The Orphan's Tale (40 page)

"
Longing for your company.  He didn't want to live without you."

XLII

THE NIGHT OF THE HUNT

PART I: THE TRAP

Malet's spies reported that Dracquet appeared to have left Paris, as he had said. His departure, in fact, had been very well-witnessed, since the man had made himself conspicuous during it. He had gone so far as to strike his coachman when that man fouled one of the carriage's wheels on the gate.

"
He called the fellow a few names that I hadn't heard since my army days," said Gilles d'Arthez, facing Malet across the table in the questioning room.

By previous arrangement, he had just been
'arrested' for loitering by the Tuileries, and he had raised such a fuss when the arresting officer tried to take him into custody that he had been placed in handcuffs and brought directly to the Prefecture to be interrogated by Malet. When the questioning was finished, he would be taken to the prison of La Force and then sprung.

D
'Arthez's grimy, tired face creased in a smile. "Then he fetched him a crack across the face," he said. "It was a good roundhouse swing that drew blood! I wonder if he had any training in boxing." He shrugged after a moment and said, "There was some more commotion, then he climbed into his carriage and drove off."

"
And you say the house is unoccupied now," Malet mused.

"
The knocker's off the door and the windows are shuttered," said d'Arthez. "Some servants appear to be there still - I know his cook by sight, for example, and I have seen him in the past three or four days, as well as one little street-urchin who hangs around there - but there's been no sign of him or the Englishman."

"
Any idea where he was heading?" Malet asked.

"
The word is that he was traveling to Lyons," said d'Arthez. "I don't know anything more than that."

Malet sat back and said thoughtfully,
"Richet reported that he left by the Porte de Charenton, so it would fit. And they would be going near the Bois de Vincennes, so he could easily get into another carriage and head back into the city. Hm."

He looked up at d
'Arthez and smiled at the man. "Very good," he said. "I am pulling you off the case now, Gilles, and I am giving you two weeks off, as well."

"
Thank you!"

"
No," said Malet. "I thank you. You have done a fine job, and you have earned the rest. I will call the constables in to take you away. Make it good."

Malet sat back in his chair as d
'Arthez was escorted from the room under heavy guard, swearing and spitting. He had to think. He did not for a moment believe that Dracquet had left Paris, and especially not to go to a place like Lyons.

His conviction regarding an attempted assassination of the English heiress, Victoria, was as strong as ever, but for all Dracquet
's talk of power and changing governments, in the absence of any concrete evidence that he was plotting something against her, Malet could do very little against the man directly. He could foil any plot at the very least, but he wanted to catch and destroy the man.

He frowned and took out his watch: 9:45 a.m., time to report to the Conciergerie.
The matter of Dracquet was taking up most of his attention, but he was still acting as Prefect of Police for the Île de France, and one of his duties as M. Lamarque's substitute was to be present at the Judges' chambers for certain hearings.

He sighed and rose.
It was going to be a long morning.

**  **  **

Malet paused on his way back to the Prefecture to order lunch at Le Chasseur Affamé, one of his favorite establishments near the Place du Chatelet. The restaurant specialized in game dishes and was known for its beautifully spiced sauces. Malet liked the elegant decor; he was a frequent patron, and one of the reasons that the place enjoyed the success that it did.

The proprietor, M. Rothenay, welcomed him, seated him at his best table, and insisted on bringing his choicest serving of grilled squabs in olive sauce with an accompaniment of especially old, mellow burgundy wine.

"You like it?" Rothenay asked after Malet had tasted the dish.

Malet smiled at the man and said,
"You have achieved a masterpiece."

Rothenay ducked his head, smiling, and then froze where he stood.
"M. Chief Inspector," he said, "I just remembered something I think you should know."

The man
's expression was odd: Malet gazed up at him as he cut a portion of breast meat, speared several olives from the sauce, and brought the forkful to his mouth. "What is it?" he asked.

"
The last time you were here - it was about three days ago, if you recall - some people came to me after you left, and started asking questions."

Malet chewed and swallowed.
"Oh?" he said.

"
Yes. Did I know who you were? Do you come here often? Do I know the way you usually take to go back to the Prefecture? How long have I known you? Do you ever come here to dine?"

Malet sipped his wine.
His face was carefully expressionless. "And how did you answer them?" he asked calmly.

"
I said that anyone who didn't know you by sight was a fool," replied Rothenay. "I said that I was honored by your patronage, but as far as how often you came, how could I guess? I am the owner, not a waiter, and I don't keep a tally of my guests. I didn't like their looks!"

Malet hid a smile.
"Very wise of you, in that case," he murmured. "And what else?"

"
As far as how you went to the Prefecture, I said that I was one who owned a fine eating establishment and not a hired killer, so that it made no difference to me how you went back to the Prefecture, but I rather thought it was two of the three possible routes, since I didn't think you liked to swim and thereby ruled out your going by the river. I also said that I recalled once when you stopped a quarrel here, and it was at supper time, so I thought you came at least once to dine here, but I couldn't be sure."

Malet nodded.
"Well done," he said. "I couldn't have told you to say it better."

"B
ut there's more," Rothenay said grimly. "They offered money if I would tell them the next time you came. They offered a great deal of money."

Malet frowned and cut more meat from the squab.
"I see," he said. "You told them to get out and never come back, I suppose?"

