Laroche entered the room and stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide. ‘Madame Michaud. What are you doing here?’
She put a hand to her brow and moaned. ‘Do forgive me, monsieur. I have the headache and thought to lie down in a quiet room.’
Laroche’s gaze flicked to his desk. Thank the saints she’d managed to get the drawer closed in time.
He crossed the room, circling the settee until he loomed above her. She raised herself a little and her embroidered shawl fell from her shoulder. Scrabbling, she fixed it around her shoulders again. ‘As you can see, I’m not myself,’ she murmured, which wasn’t entirely a lie.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said scrutinizing her.
She leaned back, watching him warily. A speculative gleam simmered in his eyes. Did he believe her? She suspected not. She’d need to make her headache more convincing. Moaning, she held her head. ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to get my husband? He’ll be worried about me.’
‘I don’t think we need disturb him,’ Laroche said silkily. ‘I’ll escort you back to the ballroom for a refreshment. That should help, don’t you think?’
His eyes dared her to argue and she stood up with an orchestrated wince, her hand going to her brow. ‘Perhaps you’re right, monsieur. My throat is a little dry.’
He took her elbow, none too gently, and marched her out of the study. Luckily she didn’t meet anyone in the foyer who could remark upon her appearance with Laroche and once they’d entered the ballroom he left her with Finch, saying as he did so that Monsieur Michaud ought to take his wife home.
Finch’s eyebrows rose. Other guests near them looked on with interest and she lifted her chin. She would not feel embarrassed for doing her job.
‘Are you well?’ Finch asked, pulling her to one side, his voice low.
‘We need to leave,’ she murmured.
‘My dear, that’s not possible. We have a … duty here, do we not?’
She almost stomped her foot at this delay. ‘My headache,’ she said with quiet emphasis, ‘calls for me to depart this very minute.’
His eyes raked over her face and something subtly altered in his own. ‘You mean a situation has developed?’
‘Precisely,’ she said on a grateful breath. ‘We must return to our lodging.’
They excused themselves from the nearby guests. The women quite understood, with one adding, ‘The headache. It is such a burden.’
They slipped outside the ballroom and collected their cloaks from the footman. Within another minute they were threading their way through empty back streets to avoid the tavern. Not until they were well out of earshot did Finch mutter in her ear. ‘What the devil is going on?’
She hurriedly told him all about the letter, Skylark and the statue as they walked. ‘I don’t know why the statue’s important but Laroche wants it badly. And I’m scared for Eugene. If Laroche sends his men ahead they may force Eugene to tell them all he knows.’
Finch didn’t waste time asking questions. Once out of town, they ran for the abbey.
Eugene was sitting in a pool of candlelight, drawing another detail from the altar. He coughed and jumped up at their entrance. ‘You’re back. How was it?’
‘Interesting.’ She grabbed her dark brown dress and boots and disappeared behind the nearest pillar.
‘Did you find out about the man?’ Eugene asked, returning to his drawing.
She fished Skylark’s letter out of her bodice and told him about it as she changed. The empire dress hadn’t been warm and she wriggled into her woolen dress with a grateful sigh. She quickly put on her boots and strapped on her waist-belt. Eugene had discarded her blue cloak behind the altar so she went over and put that on as well. Anything to get some warmth back into her body.
Finch, who’d also changed into his usual clothes, joined her and she handed him the letter. ‘I hope you can decipher this. The code isn’t one I know.’
Finch smoothed out the paper and held it close to the candle flame to read. She peered over his shoulder. ‘Do you understand it?’
He stroked his beard, his gaze intent on the text. ‘Unfortunately, no. It must be a new code devised by Skylark and Swan.’
She expelled a frustrated sigh. The one thing she’d risked her life for and it was useless. ‘What do we do now?’
Finch peered into the gloom beyond the arc of candlelight. ‘Find the statue Laroche is after. It must be here somewhere.’
‘But we don’t know what it looks like.’
‘If Laroche is bringing his men then it must contain something important,’ Finch replied, reading the note again. ‘And Skylark asks Swan to find something and send it to the Nest. I’d stake money on it he meant the statue.’
