CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
"Confession?" Aramis asked, in confusion, as Porthos passed him the pages.
"Not as such," Athos said. "A clarification, perhaps. Written by Kramer, some years ago, look at the date. He says he knew Karl Gerber. They were both idealistic medical students together and later, activists, but he got out when he fully realised Gerber's anarchistic intentions. But, it seems, Gerber had begun to exercise some control over Kramer. He doesn't say what, but it seems he felt it was inevitable that Gerber would blackmail him at some point, and he wanted to state his case if that came to pass."
"But Gerber is dead," Porthos frowned. "What harm could he be to Dr Kramer?"
"But his lover, Dannika Rand wasn't," Athos said. "She came to collect."
"So, Rand somehow replaced the contractors Kramer hired to do the renovations," Aramis said. "I suppose it would be easy enough to cancel them, or rebook them for a date in the future so they wouldn't arrive but wouldn't complain either."
"I think so," Athos replied. "I cannot believe Kramer would be a party to it, that he would set us up to be killed, and in the meantime, while he waited for her thugs to appear, that he discussed therapy with us and oversaw our treatment."
"I agree with you," Aramis replied, softly. "We would have known. He was a genuine person."
Athos had been reluctant to have anything to do with Kramer at first but had grown to respect him, even over a few sessions. The doctor had made him think. He had been a rather remarkable man.
"And when faced with her, he resisted and she killed him."
"But left us the key," Athos replied.
"What key?" Porthos frowned.
"The key to the gun cabinet," Aramis replied. "It was his parting gift to us."
"She called him a traitor," Athos said. "I didn't understand."
"Hero, more like, by the sound of it," Porthos growled.
Athos sighed, taking back the papers. "Treville will need this," he said.
"Do you think it was Kramer who betrayed Gerber?" Aramis said. "Someone did."
"I don't suppose we will ever know," Athos replied. "I would like to think so, given what Gerber and Rand were doing at the time. They were out of control and wanted by most European law enforcement authorities. An autopsy will tell us if the bullet that killed Kramer came from Dannika Rand's gun," he added. "Whatever final conversation they had, we will never know."
"I think we need to go," Porthos said, taking out his phone. "This is big. I'll call Treville, he'll need to get the Swiss government authorities here asap. This needs wrappin' up tight. Treville says you can make your statements back in Paris. I'll book us a flight."
Athos and Aramis had retrieved their phones from the safe, but the batteries were flat. They let Porthos take over, both exhausted and unable to think straight.
"How did she know you were here?" Porthos had said, as moved out into the foyer, clear now of bodies but showing the damage that had been inflicted on the walls and the elevator surround.
"We thought we had killed Dannika Rand, but she survived, because she wasn't there. It would be easy for her to find out which hospital we were taken to, and where we went after we were discharged," Athos said.
"So there is no mole in the department," Aramis stated. It had been an option they had considered.
"I don't think so," Athos replied, thoughtfully. "Though it is a lesson to be learned. If we are to survive as a security force, we must be vigilant to all threats against us from without and within."
/
"Well, then," Porthos said a little later as he put their bags in the boot of his car, "You sure you want to cut your holiday short? Though the Captain has got his hands full and I'm sure he'll be glad to have you back, even if it's behind a desk. To be honest, I don't think he ever thought you'd last three weeks," he grinned.
"Er, let me think," Athos murmured, turning to Aramis, eyebrows raised. "Aramis?"
"It would be a shame," Aramis said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "It's rather nice here."
"The food and wine," Athos agreed.
"And the hot tubs," Aramis added.
"And of course, the scenery."
"Well," Porthos said, pursing his lips, "If you're enjoying yourselves so much, I'll get your bags back out and head back and tell the Captain you'll be staying a bit longer."
"The Hell you will," Athos growled.
Porthos laughed. "You've not left this place how you found it," he added, as they all stepped back.
"We have already discussed the probability of their comprehensive insurance," Athos replied.
Later, as Porthos drove along the winding Swiss roads through pine forests and mountains on their way back to the airport at Lausanne, he looked in the rear view mirror at his two sleeping friends, Aramis with his head on Athos's shoulder.
He chuckled softly as he increased his speed slightly. The sooner they got back to Paris, the better.
"Lightweights," he murmured. "Things are going to get shaken up back at HQ, my friends," he added to himself. "We have a new recruit startin' next week.
