Happy Easter!
CHAPTER THREE
"Where's Aramis?" Athos demanded when Porthos returned to the meeting room.
Constance and d'Artagnan were talking quietly to each other, their heads together, but Anne looked at Porthos full of expectation.
"He went for a walk, he needs to clear his head." Porthos stared at Athos in a way that answered further questions as well.
Athos turned to Anne, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. "Thank you again for coming by so quickly and sharing the information with us. I know it will not be easy, but we really need the names of every man and woman who might have a problem with you due to decisions you made as queen regent." His words were a euphemism for the death list he was asking for, a list with the names of people his ex-wife had murdered by order of the queen regent.
Anne knew exactly what Athos was asking for and nodded. "I'll write down the names, at least those I can remember. Though I really don't think many or even any of them will pose a danger. Most of them will never have known what happened to them at all, and even less might have guessed who had ordered their death. At least that's what I always assumed."
"So there really are many more?" asked d'Artagnan curiously, unsuspecting. A kick to his shin, courtesy of Constance, made him close his mouth abruptly before he could ask for exact numbers and names.
"It's not so important how many, pup," Porthos interposed before Anne could answer. "Important is that we get to know some names so we can keep an eye on them should they pop up somewhere."
"I'll give you the list tomorrow at the latest," Anne said, rising to leave. "I must think about it."
"Don't be angry with him, he doesn't mean it," Athos said in a low voice, rising, too.
"I know." Anne sighed, then said goodbye and left to pick up Henri.
"Seems we'll be getting a lot of work soon," Athos said. "And then there's something that seems strange to me, something I don't understand yet. Who exactly told Richelieu of the contract between the French crown and Milady? Who told him that Anne gave order to have Gaston killed? For obvious reasons he could only have heard of it in this lifetime. We can eliminate Constance and if neither Anne nor my ex-wife told him about it, I wonder who did?"
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
When the doorbell rang, Athos half expected to find Aramis outside, asking if he could stay. It really wouldn't be the first time the marksman had sought Athos' company late at night. However, it wasn't Aramis, it was someone Athos expected least of all to find in front of his door tonight. "Come in," he said, holding the door open.
"I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me, given how many voicemail messages you left," Milady purred, strolling by Athos with the arrogance of a cat who had been kept waiting outside for too long. "What do you want?"
Athos closed the door and followed his ex-wife to the living room. "Originally I wanted to ask you if you killed Gaston de Bourbon, Duke of Orléans in your former life – and by now I know the answer is yes – and if you told him who had sent you. Now I would like to know whom else you killed at the behest of the crown beside Gaston, the Duke of Buckingham and Maria de' Medici and which of your victims knew who had given you the order." With a movement of his hand Athos offered Milady a seat on his couch. "And then I'd like to know what you know of the aforementioned people. Do you have any knowledge of their current whereabouts?" Athos sat down.
Milady had followed her ex-husband's monologue with growing worry, any playfulness and arrogance wiped from her face when she spoke. "Who told you all this?"
"Richelieu showed up in the office yesterday morning, informing us that Gaston seems to bear grudges against people like you and Louis and that you might be in danger. Anne told us about the contract she and you had and the service you rendered for her. So once again: What do you know of Buckingham, Gaston and Maria de' Medici?"
Milady remained silent for a while before she answered. "Buckingham is here in Paris. His name is – surprise, surprise – George Villiers, and I had an unpleasant encounter with him in England last year."
"Is he the reason why you're here in Paris? Is he the reason you've regained your memories?"
With an appreciative look in recognition for his quick deduction Milady nodded. "I met him for a campaign, we had a meeting at his office and a few days later we met for a working lunch. He must have recognized me immediately, because he managed to poison me during lunch and when I realised what had happened he was long gone. I was lucky, I survived. Once I was in full command of my mental facilities again, I remembered everything. I quit my job, kept an eye on him and followed him to Paris. I lost track of him, he must have gone into hiding, but I'm sure he's still here. Unfortunately, I have no idea why he came here and what his plans are."
