The Lead... The Commissioner was in his office at the Bastille, going through a stack of field agents' reports, when there was a rap at his door.
"Enter!" The door opened and a clerk timidly put his head around it. "Forgive me for disturbing you, My Lord Vicomte, but I have a man here who claims to know something of the whereabouts of Lt.Colonel de Frost..." "At last !!!" The Commissioner shot up from his chair as though he'd been sitting on a hot ember. "Show him in at once !" The clerk opened the door to allow a grizzled veteran in the uniform of the ALC, tottering unsteadily on crutches, hobble into the office. His left leg was a mass of seeping bandages - he'd be very lucky to keep it. "Come in Sergeant, and make yourself comfortable." In settling himself into the chair at the other side of the Commissioner's desk, the old sergeant did not notice the look of concern on Vicomte Zilvain's face. The door to the office closed unobtrusively. "My clerk tells me you may have information concerning the whereabouts of Lt.Colonel de Frost...?" "Yes, My Lord, if it's true that he hasn't been seen since New Year's Eve. Sorry I've been so late in coming forward, Your Lordship, but I've been at the front all year, see? It was only when I came back that I learned you was lookin' for 'im." "That's quite all right, Sergeant. You've come forward as soon as you found out, which is all that could be asked of you. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you know...?" The Sergeant looked a little embarrassed, then said "I've been told there's a reward, Your Honour? I wouldn't be concerned normally, but it looks like I won't never mount an 'orse again with this dam'n leg..." "That's quite all right, Sergeant. There is indeed a reward - and if the information you have leads us to Lt.Colonel de Frost I'll make sure that you get it." With a sigh of relief, the Sergeant began his tale... "Well, it was New Year's Eve, M'Lud. Me an' some o' the lads from the Archduke's 'ad been to the Frog, knowin' that we was to be off to the front on the morrow an' all. Well, spirits got 'igher as the night went on, an' one o' the lads got into an argument with another o' the customers - drink affects some that way. Things got meaner an' meaner 'til there was only one thing for it - a duel to the death. The opponents decided that they'd do it like gentlefolk, and fight in the garden of the Capuchin monastery on the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs. (Seemed like a good idea at the time, M'Lud, but we was all three sheets to the wind by then). "As we was comin' into the Place des Victoires from the south, up the old Rue des Petits Champs, a sedan chair crossed our path from the east. We stopped, but my toe caught on one of the cobbles and 'urled me for'ard, like. I broke my fall on the sedan chair door and got a clear look at the passenger: it was Colonel de Frost, Sir, passed out from too much drink." "You're _sure_ it was de Frost?" "Sure as sure could be, Your Honour. I got a front seat at the Grosscanard trial and saw 'im clear as day. Anyways, one o' the chair carriers confirmed it, Sir. 'Colonel de Frost lives on the Isle de Notre Dame, Mate,' I tells 'im. 'You're takin 'im the wrong road.' 'Our Colonel 'ere's got so pissed 'e's lost 'is doorkey,' says 'e, 'So we's takin' 'im to a friend's 'ouse for the night.' Well, me and the lads di'n't think nothing of it and continued on our merry way. We all went to the front the mornin' after, an' it was only when they sent me back to Paris 'cos o' this leg wound that I found out the Colonel'd gone missin' that night.' "Would you recognise the chair carriers if you saw them again, Sergeant?" "I doubt it Sir. It was a cold night and they was well wrapped-up, with scaves over their faces an' all." "I see. Tell about this duel. Duelling is illegal, as you know, and duels to the death doubly so." "Never 'appened, Sir. The lad who'd started it passed out just after we left the Place des Victoires, an' we 'ad to carry 'im back to the Rue Bourdel to say goodbye to 'is doxy..." The Commissioner steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the point for a moment, considering what the Sergeant had revealed and eyeing him carefully. Then he opened a draw, took out a purse, and tossed it across the desk to the old soldier. "There's a hundred crowns. If you hear news that we have found Lt.Colonel de Frost (whatever his condition) there'll be four hundred more waiting here for you. In the meantime, not a word of this anyone. Understand?" The grizzled soldier answered with a conspiratorial nod. "Claude!!" The office door opened after a few moments and the clerk stuck his head around it once more. "See this gentleman out, would you." Vicomte Zilvain pondered the new information alone for a moment. De Frost drunk? Possible, but given that he was one of the most successful operatives in the history of the Commission, somewhat unlikely. Ferrets with an overfondness for the bottle didn't tend to live long. Drugged, perhaps...? And where on earth was he being taken to? The Commissioner stood and went over to look at the framed map of Paris (one of M. de Fer's latest editions) which hung on his office wall. The sedan chair had entered the Place des Victoires from the east, which made sense given that de Frost had last been seen at Bothwells. So where was it going? Either west along the new Rue des Petits Champs or south down the old one. De Frost had been missing for months, so he was either dead already or being held in an important household with a tight-lipped staff - anywhere smaller and the Commission's informers would have noticed a mysterious extra mouth to feed by now. So, who had palaces, mansions or h�tels in the area? He discounted the King immediately. Chabot was also mentally crossed off the list - his h�tel had been turned upside down following his arrest, but no trace of the missing Colonel had been found. The Cardinal perhaps? Although his own battalion was billetted at the H�tel de Mazarin, the Cardinal's private offices were in a completely separate wing. Von Fersen? Maybe. He was only at the Ministry of State by virtue of Senior's support - and it seemed increasingly likely that Senior was the infamous English spy 'Cheddar' mentioned in the Fromage Conspiracy messages. De Mylcandonai at the Palais Royal? Possibly - the whole of Paris knew of his anger at His Majesty's twice intervening to allow Senior to escape his clutches and deny him the Ministry of State. Angry enough to consider treason, perhaps? Or what of the Financial Ministers? The latest Fromage interception mentioned a failed attempt at embezzlement - could it be de Custaad or Brouilles who had de Frost in their clutches? His finger came to rest on the last opulent residence in the Louvre Quarter which could have been the chair's final destination - the le Forban mansion. Could the Minister of the King's Cabinet be the traitor? Le Forban was such a dark horse that the Commissioner found it difficult to perceive a motive - but that did not preclude the fact that there could be one he was, as yet, unaware of. De Frost was being held by one of these men - he'd stake his reputation on it. But which...? The Commissioner returned to his desk and sat down heavily in his chair. He needed more evidence before he dared search the residences of any of these powerful men. His Majesty was not overly pleased with the unmasking of Chabot, despite the fact that his guilt was incontravertable, and the Commissioner had to tread very carefully if other ministers were concerned. Still, he felt far more confident about his forthcoming briefing of the new Ferrets. At last, after months of fruitless dead ends, he finally had a solid lead... _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp
