Duval and the Infernal Machine (Napoleon's Police Book 1) Page 13

  “Wasn’t everybody an enemy of the Republic then, if it suited Robespierre and the other men in power? At least that man — did you say his name was Limoëlan?”

  Fournier nodded.

  “At least he had a good reason to hate the Revolution and all its leaders,” I murmured.

  “True, but hate is one thing, indiscriminate bombing is another. Bonaparte escaped and a lot of innocent people didn’t. Probably some of them might even have been Royalists too.”

  “I wasn’t trying to defend him.”

  “Pity they didn’t talk before, though. I doubt we’ll find any of the others now. If they’ve any sense, they’re back in Brittany or fled the country. They’d be heroes in Austria, even though they didn’t succeed. We’ve got agents out searching Paris for them and the roads are watched, but it’ll be too late, I’m sure.”

  I agreed. It would take a miracle to find them now. Miracles don’t happen in France any more, if they ever did, despite what the priests used to tell us. Then I had a sudden thought.

  “One of them might have been still in Paris a few days ago, though,” I said. “Remember my man with the gold in the bread shop? I searched for him, as you know, but I didn’t have any success.”

  “He’s probably long gone by now. He could have left right after you saw him. Even then, he was stupid or foolhardy to stay so long.”

  Fournier pulled out the roll of sketches. It had been sitting on a shelf, untouched since Gilbert had died. Fournier looked at his list and started to scribble names on the bottom of some of the drawings.

  “The man with the scar is Carbon, as you already know. Saint-Régeant has the beard. From the description, this young man must be Limoëlan, the son of the guillotined noble.”

  I gasped. Then I snatched the sketch out of his hands.

  “What a fool I am. Why didn’t I look at these before! That’s him! That’s where I saw him before — on the night of the bombing! He’s my man in the bread shop; the man with the gold. I thought his behaviour was suspicious! I mustn’t have described him properly when this was drawn. His nose and his eyebrows are wrong. No wonder I didn’t recognise him. I haven’t looked at these sketches for ages.”

  “So now you can at least put a name to the face,” Fournier said, taking the sketch and scribbling Limoëlan’s name beneath his picture.

  “I can, but I’m not sure it gets us any further forward.”

  “It might. I think you’ll have to go back to the hunt in case he is still lurking around the area where you saw him before. Forget von Braun. One of the others can watch him. Take the sketch. I’ll show the other copy to various people, including my snitches and tell you if anything comes of it. Now that we know who he is, we might be lucky.”

  “He’s unlikely to be using his own name.”

  “True, but you can show the sketch and describe him better. Go now.”

  “Laurent told me to wait for him,” I objected.

  “I’ll speak to Laurent. Nothing would please him more than to keep you on routine work, especially if you have a better chance of catching this crook. Watching von Braun is a thankless task. The man has a German accent, which he could have if he comes from Alsace, as he claims. He’s had a couple of packets sent to him from Switzerland as he might, if he’s a clockmaker. The Swiss make fine parts for clocks. He has more money than he should have, if he’s living on his earnings, but he wouldn’t be the first tradesman to have other sources of income. Perhaps he inherited it.”

  I was looking astonished at his outburst. “Have you said all this to Laurent?”

  Fournier grinned. “Of course I have, but he took no notice of me, as usual. Von Braun was reported to him as being suspicious and so he has to be watched, just in case he’s a spy. Mind you I’d do the same thing in Laurent’s shoes. Better to send us minions out in the cold to keep watch, than let a dangerous spy slip though our hands.”

  “I understand.”

  “You don’t, but you will. Anyway, whether von Braun is innocent or guilty, it need not concern you for the moment. You’re the only one of us who saw the bombers, so it’s logical for you to finish the chase if you can. Laurent would only be too happy to tie you up on other jobs for weeks. He’d be furious if you found any more of the scélérats. At least he could give the credit for the ones we’ve bagged to Gilbert. This time you’re on your own and everyone would know if you were successful. For some reason he doesn’t seem to like you.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “Laurent dislikes most people. You’re just the latest in a long line. Most of us have learned to work round him. You will too, in time. Now go quickly, before he comes back and sends you to von Braun’s or assigns you to find somebody who’s robbed a couple of sous off a whore.”

  I laughed, but I took his advice and left. I didn’t like returning to the hunt but, now that I had a name and a drawing, I had a glimmer of hope. At least I might find out where Limoëlan had been. Perhaps even where he had gone to, for I was quite sure he was no longer in Paris.

  17

  I left Fournier and walked down the stairs into the lower entrance hall, when I heard murmurs and movement in front of me. As I turned the corner, my way was blocked by a group of people lining the walls. They looked as if they were waiting for something to happen. I recognised several agents and pushed through to ask one of them, Arnoud, what was going on.

  “They’ve been questioning Maître Chagrin upstairs and now they’re bringing him down here to take him to prison. We’ve all heard so much about him and his exploits that everyone wants to find out what he looks like.”

  I realised that I did too and I was in no hurry, as long as I avoided Laurent. He wasn’t around and I couldn’t get through the crowd anyway, which grew bigger every moment. So I stayed beside Arnaud.

