Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, they're Dan Angel's, Billy Brown's, and PAX TV's, except for Monsieur Vieaux, Cecily, Bastelier, the doctor, Jeanette, Francois, Madame Vieaux, and my throwaway villains. All inventions mentioned herein are real, you can look them up if you want. Still tacky/campy, intentionally anachronistic, and historically iffy. Again,blame the internet translators if my French is wrong or misspelled. I apologize if it is, butI'm kind of at their mercy, not speaking the language myself. Still rated teen reader and up for owies, angst, mild language, and action-type violence. Still not profiting except in kind readers from this. Still hope you enjoy this, silliness notwithstanding J
4
Conspiracy and Volcanic Pumice
Present Day
It was a testament to how serious he was about the situation, Jacqueline thought, that D'Artagnan hadn't bothered with so much as one suggestive remark about having to ride double with her. Under any other circumstances, he'd have pestered her no end with innuendos in such close quarters. With her direction, she and D'Artagnan found their way back to the spot where she and Siroc had been ambushed. The black rider's body still lay where it had fallen. D'Artagnan reined the horse to a halt and climbed down, heading straight to the body. Jacqueline started searching for the tracks from the other riders.
"There are fresh tracks over here. This was the direction they went." She pointed to the south.
D'Artagnan nodded. "Then that's the way we'll go." He examined the corpse of the rider. "This man's been in Siroc's laboratory."
Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. "Siroc told me he thought someone had been in there. How do you know it was that man?"
D'Artagnan had pulled off one of the rider's black gloves. He held up the man's arm for her to see. The man's hands were tinted bright, unnatural red. "Siroc's 'alarm'. When he's got something he doesn't want disturbed, touched, or stolen, he keeps it in a drawer coated with powder that turns this red when it gets into the skin. Siroc said it would be much easier to spot thieves if their hands were bright red. He was right. Of course, the day Ramon and I used his epoxy to stick all his tools to his worktable, Siroc did find a creative way to use this powder for retaliation."
Jacqueline would make a point of asking the inventor to tell her that story. "Hands can be hidden. He should figure out a way to paint their faces instead," she said.
"I'll suggest it to him if…" D'Artagnan trailed off, sobering at his own slip of the tongue. "…later."
"He's going to be all right, D'Artagnan. You'll see," she said. He didn't share her certainty…doubt was there in his eyes. "I don't know Siroc as well as you and Ramon, but I do know that he'd consider dying a terrible imposition on valuable invention time. He'll be back at his inventions as soon as he's able to hold a quill in his hands."
He did smile, half-hearted, but he did smile at that.
She distracted him. "And Siroc didn't want that pyramid 'disturbed, touched, or stolen', I'm guessing?"
D'Artagnan didn't answer, but Jacqueline was right, of course. Siroc would have done whatever he had to in order to keep anyone from laying a finger on that pyramid…especially if he'd known someone was poking around its hiding place. But, why in God's name had Siroc done something so foolish as to bring the pyramid out here? That wasn't like him at all…
"I have to know what it is if I'm going to help you," Jacqueline continued.
There was no harm in telling her, but for one thing: D'Artagnan had been ordered to keep silent about the pyramid, even among the other Musketeers. Did that order apply now that she'd found out anyway? Before that day, only four people in the world had known that pyramid still existed…D'Artagnan, Ramon, Siroc, and Captain Duvall…or so D'Artagnan had thought. Evidently, that was not the case. Someone else had known about it---known about it and known where to find it. Few people were invited in to the Musketeers' barracks and almost no one set foot in Siroc's laboratory. Who would have known about the pyramid and known to search for it there?
Boulevard Trudeau, Paris, Five Years Earlier.
It had seemed like a good plan at the time, especially as D'Artagnan and Ramon had improvised it in a mere five minutes. Ramon had returned from questioning Siroc about the Prince's missing birthday gift, stepping out of the alley onto the main street where D'Artagnan was waiting, and announced: "He said he doesn't have it."
"Does he have it?" D'Artagnan asked.
"Of course he does. The man's a terrible liar. Eyes give him away."
That was that as far as D'Artagnan had been concerned. "Then we'll see if the dungeons can refresh his memory." He'd taken a step towards the alley intent on arresting the inventor---pleasant fellow though he was---on the spot.
Ramon caught him by the arm, "Wait. Not yet…"
Siroc wasn't the only one whose eyes betrayed his thoughts---D'Artagnan could read the reason for the Spaniard's hesitation at once. "You like this guy, don't you? Ramon, have you ever met anyone you didn't like?"
Ramon couldn't resist that opening, "I didn't like you when we met."
"That's hardly a fair comparison! If I had known about you and Annalise I never would have…it's not always easy to spot the ring, you know!"
