by Simon Hawke
Milady rode in her carriage toward the palace. If the agents were sharp, and if they were right on top of D'Artagnan all the way, then they would have noticed the historical discrepancy of all twelve diamond studs still being in Buckingham's possession. Perhaps Buckingham might even have told them that Milady had "visited" with him. In such a case, the agents would have undoubtedly devised some ploy to detain D'Artagnan while they frantically examined all twelve diamond studs in order to make certain that they were nothing but twelve diamond studs.
Otherwise, they would follow D'Artagnan straight back to the palace, watching while he delivered the studs to the queen and all the while wondering when Taylor would make his move. An enemy on edge, nervous and ridden with anxiety, was an enemy off guard.
The ball would take place as scheduled. The agents would have undoubtedly infiltrated en masse, since with the ride of the musketeers safely and successfully completed, they would have deduced that the planned disruption would occur during the ball. They would all have been there, waiting, watching, when Richelieu gave the king the two studs that Milady had supposedly stolen from Buckingham. Richelieu would tell Louis that he doubted that the queen still possessed the diamond studs, but if she wore them, then in that case the king should count them. If the king found only ten, he was to ask her who could have stolen from her the two studs Richelieu had given him.
Taylor was to have been at Richelieu's side then. While he was with the cardinal and under his protection, the agents would have been powerless to move against him. They would have only been able to watch and wait. They would have been helpless to do anything when the queen arrived, wearing her diamond studs, and the king and Richelieu, with Milady by his side, went over to her to count the studs and to confront her with the two "missing" studs in case she had only ten of them. In that moment, when they were all together, Taylor would have pressed a tiny button.
Taylor had known for quite some time, or at least some rational part of him had known, that he was going insane. He had known that his personality was fragmenting. Before the mission had begun, he was already aware of at least two other personalities within him. Personalities that, at times, he could not control. The condition was not beyond a cure, but there was no way that he could risk obtaining therapy. He had been living underground for years and seeking help would have resulted in his almost certain apprehension. So Taylor had decided to "retire" at his peak. Quite literally, he had intended to go out with a bang. Two factors had prevented him from seeing his plan through as he had intended. There had been no way of knowing that the agents would somehow find the terrorists. He must have judged Mongoose incorrectly. Also, he had not counted on Milady. Since he had assumed her character, she had developed within him quickly. She had entirely taken over or eradicated his other personalities and she had grown very strong, indeed. Moreover, she did not want to die.
"You were a suicidal fool, Adrian," she said, as he listened somewhere, helplessly. "You never knew what you really wanted. You were clever, Adrian, but you were weak. Weak where it really mattered. Anger is not strength. Egotism is not strength. Strength lies in knowing who you are. I know who I am, Adrian. I am what you were always meant to be."
She chuckled. "You wanted to die. That doesn't surprise me. You were always self-destructive. Well, you're going to get your wish, though not quite in the manner you intended. I'm afraid that I do not share your sense of theater. You see, I intend to survive this little episode. You, on the other hand, will die. You will have made your grand and final gesture, so in a way, it will all end more or less as you had planned."
Taylor battled his way back to the surface. Almost at once, his face became flushed with perspiration, his breath came in irregular gasps.
"Control, control," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't lose it now, not yet, stay in control-"
He was interrupted by a throaty, rippling, feminine laugh that burst forth from his lips even as the upper half of his face remained twisted in a concentrated frown, eyes staring wildly, beginning to glaze.
"No! No!"
"We've reached the palace, Milady," said the coachman, opening the door.
"Thank you, Maurice," she said, sweetly. "Will you assist me?"
14
As D'Artagnan started on his journey back to Paris, a trip he would make at breakneck speed in just over twelve hours, word was passed quickly among the TIA agents, with mixed efficiency. The operation which, up until that point, had gone off like clockwork began to fall apart.
