The dark of the night
One of the best chapter so far, I hope you all will be satisfied with the action and the tension. Pictures of Ferons Villa and also the floorplan will be posted on Tumblr and Pinterest. I guess, this will help to understand better the situation.
The car drove down the asphalt road along the coast, back to the house, where they had been guests only yesterday. Constance kept glancing out of the window, clenching her hands in her dark jeans. D'Artagnan kept his eyes on the road, but he noticed her increased stiffness.
He took his hand off the steering wheel, placed it on hers and softly stroked her clenched fingers. Constance relaxed slightly and took a deep breath.
"Constance, please, it will be okay, I promise. Just remember, you're doing this for Anne."
"Yes, I know, but what if something does go wrong? Your injury still isn't completely healed, and here I am, taking you with me," Constance answered, feeling guilty.
"No, you're wrong, *I'm* taking *you* with me, not the other way around."
"D'Artagnan, please."
He grinned briefly, then became serious again. "Listen, I know the risk, and I can't let you do this alone. I have much more experience in such things, and that makes up for my handicap. As long as I don't have to go toe to toe with a sumo ringer, I'll manage."
He had to chuckle at the image of a sumo ringer at Feron's estate, but Constance didn't feel like laughing. She looked out the window again. They were almost in Saint Tropez and all she could do was pray that everything would be okay.
Shortly before they reached Feron's house, D'Artagnan let go of her hands and turned off the headlights. Unnoticed by his beloved, he put a hand to his wound. The dull throbbing had increased over the past few hours and he should be resting. However, his honor and his love for Constance gave him strength. He would get through this. Constance needed him now.
He drove past the estate, making sure to keep his speed slow, but constant. He tried to watch for bodyguards or a security service, but seen from the outside, the estate appeared dark and deserted. That was one thing that could work to their advantage.
"D'Artagnan, you've gone past it," Constance said.
"I know, we'll park one street over." Constance just nodded, once again glad that he was with her. His experience and knowledge were crucial to their plan.
"Everything looks dark," D'Artagnan said, sounding worried all of a sudden.
"Now who's nervous?" Costance teased.
D'Artagnan quickly banished the thought running through his mind and parked the car. They got out and while Constance looked around, D'Artagnan fetched a small carryall from the trunk.
"Huh, what do you need that for?" Constance asked.
"This will get us inside, and if we find something, we can download or copy it or take it with us."
Constance nodded. He really was very experienced in such matters. Must be the military training, she thought.
Of course, D'Artagnan hadn't told her, just how many of Louis' competitors he and his three friends had already robbed, stolen from or done even worse things. A simple break-in was routine for him. At the end of the day, Louis was just a man who loved power, and his four best men provided that, sometimes even with not quite legal means.
They stole into the front yard. D'Artagnan had already noticed from the car that no guards were posted there. He didn't see any cameras either, but he had already expected that. Feron lived in a very quiet part of town, where you didn't need to have cameras posted there already. They went past the front door and headed for the garage.
When they had reached the small door set into the larger garage door, he knelt down and had to suppress a groan. His wound apparently didn't like that movement. He blocked out the burning sensation and reached for the necessary tools. As he had already thought, it was easy to unlock the door and they could pass through it without a problem.
Inside the garage, they passed a black Audi and an equally black Mercedes. The connecting door to the main house wasn't locked, so they could just go through. Constance all but expected to hear an alarm when D'Artagnan pressed down the door handle, but nothing happened.
"See, I told you. Child's play," D'Artagnan said.
Constance was impressed. Burglary should not be a quality that distinguished a man, but the sight of him standing in the door, dressed all in black and with that superior grin on his face, could have tempted a saint, and she certainly wasn't one of those. But she couldn't think like that now, not when they had a mission to accomplish.
The house was completely dark and so quiet that they hardly dared to breathe. Every now and again the sound of a passing car could be heard from outside, but that was all. Last night, it had been so lively, with the music sounding all through the house, guests congregating in every corner and servants moving around between them. Here and there, candles had been placed in little nooks and on the ground. Without all that the house seemed bare and empty, like a haunted house.
D'Artagnan shouldered the bag and glanced left and right. "Okay, we're in. Come on, we'll start searching down here." Constance nodded. D'Artagnan moved on and of course Constance followed him.
