chuckled. “Harder. I don’t think I’ve been this on edge since we’ve been in France, and there’s not a sword in sight.” He flicked his reins. “Let’s get to the rendezvous as quickly as we can. I don’t like being this exposed.”
48
De Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
Lady Joanne threw her arms out as she rushed toward Beatrice, her poor chambermaid leaping from her bedside, her own arms outstretched. The reunion was tearful and perhaps inappropriate for the difference in their stations, but Joanne didn’t care, too relieved to worry about decorum at a moment like this.
“Thank the Lord you’re okay.”
Beatrice turned her head slightly to her right, nodding. “Yes, thank the Lord.”
Joanne frowned, placing a finger on the woman’s chin and pushing her head gently so she could see the side Beatrice was hiding. She gasped at the swollen eye revealed. “Oh my God!” She didn’t bother asking who was responsible. She knew. She had heard the blow that had caused it herself. “I’m so sorry, Beatrice, I truly am.”
“It’s not your fault, M’Lady, it was my own.”
“How can you possibly say that?”
“I should have ducked.”
Joanne stared at her for a moment, then snickered, ashamed of herself as she struggled to stop the laugh that threatened to erupt.
Beatrice beat her to it, and they both laughed uncontrollably, the tension, the fears, the relief, the simple raw emotions causing them to react irrationally to the horrifying situation.
Joanne hugged her again. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” She sat Beatrice gently on the side of the bed, joining her. “Tell me, honestly, are you okay?”
&nb
sp; Beatrice nodded. “Time will heal this. And I’m sure he would have done far worse to you.” She lowered her head. “I’m just ashamed that I told him where you were.”
Joanne shook her head, squeezing the poor girl’s hand. “Oh, dear, you have nothing to apologize for. You saved me, and you should be proud of that.”
Beatrice blushed. “Is, umm, everything okay now?”
Joanne patted the woman on the knee. “Yes, all has been forgiven. My cousin, Sir Marcus, has been able to prove that the letter was a fabrication.”
“Thank God for him!”
“Yes, indeed. Now, we need to figure out who gave you the letter.”
“I told them before. I’m pretty sure it must have been Albert, but I don’t really remember. Everything is a jumble.”
“They spoke to him, and in fact, the entire staff, and nobody remembers giving you the letter.”
Beatrice’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh no!” She sighed, wringing her hands. “I’ve been trying to remember who gave me the note, but I’m not sure. I thought it was Albert, but if he says it wasn’t him, then I don’t rightly know. I can’t think of anyone else. I was in such a panic, I must have blocked the memory somehow.”
Joanne frowned. “Then perhaps it is as they say. Someone from outside gained entry and handed it to you.”
Beatrice looked up at her. “But wouldn’t I remember that? Wouldn’t I remember a stranger handing me a message for Lord Charles?”
Joanne nodded. “One would think, but the mind can play cruel tricks when it is under stress.”
Beatrice shook her head. “But I have flashes of Albert handing me the note. In fact, I’m sure I dreamt last night that he handed it to me, saying to give this to the master, as it was most urgent. I woke up in a cold sweat with the memory.”
Joanne smiled at the poor woman. “It was only a dream.”
“I know, I know, but it felt so real, as if I had actually experienced it. And why was it unsealed? The seal on it had been broken. Would a messenger actually break the seal? Perhaps by accident, but surely he would have mentioned it.”
“Maybe he mentioned it to Albert, but he forgot to mention it to you?”
Beatrice shrugged. “Perhaps, but when he handed it to me, I mentioned it to him, and he shrugged—oh my God! He did hand it to me! I remember it clearly now as if it was just moments ago. I went to say hi to him, as I do every morning.”
Joanne winked. “Who’s sweet on whom?”
Beatrice blushed. “He handed me the folded message. He said, ‘Give this to the master, it is most urgent, I think it’s about your mistress.’ I said, ‘Oh no, the seal is broken. How did this happen?’ He shrugged, said I had better hurry, and I did. But because he had mentioned it was about you, I feared something might be wrong, so I unfolded the note, read it—thank the good Lord you taught me!—and that’s when I learned the nature of its contents. I hid it under the master’s breakfast service, warned you, and arranged your escape with Albert.”
Joanne’s heart hammered at the revelation. “That doesn’t sound like a dream to me!”
Beatrice shook her head vigorously. “No, it isn’t! I clearly remember it now.”
Joanne’s mind was racing. If Beatrice was correct, then Albert had lied, and she could think of no reason why. She gripped her friend by the hand. “Then the question is, why did Albert have the message in the first place, and why did he lie about it?”
“Obviously someone gave it to him,” said Beatrice. “But why was the seal broken?” She stared at her mistress. “We need to find out.”
Joanne rose. “You’re right. We must see him right away.”
