Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  “So how do we prove it and find the crown? We’ve only got today and tonight left.”

  “I still think it’s still at Caroline’s,” Fournier said. “The equerries don’t have it in their private apartments. I doubt they’d be foolhardy enough to keep it in their rooms in the Princesses’ hôtels. You told me the other two sisters were at the ball and Caroline wasn’t.”

  “She’s got a good enough excuse, she’s pregnant,” I told them.

  “It doesn’t usually slow her down,” Fournier said. “She likes balls, or so they say. This is her fourth brat anyway. She’s supposed to have danced the night away before she had her third. Go and see if she will receive you, Alain.”

  “Shall I go with you and chat to her servants?” Lefebvre asked and I nodded.

  “What about me?” Fournier queried.

  “Take your pick, Pauline, Élisa or the women at Margueritte’s?”

  “You saw Pauline and Dupré yesterday and got nothing from them. I doubt I can do any better. I’ll leave Élisa to you. I hear she’s difficult. So I’ll talk to the jeweller’s women.”

  “Very well. You may be lucky, although I would not wager on the outcome.”

  “I agree but it has to be done. We’d look fools to be harassing the Emperor’s family if by any chance one of them had seen something which would help us.”

  We had broken our fast by now and I smartened myself up as much as possible, helped by Berthe. She found me a clean shirt of Fournier’s and his second best jacket, which was more presentable than my own. He howled when he saw her hand it to me.

  “Must you give away my clothes without asking me, woman?”

  “You’ve got your best jacket on, you can’t wear this one as well,” she replied tartly.

  “Whenever Alain borrows anything from me, he brings it back in rags!”

  “He won’t this time. He’s going into respectable company for a change.”

  Fournier hooted. “You call Bonaparte’s relatives respectable?”

  We went out of the house and Fournier left us. Lefebvre and I decided to walk to Caroline’s hôtel. I was sleepy and my head felt fuzzy from my sleepless night. The cold clear air helped to wake me up. I suppose I had not been looking too closely at my surroundings. Certainly I did not see anyone following us. Lefebvre must have been in the same condition, for it is rare for him to make a mistake. As it was we had no warning. We had nearly reached our destination when Berthe’s prediction became dramatically wrong.

  We stopped at a corner of the street as we prepared to go our separate ways. I was supposed to approach the front of the building, Lefebvre the servants’ quarters at the back. Suddenly an arm came round my throat, a hand was clapped over my mouth and something very hard struck me on the back of the head. My world went dark and I knew no more.

  When I came to my senses, I was lying on a stone floor with someone tugging at my hands. I tried to move them, only to discover they had been tied behind my back. I lifted my head. Then the pain hit me and I groaned.

  “Keep still and let me cut you loose,” a familiar voice hissed in my ear. I opened my eyes but could see nothing. We had been plunged into inky blackness. I could feel Lefebvre’s hands on my arms and hear the sawing of his knife.

  “What happened?”

  “We’ve been kidnapped!”

  “Why?”

  “How should I know? There.”

  The last strand of my bonds parted. I pulled my hands free, rubbing at the soreness in my wrists.

  “How did you get yourself untied?” I asked.

  “I’ve been tied up before. I take precautions or I’d have gone to the guillotine long ago. I keep a knife in the hollow heel of one of my boots. I always have and it’s come in useful in the past. I could just reach it when I knelt up. Whoever tied us doesn’t know much about his business. He’s an amateur, not like some.” Lefebvre’s voice was scathing.

  “Well let’s thank heaven for that,” I muttered.

  I scrambled to my feet and immediately had to clutch at the wall, which was fortunately nearby, or I would have fallen down again. I was giddy and when I put my hand to my head, it came away sticky with blood. I leaned against the wall until my senses stopped reeling and my eyes cleared. Then I realised that the room was not as completely black as I had thought. A faint square of light outlined the doorway and filtered through the keyhole.