"Especially if you don't look." Ramon pursed his lips, thinking. "It's just…I have a feeling about him. He's not a bad guy, D'Artagnan. Maybe there's a another way."
"We can't just let criminals go because we like them! We have our duty---"
"Yes, we have to get the Prince's toy back before he has a royal tantrum, I know. But we can do it without arresting Siroc."
Still not understanding, D'Artagnan nevertheless gave his friend the benefit of the doubt. "What do you want to do?"
Five hours later, D'Artagnan was regretting asking that question with all of his heart. Ramon got to spend an evening enjoying the taverns, cafes, and company of the ladies of Paris, and D'Artagnan got an evening of poking through the truly astounding amount of books, jars, powders, gadgets, gizmos, and other junk that Siroc had managed to squirrel away into the pillbox-sized room he called home. The only excitement in the Frenchman's evening were the ten false alarms when D'Artagnan had heard footsteps in the alley and tried without success to hide, thinking the inventor had returned, and trying to avoid gazing from the window with its view of every drunk and prostitute stumbling from the Theater Bastelier. All D'Artagnan had to show for it was inexplicably bright red hands…which, to his dismay, had left bright red handprints and smudges on every item and surface he'd touched. Knew I shouldn't have taken off my gloves…There was not a trace of the rock that Captain Duvall had sent him and Ramon to retrieve. How could something so large disappear into such a tiny space as these quarters?
D'Artagnan heard footsteps in the alley and retreated again to the only hiding place in the room—the space between the tabletop and the bed. Seconds later, he heard the sounds of retching in the alley right outside the window. He didn't dare look.
Charming. This is a charming place he has here.
He was about the squeeze out from the cramped hiding spot when he heard more footsteps…these almost inaudible. Someone was trying to approach without being heard. Drunks would not worry about discretion and Siroc had no reason to sneak up on his own home. The soft footfalls stopped at the window. D'Artagnan had not lit the candles or lanterns, and he could clearly see the shadow of a man's torso as he leaned down to peer through the window…then the shadows of four pairs of legs. Then the men moved on, continuing down the alley until their footsteps paused outside Siroc's door.
D'Artagnan drew his sword, but stayed where he was.
The door creaked open. From his vantage point, D'Artagnan could easily see four men, dressed in the same black uniforms as the thieves who'd robbed the palace, make their way into the small room. Their swords were drawn.
"He's not here," one of them said. "Too bad." They sheathed their weapons. "Search."
The trio made no attempt to be delicate---they smashed their way through drawers and shelves and for good measured even opened the books and began ripping pages (as if there were any good to come of that). One stopped in the middle of rummaging through a shelf full of jars to gawk at the red smudges and handprints D'Artagnan had left. "Francois---look at this. What is it? Blood?"
'Francois' dabbed at the stains with his gloved finger. "Powder. Back to work!" He smacked the other man in the back of the head. The man dropped the jar he was holding. It rolled under the bunk. D'Artagnan cringed. Great.
The second man rubbed his aching head, grumbling, "Grognon. J'ai besoin d'un nouveau travail..." He bent to retrieve the jar and found himself eye to eye with the Musketeer in hiding. "Mon dieu! Francois!"
The other two turned at the same instant D'Artagnan reacted. He put his feet on the bottom of the table and pushed upwards with all his might. Since the rider in black had been leaning down right beside the table at the time, the tabletop caught him beneath the chin and knocked him cold. One down, three to go.
D'Artagnan scrambled off the bed just as the other three drew their weapons and advanced on him. He'd had worse odds, but not while cornered in such a confined space. Francois came at the Musketeer first. When D'Artagnan couldn't drive him back with his sword, he groped blindly on the shelf, grabbed the heaviest objects he could, and pitched them at his attackers. Gadgets and models that hadn't been wrecked by the men in black were now sufficiently trashed from D'Artagnan using them as projectiles, but the plan worked. Between ducking strikes from his sword and the flying objects he pitched their way, he drove them back enough that he could dash up the stairs and into the relatively larger space of the alley.
Two more riders in black were waiting in the alley.
'Mon dieu' is right, the Musketeer thought. The men in the alley gestured for D'Artagnan to step back into the room. With two swords pointed at his chest and three at his back, he had no choice about complying. Francois put his blade to D'Artagnan's throat.
"The pyramid," he demanded.
D'Artagnan had not the slightest idea what he was talking about. "The what?"
"Kill him," Francois ordered.
"What? You don't go from 'The pyramid' to 'Kill him'! I may know something! You're not going to even attempt an interrogation? What about asking a second time? Or a third? A few threats? A couple punches? Maybe breaking a finger or two? What kind of villains are you!" D'Artagnan protested.