"Then this is how you died back then? You got poisoned?" Athos asked quietly.
Unusually reluctant, Milady replied, "Yes, I think it was. I remember, suddenly feeling nauseous and cold, and then there was a burning pain in my stomach and I started gagging. That's the last thing I remember before everything went blank." She shook off the memories and returned to the here and now. "As to whether he knows who was the string-puller behind his death, I can't say for sure."
"Did you tell him?"
"Of course not!" Milady replied heatedly. "I may have been many things in my life, but I was never a traitor to the crown! Never would I have put Anne or Aramis' son in danger by telling anyone who had commissioned the deaths."
Athos didn't remark on that even though he had registered her choice of word. Not Louis, not the Dauphin, not the young King, but Aramis' son. He wondered why she had said so and saved its closer examination for later. "And the others?"
"The ones you mentioned? Gaston certainly knew, though I didn't tell him either. He was clever in his own ways, I'm sure he knew who had sent me after him. He even begged for his life. Maria de' Medici? I can't say. She might have had a flash of inspiration shortly before her heart stopped beating, she might have drawn her own conclusions in the last seconds of her life about who had sent a killer. But there were too many people around her at the time, too many who would have been able to perform the literal death blow to her, however I dare say she might never have seen little Anne of being capable of such cruelty towards her mother-in-law."
"Did you tell Richelieu about the contract you had with Anne and that you killed Gaston on her behalf?"
"No. We talked about the past, all right, but not this. He doesn't need to know everything, especially if it doesn't concern him. I'm not some of his underlings any more."
A silence spread between the two, Athos pondering what he had heard, contemplating the role his ex-wife had had in the queen regent's reign, the relationship between the two women and what all this meant for them now.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Two days later
"Athos, I need to fly to Spain. I have to see my sister and mother to make sure they are out of danger. I can't stop thinking about it. I must also speak to Marcheaux, hear what he has to say. I can't wait for him to be brought to Paris eventually."
Athos looked up from his papers in surprise. "Have you spoken with Tréville?"
"Yes, he can't fly to Spain to interview Marcheaux at the moment and he still can't give me a date when Marcheaux will be transferred to France."
"I'm sure he pointed out to you that you won't be able to interview Marcheaux on your own? So what do you expect from it?"
"If he is willing to see me, I can speak to him as a visitor. I'm sure he'll agree to see me, if only to rub my nose in how easy it was to catch me off-guard. And even if I can't see him, I need to see my family."
"Will you take Anne and Henri with you?"
"No."
Athos arched a brow.
"They'll be safer if the stay in Paris where you and Tréville can ensure their safety."
"You can hear how lame this sounds, can't you?"
Aramis didn't reply, only glowered at his friend.
"Have you two talked about it? You can't let this get between you and Anne. Decisions she made then have nothing to do with what you two have now. You're being unfair. Sort this out before it starts to settle and fester."
Aramis ignored the well-meant words. "I'll ring you when I've news from Marcheaux or Feron." He hesitated before adding, "Keep an eye on Anne and Henri, will you?"
"Don't worry." Athos watched Aramis leave his office and make his way to Porthos' room. At least Aramis had the decency to tell Porthos about his trip to Spain and bid goodbye. Maybe he would be able to talk some sense into his friend.
Athos turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. Anne had given him the promised list yesterday, and d'Artagnan had spent the whole day trying to find traces of their new targets. Thankfully, Anne's list was short. Beside the three people they had learned of so far and who seemed to be the most dangerous ones, there were only three more names on it. Two were some French nobility who had been at Louis XIII's court, their names largely unknown nowadays. It was hard to find them in history books at all. The last name was Spanish, Alsonso de Bracamonte y Guzmán, tercero conde de Peñaranda, and Athos immediately knew this was a name they'd be wise to keep a close eye on. In his day, Alsonso de Bracamonte had been a close adviser to Philip IV of Spain, Anne's brother.
