Chapter 4

"That's the current situation," Athos said, closing his speech. "Now we need to see where we stand, what we can do and what our priorities are."

"Well, the priorities are pretty obvious," Louis replied. "You need to increase my protection, and talk to the police. Once you've described the situation they'll see that this all makes it more than necessary that they finally provide extra bodyguards. I'm literally a sitting duck here."

"Whoa, wait," Porthos said. "You're not the only one who is a prime target in this. I'd even say it's more likely Gaston and Maria de' Medici are here more because of Anne and Milady de Winter than for you. If he really wanted, Gaston could have killed you years ago. He might not even know you're currently here in Paris."

"Oui, and the same is the case with the threat from Grimaud, I'm sure he doesn't even remember you," Aramis spat. "Don't be so full of yourself, it's not you who's in the line of fire. The world no longer revolves solely around you, so put up with it. I doubt you are the one in danger of being killed. And if you were, nobody would shed a tear over you anyway."

"How dare you!" Louis sputtered as he got up. "Oh, I so regret not having had you hanged when I had the right to do so. I knew it was a mistake."

"Speaking of mistakes, you can't imagine how dearly I regret every single time I put myself in the line of fire for you!" Aramis got up as well, staring angrily at Louis. "Everything and everyone would have fared so much better without you, including France."

"Oh, I see, maybe it wasn't the white plague I succumbed to after all?" Louis looked around, closely eyeing the others. "Maybe one of you poisoned me? Cleared the way for the traitor and my adulterous wife for when all of you returned to Paris after the war."

"Don't be ridiculous," Athos growled, glowering at Louis. "Neither of us would ever have harmed you. We were soldiers, bound to obey, our only duty, first and foremost, was to protect you and the royal family, no matter what possible personal aversions we might have had. We all died for you on the battlefield, don't forget that. Neither of us ever returned to Paris, we outlived you by only three days and we died doing our duty, on the day that marked the end of the war between France and Spain."

"Messieurs," Richelieu said, placatingly. "Now's not the time for this. There are more important things, don't let personal sensitivities cloud your decisions."

Aramis slowly turned his head, looking at Richelieu. "Oh, am I to understand that it wasn't personal sensitivities that made you kill Adele because she chose me over you? Was it for the greater good of France? Or rather to please a poor, old man's vanity who used his power because he couldn't accept defeat? Damn it, you were a man of God who killed innocent people out of greed and envy! And you wonder why Adele loved me and not you?"

"Aramis", Athos hissed. "Just leave it be!"

Richelieu smirked. "Maybe she didn't love me, but she surely loved the money I paid her. And if I pay for something, then I expect it to be mine. That's the -"

"Enough!" Porthos roared, rising to stand like the wrath of God himself. "The captain is still in hospital, not out of the woods yet, and at least three of our former opponents are in Paris. Can you all for God's sake act like adults and put aside any hostility for each other? If we want to vanquish our enemies, we need to cooperate. Or we part ways here and now. I couldn't care less if you walk out of this door right now." He turned to where Richelieu and Louis stood, pointing at them. "You two are acting like smug, arrogant dickheads. We are no longer your household guard or your underlings. If you want help, stop all your teasing and bullying." He turned to Aramis. "As for you, for the time being, put aside your aversion for them. What happened in the past has no place here right now. Fight it out later. Are we clear?" Porthos looked all around from one to the other.

Perking his eyebrows up in his trademark way, Athos crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back in his chair and nodding approvingly towards Porthos. Then he glimpsed at d'Artagnan and Constance, watching them exchange a couple of meaningful glances.

Richelieu glowered, first at Porthos, then at Athos, but he didn't say anything.

Louis avoided looking at anyone at all. He gazed into space like a petulant child, raising his chin to give himself some air of superiority. Sitting down again, very gracefully, very regally, he said, "Well, let's proceed then. I think this issue is resolved and the battle lines are drawn." He even almost managed to keep any arrogance from his voice.

Aramis stared at Porthos, apparently fighting out a silent battle in his head between what his heart said and his mind advised. Eventually, he gave a curt nod. Avoiding eye contact with Richelieu and Louis, he slowly took a seat.