The tirade sufficiently perplexed the group so that he was able to raise his sword and knock their blades away from his throat. D'Artagnan attempted to roll away from them, but forgetting the close quarters of the room (and the man in black lying unconscious from his encounter with the tabletop), he tripped over the prone form and ended up right back in the corner by the bunk with five masked men about to skewer him…
Siroc chose that moment to make his appearance. D'Artagnan saw him, but his attackers did not. The inventor walked into the room and stared at the wreckage of his laboratory in absolute horror. Focused on D'Artagnan, the five thieves failed to notice the new arrival until Siroc, spotting D'Artagnan's telltale red hands, snapped indignantly, "You've been in my drawers!"
"Pardon me?"
Still outraged at the destruction in his laboratory, the inventor picked up a stick the approximate length of a sword and used it to strike one of the intruders across the back of the skull. That man managed to trip up Francois while falling. The two of them nearly landed on D'Artagnan, who had already fallen over the first man he'd knocked out.
"I take it you were supposed to search my home while I was being dragged all across Paris?" Siroc added.
"You have the Prince's property," D'Artagnan accused him.
"If you're sure of that, then arrest me! Don't vent your suspicions on my laboratory!"
"Can I take care of one problem at a time!" D'Artagnan couldn't regain his feet trying to climb over the two unconscious men and Francois. "All right, there isn't enough room in here for a respectable fight," he said, "If we're going to continue, we should all step outside…"
The two men in black still standing faced off against Siroc. D'Artagnan was about to intervene on the inventor's behalf, but it appeared that Siroc was having no difficulties at all fending off his two attackers with only a measuring stick for a weapon.
Francois managed to untangle himself from the heap before D'Artagnan. The Musketeer used his sword to whack the man in black across the back of his legs and Francois tumbled back to the floor, this time almost bowling over the two men challenging Siroc. Siroc, meanwhile, was backing up the stairs, forcing his opponents to follow him out the door if they meant to keep up the fight. "This seems like a great deal of fuss for a piece of 'volcanic pumice', doesn't it?" the inventor baited them.
The fight spilled out into the alley---three men in black pursuing the inventor, Francois following his men, and D'Artagnan chasing Francois. The drunken theater patrons were chased from their places there for a second consecutive evening, this time due to the sight of swords, Musketeers, and menacing figures in black. (The combatants, focused on trying to disarm each other, were oblivious to the inebriated spectators' threats about finding a less perilous spot for sleeping off their evening's debauchery).
One of the thieves in black landed a solid strike that knocked the stick from Siroc's grasp. Siroc feinted aside as the man made a potentially fatal lunge with his sword. The inventor snatched up a heavy mug abandoned by one of the drunks and flung the contents into his attackers face, hitting the nearest one squarely in the eyes. For good measure, he tossed the mug next. They staggered back and Siroc dove aside, scrambling after the lost stick.
There was a flash of gray and glint of a sword and Ramon appeared in the narrow alley, tackling one of the mystery men. He rolled to his feet in time to block a strike from another, jumping into the fight.
"And how was your evening?" D'Artagnan couldn't quite mask his sarcasm. He was busy fending a flurry of strikes from Francois, who meant to drive him back against the theater wall.
Ramon grinned, "About like this." He checked on the inventor, but Siroc clearly didn't need his help at the moment. The blonde had managed to disarm and steal the weapon of one of the thieves and began a counterattack with both the stick and the sword that gave his foe second thoughts about the entire fight. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" The Spaniard asked.
"Occupational necessity---you have no idea how heated a scientific debate can become…well, that and Cecily had a rather jealous former suitor…" Siroc explained.
" 'Cecily'? So, you do get out of the laboratory on occasion…"
When Francois managed to disarm D'Artagnan, the Musketeer neatly sidesteps. In one fluid motion, he shrugged out of his gray overcoat and managed to drape it over Francois' head. D'Artagnan caught the man by the arm, mindful of the razor-sharp sword, and swung him headlong back into the laboratory. There was the loud crash of more breakage from somewhere in the room.
"Do you mind!" Siroc glared.
"Sorry," D'Artagnan apologized. He retrieved his sword and ran into the laboratory. Before Francois recovered from the fall, the Musketeer put his blade to the thief's throat. "You are under arrest in the name of the King."
Francois snorted, "I don't answer to a doomed king, Musketeer."
D'Artagnan pushed the blade close enough to draw a single drop of blood from the thief's neck. "What does that mean?"
The man must have been smiling beneath his mask. "It means his fate is already decided, Musketeer. More powerful people than the king will change the future of France. When we retrieve our property, you'll see what we can do." The confidence of his words and in his eyes was unnerving.
