Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

“But why bother?”

The phone rang, intrusive, loud. Alice’s heart leaped into her mouth.

Francois-Baptiste looked to his mother.

“Answer it,” she said.

He did what he was told. “ Oui .”

Alice hardly dared breathe for fear she would give herself away.

“Oui, je comprends . Attends. ‘ He covered the phone with his hand. ”It’s O’Donnell. She says she has the book.“

“Ask why she’s been out of touch.”

He nodded. Where’ve you been since Monday?“ He listened. ”Does anybody else know you have it?“ He listened. ”Okay. A vingt-deux heures. Demain soir .“

He put the receiver back in its cradle.

“Are you sure it was her?”

“It was her voice. She knew the arrangements.”

“He must have been listening in.”

“What do you mean?” he said, uncertainly. Who?“

“For crying out loud, who do you think?” she snapped. “Authie, of course.

“I-”

“Shelagh O’Donnell’s been missing for days. As soon as I’m safely out of the way in Chartres, O’Donnell reappears! First the ring, then the book.”

Francois-Baptiste finally lost his temper. “But you were just defending him!” he shouted. “Accusing me of jumping to conclusions. If you know he’s working against us, then why didn’t you tell me, instead of letting me make a fool of myself? More to the point, why don’t you stop him? Have you even ever asked yourself why he wants the books so badly? What he’s going to do with them? Auction them to the highest bidder?”

“I am well aware of precisely why he wants the books,” she said in a chill voice.

Why do you always have to do this? You humiliate me all the time!“

“The discussion is over,” she said. We’ll travel tomorrow. That will get us there in good time for your assignation with O’Donnell and for me to prepare myself. The ceremony will go ahead at midnight as planned.“

“You want me to meet her?” he said in disbelief.

“Well, obviously,” she said. For the first time, she heard some sort of emotion in her voice. “I want the book, Francois-Baptiste.”

“And if he doesn’t have it?”

“I don’t think he would go to all this trouble if he didn’t.”

Alice heard Francois-Baptiste walk across the room and open the door.

“What about him?” he said, a little of the fire returning to his voice. You can’t leave him here to-“

“Leave Will to me. He, also, is not your concern.”

Will was concealed in the cupboard in the kitchen passage.

It was cramped and smelled of leather coats, old boots and waxed jackets, but it was the only place that gave him a clear view of the library and study doors. He saw Francois-Baptiste come out first and go into the study, followed moments later by Marie-Cecile. Will waited until the door shut, then immediately emerged from the cupboard and ran across the hall to the library.

“Alice” he whispered. “Quick. We’ve got to get you out of here.” There was a slight sound, then she appeared. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “This is all it. Are you okay?”

She nodded, although she was deathly pale.

Will reached for her hand, but she refused to come with him.

“What is this all about, Will? You live here. You know these people and yet you’re prepared to throw it all away helping a stranger. It makes no sense.”

He wanted to say she wasn’t a stranger, but stopped himself.

“I…”

He didn’t know what to say. The room seemed to fade to nothing. All Will saw was Alice’s heart-shaped face and her unflinching brown eyes that seemed to be looking into the very heart of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you… that you and she…? That you lived here.”

He couldn’t meet her gaze. Alice stared at him a moment longer, then moved quickly across the room and out into the hall, leaving him to follow.

“What are you going to do now?” he said desperately.

“Well, I’ve learned how Shelagh’s connected with this house,” she said.

“She works for them.”

“Them?” he said, baffled, opening the front door so they could slip out. What do you mean?“

“But she’s not here. Madame de l’Oradore and her son are looking for her too. From what I heard, I’d guess she’s being held somewhere near Foix.”

Alice suddenly turned in a panic at the bottom of the steps.

“Will, I’ve left my bag in the library,” she said in horror. “Behind the sofa, with the book.”

More than anything, Will wanted to kiss her. The timing couldn’t be worse, they were caught up in a situation he didn’t understand, Alice didn’t even really trust him. And yet it felt right.

Without thinking, Will moved to touch the side of her face. He felt he knew exactly how smooth and cool her skin would feel, as if it was a gesture he’d made a thousand times before. Then the memory of the way she’d withdrawn from him in the cafe pulled him up short and he stopped, his hand a hair’s breadth from her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, as if Alice could read his mind. She was staring at him, then a brief smile flickered across her taut and anxious face.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he stumbled. “It’s…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, but her voice was soft.

Will gave a sigh of relief. He knew she was wrong. It mattered more than anything in the world, but at least she wasn’t angry with him.

“Will,” she said, a little sharper this time. “My bag? It’s got everything in it. All my notes.”

“Sure, yes,” he said immediately. “Sorry. I’ll get it. Bring it to you.” He tried to focus. “Where are you staying?”

“Hotel Petit Monarque. On the Place des Epars.”

“Right,” he said, running back up the steps. “Give me thirty minutes.”

Will watched her until she was out of sight, then went back inside. There was a sliver of light showing under the study door.

Suddenly the door to the study opened. Will sprang back out of sight between the door and the wall. Francois-Baptiste came out and walked towards the kitchen. Will heard the pass door swing open and shut, then nothing.

Will pressed his face to the gap so he could see Marie-Cecile. She was sitting at her desk looking at something, something that glinted and caught the light when she moved.

Will forgot what he was supposed to be doing as he watched Marie Cecile stand up and lift down one of the paintings hanging on the wall behind her. It was her favourite piece of art. She told him all about it once, in the early days. It was a golden canvas with splashes of bright colour showing French soldiers gazing upon the toppled pillars and palaces of ancient Egypt. “On Gazing Upon the Sands of Time – 1799‘ , he remembered. That was it.

Behind where the picture had been hanging was a small black metal door cut into the wall with an electronic keypad next to it. She punched six numbers. There was a sharp click and the door opened. From out of the safe, she lifted two black packages and carefully put them on the desk. Will adjusted his position, desperate to see what was inside.

He was so caught up that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming up find him.

“Don’t move.”

“Francois-Baptiste, I-”

Will felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing into his side.

“And put your hands where I can see them.”

He tried to turn round, but Francois-Baptiste grabbed his neck and led his face flat against the wall.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe ?” Marie-Cecile called out. Francois-Baptiste jabbed him again.

“ Je m’en occupe ,” he said. Everything’s under control

Alice looked at her watch again.