"
No, indeed, M. l'Inspecteur," said Rothenay. "I told you I didn't like their looks. There was one in particular who made me very nervous, a man with what looked like a smudge of oil or paint on his chin. I thought if I did become rude, they might get unpleasant, and I had a house full of customers, so I answered smoothly and they parted from me with smiles."

"
Very wise of you," said Malet once more. "And you say this was three days ago?"

"
I remember it clearly, M. Chief Inspector," said Rothenay. "You were in a temper, and I gave you my finest Riesling that I was saving for a special occasion, because I thought it might improve your mood."

"
Ah?" said Malet, who tended to lapse into southern French speech patterns when he was moved. "That was very kind of you, indeed. I must thank you for your concern."

Rothenay blushed and disclaimed and then, at Malet
's invitation, sat down at the table, poured himself some wine, and chatted amiably while Malet finished his lunch in thoughtful silence. Rothenay suspected that M. Malet wasn't really paying attention, but he seldom had the chance to sit down and take a breather, and the Chief Inspector, though preoccupied, smiled at the appropriate moments and poured another glass of wine for him when he had finished his first.

Malet set his glass down and said,
"Did those people leave you a name to contact with word of me?"

"
They did," said Rothenay. Now that Malet was through, he rose and motioned to one of the waiters.

"
Excellent," said Malet. He fell silent as the waiter gathered the dishes and left. When the man was out of earshot he said quietly, "I want you to get in touch with those people and tell them that I came in just now, and that I plan to dine here this evening at eight o'clock. You might mention to them that I will be returning to my house in the Marais to take care of some personal business, and I will be going there right after dining."

"
But M. l'Inspecteur - !"

"
Tell them this, and collect the money. You may keep it with my compliments, but get a good look at the people who pay you." He accepted his coat and hat from the waiter, nodded to the man, and went to the door, Rothenay beside him.

"
I don't like it, M. l'Inspecteur," he said.

"
Don't worry," said Malet. "You are doing me a favor."

THE NIGHT OF THE HUNT

PART II: THE HUNTERS AND THE QUARRY

Malet strolled across the Seine at the Pont au Change and paused midway across to frown at the gabled slate roof of the Tribunal de Commerce. So Dracquet had sent Pierre le Noir, who had seemed like a hired killer to Rothenay, to inquire after Malet's doings the very day they had spoken in the park, had he? And he had offered to buy information regarding Malet's comings and goings and the routes he would take, had he? Interesting, indeed.

In all the shady doings that Dracquet had been tied to in one way or another - organized robbery, arson for profit, child prostitution, political assassination - cop
-killing had never been part of them. But now, it appeared, things were different.

Dracquet had evaded Malet
's spies; it was time for Malet to do the same with Dracquet. He had in mind something more dramatic than a supposed journey to Lyons, and it might bag a few witnesses.

It would take only a few hours to set up a trap with himself as the bait.
He could recruit back-ups from several of the closer precincts, give them a sketchy idea of what was going to happen, and take it from there. Gaston Rabateau, the Chief Inspector of the 3rd arrondissement, had enlisted his help from time to time and would probably be quite willing to return the favor. He could also count on assistance from Laurent Mercier of the 1st and Emile Fougeroux of the 6th. Fougeroux would be delighted to go in on any plot to catch an assassin, and so would Georges Plougastel, though Georges might be squeamish about the bait Malet proposed to use. But he could deal with Georges.

He hesitated over the question of whether he should inform M. d
'Anglars of the trap, but decided against it. Aside from the fact that there was nothing the Minister of Police could add to it, Malet knew that the man would be opposed to the entire affair. It would be easier to deal with his opposition if he could present a fait accompli. Success is a very powerful argument.

Malet entered the Prefecture, his mind pleasantly humming with plans, and signed in with Constable Archet, who passed him in quickly, for once.
He would dispense with his sword, he thought, since he might have to run, and a sword that banged and clanked in its scabbard and tended to push itself between one's legs would be a danger. In lieu of the sword, he had a long, sharp dagger that he had bought when he was in Russia in 1812. It could easily be strapped to his waist under his coat and serve as a silent back-up weapon. His two pistols would fit comfortably in his pockets, as well, along with extra cartridges and percussion caps.

He was singing as he passed Sergeant Guillart
's desk, the snatch of a dancing song he had learned in Germany as a Colonel of artillery. He had always suspected that the words weren't quite 'comme il faut', and Guillart's expression confirmed his suspicions.

"
M. l'Inspecteur!" Guillart exclaimed. He, too, had soldiered in Germany.

Malet stopped and smiled down at him.
"Yes?"

"
Where on earth did you hear that song?"

"
Germany, of course," Malet answered. He looked around, found an empty chair, and drew it up to Guillart's desk. "I have always liked it, though I haven't a clue what the words mean. Listen: give me some paper."

Guillart reached into his desk and took out several sheets. He was trying not to smile as Malet continued to whistle the tune through his teeth.
"A special assignment, M. l'Inspecteur?" he asked.

"
You could say that," said Malet, writing quickly. "I need to speak with Chief Inspectors Mercier, Monthermer, Rabateau and Fougeroux, and Senior Inspector Plougastel, as quickly as possible."

"
Very good," said Guillart. "I will send those out by courier. I have been using Constable Vacherin for important messages."

"
Excellent," said Malet. "What time is it? Two o'clock? I'd like to see them here by three-thirty. I have been asked to sit in on a conference at M. Mercier's offices right now, so I will carry that message. For the rest, Guillart, I'd be grateful if you could send these notes out as quickly as possible."