  “Are you all right?” I asked Lefebvre who was fumbling on the floor.

  “I’ll live. I’ve a hard head. Got it!”

  “Got what?”

  “My pick-lock.”

  The tiny sliver of light from the keyhole was suddenly blocked as he inserted something into the hole, turning it this way and that. Something clicked. He put a shoulder to the door and it opened.

  “Can you walk?” he asked me.

  “To get out of here, of course I can.”

  “Quietly then.” Lefebvre pulled the door wide and looked around. Then he slid out and waited until I joined him. He turned and used his instrument, a funny shaped object with a lot of levers and spikes, to lock the door behind us, before slipping it inside his coat.

  “That may buy us a little time,” he whispered, “if they think we’re still in there.”

  We stood in a narrow passageway with a set of steps at one end. Light and air filtered through a dusty grill in the wall beside the stairs. It was a bit dim, but, after our time in the cell, the brightness made my eyes smart. No one seemed to be about as we crept forwards. No sound came from above to alert us to anyone nearby, so we went upwards. I was nervous and unhappy, because I had a thumping headache and my weapons had been taken from me, my pistol, my knife and my swordstick. Unlike Lefebvre’s, my knife had not been hidden in a secret place. He still had his in his hand as he led the way up the stairs. We climbed and the air became less musty. The clean scent of wine reached my nose as we came out into a room containing casks and racks of bottles. We walked between the rows to another staircase. This time we could hear people talking above us. Then footsteps started to descend. Quickly we hid ourselves. A man passed us, carrying a jug and a loaf of bread. He went down the stairs that led to our prison.

  “Quick.”

  We hurried up the stairs he had come down and found ourselves in a kitchen where three men and several women were busy cooking. Lefebvre took one glance, pushed a man flying and snatched up the long knife which lay on the table in front of him. I grabbed a spit iron, just in time. One of the cooks came at me but thank God, I have never forgotten my old training. I tripped him and bashed him over the head with the rod. By this time the women were shrieking and running away, like a flock of hens from a fox. The third man tried to jump Lefebvre. He stumbled and fell down on his backside, grasping his arm which was streaming blood. We ran for the door, thrusting aside anyone who got in our way. Fortunately it wasn’t locked. We broke through and were out in the street, twisting down alleyway after alleyway until we were sure no one was following us.

  Then I leaned against a wall to catch my breath, which was hissing through my teeth. My head was pounding and Fournier’s second best coat had developed several rips. He was going to murder me, or perhaps Berthe for lending it to me.

  “Where are we?” I asked Lefebvre. “Any idea?” I had been so busy running that I had not bothered to keep track of our direction. This part of Paris is a rabbit-warren. You have to be born and bred in the place and nosy into the bargain, to make sense of the muddle. Fortunately, Lefebvre is all of those things.

  “The door we came out of opens onto the Rue d’Égalité,” he replied.

  “How do you know that?”

  “A wench I once visited lives further down the street, or used to. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. It’s an interesting thing, Soldier, the Rue d’Égalité runs at the back of Princess Caroline’s hotel.”

  “That bitch! So that’s where we were.” I swore and then I thought about it. “No, she wouldn’t kidnap us. We’re Police agents for Go
d’s sake.”

  “All she has to say is that she didn’t know who we were. We were loitering and her servants thought we were thieves. They locked us up while they made some enquiries. That would take them a while with Paris so busy. Until after the coronation perhaps. Murat and Caroline would be all apologies, of course, afterwards.”