Athos heaved an internal sigh, for the umpteenth time that day, or so it seemed to him. "All right then, any suggestions about how to proceed?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Athos reached his landing, wearied and glad to be rid of Richelieu and Louis and the endless discussions with them, he saw Milady de Winter waiting at his door. "Good evening, are you waiting for me?" He inserted the key and opened the door.

"Yes. May I come in?" Milady answered bluntly, and there was no hint of arrogance or spite in her voice. In fact, she looked tired.

Athos glanced at her. "Of course. You know the way to the living room, I'll be with you in a minute." He shrugged out of his jacket and made his way to the bathroom. When he returned a few minutes later, his ex-wife was sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

"Do you want a drink?"

"If you have a glass of wine for me I'd be grateful, but something else will do just fine. Coffee or water."

Such a straight, honest answer without ambiguity was new to Athos, and he had to take another look at her before heading for the kitchen.

When both were sitting with a glass of wine in their hands, Athos finally asked, "What do you want?"

"I saw Buckingham today. And he saw me, too. There's no doubt any more that he knows exactly who I am."

"We knew he was in Paris, and we were also sure he knew of your past, so this can't be a surprise for you. Why are you so worried?"

Milady didn't reply immediately, obviously she was searching for the right answer. "I don't know, maybe I'm just tired of looking over my shoulder every day. Buckingham was a dangerous man back in his day, more dangerous than anyone I met. I think many people underestimated him. I hate to say it, but I really fear his wrath."

Athos had never heard his ex-wife talk like this before, so brutally honest, and he was sure she wasn't acting. "You're not alone in this matter. We can help you. Strictly speaking, Buckingham is as much our business as he is yours. Did you find out where he lives?"

"No. I saw him at the Père Lachaise metro station. He was on the other side. He sneered at me and made an unmistakable gesture." Milady moved her thumb along her throat, from left to right. "I'm beginning to think he's playing cat and mouse with me. And that's a feeling I don't like at all."

"Did you try to follow him? Do you think he lives somewhere in the area?"

"His train arrived before I could even give him back a rude gesture. I've no idea what he wanted there. So no, he could live anywhere."

"Gaston and probably Maria de' Medici are back in Paris," Athos said, changing the subject. "We had a meeting with Louis and Richelieu this afternoon. And contrary to what we all believed, Grimaud is still alive and probably already in France again or on his way back."

A worried expression clouded Milady's face. "That's a whole lot of bad news at once."

"And it's even worse. Did you hear that Tréville got shot?"

"Captain Tréville? No, how is he?"

"We saw him today at the hospital. His condition is serious, but he's on the way to recovery and the doctors are confident he'll live. We're convinced either Grimaud or Marcheaux is behind the attack. RAID has taken over, but they haven't caught anyone yet. I'm not sure if they even know what they're looking for," Athos added. "I assume they still believe this was a politically motivated attack, and not the revenge campaign of a single man."

"But why RAID? That doesn't make sense."

"I've no idea. Maybe because of Tréville's meeting with the minister of justice a few minutes prior to the attack." Athos shrugged.

"I hope he'll recover soon. He's a fine man," Milady replied sincerely. "It seems, you have a lot on your plate at the moment. I'm sorry for dropping my problems on you as well."

"Nonsense. The cases are all connected with each other. You're not bothering me."

"If I can help you with Gaston or Maria de' Medici, let me know. After all, I'm the one they are most probably after. At least that's what I would guess. It seems I'm very popular these days among power-mad aristocrats," she said humourlessly.

"Maybe you should leave Paris for a while. Leave the bad boys to us. We'll handle Gaston and his mother, and Buckingham won't stay in Paris forever. We could lay a false trail. If he thinks you're no longer in France, he might return to England to his family. Think about it. There's one other thing I wanted to ask you, though. Richelieu said he received a message, naming you as the assassin of Gaston and others, hired by the Queen. Do you have any idea who knew of the contract you had with Anne, beside you, Anne and Constance?"

"He received a note?" Milady asked surprised. "No, I can't imagine anyone knew of the contract. The Queen certainly was very secretive about it, no one ever saw me when I met her, and I don't think Constance ever said a word to anyone."

"A lot of people we know are out of the question because they died before or with us. Who at the palace could have found out? And how much does he or she really know? It's a kind of threat I don't like one bit."

