Knaves (15 page)

Beyond was a spiral stone stairwell, the flags worn by centuries of footsteps. As he climbed upwards, he felt the air become chill despite the fact that outside it was summer. The temperature in the tower never changed much, as though the outside world was afraid to enter.

At the top of the stairs was another door. This one was not locked and Valmont pushed it open.

The room beyond was bare and Spartan other than the few items that the Marquis had installed for his own particular amusements: a wooden horse with straps attached to either side, a large trestle table with various toys, paddles and whips as well as ropes and hoods, and beyond those an iron bed. Two windows, more narrow slit through which archers would have once defended the castle, admitted enough light for him to see, and he would have candles brought up later. He refused to allow modern conveniences to interfere with the austerity of this place. Even the cameras here operated on battery power rather than mains electricity.

A girl was sitting on the bed, huddled into the far corner of the room, though the bare stone
of the walls would provide little in the way of comfort. She was dressed in jeans and a flimsy T-shirt which did not allow for much warmth. As he entered, she looked up, lifting her face from her knees to stare at him fearfully. Her face was dark, Arabic: but for the dirt that streaked her features, she would have been pretty, and the sorrow in her eyes would have melted any heart but Valmont’s.

“
Please, sir,” she said politely, a glimmer of hope mixing with her sadness. “Where am I?”

He smiled indulgently before crossing to the bed and sitting down next to her.
“You’re in a castle,” he replied. “Have you ever been in a castle before?”

She looked confused, but the tone of his voice made her trusting. It was so easy to deceive the innocent. She shook her head.
“I don’t… I don’t think so.”

He stretched out his hand and calmly touched her face, taking her chin in his fingers and lifting it. She had been crying, but he could see the beauty that had attracted him. Her clothes were cheap and offensive to him, but that didn
’t matter. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“
Safiyah, sir,” she replied, swallowing as he stared at her.

“
And how old are you?”

“
E-eleven, sir. Can I see my mother? The other… the other woman took me from her.”

Valmont raised one eyebrow.
“Safiyah,” he said, savouring her uncertainty, her discomfort, her misplaced trust, “I’m afraid you’re not going to see your mother for a very long time. You’ve been a very bad girl, you see, so you’re going to have to stay here with me for a while.”

She started to cry at this, silent tears that she bravely attempted to stop.

“The… the woman said I wouldn’t be hurt.”

That made Valmont smile.

“She lied,” he said.

Hayden was by the window, sipping a macchiato as he watched the bustling activity below on Rue Charlemagne. The apartment Karla had
chosen was near the top of an elegant eighteenth-century building in Le Marais, and across the street he could see a park and, beyond that, the grey-blue waters of the Seine.

Le Marais, she
’d assured him, was eminently chic and fashionable—just the kind of place where Sebastian Rider and Jeanne Duval would be sure to hang out, with all its vintage boutiques and haute-cuisine restaurants. For all this, and for all the fact that their apartment was light and spacious, both of them in their hearts knew the game was up. Sebastian and Jeanne had failed, and deep down Hayden had the nagging suspicion that they were trying to milk this particular scam for much longer than it deserved: after all, they’d made it through the previous year by constantly moving, changing identities. The owners of the Wallenstein diamond that they’d stolen had not forgotten—or forgiven. It was time to move on.

More than that, however, Hayden felt that just for a short time he
’d like to find a hideaway, a place where, for perhaps the first time since he’d reached adulthood, he could be himself. Karla may have recreated herself as Karla Steel, but he was happy with that: he just wanted to know her more as the self she’d chosen to be. He’d come so close to losing her that now he simply wished to be with her, to love her as himself.

He smiled wryly as these thoughts and others passed through his head. He was, he knew, being sentimental. For her part, Karla had approached the past week since they
’d come to Paris with a brisk efficiency. She was out now, looking for the next chance that the both of them would be able to turn to their advantage. That was one of the reasons why he loved her so much: her mind was too sharp, too active ever to be still. Hell, he knew he’d become bored on some idyllic island—it was just that Valmont’s wiles had shaken him a little more than he wished to admit.

This train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Frowning, Hayden placed his cup down on a polished wooden table and moved towards the entrance. It was too early for Karla to have come back and, in any case, she would have let herself in. He wasn
’t expecting any visitors.

He nearly closed the door when he saw who it was. She was wearing sunglasses and a fur coat that was utterly inappropriate for such a warm, summer day. Her hair was also dishevelled, tangled blonde fronds that hung down her face, and a quick glance told him that the jeans she had on could have been cleaner. What stopped him, however, was the fact that when she removed her shades her eyes were full of a pain that Hayden wouldn
’t have been able to ignore even if she were his greatest enemy.

