The Trap

Paris.

It had been so long since Chauvelin had set foot in Paris, since he had been dispatched to England his only contact with his native land had been in port cities and only long enough to conduct some urgent piece of business and return to that cold, bleak, abomidable island. England had sicked his soul and now Paris had been the cure. No cold, wet afternoons that chilled his bones. No conversations where that vile language grated on his nerves. No more biting his tongue to prevent it from lashing out at those simple-minded, arrogant, hoity-toity aristos who should be put to death along side there French counterparts. The sights, the smells, even the feel of Paris was at such contrast that Chauvelin shuddered to think of having to return to gloomy England.

Why return? Your mission is nearly complete. Let Blakeney come to him.

Chauvelin had slept a little on the coach ride to Paris and now in the city, he felt more awake, more alive, more power that he had in some time. The weariness of sleepless night and over-work and disappeared and he felt more than match for what lie ahead. Sure Blakeney had strength on his side, but Chauvelin had the superior mind and power to back what he needed to do. Striding into La Force, with his tri-colored sash swaying with every step, his underlings swept aside in his wake. Fournier met him at the door and hurried along behind Chauvelin, explaining the precaution that been taken for their special guest.

With little ceremony, Chauvelin entered the room where Armand was kept, finding the boy in a huddled pile in the corner of the room. "Armand Saint-Just."

"That's the one," Leroux confirmed, stepping into the room behind Chauvelin. Chauvelin quickly grabbed a handkerchief out of his breastcoat pocket and held it to his nose, while Leroux who had had ample time to grow accustom to the stench of a prison didn't need one. "Hasn't left this room since he arrived. Hasn't caused too much trouble neither. Spent most of his time sleeping... I thought to bring a doctor in to have a look over him, since you said he was to keep healthy... but a doctor might talk later." Leroux watched Chauvelin, trying to see if the older man would reveal anything of his schemes.

The stench of the room was over powering, giving creedence to the guard's claim that Armand had not left. It also might explain the boy's failing health, he himself felt distinctly unwell in these surrounding. Chauvelin took another step closer to look at the body to insure the boy was still breathing and was relieved to see the soft rise and fall of Armand's chest. Good. A corpse did not make for good bait, especially with the game he planned to catch.

Leroux arched an eyebrow unseen by the hoity-toity citoyen barking his orders. The only reason Chauvelin was not in the same predicament as these other aristos was that he had seen the wave coming and joined it before it came crashing down on his head. Were he a royalist and behaving so his head would have already seen the basket. "Yes, citoyen. I'll fetch a doctor myself. Are there any other orders, citoyen?"

Chauvelin didn�t like the tone of the man�s voice, but it was not his primary concern � Armand was. Somewhere out in the city tonight, Chauvelin sensed that Blakeney was on the prowl. Making inquires, paying out bribes in orders to locate the young man lying at his feet. Soon Blakeney would be lying in a similar cell, waiting to go up before the bar, waiting for his appointment with Sanson. Until then he would tolerate condescending guards, jokes at his expense by pompous English fools, and the many other humiliation he endured to get to this point, because the day he brought the Pimpernel to trial is the day that he would obtain the power he deserved. �Have one of your sweep up the mess in here.� He turn on his heels and swept out the door.

Leroux shrugged as Chauvelin passed him, he looked at the figure huddled in the corner - waxy and pale in the fire light - and wondered you this boy was and what he'd know or rather who he knew that brought him to this. The boy's life was meaningless to Chauvelin except to draw out a bigger prize which meant that the boy had so value...

"You!" Leroux stabbed a finger into the chest of a guard beside him. "You heard the citoyen, sweep this place out." The man grumbled even as he moved to comply. "The rest of you back to your places." Leroux shooed the guards back to their station beside the door. "You... Gerard?" He said pointed at one man.

"Eh?"

"Go for a doctor." The man moseyed off and Leroux followed after Chauvelin. "Citoyen Chauvelin, how long are we to house this prisoner? It's a drain on my men and the longer he stays the more likely it will get out. You know how men talk when they've got enough drink in them."

That was precisely what Chauvelin was hoping for. He was hoping Blakeney would trust on the loose lips of a drunken guard to tell him where Armand was, then he would likely assume one of his clever disguises and try to slip into the prison and smuggle the boy out. It had worked in the past, but he�d never been pitted against Chauvelin�s keen brain and sharp eyes. What�s more was he knew Blakeney, which made all the difference. Blakeney was a big man and his mass was not easy to conceal, that would work against him. Let him come, he would find an easy entrance, but find the doors sealed against him when he tried to leave. �The prisoner is to stay until I say otherwise.�

�Understood, citoyen,� Leroux answered. �I�ll keep the watch on him until you say otherwise, citoyen.� A muscle twitched in Chauvelin�s jaw, Leroux managed not to smirk. �I see little need for such precautions, the boy is kept in the heart of the prison, under armed guard, the only thing that visitors that boy will have besides the guard is the rats.�

"For your sake, citoyen," Chauvelin replied coldly, "let us hope that not even the rats find their way in. For it would be a very grave matter if anything were to happen to that boy. Now, I am to meet with Citoyen Robespierre, when the doctor arrives, send to the Jacobin Club." With that Chauvelin turned on his heels and left Leroux gaping after him.