TW02 The Timekeeper Conspiracy NEW (21 page)

"What
can
they expect?" said Darcy, hesitantly.

"They can expect a crushing defeat when they return," said Milady. "Oh, I have no doubt that they will return safely with the diamond studs. I'm certain that, after that, it won't take them long to guess my plan. By that time, Richelieu, Queen Anne, and King Louis will have been assassinated."

"Assassinated!"
Darcy's voice was little more than a whis-per. "My God, Adrian, you can't do that!

Don't you realize what that would
mean?
It would cause a timestream split!"

"A rather massive one, I should think. With all three of them dead, France will be forced to abandon the siege of La Rochelle in the face of much greater problems. It will, without a doubt, affect France's participation in The Thirty Years' War and, of course, it would prevent the birth of Louis XIV. I should think it would be an absolute disaster, well beyond the hope of any effort at historical adjustment. And with Mon-goose and his agents running about like chickens with their heads cut off, it shouldn't be too difficult to isolate him and settle an old and outstanding score. Brilliant, don't you think?"

Darcy's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment and his hands began to shake. "
You're mad,"
he said at last. "Bruno, surely you can see he's mad! Our purpose, our whole reason for existence is to stop the war machine before something hap-pens that will irreversibly affect the course of history and that's precisely what he intends to do! He wants to cause the greatest disaster ever to befall mankind! It's megalomaniacal lunacy!"

Taylor stiffened and his eyes glazed over for a moment.

"Bruno, for God's sake, we've
got
to stop him!"

"Why?" said Freytag, softly.

Darcy turned pale. "You're both insane," he said. He pulled out his laser. "I'm not going to let you do it, Adrian. I won't let you throw away everything we've worked for all these years. It ends right here."

"You're right, Jimmy," Taylor said, his hand in a fold of his dress. "It ends right here ... for you." He pressed a but-ton.

Darcy gave a violent jerk, like a hooked trout breaking the surface of the water. His head snapped back and blood erupted from his nose and mouth. It trickled down his cheeks, seeping from his eyes, and it flowed from his ears and down his neck. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

"Now we can say that Doctor Bennett has fully served his purpose," Taylor said. "Bruno, will you join me in a glass of wine?"

D'Artagnan was awakened rudely, revived by a bucket of water dashed in his face. He sputtered and shook his head, then opened his eyes to see a frightened Constance peering down at him anxiously.

"That's the second time tonight you've doused me," he said. He ran his hand through his wet hair and sniffed it. "At least this time it was water."

"I was terrified," said Constance, clutching her torn dress about herself. "I thought you were killed!"

"I almost wish I was," D'Artagnan said, getting up slowly and rubbing his head. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled his pants up. "What happened?"

"The cardinal's men arrested your two friends," she said.

"This is the second time they've run afoul of Richelieu's men on my account," D'Artagnan said. "I must get my clothes—"

"I've brought them down for you," she said. Somewhat sheepishly, she added, "If you were dead, then I thought it best to dress you, so that you would not be found so...."

"Yes, I quite understand," D'Artagnan said, putting on his clothes. "Thank you."

"What are you going to do?"

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

"Then there is no time to lose. I must first go to Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, then together we must go to Captain de Treville. Perhaps he will be able to intercede for Francois and Alexandre. In any case, we will have to obtain leave from him to go to London. I will tell him that we go in the queen's name, he will understand. We must leave tonight."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go to the queen," D'Artagnan said. "Tell her that we will bring back the diamond studs. And stay with her. She will be able to protect you from Richelieu's men. But you cannot go looking like that."

"I have other clothing in the palace," Constance said. "It will do until you buy me that closetful of dresses." D'Artagnan looked pained.

"I can wrap myself in my cloak," said Constance. "Do not worry about me. Just save the queen."

"We must move quickly, then," D'Artagnan said. "If we do not reach Milord Buckingham with all possible speed, then Richelieu will surely win the day. I will escort you as far as the Louvre, then I must fly like the wind. Come, quickly. There is much to be done before the night is out."

He took her hand and together they left the house, rushing off into the night. No sooner had the door closed behind them, than Bonacieux peeked out from his room, where he had been listening.

"So, the musketeers are off to London, eh?" he mumbled to himself, furious at having been deceived.

"That little piece of information should be worth something to my friend, the Count de Rochefort."

He threw on his cloak and hurried out into the street, heading toward the Rue des Bons Enfans.

Andre had nowhere to go. Jack Bennett had been her only friend in Paris and now he was dead, killed by men with laser weapons. He had told her that they must cooperate with the soldiers from the future, the men he had called commandos. The men who had killed him had been from the future also. All Andre knew was that they had attacked both Bennett and the commandos; therefore, they had to be the enemy, the men Bennett called the Timekeepers.

She was confused. She did not understand this timestream split they had spoken of, this changing of history. All she knew was that Bennett had said that they must help the sol-diers, that even though the soldiers had seemed to be at odds with Bennett, they had not harmed him, even though they had ample opportunity. Hunter had explained that to her. Both Hunter and Bennett had been underground, men who had de-serted from the army of the future. It was understandable that the soldiers should want to apprehend them, but they had rec-ognized that there was a more important task at hand.

She kept thinking about the soldier who had spoken to her in Norman, the one who had said that they had met before, upon the field of battle, in the lists at Ashby.

She remembered that day very well. The white knight with the uprooted oak upon his shield had challenged all the knights upon the Norman side. He had killed Front-de-Boeuf and unhorsed both De Bracy and Bois-Guilbert. When her turn had come, they rode at each other several times and the white knight had won, in spite of the wondrous armor that she had been given by her benefactor, the man who had learned her secret and had forced her into his service as payment for not revealing it.

