Thanks to Dupin’s assurance that this was our fake Englishman who passed us in the night, I paid careful attention to the stranger. Though he was certainly as tall and muscular as the “Englishman,” had I not been forewarned that it was the same man, I would never have guessed. It wasn’t so much that his features had changed, but that his complete attitude had altered, making him appear so very different. This morning he was without a single doubt a Frenchman born and bred. And, from the style and cut of his immaculate clothing, one of rare breeding and wealth. I have heard it said that great actors are able to change their appearance through nothing more than their attitude and mannerisms, but never before had I ever seen it done.
“Chevalier Dupin,” the man said, bowing politely. “I trust I have not arrived too early for our appointment?”
“Not at all,” my friend replied, equally politely and calmly. “Though I confess a small hesitation in knowing how to address you. Should I be addressing Lord Wilmore, Edmond Dantès or the self-appointed Count of Monte-Cristo?”
A slight shock passed fleetingly over the features of our guest. “I see that you have discovered who I am,” he murmured. “May I sit down?”
“Excuse my bad manners,” Dupin replied. “Of course, please take a seat.” He gestured to one facing the both of us. A slight smile crossed the man’s face, and I understood that he knew he would be covered by a brace of pistols.
“I assure you,” he said gently, “that you have no need to fear violence from me. Had I wished it, you would both be dead by now. But I have nothing against either of you–save that you might cause me a small inconvenience in my plans.”
“I assure you, Monsieur le Comte,” Dupin answered, somewhat offended, “that any inconvenience I might cause you would be by no means small.”
Our visitor laughed. “No, you are correct–you could cause me a major inconvenience by simply telling the police my name. Which raises the interesting question of why you haven’t–and how you happened upon it.”
“I did not happen upon it,” Dupin replied. “I attended the details of your case with interest as it happened. I know that you were born Edmond Dantès, and were unjustly committed to the Château d’If for life. That you somehow escaped, took upon yourself the identity of the fictitious Count of Monte-Cristo and subsequently brought justice to the men who had wronged you and others. I confess, I was much impressed by your methods. I noted that in the course of your actions you adopted a number of disguises, including that of an aristocratic Englishman, Lord Wilmore. When you ran across us last night in this disguise, the details of your case sprang back to the forefront of my mind, and I was certain that I was dealing with none other than the much-wronged Edmond Dantès. It was solely because of the regard I held you in that I did not immediately pass along your name to the police. However, that is an oversight that can be corrected at any time.”
“And your invitation for me to visit you was for the purpose of deciding whether to do just that, I take it?”
“You are correct,” Dupin agreed. “I am willing to hear you out as to the reason you committed torture and cold-blooded murder this last night. If I am not convinced by your explanation, then I am afraid that I shall have to call in my friend Inspector Couperin and hand you over to him.”
Dantès–Monte-Cristo–whatever the man was called, he was cool. “And you feel that the odds of two against one will enable you to take me captive?”
“Two armed with pistols against one who is not,” Dupin corrected him.
“Ah, yes, I had almost forgotten the pistols,” Monte-Cristo said. He snapped his fingers, and the door to our breakfast room burst open. Two large men entered, both with pistols of their own. Our visitor held up a hand. “No violence, please,” he requested. “Simply relieve these two men of their weapons, and then leave us alone.” The two men did so, leaving me, at least, feeling humiliated and rather naked. “I merely removed the pistols to prevent accidents,” Monte-Cristo assured us. “Now I believe I do owe you at least my story as to the events of last night. After that... well, we shall see.” He settled back, apparently quite at ease, and commenced his tale.
“After I had achieved my aim of justice against those men who had wronged me, I left France with every intention of never returning. I had a bride whom I was learning to love, and had left matters completely settled–or so I believed. My house on the Champs-Elysées I had left to the son of my old master and friend, Maximillian Morrel. He had wed Valentine de Villefort, and their life promised to be one of happiness.