"Constance, we'll be faster if we split up," he said, amused at her naivete, which he hadn't noticed before. But then, this was her first break-in.
"You're right, of course. Then I'll go over there," she said, pointing in the opposite direction.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Anne, where is Constance?" Treville asked, wondering why the blonde woman had come without her best friend. Aramis and Anne had arrived at the rooftop terrace five minutes ago. Treville, Henry, Marc and Porthos were already waiting for them there, since they wanted to have dinner together.
"She sends her regrets, she wants to have an early night."
"Probably the heat," Porthos said and the others nodded. It was much warmer here on the coast than at home in Fontainebleau and they all had to get used to it. Before any more questions could be asked, the waiters appeared and handed the menus around. They all selected something and the waiters relayed their order to the kitchen. A few minutes later, the wine was served. "My cousin and his companion seem to send their regrets as well," Anne remarked, but no one reacted.
Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look, glad that their friend Athos wasn't present.
"Madame, did you enjoy the beach?" Porthos asked, turning the talk to a more pleasant topic. Anne and the others immediately went along with it. "It was wonderful. The beach was rather crowded, it seems to be very popular. The water was nice and cool, and very clear, absolutely beautiful."
Marc and Henry nodded. "Anything out of the ordinary?" Treville asked, once again fixed on his job as captain. "No, sir, nothing. Everything was quiet," Marc reported.
"Captain, I don't think we should talk about this over dinner." Aramis and Porthos were not used to something like that from their boss. Usually, business matters were never discussed in the presence of their charges.
Treville relented immediately. "Of course, please excuse me." He stood up, placed his napkin on his empty plate and left. The others watched him go with a worried expression. Porthos once again tried to lighten the mood. "So, what did you at the beach?" he asked, focusing everyone's attention again. Anne thought for a moment and started to talk. "Well, first we…."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Constance searched through the eastern part of the house, while D'Artagnan had taken the western part. The main part of the house, where they were now, was in the middle. It was built around a glass-walled atrium furnished with a few lawn chairs and small side tables. It looked quite nice with the moonlight shining down on it.
The front left part was the garage, with a connecting door to the house. A building at the rear on that side contained a kitchen, which could be separated from the main house. A little strange, but D'Artagnan had seen something like this in other noble houses. Apparently, wealthy people didn't like the smell of cooking in their rooms, so they kept the kitchen separate from the rest of the building. And since they usually had servants, they hardly ever came into the kitchen themselves.
In the back left part was another extension of the main house, which had been added at a later date. On the ground floor it was a covered patio. They had no idea what the room was used for on the first floor, but D'Artagnan assumed that it would be the Feron's office.
They were both still searching the ground floor. Constance was very tentative, always trying to put everything back the way she had found it. D'Artagnan was less scrupulous. He knew that in a house like this, small changes wouldn't be noticed. He searched every inch, including some unusual places. They found a few slips of paper, but they were only unimportant notes, bills or orders. After an hour they met up at the atrium.
"Find anything?"
"Nothing. Did you?" D'Artagnan asked. Constance shook her head.
"Merde…There aren't any technical devices, either. No laptop, no tablet, not even a cellphone," D'Artagnan said. This was highly unusual. Desperately, he looked around again, hoping to find something they had overlooked in their search.
"Well, he probably takes his cellphone with him," Constance said, trying to find an explanation.
"Yes, but a laptop, a business phone…..this is very mysterious."
"Maybe we'll find something in the garden. My grandmother always hid her jewelry in the garden shed," Constance suggested, and started moving.
D'Artagnan grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him.
"D'Artagnan, we don't have time for that."
"Well, *that* wasn't my intention, although I always want to kiss you," he said, giving her a quick, fleeting kiss, before he continued. "We can't go out into the garden, it's well-lighted and the neighbors would see us. And we'd leave footprints in the soil, you don't want that to happen."
Constance shook her head, angry with herself. She wasn't usually that naive and careless.
"Maybe we'll find something in his office on the first floor," D'Artagnan suggested, pointing to the stairs at the other end of the room. Constance looked at the stairs. "Okay, then let's go," she said, walking ahead. D'Artagnan grinned. He'd make a dyed-in-the-wool burglar of her yet, he thought proudly, following her. Before she could set foot on the first step, he stopped her. Constance looked at him questioningly. "They might have some extra security measures or sensors here," D'Artagnan said. He checked the walls, but found nothing. He nodded at her and they went slowly up the stairs. All the while, he kept an eye on suspicious points on the wall, but still found nothing.
Constance kept looking out as well, although she had no idea for what. At the top of the stairs, they found a large room, darkened by the drawn curtains. On one side were ceiling-high black shelves filled with books that looked like they had never been read or even touched. When they walked further into the room, something squeaked beneath their feet. Apparently, someone had laid down an old hardwood floor, which made entering the room silently almost impossible. The closed curtains allowed only a sliver of moonlight to enter the room, so it was hard to see anything. Something reached for Constance's shoulder and she startled. Before she could make a sound, however, D'Artagnan had put his hand over her mouth. "Shh, I just wanted to hand you a flashlight," he whispered, handing her the item.
"Sorry," Constance said, taking the flashlight and switching it on.
"It's okay, nothing happened. Okay, you'll search the desk and the bureau beside it, I'll take the bookshelves."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Athos knocked on the door, but no one opened. He knocked again, a little louder. "Captain, it's me, Athos. Are you there?" Now he could hear footsteps in the room and the door was opened.
"Athos?"
"Yes, Captain, I have already knocked twice."
"Sorry, I was in thought. What is it?" Treville asked, stepping aside to let Athos enter.
"Nathan wanted to get the information directly from the Guise's servers, but before he could get around the security measures, our system was attacked. He could repel it, but I thought I should bring the matter to your attention." Treville didn't seem to really listen. When Athos fell silent, he just nodded, but did not look at him again.
"Nathan does all he can to prevent this from happening again," Athos continued.
"Very good, very good," Treville said, but it was just another evasive comment. Athos didn't mention that the attack came from Saint Tropez. Treville had hardly taken note of the first point, telling him further details would accomplish nothing, and that had Athos really worried.
"Treville, I will take my leave now," he said, waiting a moment, before he turned to the door. Treville was still looking into the distance. "Treville?"
"Yes, yes, you do that," Treville just waved him off and turned to a small desk. Athos left, worried.
In the corridor, he met Porthos.
"Hey, man, we missed you at dinner, where have you been?" Porthos asked.
"We had problems gathering information. I just wanted to report to the captain, but he didn't even listen to me. I've never seen him like that," Athos replied.
Porthos shrugged. "Maybe he's just tired. This trip is a 24/7 job and he's getting a little long in the tooth." The last sentence was said with a smile on his lips.
"Mhmmm…" Athos just mumbled. Porthos knew that Athos was a man of few words. They both went their separate ways, Porthos to relieve one of the guards in front of Louis' room, and Athos back to Nathan.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
On the way to Louis' room, Porthos ran into Marc and Henry in the elevator. "Well, the two of you are all dressed up."
"Yes, we have the evening off," Marc said, defensive. Henry remained calm. "We're going into town for a while. See if Nice can keep up with Paris."
Porthos clapped Marc on the shoulder, making the younger man's knees buckle slightly. "Man, I'd like to come with you, but I'm on duty." He got off on the top floor and waved goodbye to the other two.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"What did the captain say?" Nathan asked Athos.
"Just do your job."
Nathan rolled his eyes. Athos often spoke like that, but so far only to the others, never to Nathan. While he typed, he continued thinking about Treville and now Athos as well. Treville had something to hide about why he had met with Savoy. His explanation could just as well have been a lie. And now Athos' reaction. There had to be something more behind it.
"Say, Athos," Athos looked up when Nathan spoke again. "Do you have problems with the TV and cellphone reception in your room, too? I can hardly work on the laptop up there, with all the interferences."
"No, I don't have time to watch TV," Athos just said. Like his talk with Treville, now he was the one not listening, too worried about his captain.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Constance took a seat in Feron's desk chair and went through the papers on his desk. There weren't many, just a few invitations to parties along the Côte D'Azur. She turned around and opened the filing cabinet behind her at the window. The first drawer held only office supplies; ball-point pens, a hole-punch, a stapler and text markers. The second one was filled with flyers, ads and business cards. The third one contained a few opened letters. She took them out, hoping that she had found something useful. From the corner of his eye, D'Artagnan noticed it. "Did you find something?"
