Last chapter, Dear Readers!
oOo
Chapter Twenty One
Mendez retraced his steps back to the library. The bookcase stood slightly ajar and, tightening his grip on his knife, he walked silently over and eased his body through the opening. Standing at the top of the spiral staircase, he stilled; listening.
All was quiet.
He had his bearings from the security console in the kitchen. By now de la Fere would be at the far end of the pool, near the dark stone wall, head in his book.
There was no need to be swift, he could take his time, alone with his quarry. He welcomed the adrenalin that began to course through his veins. His favourite part of this was the look on their face when they realised they were doomed.
He had felt part of that twice now with this Musketeer but had backed off both times, once voluntarily and once by necessity. There would not be a third time.
He made his way silently down the black wrought iron steps on the balls of his feet, one hand on the railing, the other holding his blade. The feel of the hilt in his hand was his perfect pleasure. Below him, the seating area came into view and then twisted away as he quietly followed the spiral down. Crouching in a standstill, he could see the wheelchair, not so far away. Its occupant had his back to him, head down.
He could do this one of two ways, he considered.
He could roar like the devil he was and rush the man, blade held high, before plunging it down into his neck, as an initial wound, or he could take his time.
Of course, he would choose the latter.
He had developed a lightness of foot in the years he had indulged himself in this pursuit and now was no exception. There was no other noise in the room. The green water was perfectly still. There was no music, just the occasion turn of the page of the book his victim read.
They were alone. Just the two of them.
He approached until he was so close he could reach out and grab the man's hair.
But still he lingered, his eyes almost caressing the man, imagining the gore to come.
He allowed himself a loud, contented sigh. No surprises now, he needed the man to know what he was going to endure.
He watched as de la Fere raised his head at the sound, and stilled.
Mendez reached out and took hold of the chair and in one swift movement .. spun it around.
The smile froze on Mendez's face as he stared down at the man in the wheelchair.
He took two steps back in confusion.
It was not de la Fere.
Before he could snap back to clarity, the man before him stood quickly, throwing the blanket from his shoulders into his face, making him flinch away.
With a roar, Mendez quickly recovered and raised his blade.
But the man was wearing a stab proof vest. As Mendez registered that, he started to spin around, looking for de la Fere, when suddenly, the wall next to him moved.
Du Vallon filled a doorway, holding a gun and a bottle.
"Have you met Aramis?" he growled.
In one swift movement, he tossed the bottle at Mendez, who, suddenly alert to the danger he was in, stepped back to avoid it. It smashed on the floor, the contents spilling on the tiles. Now on a backward trajectory, Mendez flailed his arms, the knife dropping from his hand as he stepped into thin air and fell backward into the pool.
Watching as he disappeared beneath the water, Porthos and Aramis shared a look.
"Pity," Aramis said, holding up the Dumas book. "I was just getting to a good bit."
Porthos grinned and then looked at the mess of wine and glass at their feet.
"Hope that wasn't one of Athos's good ones," he said, as Aramis came to stand at his side.
The brutal knife lay on the tiles near their feet. Porthos kicked it aside.
Both were perfectly calm. They had waited for this.
Now, they waited for Mendez to surface.
Right on time, Mendez suddenly reared up in the water, with a Banshee wail.
However, he was not unarmed, as they thought.
Before they could register, Mendez threw a thin blade, which embedded itself in Porthos's bicep. In reaction, Porthos raised his gun and fired, hitting Mendez in the shoulder.
The water turned red, as Porthos reached up and pulled the blade from his arm with an angry grunt.
As Mendez struggled to remain afloat, Porthos walked calmly to the seating area, his eyes on the man in the water.
But Mendez was not finished.
"I will kill you all!" he screamed, as Aramis watched him, seeing his eyes fall on the brutal knife lying on the tiles at the edge of the pool.
"I don't think so," Porthos ground out, as he dropped into one of the seats and wrapped his hand around the wound in his arm. He leant over then and pressed a switch.
With a smooth rolling motion, the floor began to close over the pool. At the same time, the three support pillars began to rise, the water swirling around them.
Mendez's eyes widened but he had weakened now and was struggling to keep himself afloat. His eyes turned to the man standing by the wheelchair, calming watching the proceedings. Aramis, stared back, his eyes cold, his gun trained on him; watching him as his strength ebbed.
"This is not over! It will never be over!" Mendez screamed. "I will see de la Fere die!"