“
Hello, Sebastian,” Eloise said, her voice trembling slightly. “Can I come in?”

His stomach twisted.
“That’s not really a good idea.”

Her smile was sad, pathetic.
“I guess not. I just… I just wanted to talk.”

Her eyes were sunken and her cheeks drawn. Hayden sighed and stood to one side, allowing her to scuttle in beside him. If nothing else, he was ever more than a little curious to find out what had happened to bring her to this state.

She stood in the centre of the main room, looking around the walls with their rococo designs and large, ornate mirrors. “Very nice,” she said.

“
Not when you’ve been used to Chateau de Tour,” he remarked ironically, watching her carefully. As he half expected, she scowled.

“
That’s not a place you live in,” she muttered. “It’s somewhere you endure.”

“
I take it you’ve left him,” Hayden said. “Was it that bad after we’ve gone.”

She looked at him bitterly.
“You’ve no idea. He was… he was insane with anger. I didn’t know what he’d do.” She shrugged and looked away, clutching the small leather handbag she held in her nervous fingers.

“
Here, let me take that for you—and your coat. Can I get you a coffee?”

Eloise shook her head.
“I won’t stay long.” She smiled wryly. “You weren’t easy to find, you know.”

“
I’m surprised you managed. I thought we’d been pretty discreet.”

“
Oh, I have my ways.” Hayden took a seat across from her but Eloise remained standing. “I know… some people. I asked around. They knew a man who’d just come to Paris and who they’d seen before on visits. Very handsome, like a film star they said, well built, very gentlemanly and
very
big where it mattered. They wondered why you didn’t visit them this time, then they saw you with Jeanne and they understood. Interestingly, none of them knew you by the name Sebastian.”

Hayden rubbed his chin and groaned slightly.
“I knew it was a mistake coming to Paris,” he mumbled.

Now Eloise sat down and this time her smile was warmer, if still sad.
“It doesn’t matter. They spoke to me because they knew me, but they won’t cause trouble. I won’t cause trouble.”

“
Does Valmont know we’re here?”

She shook her head.
“Don’t worry about that—at least from me.” She paused for a moment before looking out the window. “You know, I grew up not so very far from here—well, not so far in kilometres, but a world away in other ways. I used to dream of spending my time in Le Marais.”

“
And instead you ended up in a chateau with a Marquis. I don’t think you ended up so badly off.”

She looked at him sharply then her face softened as she laughed, bitterly, her eyes dropping to her handbag.
“It was hard in the banlieues, but… I was pretty and I knew how to make men… do things. And I
was
pretty, you know, before I did all… this to myself.” She shook her head in disgust.

“
Come on, Eloise. You’re beautiful—you know that. You could have any man you want.”

Again her glance towards him was sharp.
“No I couldn’t,” she said quietly.

“
Well, okay,” Hayden replied, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe not
every
man, but… you see how things are here. I don’t… I couldn’t…”

“
I understand.” Her voice was very quiet. “I’m jealous, but I do understand. You know, no other man’s ever refused me before.” Again she let out a hollow laugh. “The only reason I could get you to go so far on that first night was because I’d spiked your drink.”

Hayden looked towards the ceiling and laughed
humourlessly. “Okay,” he said more to himself than to her. “I guess I should at least take satisfaction in that I’m still enough of a man to hold my drink, though that means I’m even more stupid than I thought.”

“
Oh, you’re very much a man, Sebastian—or whatever your real name is.” She waved her hand as he looked in her direction. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to know. That’s not why I’m here.”

“
Then why are you here, Eloise?”

She sat in silence for several minutes and Hayden watched her, aware of the struggle that was taking place within her. At last she began to explain.

“Donatien has always taken what he wanted. I couldn’t have you, but he will never… will never forgive you or Jeanne for refusing to allow him to… have her. I know I’m a bad woman, but Donatien… Donatien has no such knowledge of himself.”

Unsure what to say, Hayden continued to sit there in silence. At last she reached inside her bag and took out something small. It was several seconds later that Hayden realised she held some kind of memory card in her fingers.

“He’s always taken whatever he wanted,” she repeated very quietly. “God alone knows how many lives he’s ruined, but it has to stop.”

Her words shook Hayden and he stared at her with concern. This was not the woman he had first met only days before, but a stranger who was caught in the throes of some deep crisis.

