As Marie ran off, moving like a pigeon trying to get out of the rain, Andre bent down and opened up the chest. She removed her rapier and her dagger, laid them down on Bennett's desk, then began to strip. When Marie returned, carrying a bulky cloth bag, she found a young cavalier waiting for her in the library. She took one look at the black-clad swordsman and gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth.
"It's only me, Marie," said Andre.
"Mademoiselle Andre? But how-"
"They'll be looking for a woman," Andre said. "They won't look twice at a gentleman escorting an old woman home. Come, we'll pack just these few things. I will not need the rest."
Moments later, they were descending the stone steps down into the tunnel.
Simon Hawke
The Timekeeper Conspiracy
"Buckingham's away, then," Taylor said. "Good. We can now put our plan into motion. Did you have any trouble with the cardinal's guards?"
"No trouble," Freytag said, sipping from a glass of wine. "In fact, I hardly had to do anything at all. When the guards moved in, two men came to D'Artagnan's rescue."
"Ah, that would be our friends the musketeers," said Taylor.
"I don't think so," Freytag said. "Not unless one of them knows karate."
"Karate?"
Freytag nodded and took a big swallow of wine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his beefy hand. "One of them laid a spinning back kick on one of the guards," he said. "Dropped him with a heel right to the temple. Very pretty. I couldn't have done it better, myself. Their swordsmanship was very interesting. Textbook perfect. Unless I miss my guess, they've both had experience with swords other than rapiers. They showed some interesting variations. I'll lay odds that the big guy would be a mean man with a katana."
"What's that?"
"A large Japanese sword. Used by the samurai."
"Samurai! Are you certain?"
"Weapons are my specialty, Adrian. You know that."
"Do you realize what that means? They've sent in commandos!"
"Well, you did say you liked a challenge."
"Not a word of this to Tonio or Jimmy, you understand? Jimmy already seems a little shaky to me. I think we'd best keep an eye on him."
"What does it matter?" Freytag said. "We don't need either him or Tonio. They were both expendable, right from the beginning, just like Silvera."
"They must never suspect that," Taylor said. "It's essential to the plan that they believe…" His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment. In a second, they became animated once again and a slow, sultry smile spread across the face of Milady de Winter. "You're quite right, Bruno. It doesn't really matter, does it? The more people they send in, the greater the risk of temporal contamination. That plays right into our hands. Would you know these men if you saw them again?"
"It was dark. I'm afraid I didn't get a very good look at them. I couldn't say if I'd recognize them again."
"Well, no matter. I want you to take a letter to my good friend, the cardinal. After all, he has an interest in the Buckingham affair and it's time to prod him into the next stage of our operation."
8
The carriage pulled up in front of the tavern on the outskirts of Paris. It was accompanied by a small troop of mounted guards. Rochefort dismounted and entered the tavern, followed by several of the guards. Two of them stationed themselves outside the front door. Another two grabbed the bewildered, suddenly frightened innkeeper and frogmarched him into the kitchen, where they stayed with him and the other help. Rochefort glanced around the tavern, seeing that he was quite alone. There was the sound of a door opening above him and he heard a soft footfall. His rapier sang free of its scabbard. He looked up and saw Milady de Winter standing at the railing above him, looking down.
"There is no one else here except my man," she said.
"Milady," Rochefort said. He crossed the room and went to the door, opening it and nodding at someone in the carriage. A man in a dark, long cloak and buff riding boots stepped out. He wore a large, slightly droopy hat pulled low over his face. He walked quickly to the front door of the tavern and entered. Rochefort stood aside to let him pass, bowing slightly as he did.
Once inside, the man removed his well-worn gloves and hat, revealing himself as a gray-haired, distinguished-looking gentleman of about thirty-six or thirty-seven years with piercing eyes, a prominent nose, and a sharply pointed imperial goatee surmounted by long, curled moustaches. He glanced up to see Milady de Winter descending the stairs toward him.
"This penchant of yours for mysterious, out-of-the-way assignations grows somewhat tiresome, Milady," he said, tossing his hat and gloves onto a table. "You did say it was important."