Eugene weaseled his way under Finch’s arm and glanced at the code. ‘Huh. I’ve seen writing like that.’
‘You couldn’t have,’ she said in surprise.
‘Have a look at this.’ Eugene flipped a page in the prayer book he’d been sketching in. On the flyleaf he’d drawn a robed shepherd with a staff in his hand. Next to him stood a stag with a cross between its antlers. ‘I found this little shepherd. He’s got the same writing on the back of his robe.’
‘Did you copy the writing?’
‘No.’ Eugene stared at her with fearful eyes. ‘Should I have?’
She gave him a crooked smile. ‘You weren’t to know it could be important.’
‘Where’s the shepherd?’ Finch asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
‘In the tunnel.’ Eugene closed his book and coughed, his thin shoulders heaving with every exhalation.
‘What tunnel?’ Finch stared at him in disbelief.
‘The one I found while you were gone,’ he croaked. ‘It’s behind a cracked pillar. I followed it down a little way but it’s too dark to see where it goes.’
Loud voices drifted through the broken windows. Finch spun and blew out the candle. They were plunged into darkness but they’d spent so much time in the abbey they knew their way around.
Finch grabbed their bundles and shoved Eugene’s saddle bag at him. ‘Quickly, take us to your tunnel.’
Eugene led them back towards the pulpit and they all squeezed in behind the pillar. It had an inch-wide crack running down its length. Behind the pillar lay an opening not much higher than Eugene’s chest. A thick wooden door, studded with ironwork, hung partially open and from within, the air smelled musty and stale. Her skin crawled as she studied the dark entrance. She’d never believed in ghosts or godlike demons but that fetid space would be ideal for them.
The church door crashed open. Finch pulled her and Eugene in closer behind the pillar. ‘Not a sound,’ he breathed.
They huddled together and she leaned forward and peered through the crack. Even though she’d been expecting him, her body froze. Laroche and his men spilled into the center aisle, carrying lanterns and muskets. There were eight soldiers, including Tessier who carried a stonemason’s mallet.
Pools of light bobbed around the abbey as the men held their lanterns aloft. Features and corners she hadn’t seen before were lit momentarily before the men moved closer down the aisle.
‘Capon, take four men and search both transepts,’ Laroche ordered. A large man led a group into the wing running perpendicular to the nave. ‘You others come with me,’ Laroche said. ‘We’re looking for a small figurine of Saint Hubertus. A shepherd with a stag.’
So Eugene had found the right statue. He brushed her arm and she glanced down at his fearful eyes. The men must remind him of those that had murdered his parents and she eased her clammy hand into his. He clung on, his tremors matching the pounding of her heart.
Tessier, Laroche and three others ransacked the pews, overthrowing fallen rafters and chunks of stone. Tessier smashed the niche with his mallet and the last of the rainwater poured onto the floor.
Capon and his men returned. All looked disgruntled and slightly dusty.
‘Any luck?’ Laroche demanded as the men gathe
red in the central aisle.
They shook their heads and Laroche seethed.
‘Keep looking,’ he barked. ‘That spy mentioned it and I want it found.’
Finch had guessed correctly. Skylark had known about the statue.
The men spread out further and Tessier approached the pillar where she’d undressed. Her ball clothes. She’d just left them there, not thinking.
As he walked closer she held her breath, willing him to go another way but an instant later he pounced on the dress and held it up with a sneer. ‘Madame Michaud wasn’t Swiss, I fear.’
Laroche approached and swiped it out of his hand. ‘Damn the woman. She must have snatched the letter too. Which means she knows about the statue.’
‘Laroche! Over here.’ Capon stood at the altar, his lantern shining down on the surface.
Laroche stalked across and glared down at the candle stub they’d left behind. He put his finger to the wick. ‘Still warm. Search the abbey and the graveyard,’ he snapped. ‘They can’t have gone far.’
Next to her, she felt Eugene’s chest rumble. She turned to him in panic but not soon enough. A loud cough exploded, echoing through the cavernous space.
