8
The carriage pulled up in front of the tavern on the outskirts of Paris. It was accompanied by a small troop of mounted guards. Rochefort dismounted and entered the tavern, followed by several of the guards. Two of them stationed themselves outside the front door. Another two grabbed the bewildered, suddenly frightened innkeeper and frogmarched him into the kitchen, where they stayed with him and the other help. Rochefort glanced around the tavern, seeing that he was quite alone. There was the sound of a door opening above him and he heard a soft footfall. His rapier sang free of its scabbard. He looked up and saw Milady de Winter standing at the railing above him, looking down.
"There is no one else here except my man," she said.
"Milady," Rochefort said. He crossed the room and went to the door, opening it and nodding at someone in the carriage. A man in a dark, long cloak and buff riding boots stepped out. He wore a large, slightly droopy hat pulled low over his face. He walked quickly to the front door of the tavern and entered. Rochefort stood aside to let him pass, bowing slightly as he did.
Once inside, the man removed his well-worn gloves and hat, revealing himself as a gray-haired, distinguished-looking gentleman of about thirty-six or thirty-seven years with piercing eyes, a prominent nose, and a sharply pointed imperial goatee surmounted by long, curled moustaches. He glanced up to see Milady de Winter descending the stairs toward him.
"This penchant of yours for mysterious, out-of-the-way assignations grows somewhat tiresome, Milady," he said, tossing his hat and gloves onto a table. "You did say it was important."
"I've come by some information that I believe you'll find to your advantage, Your Eminence," said Taylor, smiling at the cardinal.
"Why could this information not have been passed on to Rochefort?" Richelieu said, pulling out a chair for Milady to sit down.
"Because I don't like dealing with intermediaries," Taylor said, smiling as Rochefort stiffened. "I must be careful. I'm sure you appreciate that."
"I will tell you if I appreciate it after I have heard what you have to say," said Richelieu. "Our last contact brought less than satisfactory results."
"I cannot be blamed for Buckingham's escape," said Taylor. "I brought you all the necessary information. It was not my fault that your men were not up to the task."
"You did not tell me that he would be guarded by the musketeers," said Richelieu.
"I cannot know everything, Your Eminence. Obviously, your own informant was somewhat derelict in his duties."
"My own informant?"
"Did you not arrange to have Monsieur Bonacieux report to you concerning the activities of his wife?"
Richelieu raised his bushy eyebrows. "For one who claims that she cannot know everything, you are remarkably well informed, Milady. It occurs to me that you would make a very useful ally. Or a very dangerous antagonist."
"I will take that as a compliment, Your Eminence," said Taylor.
"It was not intended as one, Milady. What new information have you brought me? If it proves useful, you will not find me ungenerous."
"It concerns Milord, the Duke of Buckingham, Your Eminence."
"By now, he's back in London and well out of reach," said Richelieu. "He's had his assignation with the queen and made good his escape. I have lost my opportunity. Of what interest would he be to me now?"
"Well, he is still an enemy of France, Your Eminence, and I should think that any intelligence regarding an enemy would be welcome."
"Let me be the judge of that."
"And so you shall be. Buckingham has, indeed, returned to England. But he did not return empty-handed."
"What do you mean?''
"I have reason to believe that the queen gave him something to take back with him. A token, a pledge of her affections."
"This is not news to me," said Richelieu, "although I am surprised that you should know of it. The queen gave Buckingham a dozen diamond studs, which were a gift from Louis. Indiscreet, perhaps, but hardly incriminating. She could easily claim that they were lost or stolen or make up some other plausible excuse to explain their disappearance."
"True," said Taylor. "But suppose, just for a moment, Your Eminence, that the king was to give a ball in honor of the queen. And suppose that he requested her, as an indulgence, to wear those very studs she gave to Buckingham."
"She would be unable to produce them," Richelieu said. "Doubtless, she would make some sort of an excuse, as I have told you. Nothing could be proved."
"Ah, but suppose again, Your Eminence, that when the queen claimed the diamond studs were stolen, you had two of them in your possession. Wouldn't it be interesting to see the queen's reaction when you explained how you happened to come by them?"
"I see," said Richelieu. "Yes, that would be quite interesting, indeed. What do you require of me?"
"Some money would be useful," Taylor said, "also some sort of authorization, in your own hand, that would enable me to act freely and without fear of compromise."
Richelieu frowned. "Obviously, I can put nothing of this in writing," he said.
"It will not be necessary," Taylor said. "I do not require a detailed approval of my actions, only your carte blanche. I'm sure that you can word it appropriately."
"That's asking a great deal," said Richelieu.
Simon Hawke
The Timekeeper Conspiracy
"The stakes are high, Your Eminence," said Taylor. "I need to protect myself."
"Very well," said Richelieu, after a moment's thought. "I will write you a carte blanche. The moment you have those studs in your possession, you will let me know."
"But, of course, Your Eminence."
The cardinal finished writing, then stood and put on his hat and began pulling on his gloves.
"I do not know why," he said, "but it makes me very nervous to deal with you, Milady. I am never entirely certain whom you serve."
"Why, only you, Your Eminence."
"If I believed that, then I would be a fool, indeed. Our interests seem to be allied for the moment, Milady. For the moment. Take care that we do not start working at cross purposes. I am France, Milady, and at this point in history, France cannot afford to be forgiving. See that you remember that."
"Who am I to go against the course of history, Your Eminence?"
Richelieu regarded Milady steadily. "Yes. Quite. Good day to you, Milady."
"Good day, Your Eminence."
Delaney awoke to find a knife held across his throat.
"If I was a terrorist, you'd be dead," said Mongoose. He was dressed as a cleaning woman in a shapeless dress, heavy shoes, and gray wig.
"You look ridiculous," Delaney said. "How did you get in? Oh, of course, these are your rooms, you have a key." He sat up slowly and groaned. "Oh, my head."
"You really think the Timekeepers would need a key?" said Mongoose. "Besides, you left the door open. Not even unlocked, for God's sakes, open. I would at least have thought that you'd be able to hold your liquor. You're a mess."
He went over to the bed where Lucas slept, dead to the world, and slapped him across the face several times.
"Come on, Priest, wake up, I haven't got all day.”
Lucas shot up out of bed, making a grab, but the agent threw him on the floor.
"Commandos," he said, scornfully. "What a joke."
"Mongoose!" Lucas said, getting up unsteadily. "What the hell?"
Both men were still dressed, having fallen into bed fully clothed after a night of heavy drinking. D'Artagnan had insisted upon their meeting the other musketeers and celebrating.
"I take it that the musketeers drank you under the table last night," Mongoose said.