The suddenly disorganized agents had to move quickly, since Taylor's hand had been forced and there was now no way of telling where he would strike or at whom. There was no time for detailed planning and coordination. There was little opportunity to check new, unsurveyed destination settings programmed hastily into the chronoplates. As a result, there was a great deal of confusion and there were several casualties.
One agent, clocked out to cover Aramis, had the misfortune to arrive in the middle of the English Channel. He also had the misfortune of not being a strong swimmer.
Another agent, assigned to Porthos, clocked in much closer to his destination than he had intended, appearing inside the musketeer's room at a tavern in Beauvais. The wounded musketeer, who had been recovering at the innkeeper's expense by consuming massive quantities of food and drink and refusing to pay for same, turned over in his bed and saw what appeared to be an armed man about to attack him in his room. Thinking that the innkeeper had hired someone to exact payment in a pound or two of flesh, Porthos grabbed his pistols off the table by his bed and shot the man to death.
Two of the men departing to look after Athos never arrived. A too hastily programmed chronoplate consigned them to the limbo that soldiers of the Temporal Corps had named "the dead zone." Trapped somewhere in nonspecific time, they would, theoretically, continue to exist, but no one could say exactly where or in what form.
Several of the agents, clocking out from different points, tried to arrive in the safehouse in the Rue Servadoni in the same place, at the same time. The agent that Cobra had stationed there watched in horror as the shapeless mass of flesh that materialized before him briefly became a writhing grotesquerie of thrashing arms and legs that flopped spastically on the floor, making a sound that no human ear should ever be subjected to. It died in seconds and was quickly clocked out to a prehistoric time, where its bones would be picked clean by reptilian scavengers.
Lucas and Andre both had a close call. They had tried for the vicinity of the palace and they materialized in the middle of the street outside the Louvre, in a spot where, scant seconds later, a carriage driven by a team of horses was to pass. No sooner had they materialized than Lucas, reacting quickly to the sound of thundering hooves almost on top of them, pushed Andre to one side and then threw himself in the opposite direction. The carriage hurtled by them and they missed being run down by inches. The coachman was a bit shaken. He had been directed to drive full speed toward the palace, not a wise thing to do in the streets of Paris at that hour, and he had been watching very carefully to avoid running anybody down. It was a mystery to him where those two people had come from. Suddenly, they were simply there. There had been no way to avoid them. Had they not jumped out of the way, they would surely have been seriously injured, if not killed. He would have had to stop. It would have meant disobeying the instructions of Milady, but he would have had to stop. As it was, he glanced quickly over his shoulder, saw that the two pedestrians appeared to be unharmed, hastily crossed himself, said a silent prayer of thanks, and turned into the gateway to the palace.
"Maurice," he told himself, "it's past time that you retired to the country and became a farmer."
Lucas and Andre picked themselves up and dusted themselves off.
"I will never grow accustomed to this method of travel," Andre said, taking a deep breath. "Be it magic, be it science, I care not. It is unnatural."
"That's true," said Lucas. "However, you will find that in my time, it is quite natu
ral to live with the unnatural. We call it progress."
"Well, at any rate, we appear to have arrived safely," Andre said. "What happens now?"
"Ever break into a palace?" Lucas said.
"Not one such as this," said Andre, "and not without armor."
"This won't be quite as elaborate as a siege," said Lucas, "but we will be wearing armor, in a sense." He indicated a group of four of the cardinal's guards who had just left by the main gate. "I think that out of the four of them, we should be able to find two uniforms that we can fit into."
Andre grinned. "You think they will mind lending us their clothing?"
"Well, why don't we go ask them?" Lucas said.
Finn and Cobra, accompanied by one other agent, ran as fast as they could toward the Louvre. They had been forced to leave the luckless agent Jaguar behind them in the alley by Moreau's. His leg had broken in his fall and there was no time to waste on tending to him. Besides, Cobra was feeling far from charitable. The three of them reached a small gate at the side of the palace, in the Rue de PEchelle. Cobra asked for Germain and, when he arrived, he said the words, "Tours and Bruxelles." Germain nodded. "How may I serve you, Monsieur?" "We must see Constance Bonacieux at once," said Cobra. "It is a matter of life and death." "Say no more, Monsieur. Please follow me." Germain took them into the palace, through a series of back corridors and several secret passages until they arrived just inside the doorway of the outermost chambers of the queen's apartments.