Then, Francois' eyes rolled back and he collapsed. Dropping to his knees, D'Artagnan tore the mask from the man's head. Pink foam dribbled from the corner of the thief's mouth. "Siroc!" D'Artagnan shouted.
The inventor arrived almost at once, sword raised, expecting to find the Musketeer in some sort of danger. Instead, he saw the prone figure and hurried to check Francois. "What happened to him?" D'Artagnan asked the scientist. Siroc checked, but found no breath or pulse. The thief's mouth stank of a scent like almonds.
"Poison," Siroc said. "He poisoned himself. There are remnants of a powder of some sort in his mouth…"
"No..." D'Artagnan moved to the two remaining figures sprawled on the floor and pulled off their masks, finding the same flecks of foam on their faces.
Ramon appeared in the doorway, out of breath. "Their friends lost their nerve." He'd pursued them until they'd vanished somewhere near the river. It turned out the thieves were much better at running than fighting.
D'Artagnan turned back to the inventor. "I think you'd best tell us where you've hidden the Prince's 'gift'."
Soon after, the trio was gathered around the fold-down worktable, staring at the lump of 'volcanic pumice', which Siroc had stored under a false floorboard beneath his bunk. "It's a rock," Ramon said.
Siroc shook his head. "No…not exactly. The shell is some sort of rock, but definitely not pumice. There's nothing impressive about it at all. I think our friends were more interested in what was inside the shell. When I was examining the 'pumice' yesterday, I accidentally opened the shell…and this was inside." He set the pyramid on the table.
Ramon blinked. "Yes, that's obviously much more impressive. What is it?"
Presented with a scientific mystery and an interested audience, the inventor was in his element. "I thought it was simply a carving of some sort---quartz or diamond---but it isn't. I haven't been able to identify the type of rock. It's like nothing I've seen before. It's fascinating." He stared at the object like a priest who had just unearthed the Holy Grail.
D'Artagnan made a face. "Put it on a desk and you can use it to hold down your papers. I don't see how they could threaten the king with this…unless they mean to sneak up behind him and hit him with it."
Siroc picked up the pyramid, holding it so that the Musketeers could see the circular opening. "This is what makes it interesting. Stand back."
D'Artagnan and Ramon humored the inventor by backing into the corner, as far from the table as they could get.
"Farther back," Siroc instructed.
"There's not much room. I've been in coffins larger than this room…" D'Artagnan griped.
Siroc raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes, long story. There was a----" D'Artagnan stopped when Ramon elbowed him in the ribs. "I'll tell you some other time."
The inventor placed the circular stone into the pyramid and then got out of the way as, once again, every metal object (already displaced by D'Artagnan and the thieves' searches) was drawn to the stone. D'Artagnan and Ramon had to grab their weapons to prevent the swords from being torn right out of their sheaths. The door groaned again, metal hinges trying to pull themselves from the wall, and there was the sounds of furniture scraping and people squealing in surprise from the theater upstairs.
"Siroc!" the landlord bellowed.
Siroc separated the pyramid from its power source. "Sorry, Monsieur Bastelier!" he called.
The Musketeers were impressed now. D'Artagnan stared at the pyramid, wondering aloud, "What could you do with something like this? Could they actually use this to murder the king or the royal family?"
Siroc nodded gravely. "If the conspirators are more imaginative than first impressions would have us believe, then yes…the potential is…astounding."
"Conspirators," Ramon repeated the word with disdain. "Someone arranged to have that rock sent to the palace under the pretense of a 'birthday gift' for the Prince. A way to smuggle the pyramid into the palace. Our friends here were meant to retrieve it…but the Prince walked in on them before they could get that pyramid out of it, so they took the whole rock and ran…"
"That's when we spotted them," D'Artagnan added. "And when they had it in the palace, they meant to put it some place specific, to do something that was intended to kill the royal family. To come and go that freely in the palace, they had to be guards or members or the royal court---" D'Artagnan glanced at the faces of the dead men again. He knew every guard in the palace and every member of the royal court on sight…these men weren't palace guards and they weren't members of the court. "---or they had to know someone who was."
"Someone in the royal court might be part of the conspiracy," Ramon said.
"Then it would seem like a very good idea to make sure that they don't get the pyramid back," Siroc suggested.
Ramon's gaze fell on D'Artagnan's bright red hands and the red smudges he'd left all around the room. A smile played at the Spaniard's mouth, an idea forming already. "Or return the 'gift' and see which guard or member of the royal court steps forward to claim this…" He picked up the pyramid.
"What?"
