The Gathering Storm (32 page)

'You bandaged my head, sir?' Rennie, to Mr Sacheverell.

'I have a passing knowledge of wounds.' A little shrug, a
puff of the cheroot.

'You are a doctor?'

'Nay, I am not. I had some little experience of campaigning
in the late American war. You should not get up on your
legs just yet, you know. Rest is advised, after a severe blow
to the skull.'

'I am very grateful to you, Mr Sacheverell, for your kindness.
But we have no time for rest.' And he forced himself
upright. As soon as he did so, he staggered, a wave of fainting
weakness washed up from his belly into his head, and he fell
back down on the sofa on which he had been lying. Presently,
as the fainting spell passed, he heard Mr Mappin outside the
room:

'I am nearly certain they will make for the coast, to take
ship for France. May I leave Captain Rennie in your care,
Mr Sacheverell? I must return to Whitehall at once, and
raise the alarm.'

And Mr Sacheverell's reply: 'In course I am happy to
oblige. I am only sorry we keep no horses here when Nicholas
is away. He has took the carriage ... alas.'

'I will go on foot, running.'

'Running?'

'I was a champion at the paper chase in youth, and I am
still very fast, even now.'

The voices receded, and there was the sound of the front
door thudding shut. Rennie pulled himself up into a sitting
position, and slowly got to his feet. The dizziness had passed,
and he felt able to walk.

'I cannot wait here. I must proceed on my own. There
ain't a moment to lose.'

'For God's sake release us from these bindings,' pleaded
Juliette. 'We cannot escape from a carriage moving at such
speed.'

She lurched on the seat as the carriage bounced through
a dip in the road. The jingle of harness and the flinty clatter
of hooves under the spinning rhythm of the wheels as they
flew through the night. The night shut out by tasselled blinds
at the windows, the interior lit by a single lamp.

'I have removed your gag, Madame Maigre,' said M. Félix
beside her, 'so that you may reply to my questions. But I am
not quite so gullible as to set you free altogether.'

All in French. M. Félix glanced at the seat opposite, where
James lay bound hand and foot, and gagged. Only the movement
of his eyes, from one figure to the other opposite him,
indicated that he was alive and conscious. A gash on his forehead,
that had bled into one eye, was evidence that he had
not been captured without a struggle. M. Félix returned his
attention to Juliette.

'Why are you with this inadequate man – this boy of a
man – in England? Have you forgot that you are a citizen
of France?'

'A citizen? Is that what I am? Is that what you are? A
citizen of the revolution?'

'Yes, of course. That is the reality of life in France, now.'

'But – what of all our work, our mission? All of our
painstaking planning and effort and risk, to help the king
escape? Does it mean nothing to you?'

'Less than nothing, madame. Such things are beneath
contempt, now.'

'So you are a turncoat and a traitor, then. It is you that
is beneath contempt now, monsieur.'

She spoke the words almost softly, and allowed the scorn
in her eyes to burn into his a moment, then turned her head
away against the green upholstered back of the seat. M. Félix
reached and gripped her chin with his strong fingers, and
turned her head back toward him. In a lower, more intimate
tone:

'Did you really think I could let you go just like that,
Juliette? You know the depth of my feelings for you. That
is why I am taking you back to France, where you will be
safe, where I can make you understand and care for me, over
time.'

'I will never care for you, monsieur.' Trying to twist her
head free of his grasp.

'While he is alive ...' Aiming a sharp kick at James that
caught him in the crotch. '... perhaps you are distracted a
little by his boyish devotion. But when he has been dealt
with, and despatched, and you have only me to contemplate
and grow fond of ... you will change your mind then,
madame. You will come to see me as the centre of your life,
that saved you out of the deepest and fondest love and regard
for you.'

'Love! When I am kidnapped at pistol point, bound and
gagged and flung into a carriage, and taken away a prisoner
at night! You fool!'

And her eyes flashed all the Gallic scorn of that word.
'Idiot!'

For answer M. Félix smiled and kicked James again. James's
eyes stared in fierce agony, and he grunted again and
again through the tight gag. Sweat broke out on his forehead
and mingled with the drying blood, and dripped on
the upholstered seat.

'Where are – where are the other men, that came with
you to the house?' Juliette, in an effort to distract M. Félix,
so that he would cease his vicious assault on James. She
succeeded.

'They have horses, they will follow us to the coast, my
dear.'

'Where?'

'You will see the place when we get there. I have a vessel
waiting.'

'Do not – do not you fear detection, if we arrive at a port
in daylight?'