"Let me think about it, though I doubt I'll be able to help you on that. If it really was one of the servants at the palace, I won't know a name, I never had contact to any of them. In any case, it must have been someone who knew Richelieu in his day, maybe even that I worked for him." Milady took another sip from her glass. "Coming back to Buckingham, what did you have in mind when you spoke of laying a false trail?"

They went through possible options and sometime during their discussion they noticed they were hungry and ordered Chinese. Athos opened another bottle of wine and time passed quickly. The next time he looked at his watch he was surprised. It was way past midnight.

"God, do you know what time it is?"

Milady put her glass down. "I'm sorry I kept you, I didn't realise it had got so late." She got up.

"No problem, but I need to be up early tomorrow. Lots of things to do." Athos stood up, taking a step forward at the same time as Milady, which left them standing face to face, only a hand's breath away from each other.

Milady raised herself on tiptoes and quickly kissed Athos on the lips. She moved back a little but their faces were still very close.

Athos looked down at her for a second before responding in kind. Bringing up his hand to cup her head he kissed her, longer than she had, more intense, more demanding. He ended the kiss as abruptly as he had started, panting slightly. Taking a step back, he asked, "Shall I call you a taxi?"

Milady eyed him for a moment, a smile playing around her lips. "Yes, thank you. I'll wait downstairs." She shouldered her bag and turned to leave.

Athos took his mobile, ready to call his favourite taxi company on speed dial. "It was good talking to you."

Milady stopped on her way out and looked back. "Yes, it was. My offer still holds, if I can help you with anything, let me know. Au revoir." With a last meaningful glance, she left the apartment.

Athos waited until he heard the door close behind his ex-wife, then he said softly, "Take care of yourself." He ordered a taxi and waited by the window until it arrived, making sure she entered the car safely. Then he made his way to the bedroom, slowly and deep in thought.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Athos woke from the sound of rain pattering against his window. He lay with his eyes still closed, listening to the noise on the window sill, thinking about last night. Finally coming to the moment when he had kissed his ex-wife, he groaned and pondered staying in bed for the rest of the day. Instead, deciding he was a fool, he rose to get a shower. On his way to the bathroom he made a detour to the kitchen, switching on the coffee machine.

He took his time showering and dressing, thinking about the previous evening. It had felt good to talk to his ex-wife and – that much he had to admit – to kiss her. He realised it was time to make up his mind about the feelings he still had for her. He had tried to push them to the back of his mind ever since that first night she had re-appeared in his life. He knew he couldn't ignore it any longer but decided to put off that decision until the issues with Grimaud, Gaston and the rest were resolved.

A quarter of an hour later he padded back to the kitchen with his hair still wet, small rivulets of water running down his temple and leaving wet spots on his fresh shirt. Leaning against the counter, he sipped his coffee, staring with unseeing eyes into the dull morning outside his window. At least the rain had died down while he had been in the bathroom.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Even before opening the entrence door, Athos could hear Aramis ranting and raving. Alarmed, he quickly entered the office and saw Aramis in his office, flourishing his hands angrily, while Porthos apparently tried to talk to him insistently but obviously in vain.

"What's wrong?" Athos asked Constance.

"You should ask them," she replied, glancing at Aramis' office.

Athos noticed that d'Artagnan was in the office, too, sitting at the desk and looking so downcast that Athos feared the young man might have made a silly mistake and Aramis was unloading his pent-up frustration and anger on him. Most likely for no reason. "What the..." Athos looked at Constance again. "Where's Charlène?"

"It's her day off." Constance squinted at Athos. "Since the beginning of the year she only works Monday to Thursday, remember?"

Athos stared at Constance, trying to remember if they had talked about this – which they most likely had – and when he had approved it. "Right. I better go and see what's going on in there."

Porthos seemed to abandon his effort to talk some sense into Aramis the moment he saw Athos approach.

"What's going on?" Athos asked, loud enough that his voice drowned everything else.

Aramis fell silent mid-sentence and turned to Athos. "I can tell you what's wrong. Marcheaux's escaped."

Athos gaped at Aramis, convinced he must have misheard. "What?"

"You heard right," d'Artagnan moaned.