D'Artagnan had not been lucky with his further search. Buckingham, whose official name was Charles Villiers, was still resident in London, but there were no traceable bank cards or mobile phone activities for the last few months to be found. He was either using a false name or had access to bank accounts and mobile phone contracts they knew nothing of. His wife and daughter were in London, the wife working for a property agency service, the daughter attending university in Cambridge and often coming home for the weekends. Maybe this was an angle where they could draw on. Currently, d'Artagnan was trying to get access to the family's telephone line so that he could tap it. Given what Milady had reported, they were all convinced that Buckingham was in Paris.
Gaston was a phenomenon, he seemed to hop erratically, from location to location. One day he was reportedly seen partying at the Côte d'Azur, the next day he was giving an interview to a Czech magazine, then he disappeared for days or weeks. He was prominent enough to appear frequently in tabloids, but not important enough that paparazzi would follow him everywhere. However, the trace d'Artagnan found which led to Switzerland was very promising. They decided that Porthos would travel to Geneva and try to find out more about Gaston on site.
The name Maria de' Medici had not turned up at all, other than in a historical context.
"Athos!"
D'Artagnan's voice startled Athos from staring at Anne's list. He looked up in time to see the young man enter his office, sorting a few print-outs in his hands.
"I've gone through the Medici family's genealogy and I might have found something. I'd like to fly to Florence to check some facts there. If they prove correct we have a trace and I could immediately check if it's her."
Athos sighed. "That's great and you should do that, even if it means that I'm apparently the only one who is left behind here to deal with Louis."
D'Artagnan grinned and shrugged his shoulder apologetically. "I'd like to take Constance with me, if that's okay for you."
"Of course, why are you asking me?"
"Erm, because technically speaking you are her boss? She would need some days off for the trip."
Athos stared at d'Artagnan; it had totally slipped his mind that in fact he was the one who had to approve staff requests for time off. "If it's okay for Charlène, it's okay for me. We won't have much work anyway if I'm the only one who's in the office."
"Do I hear some self-pity here?" Porthos asked. He had come over, picking up the last words. "You can always accompany me to Switzerland if you like."
Athos huffed a laugh. "Are you worrying that you won't come back alive if I'm not there to save your sorry behind? Still afraid of the Swiss?"
Porthos glowered at Athos jestingly. "As you will know, I've only ever been to Switzerland once, and that was four hundred years ago on that diplomatic mission to Berne, and so far as I recall it did not quite go as planned. There's absolutely no reason why I should trust them."
D'Artagnan laughed, remembering how he and Athos had rescued Aramis and Porthos in time to save them from certain death as well as bringing the diplomatic mission to a successful conclusion. It had involved bears and a crazy woman, and d'Artagnan still wondered how they had managed to survive both.
"At least you'll be able to understand them, Geneva lies in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. If Gaston was hiding in Germany or Poland and you had to go there, you wouldn't understand a word." Athos smirked.
Porthos grinned. "If someone doesn't understand me, I can always let my fists speak." More seriously, he added, "I'm off in an hour. My train leaves Gare de Lyon at 2 o'clock and I need to pack a couple of things before I go. Are you going to be all right, alone with Louis and Richelieu breathing down your neck?"
"I have Tréville here for support. Just make sure you all come back alive." He turned to the younger man. "D'Artagnan, no rash decisions, no risk, no going it alone, okay?"
D'Artagnan nodded. "I'll research what I have in mind and return as soon as I have results. I've no intention to face that woman again alone, believe me."
They said their good-byes, and Porthos and d'Artagnan left to make their way to their respective destinations.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Porthos left the train station in Geneva, looking for a taxi to take him to his hotel. He had slept on the train and was not yet fully awake. Before he started making inquiries about Gaston, he needed a strong coffee, or two, once he had checked in at the hotel. He saw a taxi rank some hundred metres away and made his way over, shouldering his bag. He paid no heed to the small, elderly man leaving the arrival halls in his wake and trailing him to the taxi rank. Coincidentally, it was the same man that had entered the TGV in Paris a moment after Porthos, bringing both of them from Paris to Geneva in a little under four hours. One could get the impression, however, that this was no coincidence, but rather intention, and that the man was shadowing Porthos.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Three days later
"And you have no idea of the current whereabouts of Gaston? Or any proof that he really remembers his old life?" Athos asked, keen to finish the meeting and get away from Louis and Richelieu.