Having just been informed of everything that had transpired from the time D'Artagnan and Ramon had spotted the thieves to the demonstration of the pyramid's powers, Captain Duvall now sat at his desk, trying to digest all that he'd been told. D'Artagnan and Ramon had embellished and omitted certain details where the inventor's part in these events was concerned, saying only that Siroc had recovered the missing stone artifact and promptly summoned the Musketeers and discovered the pyramid hidden within purely by accident. It was their conclusion about a conspiracy within the palace that had left the Captain dumbfounded. He rubbed his temples now, feeling a headache coming on quickly.
He stared at the 'pumice' shell and the harmless-looking pyramid that the younger men had delivered. "So, if I understand this, someone in the palace is part of a conspiracy to kill the king, and possibly the entire royal family. They planned to use that rock, arranged its delivery to the palace as an anonymous birthday gift for the Prince, but through sheer incompetence bungled their attempt to retrieve it and managed to accidentally remove it from the palace and drop it on this inventor's…"
"Siroc," Ramon supplied.
"…this Siroc's doorstep, and then they came back looking for it and told you about their plans?" the Captain finished.
D'Artagnan nodded. "Evidently, intelligence was not a requirement of their jobs."
Yes, Duvall was going to have a headache, no question about it now… "This conspirator who helped them get into the palace is probably still in the palace…and we don't know who it is….waiting to get that rock back so they can finish what they started, and your plan is for us to return that rock to them?"
D'Artagnan clarified, "Not 'us', Captain."
Ramon added, "If we return it, we're obliged to inform the king of all we know about the conspiracy. The pyramid will be hidden away where it can never be used to threaten the royal family or it will be placed under guard, and our conspirators won't risk attempting to retrieve it if guards or Musketeers are watching. They'll simply disappear and find some other means of destroying the royal family."
"So, we thought the best way to flush out the conspirator is to let them have their rock---but place someone we trust inside the palace, someone who could pose as part of the royal court or a servant of the royal family. Someone who could keep an eye on the stone and alert us when our conspirator makes his move," D'Artagnan finished.
"If it's a member of the royal court, they would know any Musketeer on sight, even if he were in disguise," Duvall argued.
D'Artagnan and Ramon exchanged a look. "We…weren't thinking of a Musketeer, Captain."
Duvall raised an eyebrow.
"The Prince still needs a tutor in the sciences…" Ramon hinted. "A trusted royal tutor would have access to most of the palace…"
The captain was having a hard time believing that they were suggesting what they were suggestion. "You want me to send an untrained civilian I don't even know to do our job and save the king?"
"No, we want to send a scientist we know to point us in the direction of whoever steals that rock whenever they steal it and we'll save the king," D'Artagnan answered.
"The thieves know this…"
"Siroc," D'Artagnan and Ramon prompted.
"…just as well as they know any of the Musketeers. What makes you think they'll steal the pyramid with him watching?" Duvall asked.
"It's not going to be Siroc…well, it is but it isn't," Ramon told him. "Siroc already applied for the position and…it went badly. They want an older and more reputable professor for the Prince…"
D'Artagnan grinned, "So, Siroc's going to give them an 'older and more reputable' professor for the Prince."
"How is he—never mind, don't tell me," Duvall held up a hand. "The answer is no."
Both of the younger Musketeers spoke at once, starting to argue their point. The Captain raised his voice to override their protests: "Even if I knew I could trust your inventor, I don't need scientists, I need Musketeers. For now, if there's any chance it can be used against the royal family, that rock is not going anywhere near the palace." To make his point, he locked the 'pumice' and its pyramid in his desk drawer. "Speak to the captain of the palace guard, then find out where this 'anonymous' gift came from." When they didn't move, Duvall frowned, "Now, gentlemen."
"Yes, sir," D'Artagnan was the one to answer. Ramon looked as if he was going to start arguing again, so the Frenchman caught him by the shoulder and all but pushed him out of the Captain's quarters.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Ramon snapped when they were out of Duvall's earshot.
"What do you want me to say, Ramon? I tried. The Captain said no. What am I supposed to do? Steal the pyramid out of his desk and do whatever I please with it? Go against his orders? And if we do go against orders and something goes wrong, something happens to the royal family, then what? We'd be responsible. And Duvall's right…Siroc's a decent enough fellow…a bit overly attached to his gadgets and bottles…but still, we've known him all of six hours. And there's a difference between being a decent fellow and being someone to trust with the king's life."
Ramon was adamant, "I trust Siroc."
D'Artagnan sighed. "You trust everyone, Ramon."
That stung his friend sufficiently that Ramon stormed for the door. "Where are you going? We have to speak to the palace guard." D'Artagnan reminded him.
Ramon waved a hand, dismissing D'Artagnan. "I'm going to tell Siroc." He slammed the door open and disappeared onto the street outside.
"Suit yourself."