"Can you believe it? First they delay his extradition for weeks and screw up the business with Feron, and now they lose Marcheaux, too. How stupid can they get, I wonder? For weeks they've been trying to find a sign of Feron and all they have to show is complete failure. And now that Marcheaux is finally, finally being extradited to France, they let him slip away! Just like that." Aramis flicked his fingers. He fell silent, slumping into his chair. Burying his face in his hands, the proverbial picture of misery, he muttered, "I should have known. Oh, putain de merde!"

Athos turned to Porthos. "How could this happen?"

Porthos rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Incompetence? Stupidity? Bribery? Take your pick."

Turning to d'Artagnan, Athos said, "What exactly happened?"

D'Artagnan sighed. "Marcheaux was on his way to the airport, he should have been extradited to France this morning. Somehow the police managed to lose track of the prison van, and when they found it again, Marcheaux was gone and the police officers who had accompanied the transport had been overpowered, handcuffed and knocked unconscious. Not necessarily in that order."

"Do they have a trace?"

Aramis laughed humourlessly, looking up. "Are you kidding? Marcheaux is gone, I'm sure he's already somewhere near the border, or already in France. Before the Spanish police start searching for him in earnest he will already have killed a few people here. ¡Idiotas!"

"You're being unfair," Porthos said in a low voice.

"I know," Aramis replied. "I'm frustrated and concerned for the safety of my family."

Athos closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply. "This takes everything to a new level. Who told you about Marcheaux? Retancourt?"

"No,comisario Cordobes from Barcelona, he knew I had a personal interest in Marcheaux and kindly called me directly after he had informed the commissioner's office."

"That's nice of him," Athos replied.

"Doesn't change the fact that they screwed things up badly," Aramis said.

"No, but I think Cordobes is not the one responsible for it. Well, it can't be helped. Maybe they'll catch him before he returns to France. For now, we should concentrate on those we definitely know are in Paris at the moment, namely Gaston and Maria de' Medici. How are things going there, d'Artagnan? Do we have an address?"

The young man sat up. "Roughly, yes. I narrowed down his whereabouts to an area near the Place de la Nation. Porthos and I wanted to check it out later. I've hacked into some of the hotel registers there, but the computer didn't spit out any results. Either they used false names or put up at one of the more shabby doss houses."

"Okay, go there and check it out. Needless to say, be careful."

"Of course, needless to say. We know how to look after ourselves," said Porthos. "I'll have to finish one thing, then we can go. Okay?"

D'Artagnan nodded and rose. "Come by when you're ready, I'll check the tracker again, see if Gaston has made a move."

"Wait," Athos said. "How come you can't exactly say where he is? I thought you're tracking his mobile. Doesn't the programme you use show you an exact location? Like, a street or building?"

D'Artagnan sighed. "It does. Unfortunately, it only sends a signal when the mobile is switched on. And it seems Gaston has switched it off ever since they arrived in Paris. The last position I received was from the Cours de Vincennes, heading to the Place de la Nation. The mobile went off shortly after. I've only got the bug Porthos placed in Gaston's luggage, and that seems to have been standing on the Avenue Doria since yesterday, most likely in a car. We'll start our search from there."

"Okay. Aramis and I will carry on with Grimaud. I'll speak to the commissioner's office later and see if there is any news, either from the attackers or Grimaud. Nowadays, one would think they should be able to find out whether he has passed through customs somewhere or not."

It was almost palpable how the mood had dropped, annoyance and frustration seizing hold of them. They desperately needed to succeed with at least one of the many pressing matters that kept them occupied at the moment, well aware of the fact that one further punch to the gut could as well be the kiss of death for them.

They parted ways, and d'Artagnan and Porthos left a little while later to check the whereabouts of Gaston.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"So, what did you find out about mother and son?" Aramis asked, closing the door with his right elbow while balancing a mug of coffee and some paper print-outs on a thick filing folder.

"We know where Gaston is staying and we can confirm that Maria de' Medici aka Catarina Ottajano is staying there as well," Porthos' said grimly. He should have been happy about the research's result, but it had dampened his mood further. Seeing both Gaston and Maria in the flesh again had only fuelled his dislike.