  “What’s going to happen to Chagrin?”

  “Prison and further questioning, I expect. The rumour says that Petit’s got nothing from him so far and he’s supposed to have caches of treasure hidden all over Paris. I’d like to get my hands on some of it.”

  “Me too. Who wouldn’t?”

  The group nearer the stairs started to shuffle and crane their heads.

  “He must be coming now.”

  I suppose it was some sort of tribute to the man, but he was surrounded by troopers from the National Guard. Both Petit and Laurent followed him. I crouched a little so Laurent would not spot me. Fortunately he never even glanced in my direction.

  At first Chagrin was lost among the press of bodies, then the crowd moved and I saw him clearly for the first time. I went rigid with shock. The face I looked at was dirty and a trickle of blood ran down his cheek but I immediately recognised him — the man I knew as Lefebvre!

  His eyes looked glazed and blank, as if he was trying to ignore everything happening to him. I must have moved involuntarily and he caught sight of me. His eyes met mine and held them. In that instant, I saw recognition, fear and a terrible mute appeal for help. Then they hustled him out of the door and into a waiting carriage.

  I remember standing there like a statue for a long moment, until Arnaud said, “What’s the matter with you?”

  “With me? Nothing.”

  “ Strange-looking fellow isn’t he?”

  “You’d certainly never think he was a master criminal to look at him.”

  “That’s probably been the reason for his success all these months.”

  “I suppose so, but he’s caught now. Do you know which prison he’s being taken to?”

  Arnaud shrugged. “No, but ask the doorman if you’re so interested. He’ll have heard the instructions.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded to him and went outside to talk to the doorman. As Arnaud said, the man knew where they had taken Lefebvre.

  “To the Chȃtelet.”

  My heart sank. The Chȃtelet is one of the worst prisons in Paris. None of them are pleasant but the rumours about this one are vile. It’s in an area well known for crime and it’s sa
id that the most gruesome tortures take place within its walls.

  “What’s your interest?” the doorman asked me.

  “Nothing really, just curiosity. He won’t be able to buy his way out of that one, even if he does have money stashed away.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” said the man. “Money opens most doors and men have to live. We’ll find out later if you’re right. Want to bet on it?” He tapped his nose and gave me a wink.

  “Not me. I’m broke.”

  “Pity.”

  I walked away, down street after street. I have no idea where I went and what I intended to do next. For a long time I couldn’t get my thoughts into order. Any idea of immediately continuing my search for Limoëlan went right out of my mind. I kept remembering the appeal in Lefebvre’s eyes. On the one hand, Lefebvre was a notorious criminal who had been caught in the act. On the other hand, he saved my life and, without him, I would most certainly be dead. Also, he was in some sort of way, my friend.

  I thought about the things he was supposed to have done — several large robberies from jewellers and those who lent money for interest. His victims had been rich and none of them had been ruined by the theft, for they remained in business. He did not injure anyone in his burglaries. A couple of night watchmen had been bound and gagged, but neither of them was otherwise harmed. He succeeded by cleverness and waiting for the right opportunity, until this last attempt, which had gone so terribly wrong.

  I sighed. If I did nothing, Lefebvre would be tortured until he told everything he knew. He would undoubtedly be convicted and sentenced to the guillotine or the living death of transportation. Doing nothing was what a proper police agent should do, but I had not been a police agent very long. My job had not even been made permanent yet. In the army, if a man saves your life you owe him. If you get the opportunity, you must return the favour. You don’t just leave him to his fate, if you can do anything about it. But what should I do? He would already be at the prison and the torture might be starting. That thought hit me like a blow. I would not be able to live with myself afterwards, if I ignored the whole affair. Perhaps I would be unable to help him, but I must try. I could at least see him, although whether that would do him any good was debatable.

  I hurried off to the Chȃtelet, which lived up to its reputation. It looked and smelt foul, dank and drear. I had an argument with the guard at the gate. I thought for a while he would not let me in, despite showing him my pass and mentioning the names of Laurent and Petit. Eventually I resorted to bribery and had no further trouble. The guard told me that Lefebvre was here and no one was with him as yet. He pointed to the guardroom and said that one of the men there would take me to him if I greased his palm as well. I did so, figuring the more friends I had in this place the better. The guard said he would wait for me while I talked with Lefebvre and show me the way out.

  They had put Lefebvre into a small box-like cell. He was alone, which was unusual. Most cells hold lots of prisoners. Perhaps his notoriety gave him special status or maybe they were afraid he would talk to the wrong people. Then they might lose their share of the loot. I breathed a sigh of relief. It certainly made my job easier.

  Lefebvre had been lying on some filthy straw in a corner of the cell. He started to get up as the door opened. The look on his face was one of acute anxiety, but his expression lightened when he saw it was me. Neither of us said a word until the door had been locked and the guard’s footsteps retreated down the corridor.

  “What are you doing here?” he hissed.

  “I came to get you out of here, you fool,” I replied.

  He grinned at that, a bit lopsidedly for his mouth was bruised and sore. “You’ll be lucky. And why should I trust you, mon brave? You’re on their side now.”