Present Day
D'Artagnan had lapsed into silence as they followed the tracks left by the men who'd attacked Jacqueline and Siroc. She was glad that D'Artagnan had become a bit more flexible in his attitude about obeying orders, or she would have been in the dungeons weeks ago, awaiting her execution, and her brother would already be dead. She had listened attentively to the entire tale, blanching a bit only when she pondered what the conspirators might do with that pyramid…the pyramid back in their possession now. No wonder Siroc was anxious for me to go after the thieves…Would she have listened to him if she'd known what the pyramid could do, the danger it presented?
Gone after them at the risk of her friend's life? She was almost glad that she hadn't known, hadn't been forced to make that choice.
"It's best that Duvall talked sense into you. Keeping the pyramid far from the royal family was the right thing to do. " Jacqueline said. "You'd have been placing the royal family and Siroc in danger sending him into the palace alone---"
"I did send Siroc to the palace," D'Artagnan said.
Jacqueline gaped. "But…you said…what about rules?"
D'Artagnan shrugged.
"What about…I thought you didn't trust him."
"I didn't," he admitted.
"What changed your mind?"
D'Artagnan smiled. "Ramon did."
Paris, Boulevard Trudeau, Five Years Earlier
Ramon had found a locked door and received no answer to his knock when he arrived at Siroc's home later that morning. It was impossible to tell if anyone was home by peering through the window. The room was almost pitch black without the benefit of candle or lantern light, catching no morning sunlight at all since it faced into the alley. Ramon worried---Siroc was not at work, naturally, since he'd only just lost his job the previous afternoon. He was supposed to wait for word from the Musketeers about their idea for the pyramid, and Ramon believed that if the inventor promised he would wait, then he would wait. If he wasn't there…was it possible the thieves who had escaped had returned?
The Musketeer had just made up his mind to force open the door when Jeanette stepped out of the side door to the theater. "He's not there. Monsieur Bastelier threw him out first thing this morning," she informed Ramon.
"Why?"
Jeanette's expression was downright sour. "Why? Siroc lost another job, that's why. No money, no room."
Ramon scowled. There were only three people who could have told Bastelier that Siroc lost his job at the blacksmith's. Ramon would have never betrayed his new friend's confidence, and he was reasonably sure Siroc hadn't volunteered that information to Bastelier. That left… "How did Bastelier know that?"
Jeanette had the grace to look guilty. Ramon walked away before he forgot everything his father had taught him about proper respect for women. Where would Siroc have gone? Should Ramon track him down, at least let him know what Duvall had said, or was it better to let the inventor go his own way and let the whole matter go.
The dancing girl whistled. "Wait a minute!"
Grudgingly, Ramon paused.
Jeanette reached for something just inside the theater door and handed it to Ramon. "Siroc said if you or someone named D'Artagnan showed up, I should give you this."
It was the melted remains of the chamber pot.
She wrinkled her nose. "Must be an inventor thing."
Ramon knew what it meant. "Seine…"
Siroc wasn't hard to find, being the only person camped near one of the bridges on the banks of the Seine River with a stack of crates and trunks (with wheels attached), a makeshift laboratory already up and running, and a campfire putting out blue smoke. The inventor was alternating his attention between reading three books simultaneously and dunking the small 'submersible' model into a basin of water. Upon contact with the water, the model bubbled, split in half, and sank like a stone. Siroc scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, mumbling to himself, "Going to need to fix that…"
"Is it too late to give up my seat on the maiden voyage?" Ramon asked.
The inventor laughed at that. "A minor…glitch. That's what the tests are for. It will be perfectly safe."
"Speaking of safe…" Ramon pointed to the fire and its blue smoke. "…are we in any danger here?"
"No," Siroc promised, not fazed by the unnatural tint of the smoke at all.
"It's blue because---?"
"It's not wood," Siroc answered.
Ramon sat down on the opposite side of the campfire, doing his best not to breathe in more of the smoke than necessary. "All right."
The inventor kept scribbling notes furiously, pausing now and then to look up something in one of the books. If he wondered about D'Artagnan's conspicuous absence, he didn't ask. "Got my message, did you?"
Ramon dropped the porcelain remains onto the sand. "Most people would have left a note."
"The thing about writing down your whereabouts on a note is that anyone can read it—including our friends from last night," Siroc reasoned.
"Fair enough. Why the riverbank?"
Siroc paused in his writing just long enough that Ramon saw his ears turn a bit crimson. "No more rooms."
"In the entire city!" Ramon didn't believe that.
"Apparently, word travels fast. People were locking their doors if I so much as glanced at their houses…" He finally set down the paper and quill. "…and speaking of word?"