“However, this was not to be. Two weeks ago, I received an urgent missive from Morrel, telling me that his wife had been kidnapped, and was being held for ransom. He feared greatly for her safety, and begged assistance. Even if I were not moved by compassion and friendship to agree, my wife, Haydée, would have forced me into it, for she and Valentine were great friends. Accordingly, we returned as swiftly as possible. Yesterday, I met with Morrel, who is a broken man after the abduction of his beloved wife, and learned the details of the story. She had been taken on the street in broad daylight, and her maid assaulted. It was clear that this was the work of the Black Coats.” He paused. “I take it you know of the association?”
Dupin nodded and smiled. “I have caused that organization more than a small amount of inconvenience. I should relish causing them more.”
“So would I,” Monte-Cristo answered fervently. “As I say, it was swiftly apparent that they were behind the kidnapping and ransom of poor Valentine.”
“They have demanded money for her return, then?” I asked.
“They have.” He named a considerable sum, more than Dupin or I would make in ten years.
“There is a problem with paying this amount, then?” I asked him.
“The amount? No.” He waved a hand. “Morrel or I could–and would–pay ten times that figure for Valentine’s safe return. The problem is not financial, but a matter of trust.”
Dupin saw that I did not understand, so he elucidated. “The Black Coats will require the ransom to be delivered before the lady is returned. However, once they have the money and the lady, what is the likelihood that they will set the lady free? In many cases, the victim may be considered to have seen too much.”
I understood. “You think it likely, then,” I questioned the Count, “that they will take the money and kill the lady instead of fulfilling their bargain and setting her free?”
“It is more than likely,” he replied. “But, even if they do allow her to go free–once they know Morrel will pay, what is to stop them from abducting her again and forcing the family through this torture a second or third time?”
Dupin nodded. “Given the habits of the Black Coats, I believe your assessment of their likely strategy to be a sound one. I take it, then, that you have a different plan?”
“Indeed.” Monte-Cristo resumed his tale. “It was the work of a few short hours to learn that the man whose body you examined last night was a lieutenant in the Black Coats. It was a simple matter to divert him, and his fate you know, of course.”
I believed I now understood. “Ah! So you tortured him to make him tell you the whereabouts of the unfortunate Madame Morrel!”
“Had he known them, it would have been a great help,” the Count replied. “But the Black Coat organization is large, and he did not know who was responsible for the kidnapping. I thought it unlikely that he would.”
“You had a different aim in mind, then?” Dupin asked. I could tell that the case intrigued him. He hated boredom more than anything, and this case was proving to be of the greatest interest.
“Yes–an exchange of prisoners. If I could take as hostage someone that the Black Coats valued, then this person might be exchanged for Valentine. It would ensure the safety of my friend’s wife, and also stand the Black Coats on notice that any further attempt on her person would be met by serious reprisals.”
“Which is why you felt no compunction about killing the man last night?” Dupin
hazarded a guess.
“They had to be shown that they were dealing with someone who would have no single hesitation in doing whatever he said,” Monte-Cristo amplified. “Also, as he is dead, they can have no idea who my target within their organization is, and cannot defend that person.”
“So you propose to kidnap one of their higher functionaries and then effect an exchange?” Dupin summarized.
“This afternoon.” He withdrew a watch from his pocket and glanced at it. “In two hours, to be precise. Always assuming, of course, that you decide not to… inconvenience me.” He looked at Dupin expectantly.
Dupin didn’t need to look to me for confirmation. “Not only will we not inconvenience you,” he vowed, “but I’ll wager that you might be able to find the use for two stout fellows–with pistols, if you’ll return them.”
“Capital!” the Count exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “Your assistance in this matter will be gratefully accepted.” He opened the door, and called in his companions, instructing them to return to us our pistols. Thus armed once again, we accompanied him outside to a waiting carriage. This took us to a section of the Rue de Bois–affluent, without being too ostentatious.