He had called Richelieu two days before to arrange a meeting with Louis, and eventually the former Cardinal had called back and announced that Louis would have time to meet Athos that afternoon. Naturally, Louis was not willing to come to the office, but Athos was kindly asked to meet them at Louis' residence. Athos had been miffed at Richelieu and the way he treated Athos as still being one of the former king's underlings and had replied that after all it was Louis who wanted to get protection via Athos' firm and he would check his calendar to see if he had time to come. Then he'd hung up. He had talked to Tréville, the captain telling him with regret he would not be able to accompany Athos to the meeting but encouraging him to swallow down anger and pride and go.
"No. That's why Richelieu thought it'd be wise to hire you. I thought your firm was offering exactly this kind of service; finding people no one else is able to trace," Louis answered. "And no, I have no proof that he remembers, but I'm damn sure he does. It's the way he looks at me. Last time I saw him he had this kind of manner of making noises, a gesture here, a snide remark there. I'm sure he knows of our old life, he once yelled at my brother during a heated argument about some maternal heritage and how it makes him sick to be left out in the cold in every single one of his lives. It's hard to understand this other than in the context of our former lives."
"Okay. Porthos is in Geneva now, where we suspect Gaston to be. Hopefully, we'll soon know more. And this brings me to the next issue. At the moment, there's only me left in Paris, Aramis and d'Artagnan are also on assignment abroad. I won't be able to offer you personal protection, at least for the next seven or so days. Not until at least one or two of the others are back. If you need protection you must turn to your bodyguards, or whoever is responsible for your security here. I can offer you our service as soon as we are fully staffed again."
"But you said you'd do the job," Richelieu complained, glowering at Athos.
"No. I never said we'd do the job. I explicitly told you we were not at your disposal for this. However, under the circumstances, we are willing to work with you, because we have the same goal. And this includes protection for Louis if he needs it, but only if we are able to offer it. And that will be as soon as the others are back, no earlier. Take it or leave it."
"All right," Richelieu answered, though he still looked anything but satisfied.
"I had hoped for more cooperation from your side but be it as it may. I'll accept your conditions. Just find Gaston and dispose of him," Louis remarked arrogantly.
"We'll find Gaston, but it will be Tréville's job to decide what happens to him then. We cannot just kill someone without cause. And with cause I mean cause by law, self-defence or the like." Athos rose and pocketed his notepad. "Just one more thing. Who told you of the role Milady de Winter and the queen regent played in the murder of Gaston?" Demandingly he looked at Louis and Richelieu.
"I didn't know anything about it, I only heard of it through Richelieu," Louis said, looking at the older man.
"I can't say," Richelieu said eventually.
"I won't accept such an answer. Either you tell us everything or you can look elsewhere for help." Athos had restrained himself during their meeting, had swallowed down his anger about the arrogance both men showed, but now he couldn't keep it down any more. "If this is your answer, that's it. We're done with you."
"I really can't say, because I don't know. I received an envelope with a note in it, anonymously. It simply read 'You might want to know that your former private assassin Milady de Winter was responsible for the death of Gaston de Bourbon, Duc d'Orléans, and quite a few more. Your successor being no less than the queen regent herself. Who knows who had a hand in your passing?'Or something along those lines."
"Do you still have the letter?" asked Athos.
"No, I discarded it."
Athos rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea who could have sent you the letter? Any clues? And when did you receive the note, here in Paris?"
"No, I was still in London, some time last October I think. I had regained my memories a while before, otherwise I wouldn't have known what the sender was talking about. And I have no idea who it could be."
"Too bad you didn't keep the note, we need to find out who did this. Anyway, I think we're through here. I'll let you know when we have new information about Gaston." Athos turned and made his way to the living room door. There he turned again, addressing Louis, "I'll do anything in my power to help you. On one condition. You leave Aramis and Anne alone. If I hear one word that you approached Anne, or offended Aramis, this agreement is invalid."