Ramon shook his head and Siroc, after a moment, nodded. "Well, not surprising I suppose." His disappointment was easy to see. "What will Captain Duvall do about the conspirators?"
"We'll take care of it. Don't worry." Ramon changed the subject. "Did you find anything in those books?"
Back in his element, Siroc brightened at once, "I found out our pyramid is not a crystal, diamond, gold, silver, pyrite, platinum, tanzanite, opal, agate, geode, onyx, amber, gropple, jade---"
Ramon put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, fearing the inventor would continue listing what the pyramid 'wasn't' for the rest of the day.
Siroc summed up, "No…suffice that if anyone's stumbled across a substance like it before, they conveniently forgot to write about it. It's either an undiscovered stone or a piece of rock dropped right out of the sky just to confound me."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely." It was true, there were few things Siroc enjoyed more than rolling up his sleeve and tackling a scientific or an engineering challenge. "I will keep looking, I promise."
"Or when we find the conspirators, we could just ask them." They both jumped a bit—D'Artagnan had managed to sneak up on both of them. Both glanced up to see him watching their conversation from the bridge. "It's amazing, I've almost grown accustomed to the sight of blue smoke…"
"What are you doing here?" Ramon asked.
D'Artagnan was wearing the grin he reserved for when he had something up his sleeve that was going to get them into serious trouble. "I was checking the bridges down the river for a place to set up my own camp when Captain Duvall throws me out of the barracks."
"Throws you out for what?" the inventor wanted to know.
D'Artagnan reached into his coat, pulled out a cloth bag, and tossed it to Siroc. "For this." Siroc opened the back to find the 'pumice', its pyramid, and the small power source nestled in the bag. "Just don't ask me how I got it out of the desk… I'm sure you'll hear the whole story from the Captain's yelling just before he tosses me out. You were right, Ramon---if someone in the palace is planning to harm the royal family, as soon as we warn the guard, the conspirators will go into hiding, and we may not be so lucky next time. How often does one find murderous conspirators accommodating enough to fall right onto his doorstep and blurt out their plans? Never squander an opportunity."
As he explained, D'Artagnan walked down from the bridge to join them on the riverbank. "You're still our best chance of watching the palace without alerting them," he told the inventor, "provided you can pull off the plan as we discussed---and provided our friends from last night don't recognize you. How did you plan to disguise yourself?"
Enthusiasm renewed now that their course of action was decided, the inventor dug into one of the trunks, and pulled out a pair of spectacles and put them on.
"Yes, that makes all the difference," Ramon said.
Present Day
Duvall worried he would have to pick up Ramon bodily and carry him out of the laboratory. The Spaniard could be amazingly stubborn where his protectiveness of his friends was concerned, and where D'Artagnan and Siroc were concerned, Ramon wasn't just looking after his friends---he was watching out for his brothers. Therefore, he would not be moved from the laboratory. Ramon watched the doctor's every movement as the man tended Siroc until even Duvall could see that the man had become nervous under the Musketeer's unwavering stare. No warnings, threats, or polite requests from the medic elicited more that a quirk of the eyebrow from Ramon in response. The doctor was fortunate that D'Artagnan was not there, or the medic would have been laboring under the watchful eyes of both of Siroc's surrogate brothers, Duvall thought.
The Captain needed more information from Ramon---information that could not be imparted in even the company of most of the Musketeers, whom the Captain trusted implicitly, much less in front of the medic---but he did not press the point until now that the surgery was long over and the inventor was finally deep in much needed sleep. Ramon had finally left the inventor to the doctor's keeping only with Duvall's direct order and after giving the doctor a look that conveyed just how displeased the Spaniard would be if anything at all happened to the inventor during Ramon's absence.
Neither spoke until they were in the Captain's private office. "Tell me," Duvall said.
Ramon relayed what little he knew of the ambush. It was only when he told Duvall that the riders in black had escaped with the pyramid that the Captain became confused. "That's not possible," Duvall said.
"Jacque said the riders threatened to shoot him if Siroc didn't hand over the pyramid. He didn't have a choice, Captain," Ramon said.
"You misunderstand---it was not possible for Siroc to give them the Stone of Vesuvio because he didn't have it to give."
Ramon was more than a bit confused by that remark. Jacque had seen what he had seen. If he said Siroc handed over the pyramid, it had to have been the pyramid. "I---what?"
"Give me a hand." Duvall crossed the room to his work desk and started to slide it across the floorboards. Ramon helped him move the desk until the Captain said to stop. "If anyone finds out about this spot, I'll hold you personally responsible," Duvall warned him, dead serious. Secret hiding places were useless if everyone in the barracks knew their location, and with this group, what one man knew, everyone knew. Duvall had been forced to improvise this new hiding place when he'd found out the hard way that D'Artagnan had figured out how to pick the locks of every drawer, trunk, and cabinet in the Captain's office.
