Everyone shook their heads.
Rupert bit back a curse of frustration and shuddered as a cold blast of air snuck up his back. He hated the country. At least by the sea there were things to look at and it wasn’t as barren as mile upon mile of rolling hillside. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to live in such an out of the way village as this one. There must only have been two hundred people in residence and they were at least five miles away from the nearest main road; it was a ridiculous little place designed for hardship rather than convenience.
“We will keep watch and see if the coachman comes back on foot, or if Guerin goes out again,” Harry mumbled around a yawn.
“We will get some sleep while we can and take over from you at dawn,” Rupert whispered. He didn’t relish his colleagues their turn on watch. It was difficult to know which was worse, having to stand outside throughout the night, or having to leave a nice warm bed at the inn so they could head out into the cold to stand in the dark. Either way they would all end up shivering, miserable and hungry by morning.
The inn was silent by the time Rupert and Luke made their way upstairs. The darkened corridor was lit by a solitary candle that rested on a small table against the wall. Unfortunately, its feeble flame did little to light the long hallway but neither of them were all that bothered by the shadows. In deference to the other patrons in the hostelry who were asleep by now, neither man made a noise as they headed toward their rooms. Rupert lifted a hand to wave his colleague goodnight and had only just opened the door when a sudden flurry of movement to his left was immediately accompanied by several loud thumps from behind him.
He heard Luke’s grunts and turned to watch two assailants ambush his colleague in the corridor. He moved forward to lend a hand but was immediately accosted himself by the two thugs who burst out of his room behind him and lunged at him with big, beefy fists.
He ducked his head to avoid a wildly swinging fist and grunted under the weight of the unseen second man who threw one beefy arm around his shoulders. The heavy pressure on his back was impossible to fight and there was little Rupert could do except claw at the arm across his throat in an attempt to get the man to loosen his hold so that he could breathe. As the seconds ticked by he struggled to draw breath and the outer edges of his vision began to blur, but not enough so that he was rendered blind to his assailant’s accomplice.
As soon as the man drew close, Rupert used the weight of the thug behind him as leverage and lifted both boots off the ground. He landed a well-placed kick squarely in his middle of the charging man’s forehead and watched as his head snapped back with a dull crunch and he fell to the floor without a murmur.
Pleased that at least one man was down, Rupert turned his attention to the attacker whose hold he couldn’t break. Rupert was tall, heavily built and strong, but even he was no match for the oaf behind him who was simply huge. He attempted to use the man’s weight against him, and pushed his feet against the wall with all of his might in a desperate attempt to try to get the man to stagger backward. He cursed fluidly when the oaf didn’t budge, or even grunt. Instead, his attacker’s warm, fetid breath brushed across Rupert’s cheek as he panted with the exertion of keeping himself upright while holding his quarry. Stars began to appear behind his eyes and Rupert knew that he didn’t have long. In a macabre dance for life, he stomped down on the booted foot so close to his own and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch. The man’s hold immediately loosened and it was enough for Rupert, who was taller, fitter and considerably more agile to take advantage of the momentary distraction.
Although the man’s arm had loosened enough for Rupert to move, it hadn’t disappeared completely. He ducked his head and sank his teeth into the beefy flesh beneath his chin at the same time that he drew the man’s arm away from his chest. Rupert twisted around as he stepped to one side and kept a firm hold on the man’s arm so that he could propel his attacker’s heavy girth forward. As he passed, Rupert placed his boot on the man’s backside to increase his speed, and watched the heavy man land face down on the bed with a bone jarring thud.
The loud retort of a gun out in the hallway broke Rupert’s concentration, but he knew better than to take his eyes of the winded man before him.
“Luke!”
“Here,” his colleague mumbled. Whatever he was doing outside was taking considerable effort because his friend’s usually calm and unflappable demeanour was charged with a deep disgust. “One down,” he growled. His report was enough to encourage Rupert to redouble his own efforts to end his confrontation with the big man on the bed.
He was fairly certain that his attackers were Dubois, and the second, now unconscious, assailant at his feet was Laurent because of the language the man before him was gasping. That being the case, where were his colleagues? Was Guerin still in the cottage across the square? If he was, that meant that the coachman was Jacques Fornier. If so, who was attacking Luke in the corridor?
The big man on the bed suddenly rolled over. The feral grin on his bilious face was partially blocked by the barrel of the gun that was pointed straight at Rupert’s head. He ducked the bullet that whizzed past his ear and felt the fine shower of plaster explode around him as he threw himself onto the floor. He immediately lunged to his feet again and, rather than risk fighting the heavy weight of the much bigger man, Rupert drew his own gun.
“Put it down,” he growled and motioned silently for the man to drop his weapon over the end of the bed, far away from his unconscious accomplice on the floor.
“Here, what’s going on?” A loud voice called from somewhere down the corridor.
“Shut up and get back into your room man,” Luke growled amid thumps and grunts. His battle continued to rage with determined ferocity, but was fuelled by the anger that swept through him as he realised just how close he had come to getting his head blown off. He glared balefully at the inn keeper who watched the fight in his hallway for several moments. “Wait!” Luke grunted as he dodged a fist. “Go and get help. These are French spies and have to be arrested.”
He knew that his assailant, Laurent, had understood every word and watched a sinister snarl fall over his opponent’s angular face. Luke didn’t bother to look to see if the inn keeper had left to carry out his orders. He knew from the sound of the heavy footsteps on the stairs that the owner of the tavern had rushed off to find help. Unfortunately, Luke knew that there was very little assistance to be found in the inn. The regular drinkers had gone home hours ago, and there was nobody else on the upper floor of the tavern because Rupert had secured the entire floor for the men from the Star Elite. It was going to take the inn keeper several minutes to run to the nearby houses and find someone who would be of any use; even if he could wake them up.
“You may as well give up, Laurent, there is nowhere you can go now,” Luke growled. He knew that Rupert was engaged in his own fight for survival inside his room, but Luke was at a distinct disadvantage because he was out in the open hallway. Anyone could creep up the stairs and take him out without Luke even being aware of their arrival. He daren’t take his attention off Laurent, not even for a second. Although the man’s gun had been discharged, Luke was aware of the wicked looking blade that Laurent had tucked in his boot. He cursed and dodged the charging Frenchman, and listened to the loud bangs that came from inside Rupert’s room.
Rupert heard Luke order someone to get help but knew that it was a futile request. Even if someone did wade into the fray, they would be in incredible danger. Dubois may be fat, but he was ruthless and knew how to use his weight to overpower his victims. He also knew that his gun was now useless and so dutifully dropped it over the side of the bed as Rupert instructed. The clatter of the metal barrel against the wooden floor was loud within the square room but its presence on the floor did little to assure Rupert that he was winning the fight. Dubois had a knife secreted on him somewhere, of that there could be no doubt.
“Stand up.” He motioned with his gun for Dubois to get to his
feet. “Turn around.”
Dubois merely smiled and revealed a blackened row of almost non-existent teeth that was the reason for the man’s fetid breath.
Rupert heaved a sigh when the Frenchman made no attempt to comply with the last instruction. “I know you can understand me. Your English has been taught well.”
“You cannot stop us,” Dubois smirked arrogantly in perfect English. His heavy jowls wobbled as he spoke in a thick French accent. “There are more of us than you think.”
“Dubois, you and I both know that your chain of command has collapsed. That is why you are here in this nondescript little place. Beaulieu, Petit, Moureau and Legrand are all now dead. Rousseau is languishing in jail and as for your associate here, well, let’s just say that if this is the best the French have to offer there can be little wonder why we have closed you down as easily as we have. The game is over, Dubois. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for your future chances of survival.” He sighed as though he was bored, but it was a theatrical gesture that was completely at odds with the tension that really thrummed through him. “Now, I am tired, hungry and want to go to bed. I am sure that even you will understand when I tell you to hurry up and make your choice whether I shoot you here and now, or cart you off to jail. Either way, if you don’t decide soon, I will be left with no choice but to make the decision for you.”
“You know nothing about my chain of command.”
“We know about your safe houses; they are now owned by the king. We know that your boss recently failed to secure the beach at Cragdale Manor that you planned to use to get out of the country. You have very little in the way of funds, and the contacts you have tried to request assistance from have failed to reply to your demands. It’s mainly because they are all either dead or in prison awaiting trial, but it has left you in a rather precarious position.”
Rupert knew that he had struck too close to home when the glare Dubois was giving him turned hateful. Undeterred, Rupert continued. “I am afraid that whatever happens, you won’t return home to your mother country.” As he spoke, he wondered what was taking Luke so long to bring his opponent down and hoped that his colleague hadn’t been injured. Nevertheless, he kept his attention firmly focused on the man before him. “We also know that Fornier is around here someplace.”
“Fornier is too smart for the likes of you English,” Dubois boasted. “You are too busy with your bowing and scraping to keep up with us. We have done what we need to do, all under your very noses, and you stupid English have not been able to stop us.”
“We have been following your trail, Dubois, and have been gathering information on your network of people from the very day you stepped onto English soil.” He glanced up and down at the Frenchman dismissively. “We have done our work well and will not stop until each one of you is behind bars, or dead, whichever comes first.”
Although he kept his voice conversational, he mentally plotted whether to bring the man down with one shot to the head or disarm him. He couldn’t lose sight of the knife tucked into the man’s boot but had to ensure that his shot was an accurate one or he would be left at a distinct disadvantage if it came to an all-out fight. He didn’t need to make the decision though because the Frenchman suddenly lunged forward.
Rupert instinctively lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. A large red stain suddenly appeared in the middle of the Frenchman’s chest and rapidly grew bigger. In slow motion the man looked down at the gaping hole and topped forward to land on the floor with a heavy thud.
“Rupert!”
“Here,” he called as he carefully stepped over the bodies on the floor.
In the corridor, Luke was trading blows with his assailant, Guerin. The distracted Frenchman didn’t hear Rupert walk up behind him. Rupert hit him hard on the back of his head with the butt of his now empty gun and stood back as the man went down without a murmur.
Luke immediately dropped to his knees as he battled for air. He hated to admit it but the fight had been equally matched and could have gone on for hours if it hadn’t been for Rupert.
“Thanks,” he muttered and grabbed hold of the hand Rupert held out to haul him to his feet.
Assured that his colleague was now safe, Rupert collected his meagre belongings from his room and closed the door on the two dead bodies. In the hallway, he stood beside Luke and studied the two men at their feet. Guerin, and the unknown accomplice, were going to have very sore heads when they woke up, but at least they were still alive and had useful information Sir Hugo would be able to prise out of them.
CHAPTER THREE
They were deciding how to bind the men when the inn keeper returned with half a dozen men. They charged up the stairs with as much stealth as a herd of cattle, brandishing everything from rakes to hunting rifles. They slammed to a halt at the top of the stairs and looked a little deflated that they had been denied their moment to shine as they took in the scene in the hallway.
“We need your upmost discretion on this,” Rupert warned and issued each man with a look that warned them they were expected to comply. Not one of them appeared to be a day younger than fifty, but they were old enough and wise enough to understand the gravity of the situation and seemed willing to allow Rupert and Luke to issue the orders.
“There are two bodies in there,” Luke warned with a nod toward Rupert’s room.
“Who are you?” The inn keeper demanded as he held his gun at the ready.
“We work for his majesty’s government,” Rupert replied. “These men are Frenchmen who are here to spy on us.”
As if on cue, Guerin chose that moment to start to wake up. His mumbles were distinctly French, and supported Rupert’s attempts to gain the co-operation of the disgruntled villagers.
“We need to get these two bound and downstairs,” Rupert informed the group. He nudged the unknown accomplice with his booted foot. “This one is injured and needs his head binding. There is a fourth one around here somewhere so watch your backs.” He turned to the inn keeper. “I am sorry for the mess in the room back there but there was little we could do. We will of course help tidy it up if you have somewhere to store the bodies.”
“Are they French too?”
“What do we do with the dead men?” The inn keeper asked as his friends hefted the Frenchman onto his feet.
“If you have a cold room, we will put them in there so we can clean the room down while we are here. The prison cart should be here by this afternoon and they will take the prisoners and the bodies.”
“You say there is a fourth one still in the village?”
Rupert glanced at Luke who nodded. “We think that he may still be around here somewhere, but he is likely to be armed and dangerous.”
Grumbles about traitors and murderous thugs swept through the assembled men as they half carried, half dragged the semiconscious Frenchmen downstairs and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor beside the front door. With the threat of a French traitor still walking freely amongst them, the villagers turned into something of a vigilante gang. With horrifying speed they arranged themselves into small groups. Two of the burliest men remained behind in the pub to stand guard over the prisoners, while the rest of the assorted men undertook a thorough search of the entire village.
It was early dawn by the time they all returned to the village pub, exhausted, hungry and empty handed. The men from the Star Elite had helped but, unsurprisingly, there was no sign of Fornier and there was nothing to suggest that he had even been in the village.
“We need to find Fornier as a matter of urgency,” Jacob whispered to Marcus, Luke, Harry and Rupert, who had gathered in the tavern to decide what to do.
“I think he will have headed south,” Marcus sighed around a yawn. “I mean, he has contacts in London. The French have always started their operations in London and worked their way around the country. The people they have recruited to their cause have all been Londoners, and we know that is where their financiers are located.”
&nb
sp; “He must have been the coachman in the top hat.” Bitter curses littered the tension that hovered over them.
“Where did he go when he left here last night?” Rupert’s voice was cold and hard.
“He headed over to Leicester but then simply vanished into thin air. We searched an area that was at least five miles wide but he just vanished as quickly and as silently as a ghost.”
“We have searched the house across the green from top to bottom but there is nothing incriminating in there.” Harry slapped his ale down on the scarred surface of the table they were gathered around. “We have nothing.”
“Except two Frenchmen who can provide us with information,” Luke added darkly.
“Does anyone have any information about where to find Fornier’s contacts in London?” Rupert asked in hushed tones.
“Does anyone have any other work ongoing at the moment?” Marcus glanced at each man around the table in turn with raised brows.
“We have all been seconded to this mission for the time being,” Jacob replied with a shrug. “I suggest that we drop those two off at Bodmin. We shouldn’t wait for the prison cart. These villagers have mustered themselves far too quickly for my liking. If Hugo is in London we can meet up with him there and get an update on the information he has. I don’t know about you lot but I am not giving up on this until Fornier is behind bars.”
Murmurs of agreement swept through all of them.
“Let’s head to London then,” Rupert suggested with relief. He had had enough of the country for the time being, and would be glad to enjoy the sights and sounds of the big city for a while, even if it was going to be primarily the east end and docklands. He didn’t really like the smog and over-crowded atmosphere in London, but it was a damned sight better than freezing his backside off in the middle of nowhere.
“I think it is safe to say that our elusive Frenchman isn’t here. Now that his colleagues have been removed, there is nothing around here to help him,” Luke muttered with a frown. “The locals have a description. Even if he has hidden away somewhere, the locals will deal with him when he surfaces.”
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