CHAPTER FIVE
The Restaurant equalled many high-end establishments the two men had experienced in Paris. Both enjoyed their food and it had become a custom to dine out at the end of a mission, as well as slum it occasionally in some of the dark, secluded bars in the back streets of Paris, depending on their mood. Porthos had introduced them to some especially interesting places since they had been recruited into The Musketeers.
Here, there were at least twenty tables with white linen tablecloths. The décor was navy and cream, and the restaurant staff wore navy uniforms instead of black ones. One side of the room opened into the large glazed conservatory, with more seating. Beyond, they could see a fountain set within a circular courtyard.
They moved into the conservatory and ordered coffee from the waitress who appeared almost immediately before them. She handed them both a menu so they could order an evening meal and they arranged to return at 7.00 pm.
"This is all very nice," Aramis sighed as he sipped his cappuccino.
"It is a sanatorium," Athos muttered.
"You seem desperately keen to hang on to that unfounded notion," Aramis pointed out, as he unfolded the leaflet that Martina had given him and flattened it onto the table. He smoothed the creases out slowly, in part to annoy his friend, who he knew was glowering at him.
"We have six days before the renovators move in," Aramis reminded him. He needed no reminder;
"Thank God," Athos growled. By then, he will have had enough of black uniformed staff nodding and smiling at him everywhere he went. He hoped he could discover a nook or cranny to withdraw into at some point. His glare would keep any intruders out. A few days with the decorators may help his mood. He could also hang out outside until the inmates came back. At least there would be a skeleton staff to keep the wine flowing. He wondered where the cellar was as he sipped his coffee.
"We are here," Aramis was saying, patiently, as if speaking to a child, tracing his finger from the Reception to the Restaurant and to the staircase, gymnasium and pool before proceeding to point out the layout of the East and West Wings, the grounds and outbuildings.
"Yes, we most definitely are," Athos murmured, rising, coffee in hand. "My key?" he asked, holding out his other hand.
Aramis looked up at him, a small look of disappointment on his face, before he recovered and dropped one of the key cards into his outstretched palm. "Meet back here later for dinner?" he added, as he picked up the white menu with gold lettering.
Athos curled his fingers around the key card. "No doubt," Athos grunted, before relenting. "Will 7.30 be acceptable?"
"I'm not doing anything else," Aramis said, flatly, keeping eyes on the menu.
"My apologies," Athos sighed. "I am being …"
"Rude, surly, impossible company?" Aramis interrupted, looking up at him now, unsmiling.
"At least one of those," Athos conceded, with a small shrug and tilt of his head in acknowledgement.
"At least three," Aramis replied, dropping the menu back on the table. "Anyway, the food looks terrific, so you have something to look forward to, apart from my company."
Athos pursed his lips and almost smiled before turning and heading off, leaving Aramis to pour over the leaflet by himself. There was serious intent in knowing his surroundings, baked into them as soldiers, although Athos seemed to have disregarded that.
The view from the conservatory was, however stunning, with the fountain in the foreground and the mountains in the distance. He committed the map to memory and folded the leaflet up, shoving it into his back pocket. Perhaps Athos was right; a shower and a nap before dinner was probably in order.
That was a phrase he had not expected to consider just a few weeks ago. He took one more look at the view before following Athos.
/
Their rooms were not together, but at each end of a short, carpeted corridor.
"I wonder why they have done that?" Aramis queried, as he stood outside Athos's door.
"They probably don't want us collaborating too often," Athos murmured.
"Athos," Aramis said, softly. "I think you need to embrace this."
Athos side-glanced him, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
"You embrace it," he growled. "Allow me to barely tolerate it."
He swiped the key card through the lock on his door, and pushed the door open, giving Aramis one last strained look; "Until 7.30," he grunted, before disappearing inside to empty his bag and find is prescription pain meds. And his hip flask.
Aramis shook his head before striding to his own door, whistling a loud, merry tune, in the hope that Athos could hear it.
/
Athos had remained in his room until Aramis had knocked softly on his door hours later to remind him they were eating together. For his own part, he had spent the afternoon exploring, admiring the fountain in the courtyard and walking a trail into the forest behind it, as much as he could, turning back reluctantly when the gradient became too much.
