“Come, Sophia,” Michael said. She stared at him furiously, but there was nothing she could do. As Michael stalked out with her, she glanced at Finn and gave him an almost imperceptible little nod. Once they were outside, she turned on Michael angrily.
“You fool,” she said. “You acted like a child in there! That was the most pathetic display of-”
Michael struck her hard across the face.
“I had turned a deaf ear to the gossip,” he said, “and it has brought me humiliation! I’ve been made a fool of by that bastard in front of the entire court! He will pay dearly for that. But as for you, you trollop, I have reached the limits of my tolerance. I do not know what sort of morals they have where you came from, but from now on, you will act as befits a proper lady. You will speak only when spoken to, you will dress more demurely, you will take care of your manners, and you will go nowhere without a proper chaperone. And if I ever catch you alone with any other man, I will have you whipped like a common slut!”
He turned and got into the coach. She climbed in after him, assisted by a liveried footman who had witnessed it all. She waited until the coach got rolling.
The servant who opened the door of the coach when they arrived at home staggered back with a cry at the sight of her blood-spattered gown. He ran when she told him to get Hentzau. Rupert came quickly. His eyes grew wide when he saw her.
“Sophia! Sophia, what-”
“Shut up and help me with him,” she said.
Hentzau looked into the coach. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Good God!” he said.
Michael was sprawled senseless on the seat with a handkerchief stuffed into his mouth. His face was covered with blood. One eye was swollen shut. His lip was badly cut, his nose was broken, and several teeth were missing. Hentzau turned to her.
“What happened? Are you all right? How did-” he had taken both her hands in his and now he stared down at her cut knuckles. He looked up at her with an expression of disbelief.
She jerked her hands away. “Bring him inside,” she said, then turned and went into the house.
Forrester handed the night scope to Lucas and pointed. “The keep,” he said. “Use maximum magnification. Zero in on that small turret sticking out from the tower at about eleven o’clock.”
Lucas held the scope to his eyes. “I don’t see anything,” he said. “What am I looking for?”
“The embrasures,” Forrester said.
“I still don’t see… wait.”
“What is it?” Andre said.
Lucas handed her the scope. “It’s hard to spot. You can barely make it out. They’ve got a laser tracking system set up in that turret. It sweeps across the entire compound.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“Keep watching. Look for a slight hint of movement.” “Got it.” She grunted. “Looks like floater-paks are out, then.” She put down the scope. “What’s next?”
“An evening swim,” said Forrester.
“Shit,” said Lucas.
“Come on, it’s not that cold,” said Andre, turning the scope toward the moat.
“That isn’t what bothers me,” Lucas said. “I must have been hanging around Finn too long. I think his paranoia is starting to rub off.”
“What do you mean?” said Forrester.
“If they were careful enough to guard against a floater-pak assault, they might have taken precautions about the moat, as well. How do we know they haven’t doped it with nasty little microorganisms?”
Andre shivered. “God. What makes you think of these things?”
“Your standard, basic-issue cowardice,” said Lucas. “Okay, so we don’t swim the moat,” said Forrester. “We bridge it.”
“Nysteel line?” said Andre. Forrester nodded.
“Moon’s full,” Lucas pointed out. “Nice night for silhouettes.”
Forrester glanced at him irately. “Did you just come along for moral support, or what?”
“I’m just doing my job, Colonel. You want to give the orders, go ahead.”
“Not me, son. I’m not going to pass up a chance to see my executive officer perform his duties in the field. This is your command. You make the decision. Hand-over-hand and get shot, or the Australian crawl and have your balls fall off or something.”
“Some choice.”
“Come up with another alternative.”
“I’m working on it.”
“What time is it?” said Andre.
Forrester glanced at his watch. “2130 hours,” he said. “I feel nervous about Finn,” she said.
“He can take care of himself,” said Lucas.
“He doesn’t even know the colonel’s joined us,” Andre said. “He’s not going to like not being informed.”
“If there was a chance to tell him, I would have,” Lucas said. “But Finn’s right. Our best chance is to leave him to play it out while we concentrate on the Timekeepers. He’ll have enough trouble with Black Michael and his mercenaries without having to worry about Falcon.”
“We’re wasting time,” said Forrester. “Priest, have you come up with a workable approach yet or are you worrying about microbes being released into the air now?”
“The hell with it,” said Lucas. “I’ll swim the moat and take my chances.”
“Suit yourself,” said Andre. “If it was up to me, I’d use the boat.”
“What boat?” both men said, simultaneously.
“The little one pulled up by the bank there and tied to the shore,” said Andre.
“Give me that,” said Lucas, taking the scope and training it on the spot she indicated. “A boat,” he said, grimacing. “Who the hell goes rowing in a moat?”
“Children?” she said. “Rat catchers? Microorganism fishermen?”
“All right, all right,” said Lucas, irately. He glanced at Forrester. “Did you see that boat?”
Forrester shrugged.
“You didn’t see it, either, did you?” Lucas said.
“Cheer up, Priest,” said Forrester. “Maybe it’ll sink half way across.”
They picked up their packs and made their way down to the bank of the moat on the west side of the chateau. The boat Andre had spotted was tied up to a small bush and two oars were stowed beneath the seats. It was an old wooden double-ender, far too small for more than one adult. The size of the oars also confirmed Andre’s guess that it was intended for use by children, probably those of the chateau’s serving staff. There was a tiny fishing net in it, along with some line wound around a stick, a rusty old hook embedded in the wound-up line.
“A toy,” said Lucas, miserably. There was some water pooled in the bottom of the boat. “It’s only big enough for one of us, if it doesn’t sink.”
“I’ll go,” said Andre. “I’m the lightest. Give me the remote.”
Forrester handed it to her. “We’ll cover you from the bank,” he said. “Don’t take any chances. We can’t afford to lose the remote unit.”
She grinned. “Thanks for your concern, sir.”
Forrester glanced up at the sky. A large bank of clouds scudded across the moon. “Now,” he said. “Move it.” She climbed down into the boat, unshipped the oars, and pushed off. Taking care not to make any splashing sounds, she rowed carefully and slowly, putting her back into it in an effort to get as much momentum as possible from the short oars. She kept rowing in a straight line across the moat, making the most of the cloud cover. It didn’t take long before the prow of the small boat touched softly against the moss-covered stone of the castle.
She stowed one of the oars inside the boat, using the other one to slowly propel herself alongside the castle wall, taking care to keep the boat from making too much noise as it scraped softly against the lichen-covered stone. Little by little, she circled round toward the front of the castle. She rounded a corner and the back of the chateau became visible, its whiteness looking ghostly in the moonlight. The drawbridge was raised. Between her and the drawbridge, jutting out over the moat, was the most recent addition to the castle, the only part of it that appeared to be inhabited. She could see lights burning in several of the windows above her. She touched her larynx, activating the throat mike, then thought better of it and turned it off again. No point in alerting them if they were scanning for communications. They probably weren’t, but this was no time for taking chances.