TW02 The Timekeeper Conspiracy NEW (18 page)

"Nice an'easy...."

"Riiight."

"Nie an' easy...."

"What's the plan, Tonio?"

"B'ingham..."

"Buckingham, right, we guessed as much. Go on."

"M'us'teers... Di'mon stus..."

"All right, now we're getting somewhere," Mongoose said. He turned to the agents standing behind him. "We'll have this wrapped up by tonight." He turned back to the terrorist. "All right, we know that the musketeers are going to be sent out to retrieve the diamond studs from Buckingham. What's Taylor going to—"

Tonio suddenly jerked back in his chair. Blood began pour-ing from his ears, mouth, nose and eyes.

"Son of a bitch!"
Mongoose jumped up, toppling his chair. Furiously, he kicked the chair across the room. Tonio's head lolled grotesquely against the back of the chair he was tied to. Blood dripped down onto his clothing, made droplets on the floor.

"What the hell happened?" said one of the other agents, rushing up to inspect the body. "How could he—"

Mongoose turned away. "Explosive implant," he said, flatly. "Detonated by remote control. Poor bastard probably didn't even know about it. Those tooth capsules were there just to throw us off. Taylor hasn't missed a trick."

"Jesus."

"I took a long shot and it backfired," Mongoose said. "We should've taken Bennett right from the beginning, instead of using him as bait."

"Want us to bring him in now?"

Mongoose nodded. "Yeah. Bring him in. But don't be rough with him. He'll probably be very glad to see you. He's got no friends now and he'll be scared. I think he'll want to talk."

"Suppose he's got one of those explosive implants, too?"

"Not a chance. Taylor would've detonated it, instead of sending people after him. No, good ole Doc Bennett's prob-ably the guy who did the operation. It's nice and simple. A little shot while you're asleep and five minutes later, presto, walking time bomb."

"Some doctor."

"You're wasting time. I want Bennett in my custody before nightfall. He gave us the slip with that clever secret passage-way and it may cost him his life. Get out there and find him before Freytag does."

"You know what I've been thinking?" Finn asked Lucas.

Lucas belched and patted his stomach. "What?"

"I've been thinking that we got a raw deal. We soldier our damn buns off and all these characters ever do is drink and brawl and screw. Some life, huh? Join the king's musketeers and get paid for raising hell."

They had joined the musketeers for dinner at Moreau's Tavern and, after stuffing themselves until they couldn't possibly eat another mouthful, Finn and Lucas sat kicked back against the wall, sipping wine and watching as Porthos and D'Artagnan regaled the crowd with an impromptu demonstration of the finer points of swordsmanship. Several tables had been pushed aside for the two to occupy the center of the room, where Porthos was discoursing upon the ad-vantages of the Parisian style of fencing over the Florentine style. The Parisian style, as defined by Porthos, consisted of holding a rapier in one hand and a wine goblet in the other. He kept up a steady stream of chatter as he parried D'Artagnan's playful thrusts with exaggerated flourishes of his sword and Moreau's customers were loving it, guffawing, shouting "Well struck!" and pounding on the tables.

Aramis, emphasizing that he was preparing for the clergy, occupied himself with trying to convert the prostitutes. One at a time, he took them upstairs to lecture them upon the virtues of clean living and piety.

"I keep thinking about what Mongoose said," said Lucas. "I just find it hard to believe that one of the musketeers could be an impostor. Surely, it can't be D'Artagnan. Porthos seems like the real thing, all right, and Aramis—"

"If one of them is an impostor," said Delaney, "I'd say that this is our most likely candidate, right here."

Athos came back to the table, having left to get more wine. He sat down heavily and set several bottles on the table, bot-tles that were refilled periodically from casks Moreau had in his cellar.

"This wine is swill," said Athos, "but my throat is parched and I'll settle for almost anything. Come, Francois, Alex-andre, drink up. It's our duty to get rid of all this garbage so Moreau can go out and buy some decent wine."

They refilled their goblets. Athos kicked back his chair to lean against the wall beside them. He frowned as he saw Aramis heading upstairs with yet another potential convert.

"Women," he said, scornfully. "They'll be the death of him yet." He was slurring his words slightly.

"It's a wonder he hasn't gotten himself poxed already."

"You don't much care for women, do you?" Lucas said.

"I have no use for them."

"No romance? Never been in love?"

