When Annie met Armand
'I am surrounded by fools; clumsy and incompetent bears of men with not a wit to be had between any of them', he thought. He needed things done, things he could not do himself. His problem was that all he had at his disposal was a group of men whose idea of subtlety was to run someone through in the middle of the market square as the market was ending – as opposed to when the market was busiest. He might have been commander of the Red Guard, but that didn't mean he was unaware of their shortcomings. He had made it a requirement that they could all read. He wasn't entirely sure they could count past 20. He knew they could manage 10 with just their hands, if they stopped to think about it. Only if those hand weren't being used at the time.
Then there were the Musketeers, a problem he could do even less about. He had a grudging respect for their Captain, Treville, an honest man who loved his country and commanded the loyalty of his men. In truth, he was a little envious of Treville's cleverer men, who seemed able to do what was required with quiet and deadly finesse. He was content to let the rivalry between the regiments simmer, provided the casualties were not intolerably high. He'd let the King decide what that meant, when the time came. Meanwhile, it was time to find a suitable … instrument.
He needed someone who could move in the shadows, someone who could be inconspicuous, someone no-one would suspect, like a woman. A woman. Of course, why had it taken him so long to realise? A woman would be perfect. But how to find the right one? He was a man of God, there weren't exactly a lot of women in his circle of influence (aside from the servants and they didn't count). He couldn't start flirting as other men did, and the courtesans of the establishment he patronised were lovely but not talented in this particular way. And they talked far too much. No, he would have to find her himself. He could trust no-one else with this task.
He would have preferred to dress like a noble, but that would have attracted too much attention too quickly, so wealthy-but-not-street smart-merchant, it was. He crossed himself and said a quick prayer, wondering briefly if God would approve of his endeavour, or if it was another thing he would have to justify when he bargained with the Devil for his soul. He stepped into the swirling Paris backstreets, noting as he went the presence of the Red Guard and Musketeer patrols. None of his own men recognised him, but of the Musketeers he was not so certain. Now was not the time to find out. He ducked his head, pulled down his hat and walked purposefully into one of the larger taverns.
It had taken him weeks of tavern visits and a few close calls to find the right place. He knew what parts of Paris to go to, but not precisely which establishment. It was only when he'd seen a carefully-coiffured woman in plain, well-cut clothes enter, with a bearing the Queen herself would envy, did he think he'd found it. And maybe her. He'd heard the other patrons mutter about a lady thief (and possibly murderer) even more cunning and deadly than those in the Court, but that she'd been out of town for a while. No-one seemed quite sure of where she'd been, but rumour was that she was back and would pay Sarazin a visit. To re-establish an old acquaintance, so to speak.
With her dagger and pistol as it turned out. Sarazin clearly thought she would come back to him grovelling for help, but he had not counted on her killing her way out when one of his 'associates' had tried to put his hands on her waist and kiss her shoulder. She was out the door and into the street – walking calmly away into the night as if nothing had happened, when he caught up with her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned to bring her dagger under his chin when he signalled for the Red Guards lurking nearby to restrain her. He smiled in a reptilian way. 'You left a man dead in that tavern. You no doubt know who I am. I could have you arrested and hanged for murder. However, I believe I have a use for your … 'particular' talents. I should rather prefer to spare your life and have you use these skills in my service.' The look she gave him was contemptuous, with a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. Clearly, her reputation had preceded her.