Louis stared at Athos for a time, glowering. Finally, he nodded. "Agreed," he answered with a snarl.
With a last, warning glance towards Richelieu Athos left Louis' city apartment. Outside, he stood on the pavement indecisively, choosing between taking the metro or walking back to the office. Eventually he decided it would do him good to get some fresh air and have time to mull over the things Louis had told him. He turned left, walking along Rue Férou. A moment later a shadow peeled itself from the walls opposite Louis' residence and started trailing the departing Musketeer.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
After ringing the doorbell, Athos pondered if it had been a good idea to visit Anne and Henri unannounced. He stared into the lens where he knew Anne would check who was outside and tried to make a friendly face. Admittedly, he had promised to look after her, but he could as well have just called to see if everything was okay. The truth was, he probably only hoped to hear how things between Anne and Aramis were now, and if Anne would disclose more of the reasons for handing out death warrants. The buzzer sounded and he pushed the door open.
Anne was waiting for him at the door, smiling. "Evening. I hope it's not bad news that's brought you here?" she asked, her gaze flickering uncertainly.
"No," Athos replied when he reached the landing. "I'm sorry I didn't call before. I just wanted to see for myself that you and Henri are well. I promised Aramis to keep you both alive while he is bad guys hunting in Spain."
"Well then, come in. We've already opened a bottle of wine," Anne said, stepping back to let Athos in.
"Oh, you have visitors? I don't want to disturb," Athos answered, already starting to retreat.
"Don't be a fool," Anne said, grabbing his sleeve. "You'll be pleasantly surprised." She dragged him in and closed the door. Leading the way to the living room, she said, "Milady de Winter and I were just talking about the good old times."
Athos stopped dead in his tracks. Anne stepped sideways to reveal Milady sitting on the couch in the living room, a glass of wine in her left hand and an amused smile on her face. "Quelle surprise," she purred. "Good evening."
Athos looked from his ex-wife to Anne and back. A smile slowly crawled from the corners of his mouth up to the corners of his eyes until it lit up his whole face. From deep within a laugh worked its way up until it resonated loud and clear through the room.
The ladies regarded Athos in astonishment, both trying to remember if they had ever seen him really laugh. Smirks they had seen before, as well as lopsided smiles or a grimace that could well pass as a display of cheerfulness. But this now was something totally different.
"I'm sorry," Athos gasped, taking a couple of calming breaths. "This is just too crazy. My ex-wife, who incidentally was also a contract killer for the crown and within my recollection not on the best of terms with her majesty when Louis was still alive, the former Queen of France and my humble self, sitting together over a glass of wine and sharing stories. It's hilarious. It's..., sorry, but I never thought I'd live to see this..." Athos slumped down on the armchair. "And since I'm here now and you two seem to get along well, I'd really like to know more about this contract Tréville bequeathed to you and who we really need to look out for."
Handing Athos a glass of wine, Anne smiled. "Well then…"
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
10 days later
They were sitting in the meeting room around the big table which was littered with papers, photos, notepads, mobile phones, coffee mugs and plates with croissants, brioche and millefeuilles. Everyone was back from their task, d'Artagnan and Constance being the last ones who had returned the day before. During their trips they had shared the actual state of affairs, new information and results daily via phone and e-mails, but now that everyone was back they had come together to bring all the results in line, to see what they had and what they should do next.
"And there was no hint of recognition?" Athos asked after Porthos had finished his report.
"Not the least, I'm sure he didn't recognise me. If he did, then he's a very good actor. I arranged for the porter to address me as Count Porthos du Vallon when Gaston was standing right beside me, and he barely paid attention to me, just nodded a greeting. I managed to cross paths and speak with him twice more, and there was nothing, no reaction."
"But there's the newspaper clip d'Artagnan found about a possible bullet wound Gaston might have sustained, and then the patient's chart from the Czech hospital treating him for exactly such a wound. Given what Milady told us about his cause of death, a wound like this should have triggered memories," Athos declared. "Maybe we were just not important enough in the past that he had memorised our faces or names. To him, we were just some nameless, faceless underlings."