  My temper was rising but then I had a sudden thought that sent an icy cold shiver down my back. Hurriedly, I ran my hands over my clothes, looking for the Emperor’s authorisation. If I lost that, Caroline and her sisters could legitimately refuse to speak to me until I obtained another copy, which would waste precious time which we did not have. My purse was still in my coat. So were the keys to my apartment and to my files in the bureau. I fumbled with anxiety until I remembered. I had put the authorisation into the wide turn back of my sleeve to have it ready at hand to be displayed to the Princess. Fournier had told me that it was a useful place to hide something I did not want to be stolen, better than my pocket, which was the first place a pickpocket would try. I had followed his suggestion. Thank heavens I had. We would have been in trouble if it had not been there because I had given Fournier Fouché’s earlier warrant, thinking I had no further need of it. I pulled the authorisation out and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Come on,” I said to Lefebvre.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The Ministry first, then straight back to Caroline’s, with a couple of guardsmen behind us.”

  “She’ll like that!”

  “She’ll love it!”

  We took a hack to the Ministry and got several startled glances at our disreputable state when we got there. We said nothing but went up to see Fouché.

  “He’s not in,” Réal told us when we asked for him. “What’s happened to you?”

  “We were attacked and tied up in a cellar.”

  “You look as if you were. Who did it to you?”

  “Don’t know, but we escaped through a large kitchen into the Rue d’Égalité, which runs at the side of Princess Murat’s hôtel.”

  “You think she ordered it?”

  “Possibly or maybe someone did so, on her behalf.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “Lefebvre picked the lock and we fought our way out.”

  “You didn’t kill anyone I hope?”

  “No, but one man won’t be eating his dinner sitting down for a few days.”

  “You’d better tell me about it.”

  We brought him up to date on the investigation. When we had finished, he asked,

  “What are you planning to do now?”

  “Go back there and confront the Princess whether she likes it or not.”

  “Don’t get carried away by your indignation, Duval. Remember who she is and that her guilt has not yet been proved, despite your suspicions.”

  “I won’t.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “A change of clothes, a sword and a few soldiers, so we are not attacked again or we can defend ourselves if we are.”

  Réal nodded. “Those things can be arranged.” He sent a lackey to find other garments for us and swords from the armoury. An order to the National Guards brought five men to the Ministry. He also ordered a carriage bearing the crest of the Ministry of Police to take us to our destination.

  “Keep the vehicle and the men for the rest of the day and night. Try not to cause too much of a disturbance. I will support you if I can. Don’t make it impossible for me to do so.”

  “We’ll try.”

  “Good luck. Be as quick as you can. There are not many hours left.”

  Very soon, Lefebvre and I were riding back towards Caroline’s hôtel. When we got down from the coach, the guardsmen formed around us and we marched up to the door. One of the men hammered on the panels and it was opened by the same lackey that had spoken to me before. He looked both startled and annoyed when he saw my escort. I also thought I caught a glimpse of some other emotion on his face — guilt perhaps?

  “Monsieur?” he asked. “Can I help you?”

  “It is past ten o’clock, is it not? Have the goodness to inform Princess Murat that I have called on her, at the Emperor’s order.”

  “The Princess is not here, Monsieur,” the lackey said. “I am very sorry.”

  “That was not a request but an order. I did not ask you whether she is at home to visitors. I have the authorisation to speak to her and speak to her I shall.”

  “Monsieur, I am not lying to you. The Princess really is not here.”

  My temper had risen with each word he spoke. I was in no mood to be thwarted or even to concern myself with the consequences if Caroline was proved innocent.

  “Follow me,” I ordered. I brushed the lackey aside and barged into the elegant hallway, my men at my heels. A couple of maids were cleaning the mirrors and they fled with screams when they saw us. We spread out, opening the doors to all the rooms on the main floor but finding them empty, except for startled servants. The lackey followed, protesting all the time. When I started to climb the staircase to the upper floors, he stood in my way with his arms outstretched.

  “Monsieur, this leads to the Prince and Princess’s private rooms. I cannot permit you go any further.”

  By this time my temper was in ribbons. It was made worse because I was beginning to think I had made a mistake and the man had indeed told me the truth. His employers were not here. However, I had gone so far, I had to make sure.