"I'm not sure yet."
D'Artagnan stopped for a moment, while Constance quickly glanced through the documents, using the time to get his breath back. All of this was exhausting him more than he would have thought.
"No, nothing, just letters between Louis and Feron," Constance said.
"They're still writing letters?" D'Artagnan was surprised.
"Welll, men of the old school, I guess."
They both continued searching. Since Constance had gone through all the drawers already, she now turned to the laptop. "D'Artagnan, can you come over? It's password protected."
Her boyfriend, who had wanted to start on the shelves and the books in them, came over to her. "Let me see." He saw the problem immediately and reached for the bag he had brought with him and pulled out a thumb drive. "Here, I have a USB stick for such cases. If it's a simple password, this should get us in." He plugged the device in and a program started to run. A few seconds later the desktop appeared on the screen. Constance clicked on the file folders. "Strange, there are hardly any files, the computer is as good as empty," she remarked.
"How can that be? Even I have tons of files on my computer and I don't even work with it."
"I don't understand. The project alone should fill the hard drive."
"We should copy the few files that are there to the stick anyway," D'Artagnan said. Constance nodded. She was just about to mark and copy the files, when they heard sounds from the ground floor. Constance opened her mouth to say something, but D'Artagnan put his finger against his lips, signaling her not to make a sound.
Once more they heard sounds from below. D'Artagnan reacted immediately and unplugged the USB stick. Constance logged out of the computer. They hurried over to the door leading to the staircase, but footsteps at the other end of the stairs told them that this way out was blocked. Constance looked at her accomplice for help. D'Artagnan pulled her away from the door and Constance clung to his arm. Wildly he looked around the room. There had to be another way out for them. He checked the walls, but could find no door or other exit. The footsteps became louder. Constance walked backwards, bumping into the desk. Her eyes were glued to the door, she expected someone to enter and discover them any minute.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
On the ground floor of Feron's estate one of the men, apparently their leader, posted the rest of the men at the exits. "Don't let them get away, we need them. The best thing is to take photos of them in flagranti. Oh, and we need them alive, so if you have to shoot, aim at the legs."
The men nodded and took up their posts, while the leader and three other men searched the rooms on the ground floor. A few minutes later it was clear that this floor was empty.
"Grimaud, there's no one here," one of his underlings whispered. Grimaud pointed upstairs and at once the three men took position at the foot of the stairs.
"They won't escape us up there, this is the only way in or out," the man said.
"Be quiet, we don't want them to hear us and be warned," Grimaud admonished him. The man fell silent and started up the stairs.
"Wait," one of the men, who was posted at one of the patio doors, said. One of Grimaud's men came creeping closer. "Sir, we haven't found a car, they must have gotten here by other means," he reported. Grimaud nodded and the men finally went upstairs.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"D'Artagnan, what can we do now?" Constance asked, more than desperate. She was completely out of her depth by now. D'Artagnan didn't answer, but continued his frantic search. There had to be another way out. He hurried over to the windows. Luckily, they were neither locked nor armed. The pushed the curtains aside and opened the window behind the desk. Looking down, he saw that it wasn't too high up. After all, they were only on the first floor. He tried to guess the distance to the ground. It had to work. He waved Constance over and she immediately came and stood beside him. "You want to go down there?" she whispered.
"It's our only way out. Come on, it's not so deep. We'll hold on to the windowsill, drop down to the ground there and run away," D'Artagnan said, pointing to a spot on the ground. When he said it, it sounded so simple. "I'll jump first, then I can catch you." He was already halfway out of the window, when Constance held him back. "No, please, your injury. You won't make it," she said, incredibly worried. He had no time to worry about this now. He couldn't afford to think of himself, right now Constance's safety and her good name where the only things that mattered.
"Nothing will happen, it's child's play," he said, trying to play down the danger. He continued swinging both legs out of the window. Once outside, he dropped slightly, still holding on to the windowsill. When he was stretched out, hanging only by his fingertips on the windowsill, he dropped the rest of the way down. It was only a short fall, before he landed on the ground. In top form and without his injury, it really would have been child's play. In his current condition it was a risky move. He landed on the ground and tried to dive into a roll, since he had underestimated the force of his impact, but it didn't work and he landed roughly on his front on the ground.