"We must, in any case, keep a close eye on him," Aramis said seriously.
"He's booked into the hotel in Geneva for two more weeks, let's hope he doesn't depart earlier," Porthos remarked.
"Don't worry," d'Artagnan said. "With the tracker you installed on his mobile and the bug you left in his suitcase I can trace him everywhere. And, by the way, that was very good work, Porthos!"
Porthos grinned. "Getting hold of of his mobile and breaking into his room was a doddle, but without your help I wouldn't have managed to install something on his password protected mobile, and without leaving a trace at that."
D'Artagnan nodded, thinking of the long call he had had with Porthos, explaining him step by step what he had to do to allow remote access to Gaston's mobile and how to erase all electronic traces afterwards. "It was good team work."
Athos regarded the young man with no small amount of pride. Without d'Artagnan's excellent technical understanding and his hacker skills they would often look like complete fools. He grabbed a photo from the table, holding it up. "We all agree that this woman here, who calls herself Catarina Maria Ottajano is most likely Maria de' Medici. D'Artagnan says he couldn't find anything indicating that she might have regained her memories, right?"
"That's right. I've gone through her medical patient data. She's only been to hospital three times, once when she was nine years old and had broken her left lower arm, and once to give birth to a daughter and then two years later to a son. Nothing in her records hints at anything extraordinary, like being poisoned, having had a heart attack or something similar. While I think this woman is the reborn Maria de' Medici, I can't find any proof that she might remember."
"Do we have a current residence?" Athos asked.
"Her husband is registered in Spain, in Castelldefels outside of Barcelona, that much is sure. But I have no proof yet that she's resident there as well. I'm on it, though. The kids are both abroad, studying. There's also an address in Rome, but nothing indicating that she's there at the moment. Ottajano, by the way, is a branch descending from the Medicis, and Catarina is a descendant of Luigi de' Medici di Ottajano, so much for that."
"Good work," Athos acknowledged, stacking some of the print-outs and photos in front of him. "Stay on it, but I think we can leave Maria de' Medici for now. I don't think she poses a threat to us at the moment."
"I agree, however, I wonder if it's just coincidence that she's living near Barcelona, the same city where Marcheaux absconded to, trying to hide there, and where Feron turned up," Aramis threw in.
"That's a good point, but let's assume for now that it's really just coincidence," Athos replied. "Let's keep an eye on her anyway. Tell us about your encounter with Marcheaux."
Aramis sighed. "There's not much to tell. I was able to speak to him as a visitor, he was willing to see me. He didn't say anything of importance, he only uttered insults and mocked how easy it was to catch me and spy on my family. I'm sure, though, the Spanish police got hold of every one of Grimaud's helpers in Spain, so I think there's no danger to my family from this side. But I have the feeling Marcheaux works with or for Feron again, and I think he might know where Feron is hiding."
"Did he let slip anything about him?" Porthos asked.
"No, not one word, but from the way he reacted and smirked when I mentioned the name, I'm sure he knows more than the police do."
"Okay, maybe Tréville will find out more once Marcheaux is extradited to France. We can ask him later if he has more information on when exactly this will happen, he promised to come by as soon as he can slip away from the prefecture. Let's sum up what we have," Athos announced. "We know the whereabouts of Gaston and, even if only roughly, of Maria de' Medici. The latter we can leave for the moment, Gaston is being traced by d'Artagnan, so we'll know as soon as he leaves Geneva and enters France. Marcheaux is imprisoned and should also not pose a threat. That leaves Feron, of whom we don't know if he has any agenda about us at all and no knowledge of his whereabouts at the moment. And it leaves Buckingham, of whom we know as good as nothing as of yet. My ex-wife is on to him, but we have no information so far if he's still in Paris and what he wants. What's certain is that he knows everything about his former life and is seeking revenge for his death. He has already tried to kill Milady. He may also know of the Queen's role in his murder and might try to kill Anne. He's the one we should concentrate on and try to find first of all. I think he's the most dangerous threat."