Laroche spun in their direction, his lantern held high.
‘In the tunnel,’ Finch rasped.
The three of them turned and scrambled through the doorway. She slammed the door behind her and bolted the iron lock. Laroche’s roar rang in her ears followed by thumps and thuds on the door. Then she heard Tessier wield his mallet on the timber.
‘Eugene, you lead, and keep your fingers on the wall,’ cried Finch. She followed them both and plunged into the darkness.
It was good advice to touch the wall for reference because without a candle it was almost impossible to see in front of them. A cobweb caught in her hair as she ran. It smeared across her face and she spat out the web, gagging as the threads caught around her teeth.
A massive noise behind her announced the shattering of the door. Footsteps thundered into the tunnel. On a gasp she wiped her mouth and picked up speed.
The lanterns threw light on the tunnel roof as it curved away before her. They weren’t far behind. Somehow she must slow them down.
Fumbling for her pistol, she yanked it out of her waist-belt. Turned, released the half-cocked latch and fired. Someone staggered and fell with a groan. Her breath skipped a beat. She’d shot someone.
Curses and shouts echoed around the walls as other men crashed into the fallen man. Pushing the thought of him from her mind, she raced on as the light behind grew dimmer.
Finch suddenly appeared before her, breathing heavily. ‘Are you all right? I heard a shot.’
‘I’m fine.’ She thrust the pistol back into her waist-belt. ‘Where’s Eugene?’
‘Not far ahead. Come on!’
She plunged ahead, her fingers grazing the wall as she dragged in huge breaths. Faster. Faster!
A strange silver light glimmered on the tunnel walls. It bounced off the roof and lightened the darkness. That must be the exit and with a surge of relief she sped towards it.
All three of them broke out of a vine-covered opening under a hillock. An enormous tree, with roots that pushed into the earth, overshadowed it.
‘Keep running,’ Finch cried. They dashed across moonlit fields and market gardens, their footsteps loud as they dodged bogs and splashed into puddles. They ran, puffing hard, and pulled up at a large river.
‘What now?’ Eugene wheezed.
Good question. Finch stared at the flowing water then glanced behind him. ‘They’re coming.’
Several bobbing lights appeared behind them, moving closer. Frantically, she scanned the river. There wasn’t a boat in sight and they didn’t have time to swim across.
‘Up the tree,’ she said breathlessly, pointing to a dense spruce not twenty yards away.
They tore over and Finch practically threw Eugene up into the branches. She followed, hauling herself up with all the strength in her arms. It was prickly but they would be hidden, if only Eugene didn’t cough again. She reached over to him and covered his mouth with her hand. He stiffened but didn’t pull away.
Finch made it to the branch below her only a minute before Laroche and his men arrived. Out of a tiny gap in the branches, she watched as the foxlike diplomat held his lantern up high. The light didn’t penetrate the darkness for more than a few yards. Nothing moved and the only sounds were the far off hoot of an owl and the burble of the river.
‘Where the hell are they?’ Laroche demanded. He swung the lantern around in a circle then marched over to the tree line and held it up again. The weak light slid across their spruce, highlighting the green needles and the deep brown of the branches. She was sure they would be seen but the light moved on and they were plunged into shadow again.
‘Maybe they crossed the river,’ Tessier said.
Laroche strode over to the bank and played his lantern over the water. It looked treacherously dark and full of eels. ‘Go and check.’
Tessier, Capon and the other men scrambled down to the water’s edge. They peered into the reeds that lined the bank and poked amongst weeping willows that hung over the water. ‘Not here,’ Tessier called. ‘They must have found a boat or floated downstream.’
‘Damn them.’ Laroche snarled, pacing up and down the embankment. ‘They could be a mile away by now.’
Tessier climbed back up the slope. ‘Do you think they have the statue?’
‘Of course they bloody have it. It wasn’t in the abbey.’
Tessier looked downstream, his breath steaming in the cold air. ‘Then they’ll probably make for Dunkerque and try to get to England.’
Laroche whirled around with a growl, his lantern swinging wildly. ‘I’ll hunt them down before they get there. They can’t have gone far — and when I find them they won’t be spared.’