“What is that?” he asked. Almost immediately he half regretted saying the words, but at the same time saying nothing would be to deny Eloise whatever confession it was she needed to make.

“
It’s a video,” she said, and the bitterness in her voice could not be denied. “You’re aware, I presume, that de Tour is full of cameras.” Hayden nodded. “Donatien likes to watch,” she continued, her eyes rolling upwards as she suddenly sucked in air as though to stop herself from crying. “Oh, how he likes to watch. Everything. Terrible things.”

“
What’s the video of, Eloise?” Leaning forward, Hayden placed a hand on her arm. She was shaking as though she was going to fall apart at any moment.

“
I… I can’t say.” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand as a tear rolled from her eye. She laughed wryly. “Look at me, what a mess!”

“
You’re not,” Hayden lied. “You’ll be okay.” Again, he wasn’t sure that was the truth, but brutal honesty was inhumane at that moment.

She shook her head.
“I won’t. Look at you! So… so handsome, so… perfect!” Tears began to stream from her eyes. “She’s lucky—very, very lucky!” Hayden didn’t need to ask who Eloise was talking about. “He wants her, but you mustn’t let him have her!” Eloise’s head fell into her hand and the memory card dropped to the floor as she started to weep.

“
Hey, it’s okay.” Moving across to sit beside her, Hayden placed an arm around her shoulder, consoling her as she let loose her flood of tears, her head resting against his shoulder. For a while he simply sat there, saying nothing but just rocking her back and forward slightly, attempting to offer whatever silent comfort that he could. Had Karla walked in at that moment, she would have probably exploded but Hayden knew that wasn’t true: no normal human being could see another in such distress and not feel just a little compassion.

After a while, Eloise stopped crying and slowly pushed herself upright. Her body was stiff and erect now.
“I can’t remember the last time someone held me like that,” she said in a small voice. “Thank you, Sebastian.” He didn’t reply and she looked at him, her eyes full of forlorn longing. Then she gave that same sad smile he had seen before. “That’s the problem with being men’s sexual fantasy: you shut up and take what they give you, but… but it’s not enough.”

Seeing the memory card, she retrieved it from the floor and placed it on the table before standing up, taking deep breaths to calm herself and returning her sunglasses into position.
“What a fucking mess,” she muttered to herself, then forced a meaningless smile in Hayden’s direction.

“
Thank you,” she said. “Find some way to use this to stop him.”

As she turned to leave, Hayden said:
“If it’s so bad, why don’t you go to the police?”

That made her snort and she shook her head.
“Nothing will happen. In any case, I’ve… fallen into some old habits. They won’t listen to me—they probably won’t listen to you. Just stop him.” Hayden started to stand up but she waved her hand at him. “No, it’s okay. I can find my own way out. Goodbye, Sebastian. Look after Jeanne.”

He watched her walk across the room. She didn
’t look back as she closed the door behind her, and for a long time Hayden sat in silence, staring at the card on the table in front of him. Throw it away, he thought. Simply mangle it and get rid of it. You don’t need to know what’s on there.

And yet the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge had always been too much of a temptation. Eventually he stood up and went to the dining room where a notebook lay on the table. Bringing it back through to where Eloise had been sitting, he booted it up and inserted the card.

The footage was obviously amateur and from a fixed position, showing rough stone walls and floors. There was some sort of device in the picture, which was fairly clear but also rather dimly lit, and a person on it. The furniture looked like an old vaulting horse and the female seemed to be strapped to it. It was only after a few moments that he realised she was crying softly, and that she was probably a lot younger than he had first thought.

A man came into view, naked to the waist and wearing some kind of leather apron around his lower half, as well as a black hood which covered his head like an executioner
’s mask. He carried a riding crop in his hand and, as he lifted it, Hayden recognised Valmont’s emerald ring.

Hayden thought he was about to be sick and quickly closed the lid of the computer. His breath came in fast, panicky bursts, and all around him the room seemed to spin, as though he was standing on the edge of an abyss into which he would fall.
“Oh God,” he moaned to himself quietly. “Oh God!”

He was still sitting there when Karla entered the room, striding in cheerily with a greeting for her lover that froze on her lips when she saw him.

“What’s wrong, Hayden? What’s going on?”

He let his hand fall from his eyes and smiled at her weakly.
“Hi,” he murmured. “How was your day?” He simply didn’t know what to say, but Karla’s green, piercing eyes regarded him with concern.

“
What’s happened, Hayden?”