Beatrice’s eyes opened wide. “But the master, he said I must stay here.”
Joanne batted away the statement. “Never mind him, he left a few minutes ago, something to do with what’s been going on. We need answers, and I’m not willing to wait for his return.”
49
Rue des Barres
Paris, Kingdom of France
“So, you’re not going to tell me?”
Marcus glanced at Simon. “Tell you what?”
“Who you think is behind all this?”
Marcus shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
He grinned at his friend. “Because if I’m wrong, I don’t want you to think I’m not the genius I’m playing today.”
Simon snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, there’s no risk of that.”
“Oh?”
“No, the Lord himself couldn’t convince me you’re a genius.”
“Touché.”
Simon laughed, then became serious. “Do you think he—whoever he is—is going to show tonight?”
Marcus shrugged. “I have no idea. I’d say the chances are half-and-half. If the drop-off was exclusive to those three men, then no, I don’t think he’ll show, but the fact it was the same as where Thibault’s man was instructed to notify our mystery man that Miss Girard was ready for her role as Lady Joanne, then that suggests it’s used for multiple contacts. It makes sense. If we assume that this conspiracy is being coordinated by only a few, or perhaps even by only one, then having half a dozen or more contact points throughout the city would be difficult to manage. He would spend his entire time monitoring them.” Marcus shook his head. “No, I think there is only one point for this entire operation, and that only one or two are actually coordinating it. And, I think, since the operation is still underway, he will still be monitoring it, especially now that they are so close to accomplishing their goal.”
Simon nodded slowly. “What you say makes sense, yet without knowing who you suspect, I’ll have to trust in your genius.”
Marcus grinned. “So, we’re back to me being a genius?”
Simon frowned. “I think the Lord and I will reserve judgment.”
50
Rue de la Huchette
Paris, Kingdom of France
Thomas shivered in the chill of the night, the alleyway he had secreted himself in with his horse, blocking some of the wind, but the fact he had to keep his eye on a specific landmark meant he was always at least partially exposed, especially to the gusts.
He would give anything to be back at his humble home in front of the fire right now, though the fires had barely been embers of late. Once this situation was over, the luxuries provided by sheltering Mrs. Thibault would be over, and even if Sir Marcus kept his promise of giving him the coins found on the would-be assassins, they would soon run out.
Then he would be back to his life of starvation and cold.
If he continued on his current path, he would be dead before spring. He didn’t fear death, though his father would have wanted more of him—would have expected more of him. The man would be ashamed of what he had let himself become in only a few short weeks without him.
His self-pity was killing him.
He had always managed to find some work in the past, mostly odd jobs, barely enough to provide a little help at home, but it would never be enough now that his father’s meager income wasn’t there to support them.
Which still left him with the two offers now available to him. One that would give him the life of a peasant, though good with the Lord, and another that would give him a life far more comfortable, though with questionable standing when Saint Peter greeted him. He sighed, his breath visible in the cold, making him painfully aware of the chill.
He shook his head, frowning, as his decision was made. And it was the only decision he could make, if he were to have the life he craved, and not give up his family home.
And he doubted Sir Marcus would be happy with his choice.
In fact, he was certain of it.
Yet he could see no other option.
Life toiling on a farm had never been his dream.
51
Rue des Barres
Paris, Kingdom of France
Simon stood in the shadows, chilled to the bone, the cold of France in the fall teeth-chattering compared to the warmt
h of the desert. Though it could get cold overnight as the ground gave up its heat, it was nothing compared to this.
And at least in the Holy Land, one knew come morning, the chill would rapidly dissipate, and the unbearable heat would return.
He stared at the street, his master’s instructions still perplexing.
Do nothing.
Nothing? Why nothing? If the Germans’ contact showed, then why weren’t they going to capture him and make him talk? It made no sense to him, but then again, Marcus was a knight, and the master strategist of the group. He trusted him with his life, and would always obey the man’s orders, even if they made no sense to him.
David and Jeremy had arrived on schedule, the message delivered, and now they all waited, hidden, waiting to do nothing, if things were to go according to plan. The two squires were in position with their bows, covering the streets below should something go wrong, though Marcus had indicated he expected it to be uneventful.
Nothing should be done unless lives were in danger.
Simon stamped his feet, trying to keep warm, wondering how much longer it would be before their prey was to arrive.
Prey.
He growled.
You hunt prey, you don’t watch it then let it get away.
But Marcus was smart, far smarter than him. He claimed to know who was involved, which was much more than he could say for himself. He had no clue. King Adolf was probably involved, but who was acting on his behalf? He had no idea beyond those they had already killed, and the three young men who had turned themselves in to further the conspiracy.
And who was pulling the strings? He was at a loss, and that was why he couldn’t understand Marcus not wanting to capture the man they hoped would be showing up any minute now.
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 16