From the room, all Constance could see was that he lay flat on the ground for a few seconds, and it looked like that hadn't been the plan. Without his injury, her boyfriend would surely have landed much more gracefully. She wanted to call down to him, but stopped herself, since she could already hear the men coming up the stairs.
D'Artagnan took a couple of deep breaths and tried to banish the pain to the back of his mind. He picked himself up and looked up to the window, giving Constance a forced smile to let her know that he was okay, and waved her down. Constance heard the footsteps come closer and closer and didn't waste any more time. All she knew was, that D'Artagnan would protect her. And most of all, that he would catch her. Like him, she swung out onto the windowsill and maneuvered around until she hung from her hands. D'Artagnan reached out for her and she let herself drop, landing softly in his arms.
Gently he brought her down to the ground, schooling his face into a mask he had only needed during the war. A mask that hid how he really felt. The fall and the additional exertion hadn't done his wound any good. He had probably torn the stitches, since he could feel blood soaking through the T-Shirt he wore beneath the sweat jacket. Before Constance could say anything, he grabbed her hand and they ran out to the street. Luckily, he had parked the car only a street away earlier. He opened the doors by remote when they were still ten meters away, so they could immediately hop in. He started the motor and drove off.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
D'Artagnan raced away from Feron's estate, the combination of tension and adrenaline pushing the pain of his injury to the back of his mind. He checked the rearview mirror and drove faster, wanting to get out of Saint Tropez as quickly as possible. It took him a few moments to realize that Constance was shaking like a leaf beside him.
"Constance, it's okay, we made it. Please." He was really worried about her. He was used to such danger and to the rush of adrenaline. During the war and in the time after that there had been many such situations. To a certain extent he was an adrenaline junkie. But for Constance, this was most probably the first time. He reached for her hand and found it cold as ice. Immediately, he turned on the heater. "Everything will be okay."
Constance just nodded, leaning against his arm. She wanted to wrap her arm around his stomach to soak up his warmth, but instead she felt something damp and sticky. She pulled back her hand and saw blood on her fingertips. "D'Artagnan, you're bleeding! Oh my God, you hurt yourself!"
"It's not important. I'll take a look at it once we're back in our room," D'Artagnan said, not wanting to alarm her any more. Now it was clear that he had torn his stitches.
"No." Constance stretched out her hand again, more careful this time, and felt the large bloodstain that had soaked through his t-shirt. "D'Artagnan, you have to stop, we need to slow the bleeding," Constance argued.
D'Artagnan checked the rearview-mirror again, pretending that he hadn't heard her. He saw two lights behind them, getting closer and closer. He was already driving way above the speed limit, no tourist or even a local would drive so fast in the dark.
"D'Artagnan!" Constance's voice was getting louder and more insistent. She was deeply worried, pushing her hand against the area, where she could feel the blood well up.
"Constance, we're being followed. I can't stop now. We need to lose them, before we get back to the hotel."
Constance was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to take care of D'Artagnan, but on the other hand, she didn't want them to get caught and thrown in prison. She pressed her hand against the wound, trying to help in any way she could. D'Artagnan took that as confirmation to keep driving and stepped on the gas. He tried a couple of maneuvers to shake off the other car in the residential area, but it didn't work. Apparently, their pursuers knew their way around.
Since he couldn't lose them this way, he drove out of the city and took the coastal road. Here he could make full use of the sports limousine's engine power, so he drove even faster. His eyes kept checking the mirror, but the other car was still behind them. Constance became increasingly nervous as well. The pressure of her hand managed to slow the bleeding somewhat, but even if she managed to stop it completely, he had already lost a lot of blood and the pain had to take its toll on him as well. She could only hope that they'd be back at the hotel soon.
D'Artagnan took the curves as tightly as possible, managing to increase the distance. For a few seconds they were out of sight of their pursuers and he used the opportunity to pull into a little inlet, where thick shrubbery and hedges provided some cover. Branches and thorns scratched the paintwork of the car, but that was the least of their worries. D'Artagnan had barely turned off the engine and switched off the headlights, when not one, but two SUVs raced past their hiding place.
At the end I wanna say thank you to YoureMyTicket for the comment. You don't know how much it means to me, when I read it. It is one of the reasons I'm writing. I hope, that I will read some more, also from the other ones.