Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,58

I am playing, monsieur?'

'I still don't know the rules or the object. But I can affirm that it ends here and now. I am not monsieur de Laffemas, madame. I am a soldier. If you persist in playing games, our conversation will take a most discourteous turn.'

'Are you threatening me monsieur?'

'Yes.'

'And you are a man who is willing to transform your threats into action . . .'

This time, the captain of the Blades was silent.

La Donna met his stare without blinking, returned to her armchair, and invited La Fargue to sit facing her, to which he consented after removing his baldric and his sword.

'It's about the Alchemist, isn't it?' Alessandra guessed.

The old gentleman raised an eyebrow. What exactly did she know about the blows t«he Alchemist had struck against the Blades?

'Rest assured,' she said as if reading his thoughts, 'I don't know the details of what transpired a few years ago at La Rochelle. I only know the bare essence. But perhaps that is already too much for your taste?'

La Fargue gave La Donna an expressionless stare.

'Do you know the nature of the documents that you arranged to have handed over to us today?'

Alessandra shrugged with an air of annoyance.

'Obviously.'

'Is the Alchemist part of the plot against the king that you claim to have information about?'

'Of the plot against the throne,' she corrected. 'And yes, the Alchemist is the principal instigator. The duchesse de Chevreuse is also a participant—'

La Fargue greeted this revelation without much surprise, but he hadn't heard the worst yet.

'—as is the queen,' the adventuress finished.

The old captain was visibly shaken.

'You mean the queen mother, of course . . .'

Alessandra rose from her chair, going over to the large cage and teasing one of her dragonnets by sliding an index finger between the bars.

'It's true, of course, that the queen you speak of is also implicated,' said the beautiful Italian woman in a light-hearted tone. 'Isn't she always? But I was thinking of the other, of the reigning queen . . .'

'Of Anne d'Autriche.'

'Yes.'

La Fargue now rose in turn, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace; and finally asked:

'These documents from the Black Claw, how did you come by them?'

'I stole them.'

'From whom?'

'By God! From one of its members . . . ! And as you can imagine, although I don't know how they learned it was me, they are most displeased about it!'

'Why?'

Sincerely puzzled, Alessandra looked at the old gentleman.

'I beg your pardon?'

"Why did you steal these documents from the Black Claw?'

'Ah . . . !' she said, finally understanding. 'Would you believe me if I told you that I dislike the Black Claw as much as you do and that, when possible, I apply myself to doing them harm?'

He approached her.

'No,' he replied. 'I would not believe it.'

She smiled and resisted the temptation to step back.

'So, why?' La Fargue insisted.

'Because I received the order to do so.'

He came closer still.

Now they were practically touching and Alessandra had to tilt her head to see the black look on her interrogator's face.

'Who was it, who gave this order?' he demanded in a grave, menacing tone.

'It came from our masters, of course, captain.'

'I serve the king of France and Cardinal Richelieu. Do you claim to do the same, madame?'

The young woman did not blink.

'1 claim nothing of the sort, monsieur. Do you really want me, here and now, to name those I am thinking of, and know that you are too?'

La Donna and the old captain both remained silent for a moment, face-to-face, he trying to probe her soul and she opposing him with the calmness of an indomitable will. They did not move, glaring at one another, barely breathing.

And someone knocked at the door.

'Captain!' called Leprat.

La Fargue hurried to open up.

'What is it?'

'The sentries in the park no longer answer to the calls,' replied Leprat. 'And the valet I sent to alert the other musketeers posted at the entrance to the domain has not returned.'

Marciac had been waiting in front of the massive Saint-Eustache church for a few moments when Rochefort finally arrived. The cardinal's henchman was accompanied by two other gentlemen, whom he asked to wait behind. Then he walked up to the forecourt alone and, not seeing the Gascon, slowly spun around, searching the darkness.

'Since when do you bring company to our meetings?' Marciac asked him, emerging from the shadows.

'Since it pleases me to do so.'

'It's contrary to our accords.'

'They are far enough off that they cannot hear you or see you. And