The floor suddenly stopped.
Aramis walked slowly onto it, his boots echoing around the room. He stared down at Mendez. There was a glint in his eye and a sinister smile on his lips.
He tapped his chest.
Mendez looked from his face to his tapping finger.
"No, you won't," Aramis said calmly. "But he will see you die."
The gun jumped in his hand as he expertly and precisely shot Mendez between the eyes.
They both watched calmly as the life left Mendez, his body rolling over so that he floated, face down in the red water. Porthos reactivated the floor and Mendez disappeared beneath it, until he was finally gone.
Aramis slotted his gun back in the holster at his back, and turned to Porthos, watching as he approached, his hand still clamped to his bicep.
"I'm sorry, I know you wanted to take him alive," he said.
Porthos grunted. "Only so Athos could see justice served," he replied. Looking down at his own chest camera, he looked up with a grin.
"He'll see that now, when we replay this to him.
"And he won't have to testify," he added. "We saved him that."
He reached out a hand as Aramis stepped off the floor and onto the tiled surface surrounding the pool.
"And if you hadn't 'ave shot him, I would have let him drown," Porthos added, as the floor clicked into place over the pool.
"And I would have let you, my friend. Let's call Athos, and then I'll take care of your arm. I'm sure our friend must have a well stocked first aid kit around here somewhere."
"First things first," Porthos grunted. "Is there any pizza left?"
oOo
The vintage phone rang in the locked-down Chateau in Picardy.
Athos and Ninon had left the hospital via an undertaker's limousine, courtesy of Treville's planning. The Chateau was a veritable fortress, owned by a Government Minister. Used by the Musketeers for the first time, no doubt it would be pressed into service again in the future.
Ninon picked it up.
"Yes. Yes," she murmured, before whispering a few more words before turning.
"It's Aramis," she said, holding out the phone.
Athos's electric wheelchair took him over to her and he tentatively took it from her, holding her eyes for a moment. Her brief, warm smile told him what he wanted to know.
"Is he dead?" he said into the receiver.
"Yes," Aramis stated. "It's over, my friend."
Athos closed his eyes and held the phone to his chest for a moment. Ninon placed her hand gently on his shoulder and he shook himself, putting the phone back to his ear once more.
"And my house?" he asked. "Is it still standing?"
"We kept to the ground floor. Your pool will need cleaning, although Porthos was very protective of it."
"So it worked?"
"Just as you planned," Aramis replied, a smile in his voice.
Athos let out a breath.
"He is under the false floor," Aramis continued. "Porthos has drained the pool. The clean up crew are on their way. Your plan worked perfectly. Though I thought for a moment back there that you intended to be the target in the wheelchair."
Athos huffed out a breath.
That had been the basis of their disagreement. In the end, though, he had been happy for his friends to take the lead on this. After all the weeks in their care, it was a gift he had been happy to give. He could see how invested they both were in avenging him. So when Porthos asked after their strategy had been decided if he was sure, he knew he was. After Athos had taken his seat in the wheelchair that morning, they had adjusted it for Aramis to take his place. They were the same height, almost, had the same hair style and similar facial hair. A throw around the shoulders and a little roleplay in the hospital room and they were ready to go. In a final bid to convince Mendez that Athos was indeed sitting by his pool was the replay of their banter over the CCTV from their first visit; the words, "I love your pool!" and Athos's reply, "I'm glad!" ringing again around the pool area.
"I did think about it, believe me," Athos replied, softly, thinking of Ninon. "But no, I know my limitations. At least, I was convinced of them. Thank you, Aramis. Thank Porthos for me too, though it seems inadequate," he added, warmly.
"You're welcome," Aramis huffed a laugh. "It was good to be back in the field again. I'm sending you the footage. Give Ninon a kiss for me."
"Aramis ..."
"I know," Aramis laughed. "But you will be there for a week or so yet, my friend, with a very beautiful woman for company. Albeit, a highly trained operative, it seems."
Athos looked over at Ninon, currently seen through the doorway to the kitchen.
"Goodbye, Aramis," Athos murmured. Aramis was still speaking as he dropped the receiver back into the cradle of the phone.
Then, he allowed himself a smile at his friend's last words.
That boat had already sailed, but Aramis and Porthos did not need to know that.
"Coffee?" Ninon called from the doorway, looking happy and relaxed now they had the news they had been waiting for. She looked beautiful, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Later, Athos and Ninon sat down to watch Porthos and Aramis's footage from their body cams.
It had all played out as Athos had planned. Aramis had not put a foot, or wheel, wrong. Neither of them had. He was so proud of them.
He re-ran the images where Mendez thrashed in the water an unhealthy number of times before Ninon stood up and stepped between him and the screen.
"Lovely house," she said, quietly.
"I think so," Athos replied, his eyes following up her body to her eyes.
"It does not make you want to sell it? One would think the body of your nemesis shot to death in your swimming pool perhaps would," she said, carefully.
Athos pursed his lips.
"No," he replied amicably, after a few moments. "But I may perhaps convert the pool into a wine cellar," he smiled.
"A lovely idea," she said, tilting her head, her hair falling over her shoulders.
She switched off the screen and moved slowly toward him, twisting a strand of hair in her fingers.
His attention was diverted as she slowly dropped to her knees in front of him, her elegant hands on his thighs.
"Are you tired?" she asked, her blue eyes wide.
"I am a little tired," Athos admitted, with a smile.
"Not too tired, I hope?" she said, softly.
"It depends what you have in mind," he murmured, looking steadily at her, his green eyes wide, his eyebrows raised in a picture of innocence.
She held his gaze, before a small frown appeared.
"When Mark died ..." she began.
He reached out and placed a gentle finger on her lips.
"I'm not Mark," he said.
"No," she replied, relaxing into a fond smile. "I see that now."
She rose and turned, walking ahead of him, as he deftly manoeuvred his chair to follow her.
oOo
Epilogue
The day they walked into the office and found him standing by the coffee machine, albeit leaning on a cane, they had stopped in their tracks.
Even with his back to them, he sensed them.
"You have not been caring for the coffee machine," he said, in the familiar modulated tone of their leader, once more. "It protests," he added.
Treville appeared in his doorway, co-conspirator it seemed, in his return to the office.
"Apologies," Aramis smiled. "We have been caring for something else for a while. Equally precious, but just as temperamental."
Athos turned about and faced them.
"Then you are forgiven," he said, softly.
"Good," Aramis replied after a moment. "No doubt it will need a thorough overhaul before being carefully managed, lest we over tax it."
"I don't doubt it," Athos replied, his eyes taking them both in and lingering, fondly, a small smile on his lips.
The room had gone very quiet.
"What do you think, Captain?" Porthos said, bringing them back.
Treville cleared his throat and walked into the room, complete now that these three were back together within its confines.
Athos had relaxed in the face of Aramis's apparent acceptance of his return. Too soon, he knew, but necessary for the preservation of his sanity. Persuading Treville and Ninon had taken all of his skills and he had no reserves left to deal with his often-volatile brother.
"I think with careful but firm management, Gentlemen, that can be achieved. Especially with co-operation on all sides," Treville said, addressing his last sentence directly to his stubborn second-in-command.
Athos tilted his head in his Captain's direction;
"Well," he smiled, "Once it is put to rights, it would be a shame to undermine its efficiency by mismanagement."
Treville pursed his lips. "Then I will leave the matter in your capable hands," he said, casting a stern gaze at all of them in turn, before turning back to his office, his smile unseen.
"Until it's working properly," he called over his shoulder, "One of you head out on a coffee run. Then let's get some work done around here. There's been a lot of slacking of late."
Athos tapped his cane gently on the floor before looking up at his two friends. Aramis was beaming at him, delighted to see his brother back in harness. But Porthos was looking decidedly … tearful.
"Aramis," Athos said, gently.
"Athos?" Aramis replied.
"I think Porthos is in need of doughnuts."
"On it," Aramis replied, ducking his head and heading off, before Athos could see that he too, may be in need of doughnuts.
oOo
END
Thanks for reading! I hoped you enjoyed it. I'll return soon with more Infirmary Talks.
A/N:
A nod to seventeenth century France with a couple of the locations;
* Rue Ferou, where Athos had rooms in the Dumas books.
**Hospital Saint-Louis; built in 1611 by Louis XIII's father, Henry IV. He named it St Louis in memory of Louis IX, who died of dysentery. It is located at 1 avenue Claude-Vellefaux, in the 10th arrondissement near the metro station Goncourt. Today, the historical premises (now classified as historical monuments) are used for administratiove functions. New wings were added in the 1980's.