  “You’ll trust me because you saved my life and I’m a man who pays my debts. We don’t have time to argue about it. Do you want my help or not?”

  “All help is welcome, if you mean it?”

  “I do, but this place is a fortress. It won’t be easy to spring you from here.”

  “It will be, if you can take a message for me. I doubt any of my other friends would be able to get in — even if they bribe everyone in the place and half Paris as well. I was afraid they’d keep me isolated and the guard has orders not to let anyone in. How did you manage it?”

  “Bribery and my police permit.”

  “Lucky for me you chose this profession, Soldier. Told you I might need your help one day.”

  “And here I am. What do you want me to do?”

  “A friend of mine lives over an apothecary’s shop on the Rue de Lille. His name is Jacques Martin. Tell him where I am. He’ll know what to do, but hurry. I’d prefer to leave here with a whole skin if possible.” He grinned again, but he looked nervous. Both of us wondered how long he had left before the torturers came. Petit would certainly want to be present when they worked on him, so he probably only had until the celebrations ended. I didn’t have much time.

  I turned from Lefebvre and banged on the cell door. He touched me lightly on the arm. I looked at him and found out he was holding out his hand to me. I took it and he said,

  “Thank you, Soldier, whatever happens.”

  I nodded but had no time to reply before the door opened and the guard stood waiting to lead me out.

  The apothecary’s shop was easily found and Jacques Martin, the apothecary, was inside. He was wary of me at first, but changed rapidly as I told him my tale and give him Lefebvre’s message. Then he nodded.

  “Will you help us?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Then this is what I want you to do...”

  He sent me to a nearby stables to fetch a closed carriage. One of the ostlers, Joseph, left his work and drove it for me to a street close by the prison. There we waited. After a while, we could hear some sort of disturbance. I put my head out of the window but couldn’t see anything. The shouting was coming from the direction of the prison.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, but Joseph just shrugged and did not answer.

  A few moments later, without any warning, the carriage door banged opened and several people tumbled inside.

  “Drive on!” One of them shouted. Joseph whipped up the horses and we clattered away rapidly. I shifted myself from under the burly man who had toppled onto me and looked into the grinning face of Lefebvre.

  “You made it!” I laughed, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

  “Thanks to you, Soldier. Didn’t I tell you Martin would know what to do?” He clouted the apothecary on the arm. The man was smiling.

  “How..?” I started to ask, but Martin stopped me.

  “What you don’t know you can’t tell.”

  “True enough.”

  After we had been driving for some time, going this way and that down twisting streets, Lefebvre reached up and knocked on the driver’s partition. The horses slowed and stopped.

  “We’ll let you out here, Soldier. Better for all of us if you’re not spotted in our company.”

  “Will we meet again?”

  “Do you want to? It could be dangerous for both of us.”

  I shrugged. “I’m willing to risk it. At Bourienne’s?” I asked.

  “Better not. Louis would be only too happy to turn me in for a sou or nothing at all. There’s a tavern near the Porte Denis – the Grenouille. I’ll be there tomorrow at nine. Come alone.”

  “I will.”

  18

  The

  Grenouille was easily found. A small malodorous place, nestling beside the Porte Denis. I arrived a little late. My duties had kept me in the Ministry, which was in an uproar after Lefebvre’s ‘miraculous’ escape. Petit was inconsolable and everyone’s temper was frayed. I tried to act concerned along with the rest of them, but I wondered how good an actor I really was. Fournier, who knew me best, wore a strange expression on his face when he looked at me. I ignored him and left as quickly as I could.

  At first, I tho
ught Lefebvre was not in the tavern, until someone slid into the seat beside me. I turned sharply to tell him the place was taken when he stopped me.

  “Whoa, Soldier. It’s me.”

  “What have you done to yourself?” A very different Lefebvre sat there. His fair hair had been dyed dark brown, his neat outfit replaced by workman’s clothes. He looked as if he had been out in the sunshine - his skin was now the deep tan that you see on farmers or seafarers. A bristly beard had been attached to his chin and he seemed taller. The only thing about him that had stayed the same was his eyes, which laughed into mine.

  “Dye, different clothes and lifts in my boots. It’s helpful to be friends with a chemist.”

  “I would never have known you, except for your voice.”

  “Let’s hope the others think as you do, especially that thrice damned little creep, Petit.”

  “He’s weeping over his loss.”

  “Good.” Lefebvre reached into his pocket and dropped a leather purse on the table in front of me. It clinked.

  “What’s this?”

  “My way of rewarding you for helping me.”

  The anger flared up inside me. I swept the bag off the table and onto his lap.

  “I don’t want your god-damn money. I didn’t help you for any reward.”

  “If you hadn’t come, I might not have got the message out before they came for me.”

  “We’re even then.”

  Lefebvre put the bag back on the table. “Take it. I know what the Ministry pays you and this is little enough in the circumstances.”

  “Don’t try to bribe me, Lefebvre. I don’t touch tainted money.” I don’t know why I was so cross, but no one had ever tried to buy me off before and it made me furious. I started to rise from my seat, but he caught my arm and pulled me back.