“The person we await will be arriving at No. 17 shortly,” he informed us. “There will be a small guard, naturally, whom we shall have to overcome. This is why I am so glad of your assistance. Jacopo, Michel and I might have managed the task alone, but with the two of you as well...” He smiled his thanks.
During the wait, I could not but wonder what adventure we were in for. As Dupin had remarked, he had encountered the Black Coats once or twice, always to their detriment. They were a secretive band of law-breakers, who were willing to undertake any enterprise that might fill their coffers, no matter how vile or anti-social. Dupin had cut off a couple of their minor heads through his detection, but more seemed to constantly spring up. France, it would seem, might sometimes find itself in want of good artists or composers, but never of criminals. The same is undoubtedly true of any center of enterprise in our modern world.
“Softly,” Monte-Cristo murmured a short while later, dashing me from my reverie. “The carriage approaches.” From where we sat on the road opposite the target house, we could peer through the curtains of our own conveyance and see the small enclosed carriage that drew up. Along with the driver, there were two other riders on the outside.
“I am sure there must be at least one other guard within the coach,” the Count said softly.
“We shall take the more obvious ones,” Dupin said. “You and your men take the others.”
We waited a moment, until the two guards began to disembark. At a signal from the Count, we then sprang from our own carriage. I raised my pistol instantly. At the sight and sound of our approach, the two men whirled, drawing pistols of their own. The same instant, the driver attempted to whip his horses into motion again.
I fired first, and had the satisfaction of hearing my target howl and fall, clutching his shoulder. Blood was pulsing from a wound there as I sprang across the road and seized his unfired pistol, thus rearming myself. Dupin, I noted, had also taken down his man, and was procuring his weapon also. The servant named Jacopo had leapt atop the carriage, and prevented the driver from moving it, while Monte-Cristo and his remaining retainer threw open the door of the vehicle.
There was a gunshot at that instant, and Monte-Cristo fell. I thought for a horrified second that he had been injured or killed, but he pounced onto the man who was now drawing a sword and dragged him from the carriage. In his own hand, I saw the cane flicker, and then became a sword also–the weapon that had been used to wound the man the previous evening. The Count and his opponent set to fighting with a will, as Michel, Dupin and I surrounded the coach. I confess to being startled.
I had been expecting some evil-looking man, a human spider used to spinning webs of treachery and deceit, to be within. Instead, I saw, calm and refined, one of the most beautiful women I have met. She was tall, elegant and dignified. Had we, after all, made some terrible mistake?
Thankfully not. Dupin smiled slightly. “The Countess of Clare,” he murmured. “I had long suspected that there was a link between you and the Black Coats.”
“Chevalier Dupin,” she replied, inclining her shapely head slightly. “I have long been expecting you. This trap of yours is admirably well set.”
“Not mine, Madame,” Dupin answered, gesturing toward the Count. “I merely assist.”
Monte-Cristo had his man by now. The guard was skilled, but the Count much better. With a final flick of his wrist, he disarmed his opponent, and then plunged the blade into the man’s shoulder. The man cried, clasped his wound and fell back.
“Tell your colleagues,” the Count cried, “that the Countess is captive and hostage. She will be kept alive as long as Madame Morrel is in good health. If you wish the lady returned to you, I will exchange her for my friend. The exchange is to take place at six precisely at the Bois de Boulogne.” He mentioned a place. “If Madame Morrel is not there at that time, or if she is at all harmed, you will receive the Countess back in small pieces. And then we shall take another of your elite and attempt the exchange again.” He did not bother to ask if his terms were understood. Instead he strode to the lady’s carriage. “If you will accompany me?” he asked, politely but firmly, extending a hand.