"Please wait here," Germain said. "And pray, be silent. There are guards stationed just outside this door."
He left them alone for a few minutes which seemed like hours and, finally, the doors on the far side of the room were opened and Constance Bonacieux, alias agent Sparrow, entered. Upon seeing Cobra, her eyes widened and she beckoned them to her urgently, holding a finger to her lips.
She admitted them into the next room, shut the door, and immediately turned to them, an expression of alarm upon her face.
"What is it? What's happened?" she said, anxiously.
"It's hit the fan," said Cobra. "We made our move, but Taylor got away. We figure he had his plate preset with the coordinates for another hideout, just in case. He wasn't taking any chances. He's probably on his way here right now, if he hasn't already arrived."
"Here! The palace?"
Cobra nodded. "His target's here. It could be the queen, it could be Louis, it could be Richelieu, or it could be all three."
"My God," she said. "What do you want me to do?"
"You have your laser?"
"I've got it hidden in my room," she said.
"Get it. And don't let the queen out of your sight. If you see Milady, don't even hesitate. Waste her."
She nodded. "What are you going to do?"
"We've got to get next to the king and Richelieu somehow," said Cobra. "Got any ideas?"
She thought a moment. "I've discovered a secret passageway that leads from the queen's bedchamber to the king's. It seems that there's never been much trust in royal relationships. But the queen is in her bedroom now."
"Can you get her out for a couple of minutes?"
"I'll think of something," she said. "But I have no idea how you can get to the cardinal without being challenged in the halls. There are guards stationed outside the queen's chambers."
Cobra pursed his lips, thoughtfully. "All right. Get us in that passageway and we'll just have to improvise from there. Remember, don't let the queen out of your sight, no matter what. Now think up some excuse to get Anne out of her bedroom, quickly."
Lucas and Andre, dressed in ill-fitting uniforms of the cardinal's guard, entered the main gate. Two of the four guards they had attacked lay tied up and unconscious in a nearby alley. The other two had both been wounded, although not fatally, and they were also bound and gagged with torn strips of clothing and ignominiously covered over with refuse. If they survived the rats, they would come out of it with nothing but their dignity impaired.
"What do we say if we are stopped?" said Andre.
"We bluff our way through," said Lucas. "I'm wearing the uniform of a captain of the guard. I don't even remotely resemble the man to whom this uniform belongs, but if we both act as though we know what we're doing, we just might get away with it."
"And if we do not?"
"Then do everything you can to avoid killing anybody. If we have to fight our way in, use the laser and aim for the extremities."
"What do we do once we're inside?"
"We've got to get to Richelieu. We have to make sure that he never takes delivery of those two studs."
"Suppose he already has them?" Andre said.
"Then we'll have to find a way to get them away from him," said Lucas.
"One thing occurs to me," said Andre. "What if the two studs that the cardinal is to receive from Taylor are, in fact, genuine and it is two of the studs upon the ribbon that D'Artagnan is bringing back that are the false ones?"
"I've thought of that," said Lucas. "But it would have taken too much time to examine them in London. We would have had to find some pretext to get them from D'Artagnan and he would not have parted with them easily. Besides, I think that Taylor would rather arrange things so that he can be sure that his fake studs get into the right hands. I'm betting on it. If I'm wrong, then D'Artagnan still won't be in Paris for some time yet. He'll be delivering the diamond studs to Constance, and Constance is an agent for the TIA."
"You have thought it out quite well," said Andre.
"I sure as hell hope so," Lucas said. "But we're not out of the woods yet."
"What are these two studs that they are so dangerous?" said Andre.
