"This stuff is just dross!"
The PM shoved the wadge of papers off his lap onto the floor of the limo. They landed at Milady's booted feet. Each sheet was typed, double spaced, and headed: Osterley office, Bug #, and a date and time. It was the sum of her week's work, and now it was a crumpled mess on the carpet.
"Perhaps if you listened live you'd find it more entertaining," she said, lifting her feet aside. She flicked a switch on a small device and lay it on the shelf beside the prime minister's drink. Ice in the scotch clattered. The receiver hissed to itself.
Jim harrumphed. "I tried. All she does is have cups of bloody coffee with that aide of hers, that Constance. It's a miracle we're not brought down by cyber terrorists five times a day." He kicked at the transcripts from Anne's ministerial office. "All that stands between us and defeat is a ragtag bunch of wannabe soldiers."
"Musketeers," said Milady.
Jim sniffed. "Pretentious. Code names. They use those names even in their private lives, you know."
"I know," she said softly.
"I don't like them. I want them out. I want my own people in charge. Not Anne's ... hand-picked toy boys." He stopped, disturbed by the potency of his own insult.
"You have it in your power to close down LOUIS," Milady pointed out.
Jim curled his lip in scorn. "I can't sack my own wife. The scandal. Fixing this is what I hired you for," he said.
He was a buffoon. It was increasingly easy to appreciate Anne's point of view. Milady flung that thought aside, and simpered. "I thought you also wanted me for my other qualities," she said. She eased closer to him on the slippery leather seat. She wore a black coat lined with blood-red scarlet. Very Tragic Widow, with a dab of Willing Whore thrown in.
"Not here, for God's sake," Jim said, but his hand was on her thigh. His plump fingers massaged her flesh through the silk. "You have one more chance," he said. "So far your efforts have been unimpressive. And," an obvious afterthought, "I can't have members of the public put at risk. Not when it might be traced back to me."
She smiled through lowered lashes. "I'm too fond of you to betray you. And you pay too well."
"Maybe," he said as her gloved fingers caressed his own. "But it seems your organisation is leaking like a sieve, and that makes me very uneasy."
"Leaking!" Dammit. He knew. But how? At once her mind began to identify possible traitors. But the most likely suspect had been dealt with long ago.
"You're not my only source of information," Jim said smugly, and Milady had to control the impulse to strike him, to smack him in his over privileged jowls. For this, she had sweet-talked her way out of China? For this she had destroyed the man she loved?
"If there is any breach it will be stopped," she said.
He was fiddling with the small receiver she had given him. "Shut up. I thought I heard something."
The receiver buzzed and fizzled and then a man's voice was heard, low but melodic: "Athos is back, ma'am."
"Aramis," Anne said, and in the limo, Jim wrinkled his nose.
Footsteps. Then, in quite a different tone, Aramis said, "What's wrong? Are you all right?"
Gone was the brusque formality, and in its place... Tenderness.
"Who is this toerag?" demanded Jim.
"One of the Musketeers," Milady said.
"I'm fine," came Anne's voice, but she sounded strained.
"Let me help -" Aramis halted, mid sentence.
"I need coffee," Anne said firmly, sounding nearer, louder.
There was a long pause, and then the sound of the door closing.
"More bloody tea breaks," said Jim.
Athos strode into the the high-tech foyer where Constance, Anne and the Musketeers were gathered, ignoring polystyrene cups of coffee. Dt was there too, and looking somewhat hangdog.
"What's the rush?" Eve had asked as Athos snatched his shirt from her hotel room floor. "I thought you had the morning off."
"I did. Now I don't."
"Duty first, eh?"
He picked up the keys to the armoured Rolls. Stood hesitating on the threshold, then said, "Yes."
He strode away, and she did not call him back. But that might have been because her phone rang, and she answered, her words fading as the door closed. "Guv. She's on the move? I'll be right there."
Guv. That was odd. And then his own phone rang, Aramis this time, reiterating Constance's call.
Now Athos saw that whatever it was, Anne was badly shaken by it. "We can't talk here," Constance said.
"Your house has the space," Anne said.
"I can't, ma'am," said Constance. "It's been... compromised." She did not look at D'Artagnan as she spoke but he felt colour rising to his cheeks nonetheless.
"Then my place," said Anne. "Athos. Bring the car."
"It's outside." Athos paused. "D'Artagnan should come too."
Anne eyed Athos. "Constance?"
"If he can manage not to do anything stupid for five minutes," she said. From her expression, she held little hope of that. What had D'Artagnan done now?
"I rely on you to prevent that, Constance," said Anne. "Let's go."
Anne's house was a smarter, plusher version of Constance's, three streets away. Her decor showed a preference for cream, and leather. Through a doorway, Aramis glimpsed a squashy sofa the colour of an evening Alp, and clamped down on mental images of himself and the minister, clasped in its embrace. Now was not the time.
"The kitchen," said Anne, and D'Artagnan noticed that Athos led the way. Constance held her tablet to her chest, a seeming defence against all D'Artagnan's apologetic glances.
D'Artagnan sighed and followed the others into a large and shiny kitchen. He suppressed a whistle. You could put a tv chef in here. Two tv chefs, six competitors, and judges.
Immune to images of a bake-off, Porthos glanced around, approving window locks and door bolts with an expert eye. Athos touched the fine corian work-surface with gloved fingertips and cautious respect.
Aramis remained fixed on Anne as she reached up for a canister of coffee, unstuck the fridge door to retrieve a giant plastic milk bottle, slid open a silent drawer for a teaspoon.
D'Artagnan said, "Is the prime minister at home?"
Anne smiled a little at his youthful directness. "My husband will be at his constituency home. This is my house." Aramis was staring at her. She stared back.