Chapter Thirteen
The sweet scent of the spruce needles filled her nostrils and she breathed deeply, trying to quell the nausea in her stomach. Laroche and his men were like hounds on a scent and they knew the countryside well. To outsmart them, they’d need a plan and a large dose of luck.
She clamped her teeth shut and listened to the sounds of the night. Frogs croaked amongst the river reeds and nocturnal insects hummed under the trees. All seemed normal. Yet Finch, experienced with ambushes, made them wait several minutes to ensure Laroche and his men had really gone.
‘I think we can leave,’ he said at last.
Thankful to move her cramped legs, she climbed down after Eugene. They all crouched at the base of the tree and scanned the darkened fields.
‘It’s a pity we didn’t find the statue,’ she said quietly. ‘Skylark obviously thought it important.’
‘But I’ve got it,’ Eugene whispered back. ‘It’s in my bag.’
‘What?’ Her breath hitched as Eugene rummaged in his saddle bag and pulled out a figurine no larger than his palm.
‘For the love of Mary,’ Finch muttered.
Under the weak moonlight it was too dark to see the statue clearly but it was definitely a robed shepherd with a stag beside him. ‘Eugene, that’s wonderful,’ she whispered. ‘When did you have time to get this?’
‘When you fired your pistol. I got such a fright I fell against a small ledge on the tunnel wall. I remembered the statue sat on a ledge so I reached up and there it was.’
She gave him a hug. ‘You’re marvelous.’
Eugene grinned. ‘Told you I’d be useful.’
Finch chuckled and her heart warmed to the sound, knowing he must be as thrilled as her. For once, luck had gone their way.
‘Unfortunately the writing’s too hard to read,’ Adeline said, leaning closer to peer at the tiny script on the back of the statue. ‘We’ll have to wait until daylight.’
Eugene put the figurine back into his saddle bag while Finch scanned the fields again.
‘We must get going,’ Finch murmured. ‘There’s no telling if Laroche m
ight return and search the river again.’
‘If he does,’ she said, ‘he’ll probably concentrate on the lower section, thinking we’ve gone towards the Dunkerque road. The only way to avoid him will be to cross here and follow the marshy area on the other side. From what I remember of Peregrine’s map, the marsh borders a forest that stretches all the way to Bourbourg.’
Finch’s body tensed beside her. ‘How do you intend to cross?’
‘We can swim. It won’t be hard.’
A pause. ‘Are you sure swimming is the best idea?’ Finch said. ‘We’ll get wet and cold and we have miles to travel.’
That might be uncomfortable but they had to put as much distance between themselves and Laroche’s men as soon as possible.
‘I think we must,’ she said firmly. ‘Laroche probably thinks we only want the statue. He doesn’t know we’ve also come for Skylark and by crossing here we can travel to Bourbourg undetected.’
‘We could find a bridge instead,’ Finch persisted. ‘Or a boat. There must be one nearby.’
‘We don’t have time to look.’
‘But if we swim we run the risk of getting sick.’
Since when had Finch worried about his health? As far as she had seen, he’d been fearless in facing the enemy, never giving a thought to his own safety. Granted, he was more experienced in matters of spying but he seemed curiously reluctant to take the simplest option.
‘We can dry out as we walk.’ She sat down to remove her boots.
Eugene fidgeted and Finch looked a picture of obstinacy. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said, ‘we can’t take all night.’ She frowned at Finch who hadn’t moved. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
The far-off owl hooted again, its call haunting and plaintive in the quiet marshlands.
‘I can’t swim,’ he muttered.
Her jaw dropped. She’d thought he could do anything.
‘I can’t swim either,’ Eugene piped up, clearly relieved not to be the only one.
She hadn’t expected this. But then they weren’t Cornish fisher folk, brought up with the ocean in their blood. On a sigh she retied her boots and stood up. ‘Well, a bridge or boat it is, although the only bridge I recall from Peregrine’s map is the one at Saint-Omer and Laroche went that way.’
An Unwilling Spy Page 14