Athos stared out into the center of the room, eyes un-focused, seeing something other than the swordplay and the crowd.

"Once," he said, softly.

"What, just once?"

"It was enough, my friend. I will say, rather, that it was much more than enough. I was young and foolish and
in love,"
he said those words as though they were an epithet, "and I did not do well in my selection of a mistress." Jerking his head slightly, as if suddenly aware that he had said more than he meant to, he reached out and grabbed one of the bot-tles off the table, knocking over two others in the process.

"I have another mistress now," he said, loudly, brandishing the bottle. "She's loyal and true and never strays far from my reach. She never fails to satisfy me; she never lets me down. She fills me to the brim with her warmth of loving kindness and she does not deceive me. Veritas in vino!" he shouted, raising the bottle high in a violent gesture that toppled him from his chair. He fell to the floor and remained there, dead drunk.

Lucas glanced down at him. "You were saying?" he said to Finn.

"On the other hand, maybe it's one of the others," Finn said.

Lucas didn't say anything. Delaney glanced at him and saw that he was staring intently out toward the center of the room. A young, elegantly dressed cavalier had come down the stairs and he was circling around the mock combat in the center of the room, heading toward the door.

Misinterpreting his stare as an effort to keep his eyes in focus, Finn rocked his chair back down, away from the wall, and set his goblet down upon the table.

"Hell," he said, "I've had about enough. What do you say we call it a night?"

Lucas glanced at him sharply. "
What did you say?"

"I
said, what do you say we call it a night?"

Lucas rocked his chair forward so hard that the few remain-ing upright bottles on the table were knocked over, spilling their contents onto the floor and into Delaney's lap.

"Christ, what's with you?" said Delaney, jumping up.

Lucas stared at the door, through which the young cavalier had passed seconds earlier.

"De la Croix"
he said, softly.

"What? Lucas, what's the matter with you? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I have," he said. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Come
on,
I said! Hurry, before we lose him!"

"Lose
who?"

"The red knight!"

"The . . .
what?"
Lucas was heading for the door, pushing his way through.

They followed the young cavalier carefully, keeping their distance and staying in the shadows.

"Lucas, are you
sure?"
said Finn. "It couldn't be a mis-take?"

"I told you, I never forget a face," said Lucas, vehemently. "The last time I saw that face, it belonged to the woman who was with Jack Bennett. And the time before that, it was in 12th-century England."

Delaney shook his head. "That's crazy. You've had too much to drink. It's a physical resemblance, that's all. It
can't
be the same man!"

"Then what was he doing with Jack Bennett, an under-ground contact? I
told
you I saw that woman before. No won-der I couldn't recognize her! She was a man
dressed
as a woman! I'm telling you, Finn, that's Andre de la Croix!"

Finn thought back to their mission in the 12th century and to a mercenary knight who had sold his services to Prince John of Anjou. Lucas had met him in the lists at Ashby and had taken such a battering that he hadn't been able to see straight for hours.

"He must have been in the underground all the time!" said Finn. "What's he doing here?"

"That's what I intend to find out," said Lucas. They were in the Rue des Fossoyeurs. The cavalier went up to No. 14 and knocked on the door. "That's D'Artagnan's house!" said Lucas.

Finn glanced behind them, but he couldn't see anything in the dark streets. "If Mongoose has his people tailing us, I hope to hell they're not sleeping on the job," he said. "This could get nasty."

They crept up to the window and peered inside. The cavalier was seated at a table, talking with an old man whom they had last seen entering the house in the Rue St. Honore.

"Jack Bennett," whispered Finn. "What the hell is going on here?"

"It looks like Mongoose was right," said Lucas. "Our friend D'Artagnan is a Timekeeper."

"I can't believe it," said Delaney. "D'Artagnan
can't
be an impostor!"

"You have any other explanation?"

"No, but... it just doesn't fit. It would mean that they've had us made right from the very start, before we even arrived in Paris!"

"Well, there's only one way we're ever going to know for sure," said Lucas. He went over to the door and pounded on it.

Someone said, "Who knocks?"

In a perfect imitation of D'Artagnan's voice, Lucas said, "Damn you, Bonacieux, let me in! I've forgotten my key!"

A moment later, the door was unlatched and as the person on the other side started to open it, Lucas shouldered his way in with Finn following close behind.

Jack Bennett was knocked back into the wall. Andre de la Croix leapt up, rapier drawn.