The two had eaten together and, as it turned out, had enjoyed a very nice meal. There were no restrictions on alcohol for them, which Athos thought surprising, although he only had one glass of red wine with his meal. Both were tired, talking mainly about work, wondering how Porthos was getting on without them, and if Treville had any more information on the warehouse fire. Not that he would share while they were both supposed to be 'resting.'
They had then walked along a path leading away from the building toward the mountains in the far distance. The moon had been full, with visibility helped by small solar lights placed at intervals along each pathway. The path disappeared ahead and Athos had wondered if there would be a drop at the end, perhaps leading down to the river their car had snaked alongside on their journey that morning, until they reached the ornate gates and the drive had taken them away, toward the clinic building.
That would be useful, depending on the depth of the drop and the terrain - walking out the way they came in being too exposed. All this went through Athos's mind as he thought of escape during those first few hours. It was a dream - he knew Treville would have him up on a charge if he did.
It did, indeed, end in a drop, as they soon found out, although there was a sturdy, ranch-style wooden fence around it. Athos peered over the fence and the drop was far more than he had expected. The river did run through the valley below but it was much too far down. Aramis was watching him reconnoitre the grounds with a smirk on his face. "There is no escape you know, unless you know a friendly helicopter pilot."
"Hmm, that is a consideration," Athos murmured. "I may give Porthos a ring. He is resourceful."
"Give it time, Athos," Aramis said quietly. "We need this."
Athos sighed. "I know, I just feel so …"
"Stymied?" Aramis suggested.
Athos turned to him. "Stymied? What does that even mean?"
"Something Porthos said last week," Aramis laughed, slapping him lightly on the back.
"That explains it," Athos responded. "His language skills are often beyond mine, in certain areas," he added.
"It means blocked or thwarted."
"That makes sense," Athos smiled. "In our current state and circumstances."
They were now walking away from the boundary edge and back along a path that took them beyond the west wing of the building, to another lawned area, flanked by tall pine trees, lit by strings of tiny lights strung through the branches.
"Look over there!" Aramis suddenly said, his mood lifting.
Athos followed his gaze and it fell upon a covered structure, open at the sides, made of thick oak beams.
"Hot tubs!" Aramis said, hurrying over.
"It just gets better," Athos muttered, trailing along in his wake, hands in his pockets.
Aramis stopped in his tracks and turned to Athos. "Don't you like hot tubs?"
"Let me think …" Athos grunted as Aramis grabbed his arm and started to pull him across the grass.
There were three hot tubs, separated by screens from each other, which Athos pronounced, "A blessing."
Aramis dipped his hand in the still, warm water, resisting the urge to press a few buttons.
"They are known for their therapeutic effects," Aramis was saying. For a moment, Athos thought Aramis was going to strip off and climb in, but he shook his hand dry and turned to look at the mountains.
"Such a wonderful place to have them," he breathed. "There is a sauna in the building, Athos, if you prefer that?"
"It depends on the company," Athos offered, but the thought did not appal him as much as the hot tubs did. At least one could shut the door and hide within the steam.
"Perhaps you can book them for sole occupancy," Aramis said, patting his arm.
"What is that over there?" Athos said, keen to change the subject. There was another low building set back in the trees.
"That would be the work shed, and the back-up generators," Aramis replied, setting off toward them.
"How do you know?" Athos called after him.
"The leaflet," Aramis said, looking over his shoulder and winking at him. "Let's check them out."
"The end to a perfect day," Athos said, under his breath.
"It makes sense," he said, a few moments later, as they stood looking at the machines in the larger of the two rooms. "They will run on a circuit to ensure vital areas have power in case of an outage. My guess would be kitchen, elevators, stairs, reception, and grounds in a limited way. In an emergency, food and access is more important than treadmill and dumb bells."
"I think we have our bearings now. It's best to know where you are, in case of emergency," Aramis said, pleased that Athos had engaged for the first time. They closed the door and made their way back to the front of the building and to their rooms. "Although the only emergency here will be if they run out of food," he added.
"Or alcohol," Athos grunted, glancing at Aramis as they stepped into the elevator, where Aramis proceeded to run his fingers through his hair in the mirror, and Athos turned away to face the doors as they closed.
"Or alcohol," Aramis conceded, with a gentle smile at his friend's reflection, that Athos did not see.
/
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