D'Artagnan noticed and cut his eyes at Athos, who shook his head. "Ma'am," Athos said. "Please tell us the news."
Anne relayed the messages received by D'Artagnan, and then the conversations between the messenger and Constance.
"That's not possible," said Athos.
D'Artagnan cast a sideways glance at him. Athos' face was as impassive as ever, but his crossed arms were clenched around his body like a lifejacket.
Aramis picked at his fingernails and watched Anne.
"Give us a clue," said Porthos. "What about Lord Delafere? What makes you all so sure this bloke is having us on?"
Athos turned to his friend with a half smile. "Because I'm Lord Delafare."
There was a pause. Only Porthos seemed surprised. "I always knew you were posh," Porthos said.
"Your brother," said D'Artagnan hesitantly.
Athos shook his head. "My brother is dead. And I was eldest. He was never going to have that title."
Anne said, "Athos' position is part of the plan. Constance and I found him first of all, and the the rest of you." She smiled at Porthos, then Aramis.
"Wait," said D'Artagnan. "I'm lost. So Athos is the earl of wherever. How does that change anything?"
"The antique machinery of this country's government," said Aramis. "How some are raised far above the rest of us." His hand went to the collar of his leather jacket.
"That's not all," Constance said. "We've got hold of a photo of the woman who took dts phone, who started all this. And the minister recognised her." She did not offer to share the picture.
Anne bit the insides of her cheeks. Recognised her! Oh yes. A raven-haired beauty with sparkling green eyes, sprawled in D'Artagnan's bedclothes, luxuriating in sexual triumph: Anne's new friend and would be confidante, Millie.
And it was worse than that, for as soon as she saw Millie's sleeping, catlike smile, she knew, just knew, that Millie had used Anne to meet the PM, and that Jim was constitutionally incapable of meeting Millie without sleeping with her.
Millie was how come Anne's offices were bugged. Millie was how come Millie was so sure Anne had a fascination with certain Musketeers. And since Millie was part of the PiP messages and the terror plots, then it was clear that Jim was too.
She had to speak. Constance was waiting for permission to go on. Anne said, "I believe forces at the very top of government want to disband this department. I believe there is corruption and deceit and the use of agents allied to foreign powers."
"If that's the case," said Constance, "we need to expose the plot-"
"No," said Anne. "I will not be shown up for a fool by - anyone."
"Dog Leap," said Porthos. "We can't just let it go ahead."
"I won't tolerate betrayal," Anne said. "I expect loyalty, I demand loyalty -" She stopped. The fury inside her bubbles up, threatening tears.
Athos gazed at her. "We will do whatever you command," he said. "But -"
Anne went to him and touched his arm. "I would never ask you to place the public in harm's way."
There was a pause. "Can I be blunt?" D'Artagnan asked finally.
"Nothing new there," said Constance.
"Are we talking about the prime minister?" said D'Artagnan.
Athos exclaimed and grabbed D'Artagnan by the arm. But D'Artagnan did not resist, and Athos saw compassion in the boy's dark eyes. He knew, then, what it was to serve a higher power, and what it was to be disappointed. D'Artagnan kept Athos gaze and Athos let his arm go.
Anne lifted her chin and said, "Yes."
D'Artagnan frowned.
"He can't get away with this," Porthos said. "It's not on -" He grimaced, and clenched his fists.
"The PiP messenger sounds keen to help," D'Artagnan said. "We could use that."
"He wanted to get our attention with the Lord Delafere business," Anne said. " And if he knows that that name is significant to our plans, others may know too."
"He might be in danger " said D'Artagnan. "Athos - your brother. Could he still - be alive?"
Athos looked at D'Artagnan. "No," he said shortly. "My brother isn't coming back." Except, he thought, that he was already here, in the shape of this eager youngster, the bright eyed and loyal, if foolish, D'Artagnan.
"We've got nothing on Dog Leap," said Aramis. "If we pretend we don't know who's behind it, if it goes ahead, we'll just be shooting in the dark."
"I've got a couple of ideas where to aim," said Porthos.
"We're trapped," said Constance.
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," Aramis said.
Anne sighed. Her feet ached. And her head. She kicked off her shoes, and paced the kitchen floor, letting the cool tiles soothe her cramped muscles. If women could only be taken seriously in flat shoes, hard decisions would become far easier.
She caught Aramis' eye. There was one hard decision, right here in her house, dressed in leather and propping himself against her Swedish oak cabinets. He was real and six feet away and pretending not to stare at her bare feet. Anne allowed her gaze to linger a few moments on his face, the fine line of his jaw and the way his hair curled against his neck. And then at least one hard decision was rather simple after all.
She smiled and forced her gaze back to the group. "Constance is right. We must expose Jim."
Aramis straightened up. "He'll humiliate you. -The department. "
"We'll lose everything we've worked for," said Porthos.
Constance blinked several times and wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand.
Athos remained silent. This was for Anne to lead them. His own place at the front of the charge was long over, stolen by his ghost of a wife, grief and drink. Now it was for him to follow, and offer what little service he could.
Unbidden, Eve's voice entered his mind. Less of the little. There's nothing wrong with you. Athos saw her bold eyes, daring him to disagree.
He nodded at his comrades, and they nodded back.
"Then it's decided," said Anne. "Now. Go home. Prepare what you need to. Say goodbye to all this. Tomorrow, it all changes."
"Wait," said D'Artagnan. Everyone turned to him. "We don't need to do that."
He stepped forward. "You have a plan, right? A secret plan known only to you, in case there is a threat to the country?"
Nobody denied it.
"Well," said D'Artagnan, "in that case, I've got an idea."