"I can't be sure," Lucas said, "but I think they're something quite old-fashioned. I think that they're bombs."
There was a soft knocking at the door and Cardinal Richelieu said, "Come in."
The Count de Rochefort entered. "Milady de Winter, Your Eminence."
Richelieu smiled. "We have dispensed with secret rendezvous, I see. I find that most convenient. Show Milady in."
"Your Eminence," de Rochefort said, inclining his head in a respectful bow and backing out the door. A moment later, Milady entered.
"Ah, Countess," Richelieu said, rising to his feet. "How good of you to come to me directly, for a change. I was growing weary of our elaborate precautions. Am I to take it that our business has been concluded successfully?"
Casually, as if it were an afterthought, the cardinal held out his hand, palm down, to Milady. She bowed low and kissed his ring.
"I no longer have need for stealth, Your Eminence," she said, "since I now possess a carte blanche from yourself that grants me immunity from virtually anything."
Richelieu smiled. "Yes, I can see where that would be a useful thing to have. However, take care that you do not abuse it. What was granted can just as easily be rescinded. Have you obtained those items which we spoke about?"
"I have, Your Eminence," Milady said. She handed him a small golden jewelbox.
Richelieu took the box from her and opened it. Inside, resting on a cushion of mauve velvet, were two diamond studs.
"Excellent," he said. "I trust that you were not overly inconvenienced to obtain them?"
Milady smiled her dazzling smile. "It was my pleasure, Your Eminence."
"I'm certain that it was," said Richelieu. "You have done very well, Milady." He crossed the room and opened a drawer in his desk, removing from it a weighty purse. "You have done France a great service," he said. "Please take this on account. Come back and see me again after the ball and we shall discuss this matter further."
"You are most generous, Your Eminence. I am always glad to be of service."
"The Count de Rochefort will see you to your carriage," Richelieu said.
"Oh, please, do not trouble the count, Your Eminence," said Milady. "I have found that I quite enjoy being able to go where I please these days, now that I have your official pass to grant me safe conduct."
Richel
ieu chuckled. "As you wish, Milady, although I think the Count de Rochefort will be sorely disappointed."
In the corridor, she flashed Richelieu's carte blanche at the guards and was allowed to pass without even being questioned.
"You see, Adrian, how easy it all is?" she said. She felt the little transmitter hidden in the inside pocket of her cloak. "Richelieu is as good as dead. Now all we have to do is see to the king and queen. First, Anne. Then, Richelieu goes to serve God in His own kingdom. The blast should draw everyone to that end of the palace and they won't discover Anne's body for hours, which will allow me plenty of time to attend to Louis. It will all happen very quickly and efficiently and then, Adrian, you can rest. In peace."
She turned into the corridor that led to the queen's chambers. Again, a brief display of Richelieu's signature and the added words, "An urgent message for Her Majesty," were all that was needed to get her past the guards. She knocked upon the door of the queen's outer chambers and was greeted by the queen's valet, Germain.
"I must see the queen at once," she said. "Tell Her Majesty that Countess de Winter has arrived with an urgent message from abroad."
Germain admitted her into the outer chamber, standing aside to let her pass and then closing the door behind her.
"Wait here, please, Milady. I will announce you."
The moment Germain turned his back on her, Milady leapt upon him with a knife.
They found the little peephole in the panel and looked through. They were greeted by the sight of King Louis's nude posterior. His Majesty was making preparations for the grand ball and he was surrounded by attendants, each holding up a luxurious garment for his inspection. However, at the moment, the king was not paying attention to any of the items of clothing being offered for his perusal. He was otherwise engaged. Standing regally before a full-length mirror and wearing nothing but a pair of high-heeled red velvet shoes with golden buckles and a scarlet silk garter around his left thigh, the king was examining his reflection with open admiration, turning first slightly to the left, then slightly to the right. He was as pale as a corpse and he had further exaggerated his royal pallor by liberally dusting himself with powder.