"They're staying in a small hotel on Rue du Fabourg Saint-Antoine, registered as Gaston de Hanovre and Maria Ottajano. I'm not sure why I missed the names in my online search, I thought the hotel was on my list, but maybe they just don't enter guest data into their computer," d'Artagnan muttered. "Anyway, we've seen them entering the hotel together. It was pure luck we were there when they returned, and beside the fact that we know where they're staying the night and that they're not using false names, we have nothing. Gaston was speaking on a mobile when he entered the hotel, and since the mobile phone I'm tracking is still dead he has either lost it or discarded it. I hope he didn't suspect anything."

"All right. We must consider what we are going to do now. We could confront them and demand to know what they want in Paris. See if they bear grudges against Anne and Milady as well, or if they're here only for Louis. Or we shadow them, which means we need to work out a schedule that leaves us enough time to continue with the Grimaud issue and guard Louis." Athos scratched his jaw. He had forgotten to shave and the stubble made a scraping sound. Addressing d'Artagnan, he asked, "Is it possible to install a new tracker? That would make things easier."

"Difficult," d'Artagnan answered, staring at Athos, who could see that the Gascon was already going through various options, none of them apparently doable.

Aramis' mobile buzzed and he was briefly torn between taking the call or simply ignoring it. He glanced at the display and when he saw that the caller was Anne he said, "I'm back in a minute." Rising to leave the meeting room, he answered the call. "Hola corazon, I'm busy, can I call you back?"

Even before Aramis had finished his short greeting, Anne's loud voice could be heard through the speaker, sounding shrill and frantic.

Aramis froze.

The others stopped talking, curiously looking at Aramis whose face had turned into a waxen mask.

"What?" he croaked. "Why?" He lost his grip on the mobile and the device slipped through his fingers, clattering on the table. He seemed to be unaware of it for he simply kept staring into space, hand still raised.

While Anne's frantic shouting kept seeping through the speaker, Athos picked up the phone. "Anne, calm down, what happened? What's wrong?"

Aramis finally shook off his stupor and gazed at Athos. "Henri is missing," he said in a flat voice.

Athos, having problems making sense of Anne's incoherent sobbing, stared at Aramis. "What? Anne, calm down and tell us what has happened, I'll put you on speakerphone." He pushed the respective button and put the phone on the table in front of him. "What has happened to Henri? Take a deep breath and start from the beginning."

Anne was silent for a moment, apparently taking deep breaths and trying to pull herself together. "Henri is gone. I was away for just a few minutes, no longer than twenty, I needed to get something from the apothecary around the corner." She sobbed but spoke on as soon as she trusted her voice again. "Madame Maréchal from downstairs kindly looked after him. He was sleeping and I thought I would be back before he'd wake up anyway and Madame Maréchal has looked after him so many times before. There was no reason why I should not just-," she broke off with another sob.

"Anne, please calm down. What happened next?" Aramis had regained some of his composure, though he was still white as a sheet.

"When I came back our door was open and Henri and Madame Maréchal were gone. I looked everywhere but I can't find them. They've disappeared! And there's blood on the floor!" she shouted, sobbing again. Obviously, she was on the brink of a breakdown.

Athos got up. "Anne, we're on our way. Stay calm and call the police. Do it now! Stay out of the flat. Meet us downstairs. Have you checked if Madame Maréchal has returned to her flat with Henri?" Athos grabbed the mobile and beckoned the others to get moving. "Anne?"

"I have, she's not there. She's not answering the door." Suddenly, Anne's voice had lost any emotion, when she spoke it was with a flat and hollow tone. "There's blood on the floor," she repeated.

"Call the police. Now!" Athos ordered again and pushed the mobile into Aramis' hands, turning to d'Artagnan. "You and Constance stay here. Call the police, I'm not sure Anne is capable of doing it. And then try to reach Retancourt. Tell her what happened. We need forensics and people to search for Henri. She will know what to do. Constance can help you with the calls."

D'Artagnan nodded.

"If Retancourt is not available, try to get someone else we know. Danglard or the lieutenant, what's his name? The one who looks like a French bulldog, you know who I mean."

Porthos and Aramis were already out of the door and Athos hurried to keep up with them.

For once, Athos had been lucky and had found a parking space near the office when he'd last used his car, which came in handy now. They took less than eight minutes to reach Anne and Aramis' flat, mostly courtesy of Porthos' ruthless driving style.