"We meet again, Sir Knight," Lucas said, speaking in Nor-man.

De la Croix hesitated, obviously taken aback. Bennett clawed for something in his pocket, but the point of Finn's rapier was at his throat in an instant.

"Don't do it," Finn said, in English. "Let's have it. Slowly."

With a look of resignation, Bennett handed over his laser.

"Who
are
you?" said Andre.

"It is you, isn't it?" said Lucas. "Andre de la Croix. What do you call yourself in Paris?"

"How do you know me?"

"We've met before," said Lucas. "In the lists, on the field of Ashby."

"At
Ashby?
Impossible. I don't—"

"I'll refresh your memory," said Lucas, switching to En-glish. "You wore red armor and had a fleury cross for your shield device. I wore white and my shield device was an up-rooted oak. I remember being quite impressed with your abili-ties. I never dreamt that you were underground."

"She isn't," Bennett said. "At least, she wasn't then."

"She?"

"Take a good, close look," said Bennett. "Andre is a woman."

Finn had put away his sword and was now covering Bennett with the laser. "What is this?" he said.

"What are you trying to pull?"

Moving slowly, keeping his hands in plain sight, Bennett walked over to a chair and sat down.

"You're commandos, aren't you?" he said. "An adjust-ment team?"

"That's right," said Finn, watching him closely.

Bennett seemed relieved. "Andre, we have to cooperate with these men. They are soldiers from the future."

Andre nodded. She put her rapier and her dagger down upon the table and slowly approached Lucas.

"That's far enough," said Lucas, when she was almost within arm's reach of him.

"I am unarmed," she said, "and your friend can kill me easily."

She held out her hands to Lucas.

"Your hand," she said.

Hesitantly, Lucas lowered his rapier and stretched out his free hand to her. She came closer and took his left hand in both of hers, pressing it against her chest, then slowly moving it down between her legs.

There was nothing sexual in the con-tact at all. She kept her eyes on his, watching for a reaction. She was surprised at what she saw. It was not at all what she had expected.

Lucas raised his eyebrows only slightly and said, "All right, so you're a woman. What does that prove?"

She glanced at Bennett, uncertainly.

"She's a unique woman," Bennett said. "The term that's used is
displaced person."

Now Lucas really looked surprised. "Are you telling me that—"

"That she is not now nor has she ever been a soldier of the Temporal Corps," said Bennett. "Briefly, she was born in the 12th century and orphaned as a child. She started passing for male at an early age and through a series of fascinating cir-cumstances, she acquired the abilities that enabled her to become a mercenary knight errant. I don't know the full story, but she was brought to this time by a friend of mine whom she met in medieval England. Hunter had intended for her to—"

"Reese Hunter?"
said Finn.

Now Bennett looked surprised. "You knew him?"

"Knew?" said Lucas. "Past tense?"

"Yes," said Bennett. "He's dead. Assassinated by a ter-rorist named Silvera, who believed him to be a TIA agent. Hunter came to Paris with Andre to seek me out for the pur-pose of obtaining a black market implant for Andre. I've been a major contact and supplier in the underground for many years. To my everlasting sorrow, Hunter arrived at a time when I was involved in a terrorist plot with the Timekeepers. I was with them when he came looking for me. In inquiring as to my whereabouts, Hunter must have attracted the attention of the Timekeepers, who took him to be an agent. They trailed him to his rooms at the Luxembourg Hotel—"

"The Luxembourg!" said Finn.

Bennett frowned. "Yes, that's right. I thought you looked familiar. You were the men we passed on the stairs."

"Continue," Lucas said.

Bennett sighed. "Hunter was followed to the Luxembourg and killed there. Fortunately, Andre was not there at the time. On the other hand, if she was there, she might have prevented it. She's altogether a remarkable young woman. Well. At any rate, they must have staked out the hotel. When I received word that Hunter was in Paris and staying at the Luxembourg, I immediately went to see him. That was when I met Andre. By that time, Hunter was already dead and she was alone in the hotel with his body, not knowing how to dispose of it, who had killed him, or why he had been killed. I was seen going into the hotel, to Hunter's room. Naturally, the Timekeepers assumed I had betrayed them to the TIA and Silvera broke into the room with the intention of killing me and taking Andre prisoner. However, Andre managed to kill Silvera first." Bennett was reciting the story in a flat and weary tone of voice. "We had to smuggle both bodies out of the hotel—"