'The place is not frequented. It is on a quite remote part
of the coast, on the empty sands. Nobody will see us arrive
there, nor depart.'

'What will become of Lieutenant Hayter?' After a moment,
very quietly.

'He will receive his reward for his part in the late abortive
plot – when he has told me what I wish to know.'

'What can he possibly tell you? He was not—'

Over her: 'He will tell me the name of the man that is
behind the English part of the plot. The man M. Mappin
obeys, that calls into being all such things in England –
spies, schemes, intrigue abroad. The man always with
ample moneys at his disposal to pay for information in
a dozen countries. The man that is at the heart of all
British secret intelligence – who controls the Secret Service
Fund.'

'And if he does not tell you?'

'Ohh ... ohh ... he will tell me, I assure you. Have not
you observed, my dear? Lieutenant Hayter cannot endure
even very moderate pain.' Leaning forward so that his face
was near to James in the swaying, jolting carriage. 'He knows
very well that I can provide far greater pain than the paltry
twinges he has thus far experienced.' Lowering his voice to
a menacing whisper. 'Pain so great, so piercing that the
strongest man alive will whimper like a child in begging
that it should cease. Yes, yes, indeed ... he knows it,
poor wretched fellow.' Sitting back and turning to Juliette
conversationally:

'And so you see, he will tell me almost at once.'

'Why have you turned against us so?'

'I am only against your association with him, my dear.
Never against you yourself.'

'I did not mean James and me. I meant the whole of the
royalist cause in France. What did the revolutionists promise
you in return for your treachery and betrayal?'

'I am tired now. I think I may rest a while, until we come
to the coast.' M. Félix yawned. 'Perhaps you should do the
same, my love. We have a long way to go, after I have conducted
my little inquisition.'

'What did they promise you?' Bitterly.

'Sleep. Sleep. It will refresh your beauty.'

He settled back against the upholstery, and closed his eyes.

They came to the coast at mid-morning, and Juliette was
aware that they had passed through marsh country only
because – a little after dawn – M. Félix had raised one of
the blinds to peer out of the carriage. A stretching, watery
landscape under a wide sky, the glassy reflecting water divided
by long earthen banks, marching into the distance. She had
shivered in the chilly air. She was dressed only in a shift,
and James in shirt and breeches – clothes M. Félix had taken
up from a chair and brought with him when he dragged
them naked from their bed. They had been obliged to
scramble into these clothes as they were put into the carriage
in the lane.

Now the carriage drew up in stunted scrub at the end of
a long track, above a wide beach of sand and shingle. The
vessel M. Félix had spoken of – a small brig – lay at anchor
a cable offshore, a single topsail bent to aid the anchor. A
boat lay beached at the shoreline, but there were no seamen
with the boat, nor anywhere in sight. James climbed out of
the coach, hobbling painfully, his legs and his mouth gag
untied by the coachman. M. Félix had already untied Juliette's
hands and feet. James was ashen pale, dried blood staining
one side of his face. Blood was crusted on his shirt. Juliette
watched him anxiously as he hobbled to the top of the beach.
He winced as he went, and twice nearly fell. Juliette moved
to help him, but was at once prevented from doing so by
M. Félix, who held her arm.

'Stay away from him. Your life is with me now, my dear.'

'Will you not give us something to eat and drink?'

'We will eat when we go aboard the ship.'

An onshore breeze blowing over his face gave James some
relief, and he recovered sufficient to call to M. Félix:

'Will you untie my hands a moment, monsieur?'

M. Félix barely glanced in his direction. 'Nay, I will not.'

'I wish to make water, and cannot unbutton.'

'Then you must either hold your water – or be made wet,
like an infant.'

'This is intolerable!' Juliette flashed at M. Félix. She moved
toward James. 'I will aid you.'

M. Félix strode after her, gripped her arm and restrained
her. Bending fiercely to her:

'Do not go near to him now, nor ever again! Do you hear!'

And Juliette twisted and spat in his face.

A terrible gleam came into his eye, and without wiping
the spittle from his face he struck her a sharp, knuckled blow
to the side of her head, sending her reeling to her knees
with a cry.

James saw that the coachman was distracted by the horses,
and he ran at Félix from behind, stumbled and nearly fell
over a tufted mound of earth, and crashed heavily into
M. Félix with the full weight of his body. M. Félix pitched
over with a grunt, and Juliette leapt clear of him. Catching
up a flat, heavy stone she dashed it against his head. He
grunted again, tried to get to his knees, and James stumbled
up and kicked him with all the force of vengeance as hard
as he could in the crotch.