  “Are you prepared to sacrifice your life to stop me?” I asked, starting to draw my sword. He fell back, his face whitening with alarm. I would not have hurt him, of course, but he did not know that and my expression must have been terrifying. He almost jumped aside to let me pass. In other circumstances I would have roared with laughter. As it was, I merely ran up the stairs to search the rooms on the second floor. Murat’s room was obvious enough, decorated in the new Roman style and looking suitably military. Caroline’s also was unmistakable, silk draperies and the heavy scent of expensive perfume. Both were empty.

  “I told you she was not here,” the lackey whined, twisting his hands in agitation.

  “And now I believe you,” I said. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t…”

  “Don’t lie to me or it will be the worse for you,” I threatened, taking a step towards him.

  “Indeed I am not lying, Monsieur. The Princess was sufficiently recovered this morning to get dressed and go out to visit her sister. A message was delivered saying that the Princess Baciocchi was unwell and begged Princess Murat to come to her.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I believe she complained of stomach pains last night after supper. A physician has been called and they are all worried about her.”

  At this moment, Lefebvre came into the room with one of the guardsmen.

  “Can I have a word with you privately?” he asked me.

  I nodded and went out into the corridor, shutting the door behind me, so the lackey could not overhear our conversation.

  “What is it?” I asked after he had ordered the guardsman who had followed him away.

  “I’ve found the cellar where we were imprisoned. The ropes are still lying on the floor just as we left them. The kitchen’s the same and the fat cook has his arm bandaged up.”

  “Good. That evidence at least gives us an excuse for our actions.”

  “You had any luck?”

  “No, except Élisa’s now sick and Caroline’s gone to visit her.”

  “Has she, by Jove! Then, if our theory is right, the crown has moved to Élisa’s. Not much point in searching here any further.”

  “Better be sure though. I’ll draw the lackey away. You have a look in Caroline’s boudoir. Try to find anywhere she could have kept the damned thing hidden. You know all the tricks.”

  I opened the door and called to the lackey to show me into the principal salon again. In a remarkably short space of time, Lefebvre joined us.

  I glan
ced at him and he shook his head slightly. I gathered up my men and we left the house, much to the lackey’s obvious relief. No doubt he was offering up prayers to the shades of his ancestors that he would never see us again. The guardsmen climbed into the carriage but I lingered to speak to Lefebvre.

  “Anything at all?” I asked.

  “There were two hiding places. One contained her jewels and, before you ask, no, I did not touch them. The other was empty but large enough to hold the crown. I put everything back the way it was. I doubt she’ll notice.”

  “You were quick.”

  “She’s not very imaginative in choosing her hidey-holes.”

  “I wonder if Pauline’s gone visiting too.”

  “If she has, the crown might not stay long at Élisa’s. It may pass to her.”

  “Would you entrust an important secret to Pauline, given the fact that her bedroom is hardly private? Even Saint Victor wouldn’t be as stupid as that and both her sisters know her well. I doubt they’d want to be blackmailed by a lover or even a passing flirt.”

  “You have a point. Élisa would be my choice to look after contraband goods. She has wits and strength even if she is less beautiful.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So we go to Élisa’s then?”

  “We do. We may be lucky and catch Caroline still there as well. Let’s see if we can make them all shiver a little.”

  Chapter 10

  9 Frimaire, Year XIII

  (Friday, November 30, 1804)

  I gave the order and the coachman whipped up his horses. When we got to Élisa’s, Lefebvre slipped round to the servants’ quarters as usual. I ordered the guardsmen to wait outside, with instructions to enter the house if we were gone for more than an hour. Fortunately the sergeant possessed a pocket watch which kept good enough time. I had been afraid I would have to loan him mine, which had once belonged to Eugénie’s father.

  Élisa is very different from Pauline. She is a sharp faced woman with a sharp tongue as well and I immediately felt the edge of it. Her majordomo showed me into the salon where she was lying on a chaise longue before the fire, with her sister Pauline at her side. There was no sign of Caroline.