His name's d'Artagnan, and he's rarin' to go."
/
Epilogue
Kramer's dictaphone, recovered from his desk, held the verbal record of his and Dannika Rand's final conversation. It told them all they needed to know. In another act of bravery, he must have switched it on.
During their last fraught conversation, which was hard to listen to, Kramer admitted it was he who betrayed her lover, Gerber, which had led to the man's death and her years in the wilderness, building up her force again. Far from sounding cowed, he was firm in his exclamation.
"And I would do it again," he had stated, proudly and defiantly, before the killing shot was heard.
Athos had endured a conversation with her, and the recording only confirmed that Dr Henriq Kramer was, indeed, a hero.
/
The outside world would hear that Dr Henriq Kramer had committed suicide. It was a sad epitaph to a man who did the right thing, but in order to protect his family from any of Rand's stray followers, it would remain confidential that it was he who betrayed Karl Gerber, informing on him to the Authorities. He was an honourable man who had done his duty. Perhaps that predilection to duty was why he took Aramis and Athos on when Treville first rang him. The idea of The Musketeers must have appealed to him.
In the short term, Kramer had assessed and spoken to them. He had pulled the threads of their relationship together and given Treville more time to build a strong team. He had given both men pause for thought about their own personalities.
It would all be hushed up. The Clinic staff would mourn him, wondering why they had not spotted the signs, but it was well documented that psychiatrists had one of the highest rates of suicides. The glass window in his office would be repaired, the story being he had fired the first bullet through the glass before turning the gun on himself, no doubt in despair, and the shareholders would keep the business running. It was a good, sound business. No one would know that something unholy had happened there.
And, perhaps something good had happened, as Henriq Kramer would be remembered by two men whose lives he had subtly changed in his own, quiet way. The Musketeers would be stronger for it.
The guests would come back. The wolves would probably come back.
But a certain two Musketeers would, in all probability, not return.
At the end of it all, a dangerous cell of terrorists had been neutralised and Europe would be a safer place. For a while.
/
One month later, Athos, Aramis and Porthos met the flight from Lausanne to meet up with Martina and Lena and show them to sights of Paris, after Martina had signed her statement.
The pair were taking things slowly, though Martina had decided to return to her studies the following year. That decision alone had calmed the waters of their relationship and satisfied Lena that Martina was taking up opportunities and looking forward.
That evening at dinner, discussion turned to the white wolf. Martina and Athos described seeing the animal, though Aramis had not. However, to their surprise, he confessed he had dreamt about it several times.
"In a dream, the white wolf symbolises wisdom and healing, purity and innocence. I looked it up," he said, loftily.
Athos snorted into his wine, as the girls shared a smile.
"You sure?" Porthos grinned, clapping Aramis on the back. "Not so sure about the wisdom part," he said. "Or the purity and innocence, for that matter," he grunted, which made the girls laugh, and Aramis look offended.
"And inner fortitude," Aramis sniffed. "In the face of adversity," he added, glaring at Porthos, before the pair dissolved into laughter.
"What if you actually see one?" Athos enquired, gently. "With your eyes," he added.
"It's an omen of hope and survival," Martina quickly replied. "I looked it up too," she added, shyly. "If a white wolf stares at you, it means you are not alone."
She and Athos looked at each other for a moment, before both of them smiled. He held out his glass and she reached hers across in a silent acknowledgement.
Suddenly remembering, Athos reached into his pocket and pulled out the pink headband, now washed and looking like new. Martina took it and turned to Lena, who put it on and spent the rest of the evening with it in place on her blonde hair, knowing it was an important part of the story.
As the evening drew to a close, Athos raised his glass and they all quietened.
"To Doctor Henriq Kramer," he said, softly, his voice full of respect. "A brave, honourable man, whose deeds saved many lives, ours included. We know the truth."
"We know the truth," they all echoed as they clinked glasses.
A simple but heartfelt epitaph to a man none of them would forget.
/
End.
So, we come to the end. I hope you have enjoyed this story.
I am grateful to those who left me comments. Comments often plant seeds, from which new scenes spring to mind and characters develop. It's how we determine if our readers understand what we are trying to convey or are picking up our clues. That is why this story grew along the way and became much more than the first draft.
This one has been in development and production for many months and I will miss it, but hopefully inspiration will strike again soon. They don't leave me alone for long, these Musketeers.
Au revoir.