She knew now that the man who had given her the strange, magical-seeming armor had been from the future also. Hunter had told her later that the armor had been crafted from a material known as nysteel, far lighter than the armor of her time, much more flexible and virtually impregnable. She had been caught in a battle between two opposing forces from the future and it was that which led to her meeting Hunter.

It still seemed like sorcery to her. They called it science, but it was all far beyond her understanding.

Hunter had attempted to explain "technology" to her and she had understood some of what he said, but it still seemed like magic. In a short time, her entire world had been turned upside down. She had be-come involved with people who could do things that defied belief; and yet, it was impossible to disbelieve, for she had seen these things. She was here, in Paris, centuries removed from her own time, their "science"

had made it possible. She had longed to understand it all. Hunter had promised her that, with an implant, all would be made clear to her. She was not even certain what an "implant" was, but now the man who could have given it to her was dead, killed by the Timekeepers. The man who had brought her to this time was dead, killed by the Timekeepers. And the soldiers from the future, one of whom she had met with in the lists and who had treated her much more than fairly when he won, had been taken prisoner

—again, by the Timekeepers.

Her course seemed clear. Her fate was tied to the soldiers from the future, the commandos, as Jack Bennett had called them. Her allegiance seemed clear, too. The leader of the Timekeepers, the man called Taylor who was now the woman called Milady, must die. From what she had understood, this Taylor was not merely disguising himself as a woman in the same manner as she disguised herself as a man. Somehow, with Jack Bennett's help, he had become a woman. Nothing surprised her anymore.

After what she had seen, she was con-vinced that these people could do anything. She had to help the two commandos somehow. If she helped them to defeat their enemy, perhaps they would give her the implant Hunter had promised her. Perhaps they would take her to their own time, where a woman could live as the equal of a man. The only other alternative was for her to live out the remainder of her life in Paris, in this time. Her choice was clear.

After she had escaped from her pursuers, she carefully doubled back to the house in the Rue des Fossoyeurs. She ar-rived in time to see, from the shelter of an alley across the street, the soldiers from the future being led away by the men who had killed Jack Bennett. They were not bound in any way, but then, she reflected, given the sort of weapons these men possessed, there was no need for it. Stealthily, she trailed them to a house in the Rue Servadoni.

She was uncertain as to what she should do next. She felt the laser in her pocket. She wasn't comfortable with so terrible a weapon. She had only used it once, on one of her pursuers, and its effectiveness was frightening. Still, she did not think that she could attack that house all by herself. There were more men in there than she could handle, each with a weapon just as devastating. She would have to bide her time and wait for an opportunity. At least she was relatively certain that the two soldiers were still alive. If the Timekeepers had wanted them dead, they would have killed them instead of taking them prisoner. Perhaps they were being tortured even as she waited. She bit her lower lip. For the moment, she could think of nothing she could do.

As she waited and watched, one of the men left the house and started walking briskly down the street. Perhaps, she thought, this would provide an opportunity. She followed him, being careful to keep her distance and not be seen. The night aided her in her efforts. The streets were poorly lit and full of shadows.

The man she followed was being cautious, constantly check-ing the street behind him, but in her black clothing, she was easily able to blend in with the shadows. After several blocks, he seemed more confident and did not check behind him, but walked purposefully through an alley and into the Rue Ferou. He walked for a short distance down the street, then slowed to a casual stroll. Andre decided that it was time to make her move. Slowly, she closed the distance between them. Then the man stopped.

Andre pressed herself flat against a building wall. She was so close to him that she could hear the low, almost inaudible whistle that he gave, three short notes, the third one rising, like a bird call. He waited a moment, then repeated it.

She heard an answering whistle, reversing the progression. The man ducked into an alley.

Andre kept to the side of the building, running up to the mouth of the alley. She could hear his footsteps going down the alley, then stop. The night was perfectly still. Somewhere, a baby cried.

Slowly, edging around the side of the building's corner so that she would not be silhouetted at the mouth of the alley, Andre crept into the alley.

"Freytag?" said the man that she had followed.

"Right here," said another voice, and she saw a giant shadow detach itself from the side of the building opposite. She stifled a gasp. The man was huge, monstrous.

"Everything's all set," said the first man. "I think it'll be tonight. The musketeers will probably be leaving around dawn or shortly before then. D'Artagnan was out like a light when we left, but Sparrow will make sure he comes around." He chuckled. "Our phony Madame Bonacieux has that Gascon cretin wrapped around her little finger."

"What about the two commandos?" Freytag said.

"They'll be exactly where I want them. By the time it all goes down, they'll be miles away, galloping across the French countryside with Richelieu's men harassing them every step of the way."

"What about your people?"

"Spread out. Most of them are already in position along the route that the musketeers will be taking.

They'll be standing by just to make sure that everything goes smoothly and ac-cording to the scenario. As soon as D'Artagnan gets the mus-keteers together, I'll send our two soldier boys out to join the party.

Their story will be that the cardinal's guards were none too gentle in their questioning, but since they didn't know any-thing, they were released. And of course, they immediately rushed back to see if their friend D'Artagnan was all right. It will give them the perfect excuse to join the musketeers on their trip to London."

"You'd better be right," said Freytag. "Personally, I'm not too crazy about having commandos underfoot."

"Don't worry about them. I told you, I'll take care of it. The refs stuck me with those soldiers, but I've got them so hamstrung, they can't tell the players without a scorecard. They won't be any trouble. I'll make sure they never even get near you and Taylor. How's he holding up, by the way?"

"He's fragmenting. Half the time, I'm not even sure
he
knows who he is. Part of the reason that he's been so good is that he's always been able to immerse himself in his characteri-zations, but this time, he's added a new wrinkle. He speaks of himself in the third person these days. He keeps vacillating between being himself, being Milady de Winter, and being some weird combination of the two. I tell you, it's a little scary."