“How can I refuse?” the Countess replied. She accompanied us back to our own carriage. Jacopo then whipped the horses, and we sprang off through the streets of Paris. The Countess surveyed us without apparent fear. No doubt she felt protected by virtue of her feminine sex and her beauty, though in her situation few women would have been so poised. “I fear, gentlemen, that you are being naive. There is a rule in the Black Coats–coupez la branche–cut off the limb–that the fallen are to be left behind. I am afraid that they are more likely to abandon me than to exchange me.”
“I think not, in this case,” Monte-Cristo countered. “They will recognize that your abductor is the same man who tortured one of their number last night and killed him. They will fear that I shall torture you to obtain your secrets. They may not want you back, but they will desire to safeguard what you know.”
“I fear you overestimate their fears.”
“For your sake, my lady, let us hope not.”
Nothing more was said for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, we drew up outside a house in a section of the city not far from the woods. The Count led the way inside, where we were met by a young woman whose beauty surpassed even that of the Countess. There was the suggestion of the Near East about her countenance, and a definite suggestion of ferocity within her dark eyes.
“My wife,” the Count introduced her.
This fresh Countess faced our captive one. Her eyes were blazing with suppressed anger. “My lady, you are no doubt feeling yourself safe from harm from these gentlemen. You are no doubt considering that you are a beautiful woman, and they clearly men who respect the sanctity of the female. You are thinking to yourself that they would not be able to bring themselves to harm you in any way.” She shrugged her shapely shoulders. “And it is possible that you are correct. However, I am also a woman, and it is my friend that your scoundrels are holding to ransom. Believe me when I say that, to save her life, there is no degradation or torture I would not offer you–and with joy in my heart the whole time.”
For the first time, the Countess of Clare looked concerned. She did not answer, but turned her head slightly away. I could not help looking in some small horror at the Count’s wife. I, for one, had no doubt at all that the woman would cheerfully keep her promise. All the determination a man may possess is as nothing when compared to the ferocity a female may offer.
“An interesting lady, my friend,” Dupin remarked. “And one I should by no means like to offend.”
“That is unlikely,” Monte-Cristo replied with a short laugh. “Haydée is by inclination the gentlest of women. But like a she-bear, she is ferocious in her defense of those
she loves. Come, let us take refreshment as we wait the approach of our appointment.”
He played the most urbane of hosts, and, it is to be confessed, his fare was more than adequate. As befitted a man of his wealth, he was able to offer us delicate pastries and a more than pleasant port. My own appetite was a little reduced due to our circumstances, but Dupin plunged in with a will.
In the eventuality, we departed for the rendezvous a shade after five. The Count showed the first hint of concern I had noticed upon his countenance. “I cannot but suspect that there will be treachery attempted,” he confessed. “These Black Coats deal in dishonesty as a matter of course, and I cannot believe that they will abandon it now.”
“Nor I,” Dupin agreed. “You have a plan?”
“Such as it is.” He gestured for his wife to take the coach, along with our captive. Jacopo and Michel accompanied her. A second coach arrived for the three of us. “I dislike placing Haydée in jeopardy,” he admitted, “but she would not remain out of this. Valentine is her friend, and she will not rest until that friend is restored safely to her husband. But Jacopo and Michel will protect her with their lives, should the need arise.”
“It is our task, then,” Dupin remarked, “to ensure that the need does not arise.” We took the coach to the edge of the woods. The Bois de Boulogne is a public park, and there were pedestrians strolling the grounds. Monte-Cristo’s rendezvous point, however, was a little off the main thoroughfare.
“I thought that the Black Coats might be more circumspect in a semi-public place,” he explained. “But perhaps we had better conceal ourselves and await their coming. Haydée and the others will arrive shortly, and I should like to be well hidden by then.” So saying, he handed Dupin and myself two spare pistols, already loaded and primed. We already had our own at the ready, along with knives, should any fighting be at close quarters. We would be able to face a small party–but what would happen if the Black Coats came out in force?
Tales of the Shadowmen 1: The Modern Babylon Page 24
