Damn the moment they decided to accept going on that trip.
That was all in Beatrice's mind as she looked around the dimly lit cell. Her hair had gotten messy during the small fight that preceded their capture, and she hated how the tips rubbed against her cheeks. It made concentrating much harder.
"We can pick the lock with a hairpin." Bertrand suggested.
"We're outnumbered. Without weapons, we won't make far."
"My spyglass is in my inside pocket."
Beatrice looked up at him, lips slightly curving up.
"I love you, Bertrand Baudelaire."
He showed her a smug smile. "I know."
She approached him so he could reach for a pin on her hair. He got what she was doing without her needing to say anything.
Beatrice would get the hairpin herself, but her handcuffs made it a little hard.
"For your information, I would have mine with me as well if feminine ball clothing had inside pockets too."
Bertrand gave her the hairpin.
"Don't make excuses. I have seen you hide deadly weapons in fancier clothing."
She freed him from his handcuffs, and gave him back the hairpin so he could return the favor.
"Blame me for thinking the ball was safe."
He took a little longer than she did, but soon she had her arms free to work on the cell's lock.
"Balls are never safe. You should know it by now."
Beatrice rolled her eyes. If she had more time, she would use her remaining hairpins to keep her hair from her face.
"It seems we will be missing our flight." Bertrand said, worry clear in his voice.
She said nothing. By her calculations, they had already missed it.
Violet was fourteen years old, which in the culture where they were raised was basically an adult. Their friends who didn't have children didn't think there was any reason for worry about leaving a fourteen years old person without adult supervision in another country.
Beatrice and Bertrand used to think the same way, but that was before Violet was born. It was only then they realized how vulnerable a child could be. Their eldest daughter was intelligent and talented, but they didn't think it right to put so much responsibility on her shoulders.
Violet was fourteen, and Klaus was twelve (almost an adult), and Sunny was a baby (could be an adult with the right tools).
It had felt wrong to leave them at home to go to Europe, but their friend had insisted it would be alright, the children would be just fine, everyone would be safe.
The couple had wanted to have someone to watch them, but their close family was a problem, their distant family was a bigger problem, and their friends. Well, their friends thought a fourteen years old was an adult, and a twelve years old was almost an adult, and a baby could be an adult with the right tools. They couldn't trust a stranger.
It was not a work trip, not exactly. Beatrice and Bertrand were officially retired, and they had no plans of changing it. It was too dangerous to stay active these days, and they had the children to think of. Still, the others wanted them there, if only because of the big role the two used to have.
It had to be Europe, because there were too few safe places for so many volunteers to meet in the country.
But the one argument that convinced the couple to go was that whoever could try to go after them would have to follow them to Europe, away from the children.
Beatrice couldn't help the excitement she felt at seeing that her husband still could fight. He had gotten lazy over the years, losing his shape, but he still had it.
She had gotten a bit out of shape too, the three pregnancies showing on her body. Her back hurt a little more each day. Back when they were active, those fools would have no chance.
As it was, they struggled a bit, but all things considered, it wasn't that hard.
"Who do you think they work for?" Bertrand asked, after the last man was down.
"I don't know." Beatrice said. "O?"
"He doesn't have the resources. E?"
"I think she's over all this by now." She hesitated. "S?"
"I hope not." He looked around. "None of them should know about the meeting. What if we were betrayed?"
Beatrice felt a shiver. It was a possibility she didn't want to consider. If there was a traitor among them, then the dangers were much closer than they thought.
"Do you think there's still time to catch a plane?" She asked instead.
"Maybe we would better use another transportation." He suggested. "What about a boat?"
She smiled.
"Just like our honeymoon, huh?"
They knew well that for their enemies, it didn't matter that they were retired. There were people that had sworn revenge on them or that held all sorts of personal grudges. There were people with their eyes on their money. There were people who knew how much they knew and would never feel secure in their schemes while they were around. There were people who would not hesitate to use them to hit other people. There were people who were some mix of all of those.
It was part of the job. Every volunteer had enemies. That's why it was dangerous, and why they decided to stop after Violet was born.
Technically, they shouldn't be in more danger in Europe than they were at home. Their address was well-known, their other jobs too. They did not believe that hiding was the way to deal with it.
0o0
"We'll be late." Beatrice said.
Bertrand gave a pointed look at the state of their ball clothing.
"Yes, I guess so."
"The children will be so worried. We should let them know everything is alright."
He nodded.
"Maybe we could send a letter before leaving?"
There was a postal office not so far. Beatrice got a pen and paper and wrote a greeting.
"This was a close one." Bertrand said, serious.
"It was." She agreed.
"What do you think they would think", he paused, hesitating, "if we didn't come back?"
Beatrice was in shock for a moment.
"Don't say such things!"
"It could have happened." He pressed. "It almost happened."
"But it didn't happen." She looked back at the paper. "I don't like thinking of this."
"But we must consider it, Beatrice." He said, a bit harsh. He softened his tone as he continued. "As far as they know, we were on a holiday and would be back by Thursday. If we didn't make it back, what would they think? They have no idea of the dangers we are facing."
"We agreed they didn't need to know." Beatrice said, voice trembling.
"That was when Violet was born. Things have changed." He sighed. "I still think the children deserve to have a real childhood, but we know our enemies don't think this way, and neither do most of our friends. If anything was to happen to us, they would be alone and unprepared."
She nodded, sadly. She knew he was right, and it was foolish to ignore the very real chance that the day when they wouldn't be there for their children could be soon.
"Maybe… we could tell them the basics. Let them know who they can trust, and who they can't." That would already be hard enough. Sometimes not even they knew who they could trust.
"You know they will not content themselves with just the basics. They will ask questions."
Beatrice smiled despite her worry. "They're our children, after all."
She started writing the letter, knowing well a few things that she wanted to say. Bertrand read it as she wrote, and gave some suggestions.
When they were done, Beatrice folded the paper and took the envelope.
"Wait." Bertrand said, reaching for his inside pocket. Beatrice gave him a confused look. "It saved our lives today. If the letter arrives before we do… it may be of help."
She knew he was thinking of something more along the lines of "if the letter arrives and we don't", and she wanted to be mad because she was good at sailing, and there were no suspicious people around since they knocked down their captors twelve hours previously. Still, some part of her agreed that it was a good idea.
She put the spyglass inside the envelope, together with the letter, and had it sent.
Now it was only her, her husband and a long sail back home.