Chapter 13: The Deal

Chapter 13: The Deal

Joseph left two guards behind to keep an eye on the bank manager, preventing any leaks of information, and then led his group out of Havre Bank.

Arden, eager to act, said,

"Your Highness, let me take some men and arrest Guizot."

Joseph raised his hand to stop him,

"Guizot only gave Similion 30,000 livres. There's no evidence linking him directly to the crimes."

"Then let's arrest Similion. Maybe he'll confess and implicate Guizot."

Joseph hadn't expected the mastermind to be the Paris Chief of Police, Guizot. He frowned deeply, knowing that Guizot's position made him difficult to prosecute. If Guizot denied everything, Similion's confession alone might not be enough to convict him.

Eamon glanced at the darkening sky and suggested,

"Your Highness, it's getting late. Perhaps we should return to your residence."

Joseph's eyes suddenly lit up with an idea,

"When Valian was captured, it was near dusk, so the news probably won't reach City Hall until tomorrow morning, right?"

Arden nodded,

"He's just a lowlife; no one's going to notice him immediately."

"Good!"

Joseph quickly boarded the carriage, wrote a letter on the small desk inside, and handed it to the captain of his guard,

"Viscount Kersod, please send someone to Versailles Palace with this. Make sure it gets to the Queen quickly!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

At 4 a.m., Count Hermann, the Queen's secretary, and Antoine, the Special Police Commissioner, arrived at the Saint-Antoine police station, yawning.

Before they could greet him, Joseph warmly welcomed them, offering hot cocoa and inviting them to sit down.

"Your Highness, what urgent matter required us to come here so early?" Hermann asked.

"There is indeed something I need your help with," Joseph said, leaning forward to explain his plan.

Hermann's eyes widened in surprise,

"But if this goes wrong…"

"Leave it to me," Antoine interrupted confidently. "Your Highness's plan is excellent. I might even include it in the training for our secret police."

Joseph bowed slightly to show his gratitude,

"Thank you both for your help."

"Serving you, Your Highness, is our honor."

...

At dawn, Guizot, yawning, climbed into his carriage, lazily tossing his cane to his servant.

"Let's go," he ordered, waving his hand dismissively.

The carriage started moving, rattling over the cobblestone road. Guizot, still tired, was about to doze off again when the driver suddenly shouted in alarm, and the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"What's going on?" Guizot, annoyed, opened the window to see what was happening, but the door was suddenly flung open.

Three large men, wearing worn leather hats and reeking of filth, appeared outside.

Guizot's bodyguard hurriedly reached for his sword, but the blade of a dusack was already at his throat.

A thin, sharp-featured man with prominent knuckles gestured for Guizot's men to step out,

"Out of the carriage."

The servant and bodyguard scrambled out, but as Guizot moved to follow, he was held in place,

"You stay."

Then the three men climbed into the carriage. The man with the sword shut the door and ordered the driver,

"Keep going, and act like nothing happened."

As the carriage resumed its journey, the fear on Guizot's face vanished. He leaned back, his voice turning cold,

"You're Valian, right? Who sent you?"

As the Chief of Police in Paris, Guizot recognized the man as Valian, the second-in-command of the Black Sheep Gang, whom he had encountered the previous year.

Valian glanced at the thin man on his left, then looked down and mumbled,

"I'll let my associate speak to you."

The thin man ran his dusack across his stubbled face and gave Guizot a sidelong glance,

"Guizot, my boss wants to make a deal with you."

"You?" Guizot sneered,

"What makes you think you can negotiate with me? Get out of my carriage!"

The thin man ignored him, continuing calmly,

"It's about the 20,000 livres. If you don't listen, you'll regret it."

Guizot drawled,

"20,000 livres? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Why hide the truth?" The thin man smirked. "Similion told our boss everything during a drunken visit to a brothel, including the job you gave him."

"That useless idiot!" Guizot muttered, turning to look out the window,

"Whatever it is, take it up with Similion."

"No, this is beyond him. My boss wants you to give that 20,000 livres directly to us."

Guizot chuckled,

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"I'm sure you've heard, Royal Guards have been deployed in Saint-Antoine, and now no one dares cause trouble there."

Guizot's expression shifted slightly,

"So, what's your point?"

"Similion's task is now nearly impossible, for both us and the Horse Gang," the thin man said, holding up two fingers. "But my boss still wants to earn that 20,000 livres."

Guizot laughed,

"And you expect to get paid without doing the job?"

"No, no, we'll still do something," the thin man explained. "We'll just do one big job that's worth 20,000, then we'll stop."

Guizot's interest was piqued. He had heard about the Royal Guards sweeping through Saint-Antoine and was already troubled by it.

"What's your plan?"

"Our plan?" The thin man shook his head. "No, it's your plan. What do you want us to do?"

Guizot dropped his pretense, grinning wickedly,

"If you can pull off something that humiliates the Saint-Antoine police, makes the front page of every newspaper, and gets people in Paris talking for a year, then I might consider giving you the 20,000 livres directly."

The thin man thought for a moment,

"We could sneak into the Saint-Antoine police station, kill ten officers, and then burn the place down. How does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect." Guizot rubbed his chin, his grin widening. Burning down the police station would ruin the Prince's reputation, and the City Commissioner would be very pleased.

"Let's do it!"

The thin man nodded, carefully repeating,

"Let me confirm our deal: you will pay us 20,000 livres to kill ten police officers and burn down the police station. Is that correct?"

Guizot found the phrasing a bit odd but figured it was just the way a thug would speak. He nodded absentmindedly,

"Yes, that's the deal."

"No one forced you to make this decision, right?"

"What? Of course not."

The thin man stared at him with a smile,

"I'm just curious, Mr. Guizot, why are you willing to spend so much money on something that offers no return?"

Guizot's face darkened,

"Fool, that's none of your business! Now, get out of my carriage and go do what you're paid to do in Saint-Antoine!"

"Indeed, it's time to get to work." The thin man smiled as he sheathed his dusack, removed his worn leather hat, peeled off his fake beard, and pulled out a pair of iron handcuffs. He waved them in front of Guizot's face,

"Guizot, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder police officers, arson, and endangering the Prince's safety. By the authority of the Royal Police, I hereby place you under arrest."

The Royal Police was the formal name for the secret police, akin to the FBI in modern terms, with vast powers, including making direct arrests.

(End of Chapter)

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