The coachman, hearing the commotion of the assault, ran
round from the front of the coach, a bridle in his hand.
Juliette scrabbled in the pocket of M. Félix's coat, found a
pocket pistol, and snatched it out. As the coachman advanced,
dropping the bridle and pulling a pistol from his waistband,
Juliette cocked her weapon, raised it and

crack

shot him through the forehead. His head snapped back, his
knees buckled, and he fell dead.

James, glancing toward the boat, and away along the beach:

'There are seamen somewhere nearby ashore, that came
in the boat. They will have heard that shot. We must take
the carriage and escape before they come.'

'Yes, we must get away.' Nodding, and glancing at the
ship.

'We'll take him with us.' Nodding at M. Félix, who lay
doubled up, gripping his crotch in agony. 'He wished to ask
me some questions, and certainly I will like to reciprocate,
and ask some of him. And now, my love, for the love of God
untie me so I may go behind the coach and unbutton.'

But before Juliette could untie James's hands, four
horsemen came at a gallop along the track toward them.
In desperation Juliette raised the discharged pistol, pointed
it at them, and then let it fall from her hand. In moments
she and James were surrounded and helpless, the leading
man had dismounted and helped M. Félix to his feet, and
fate had again reversed itself.

*

Rennie had managed to hire a horse from a stable at Lambeth,
and ride to the Admiralty in Whitehall. His purpose was to
obtain aid from Their Lordships, by one means or another,
to rescue Lieutenant Hayter and his companion. He believed
that their captors would seek to escape to France in a small
private vessel. His view was that Mr Mappin would also seek
to mount a rescue, but through the Secret Service Fund, not
the Royal Navy.

He was proved wrong. When he came to the Admiralty
he found Mr Mappin already there, with exactly the same
purpose.

'We can aid each other, Captain Rennie, and thus aid our
friends. I have had great difficulty in persuading the clerk
to allow—'

'They will never give us a commissioned ship, you know.'
Over him, on the stair where they had met, leading up to
the boardroom and other offices.

'But we
must
have a ship. How else are we to prevent—'

Again over him: 'This ain't an Admiralty matter, strictly
speaking. From the beginning it was subterfuge, and intrigue,
with dubious intent. To date, it has not met with great
success.'

'Dubious intent! To save two of our bravest—'

'My dear Mappin, I am with you, I am with you. But we
must approach the thing correct. Never forget that when it
comes to ships, the men that occupy this building will never
like to agree to dubious intent. Not twice, in the same cause.
We must find the right man – Commodore Maxwell.'

'Maxwell? Never heard of him.' Shaking his head impatiently,
gripping the banister.

'He looks after the official charts, you know. He's an old
friend of mine, since the late American war. Bravest man I
ever knew. Lost a leg in '82, and has found his place here
ever since.'

'Charts! What can a man that husbands charts do for us
in this emergency, good heaven!'

'Mr Mappin, you are agitated. Pray calm y'self, sir, and
attend me. Commodore Maxwell will give us our warrant,
d'y'see?'

'Warrant?'

'Aye.' Greatly more at ease in these surroundings, in these
circumstances, than the usually imperturbable Mappin. 'Toby
Maxwell will write out a warrant enabling us to seize a private
ship in His Majesty's name, in an emergency, in the nation's
interest.'

'But can he do that? How? On what authority? What has
it to do with
charts
? Listen now, we must find the First
Secretary, and ask him to arrange—'

'Mr Mappin!' Harshly, fiercely, as they reached the top of
the stair.

'Eh?'

'There ain't a moment to lose! Cease jabbering, sir, and
follow me, will you!' It was not a request.

They found Commodore Maxwell drinking coffee at the
table in his little office, his crutch resting on the back of his
chair. Presently, having been introduced to Mr Mappin, and
listened to Rennie's rapid explanation and request:

'In course I am not permitted to accede to any such wild
and irresponsible notion, you know.' Writing out the warrant,
and sealing it with wax.

'In course, in course, my dear Toby. Understood. And
thank you. Come on, Mappin! We must go to Dover right
quick, as soon as we've found you a horse!'

'Dover? Portsmouth, surely?'

'Dover!' Already out of the door.

*

Juliette was made to wait in her shift, with the four men, at
the boat. Their horses, and the carriage horses, had been turned
loose. Three seamen had also appeared, returning from far
down the beach to the west with a musket and a brace of rabbits.
All of them were now obliged to wait on M. Félix's pleasure,
while he interviewed Lieutenant Hayter in the carriage.

The leader of the four horsemen, a lean dark man with
sour breath, said to Juliette: