Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,67

growled. “I order you to cease immediately or I will have you arrested for trespassing and disobeying orders from an officer of the Ministère.”

Marcellus heard a crash and looked over to see that one of Chacal’s deputies had overturned his bedside table and was now rifling through the contents of its small drawer. Furiously, he rushed toward the man. “What on Laterre—”

But he stopped when something hard was thrust into his stomach. He glanced down to see Chacal had extended his baton, blocking Marcellus’s path.

“I am not disobeying orders,” the inspecteur said in a chillingly calm tone. “I am following them.”

Marcellus seethed. “Well, whoever gave you those orders, as Commandeur-in-training, I outrank them.”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong, Officer Bonnefaçon.” Chacal’s voice hissed ominously on the last syllable of Marcellus’s name. “I have every right to search this room. I would share more details with you, but I’m afraid it’s above your clearance level.”

Marcellus recognized his own words echoed back at him. The same words he’d said to Chacal earlier today, when the inspecteur had cornered him outside of Fret 7.

“We found something,” a voice announced, causing both Chacal and Marcellus to dart into the bathroom, where a uniformed deputy was kneeling over a small gap in the floor. Marcellus’s childhood hiding spot. The loose tile had been pulled up and tossed aside. And lying at the base of the shallow nook, where only days ago there was nothing, there was now, indeed, something.

A microcam.

Marcellus could tell from its crude design and shape that it was the same one his grandfather had stolen from that very spot. Mabelle’s microcam.

A chill worked its way down Marcellus’s spine as Inspecteur Chacal reached into the floor and pinched the tiny object between two gloved fingers. He held it up to the light, examining it. “And what is this, Officer?”

“I have no idea how that got there,” Marcellus said and, even though it was the truth, his voice still wavered.

The inspecteur raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing Marcellus. He stalked into the bedroom and tapped on the wall monitor. “Well, let’s find out, shall we?”

Marcellus stood back, dread coating his stomach. Something was going on here. Something that made the back of Marcellus’s neck prickle with sweat.

The screen blinked to life as it connected to the small device, and a moment later, an image appeared. An image Marcellus was certain he’d never seen before. It appeared to be captured from within the warden’s office, the room Marcellus had just left. Except now it was dark and empty. As though this footage had been taken at night. The image panned around the room, closing in on various objects: the warden’s desk, the monitors on the wall, the control panel. Then, the image shifted, replaced by what looked to be three-dimensional blueprints of some kind. The complicated schematics rotated and zoomed out, until Marcellus started to recognize the shapes and patterns of the design.

And the blood froze to ice in his veins.

Bastille.

These were blueprints for the prison. Marcellus could see the whole compound now. The towers, the spaceport, the zyttrium exploits—all of it cracked open and displayed in great detail.

Inspecteur Chacal tapped on the screen to pause the playback. “Marcellus Bonnefaçon, you are under arrest for collusion with the Vangarde in the attempted break-out of Citizen Rousseau.”

“What?” Marcellus barely had time to sputter out the word before one of the deputies was on him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them behind his back. Marcellus struggled, but the second deputy was there in an instant, restraining him and swiping Marcellus’s rayonette from its holster. “Chacal! I had nothing to do with that!”

But the inspecteur ignored Marcellus’s protests, jabbing a finger at the frozen blueprint on the screen. “This evidence suggests otherwise. And I, personally, am witness to the fact that you disobeyed direct orders and met secretly with two Vangarde operatives in the Policier Precinct, shortly after they were arrested for attempting to break into the office of the Warden of Bastille. The very office documented on this microcam.” He shoved the device under Marcellus’s nose.

“Chacal!” Marcellus wrestled uselessly against his captors. “This is a mistake. I…”

Then, like lightning hitting a conductor, realization struck, and the words died on Marcellus’s tongue.

Of course. How could he have been so blind. So stupide?

This was no mistake. This was intentional. Very intentional. His grandfather had put that microcam there. Exactly where he’d found it the other day. Except obviously, it didn’t still have the incriminating footage that Mabelle had captured