The four legs of the desk had left imprints in the floorboards. The Captain found the appropriate one of those marked floorboards and tapped it soundly with the end of his cane. The floorboard popped up. Bending down to retrieve what was under the floorboard was an awkward effort with his bad leg, but Duvall managed anyway. He withdrew a cloth bag. Carefully wrapped up inside the bag was the pyramid in question. Ramon would have recognized it anywhere.
"But---Jacque saw---I don't understand. How did you get that?" The pyramid had been hidden in Siroc's laboratory as far as Ramon had known.
Whoever was knocking on his door was determined that the Captain wasn't going to sleep until he tended to whatever they wanted. Duvall had just bundled his niece, Meemu, and nephew, Adam, off to his sister's and was looking forward to his first decent night's sleep since their arrival. Tending to two young children was draining enough without the fact that the riders in black had abducted almost a dozen children from Paris, including Adam. The force of worry about the boy's safety, searching night and day until he'd found Adam, had left the Captain drained, physically and emotionally. If one of his men was responsible for delaying Duvall's sleep, they'd best have a life-or-death problem or else they'd be scrubbing the dungeons…
Duvall flung open his door and had just opened his mouth to snap 'What', but Siroc spoke first: "Someone's gone through my laboratory."
The Captain didn't have to ask if Siroc was sure…the inventor knew every inch of that laboratory, probably even had assigned a proper place to every individual fleck of dust in the room. "Someone was playing a prank. I'd ask D'Artagnan and Ramon if I were you…"
"There was a red fingerprint. I only keep one thing in a container laced with that powder," Siroc said, dead serious.
Duvall was awake now. He knew what that one thing was. He stepped back so that Siroc could enter the room. "Is the stone safe?" was the Captain's first question.
"It is. Fortunately, they didn't notice the false bottom in the drawer where I was keeping it."
"When?" was Duvall's second question.
"I noticed the smudge after we returned from the chapel this morning," Siroc answered.
That morning---when they had been rescuing Adam and the other children from their abductors. The barracks had been empty. Duvall had every Musketeer scouring the woods for his nephew. It would have been the perfect opportunity to slip into the barracks unseen. "I guess our old friends figured out their pyramid didn't find its way to oblivion," the Captain said. Siroc nodded his agreement. "I think we'd better find a safer place for that stone, then."
The inventor had thought the same thing. "They won't give up so easily. They deduced that we still have their stone; they'll keep coming until they get it back."
Duvall knew that as well. "You have an idea?"
"A two-part idea, actually. The first part is to returned this to you…" Siroc reached into his pocket and produced the cloth bag containing the pyramid---the Stone of Vesuvio. "…since it's clear that my laboratory won't do for a hiding place any longer."
Duvall accepted the stone. He knew exactly where he would hide it. "And the second part?"
"Wait for them to come looking for it again…and see if they can be deceived again."
The Captain waited for elaboration, but Siroc offered none. "I hope you have something more specific than that in mind?"
Siroc smiled.
"Never mind, don't tell me. Just—let D'Artagnan and Ramon know what happened, in case our friends do try again," Duvall ordered.
The inventor hesitated, "And Jacque?"
That was a touchy subject. Duvall hated keeping secrets from any of his own men, and he knew Siroc hated lying, especially to his friends, even a lie of omission. They'd both learned the hard way that secrecy was necessary where that Stone of Vesuvio was concerned. No one outside the four of them—Duvall, Siroc, D'Artagnan, and Ramon---had known that pyramid survived its supposed destruction five years earlier because Duvall had ordered the trio to keep that secret. If anyone else had known about the stone's continued existence, if they even made careless mention of it in passing, a slip of the tongue, there was a chance that word of it would reach the conspirators. If the conspirators got their hands on it again, the royal family would be in danger. It was Duvall's duty to make sure that absolutely nothing endangered the royal family.
And yet, he also had a duty to his men. What they didn't know affected their ability to do their jobs…affected their safety. It was the Musketeers' duty and honor to put their lives on the line, even sacrifice their lives, in defense of France and the royal family, but it was Duvall's duty to do everything in his power to ensure that it didn't come to that.
"Only if you have no choice," Duvall finally answered.
Secrecy had done no good. The conspirators had learned of the Musketeers' deception anyway and it had almost cost the life of one of Duvall's men.
"So…if this is the real pyramid," Ramon was still trying to puzzle out what had happened. "Then what did Siroc give those thieves?"
Part two of the 'two-part plan', Duvall guessed. "When D'Artagnan and Jacque catch them, we'll find out."