Everyone nodded.
"I'd say we keep going with the respective assignments. D'Artagnan will trace Gaston and try to find out more about Maria de' Medici. Aramis, you will deal with Feron, see if you can unearth anything about the man. I know you already checked everything, but there must be something somewhere. Check the networks Grimaud and Rochefort had built up, see if there's any hint on Feron. You can also speak to Tréville about Marcheaux's transfer to Paris. Porthos and I will search for Buckingham. If he's here in Paris, somebody must have seen him, must have dealt with him. Questions?"
There were none, and everyone gathered his papers and started filing out.
"D'Artagnan, a word please," said Athos, before the young man could leave the room as well. "How are things going with Constance? Has she regained more of her memories?"
D'Artagnan sat down again. "Yes, she has. I told her a lot of stories from the past, and sometimes she could finish them on her own, or parts of them. She says it's more like she has a feeling for how the stories went on rather than remembering them clearly, but sometimes she has short flashbacks. It's arduous, but I think step by little step she's learning more and more from her past. It's not the same as waking up and remembering everything, but I think it's all we can ask now."
"I see. I'm convinced it will become easier, don't worry. Did you have a nice time in Florence?"
"Yes!" D'Artagnan beamed at Athos. "I love Italy, and even working our way through the city archive was fun. We had a really wonderful time there."
"I'm pleased to hear that," Athos said, and he meant it sincerely. It was good to hear that the two young people were happy together and their relationship was not marred by the recent happenings. He couldn't say the same about Anne and Aramis and hoped the two would soon find a way to clear up the misunderstandings and doubts that had fallen like a dark shadow on their relationship.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Three days later
Aramis and Porthos were waiting at the door for Athos to finish his work and join them.
D'Artagnan had already left the office, muttering something about having to make a quick phone call and was probably pacing the pavement up and down by now, waiting for his older brothers to finally join him.
Athos nodded towards his waiting friends, bending his steps towards Charlène's reception desk instead of the door.
Porthos huffed and rolled his eyes, a pat on his shoulder interrupting his doing.
"Patience, my friend," Aramis murmured. "Tréville said he's not even sure if he's going to be in time for the meeting, so there's no need to rush."
Athos handed the secretary a sheet of paper. "Charlène, can you do me a favour and try to check this list for -" He was interrupted mid-sentence by the phone which started ringing. He gestured the older woman to take the call; he would need another minute or two to explain what he wanted. Whoever it was who called certainly was handled in half the time.
Charlène listened to the caller for a moment, not once replying to anything. Then she let the hand with the receiver sink, staring wide-eyed at Athos. "It was Lieutenant Danglard. He called to let you know that Detective Chief Superintendent Peyrer has been shot. He's been rushed to the hospital right now, but they don't think he'll make it."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"The job's done."
"Is he dead?"
"I didn't stay long enough to hear his confession, but I emptied a whole magazine into him, right in the chest. He went down immediately and I can tell you there was an awful lot of blood. I'd be surprised if he still lived when his head crushed on the pavement. You can always rely on an Uzi."
"Well done," Grimaud said and rang off. He knew how machine guns worked and the mess they left in their wake. Not without reason was the Uzi still the favourite submachine gun of every terrorist organisation across the world. They were so very reliable at any distance, and always deadly at close range. A satisfied smile spread on his face. "The game is on," he muttered and raised his glass to salute an imaginary foe. With Tréville gone, he had free rein now to finish off the rest of them...
(FIN.)
.
.
To be continued...
A/N
If you are interested: The diplomatic mission to Berne Porthos refers to in this chapter I have borrowed from BootsnHats' story A different Perspective. You can read the full story about the Inseparables' adventures in Switzerland (including dancing, poisoning, murdering, Aramis and Porthos in mortal danger and some very interesting facts about Athos' past, as well as a crazy woman and brown bears) here: s/11785651/1/A-Different-Perspective
It's worth it, as are her other stories!