Chapter 13: Deal
Joseph left two guards to watch the bank manager, preventing him from leaking information, then led the others out of Havre Bank.
Arden urged, "Your Highness, let me take some men to arrest Guizot."
Joseph raised a hand to stop him. "Guizot merely gave Similion thirty thousand livres. There's no evidence at all to prove his involvement."
"Then arrest Similion. Perhaps he'll confess about Guizot."
Joseph hadn't expected the mastermind behind it all to be the Commissioner of Police for Paris. He frowned, falling into deep thought. Guizot's status was special; as long as he vehemently denied it, it would be difficult to convict him based solely on Similion's testimony.
Eman glanced at the darkening sky and said to Joseph, "Your Highness, it's getting dark. We should head back to our residence first."
Upon hearing this, Joseph had a flash of inspiration: 'Valéan was arrested near dusk, so the news shouldn't reach the municipal hall until tomorrow morning, right?'
Arden nodded. "He's just a thug; no one will pay him any mind."
"That's good!"
"Viscount Clauzel, please send someone back to Versailles Palace to deliver this to Her Majesty the Queen. It must be swift!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
At four in the morning, Count Herman, Queen Marie's secretary, arrived at the Saint-Antoine district police station, yawning, accompanied by Antoine, the Secret Police Commissioner.
Before the two could even offer their greetings, Joseph enthusiastically had hot cocoa brought over and pulled them to sit down.
"Your Highness is in such a rush to have us here. Is there something important?"
"Indeed, there's something I need to trouble you both with." Joseph leaned forward slightly and began to outline his plan.
Herman's eyes widened. "This... if it's not handled well..."
"Leave it to me; there won't be any surprises," Antoine said, exuding confidence. "Your Highness's method is excellent. I'm even thinking of adding it to the Secret Police training curriculum."
Joseph bowed to them. "Then I'll rely on you both."
"It's our honor to serve Your Highness."
...
As dawn broke, Guizot yawned as he boarded his carriage, tossed his cane to his servant, and waved his hand languidly. "Let's go."
The carriage started slowly, jolting along the cobblestone road. Guizot's home was still some distance from the municipal hall, and he was just about to lean back in his seat for another short nap when he suddenly heard the coachman's urgent cry, "Whoa!" and the carriage abruptly stopped.
"What's going on?" Guizot irritably pulled open the carriage window, intending to see what had happened, but the carriage door was suddenly yanked open.
Three burly men, wearing ragged leather hats and black quilted vests, reeking of sweat, appeared outside the carriage.
Guizot's bodyguard frantically reached for his sword, but a Dussack blade was already pressed against his throat.
A gaunt man with prominent knuckles gestured outside the carriage, saying in a deep voice, "Everyone out."
The servants and bodyguard hastily exited the carriage. Guizot was about to move but was restrained. "Don't move."
Then the three burly men climbed into the carriage. The one holding the blade closed the door and said to the coachman:
"Keep going. Act like nothing happened."
The carriage started moving again. The look of panic on Guizot's face immediately vanished. He leaned back, his voice chilling.
"You're Valéan, aren't you? Who sent you here?"
Indeed, as the Commissioner of Police for Paris, he had some recollection of the leaders of the city's prominent gangs. The man in the middle, whose left ear was partially missing, he had seen once last year—the second-in-command of the Black Sheep Gang.
Valéan's eyes flickered to the gaunt middle-aged man sitting on the left. He lowered his head and said somewhat vaguely:
"Let... let my subordinate tell you."
The gaunt man rubbed the stubble on his face with the blade, then squinted at Guizot.
"Lord Guizot, our boss wants to discuss a deal with you."
"You?" Guizot scoffed, a sneer on his face. "What right do you have to make a deal with me? Get out of my carriage at once!"
The gaunt man seemed not to hear him, continuing as if to himself:
"Regarding the twenty thousand livres, you'll certainly regret it if you don't listen."
Guizot drew out his words. "Twenty thousand livres? I don't know what you're talking about."
"Why bother to hide it?" The gaunt man chuckled. "Similion went to the brothel with our boss, and after getting drunk, he spilled a lot, including the task you gave him."
'That useless idiot!' Guizot muttered, then turned his head to look out the window. "Whatever it is, go talk to Similion about it."
"No, he can't decide this. Our boss wants you to pay those twenty thousand livres directly to us."
Guizot seemed amused. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Surely you've heard? A large contingent of Royal Guards recently arrived in the Saint-Antoine district. No one dares cause trouble there anymore."
Guizot's expression shifted slightly. "So?"
"What Similion asked for will likely be impossible to achieve, for us or the Hoss Gang." The gaunt man held up two fingers. "But our boss wants to earn those twenty thousand livres."
Guizot laughed. "You want money without doing anything?"
"No, not doing nothing," the gaunt man replied. "Rather, doing one big job, one worth twenty thousand, and then we'll call it quits."
Guizot's interest was piqued at once. He had heard about the Royal Guards sweeping through the Saint-Antoine district, and it had been bothering him. Upon hearing this, he immediately grew interested. "How do you plan to do it?"
"We plan?" The gaunt man shook his head. "No, it's about what you want us to do."
Upon hearing this, Guizot dropped his pretense and sneered:
"Something that would make the police in the Saint-Antoine district lose face completely, get all the newspapers to feature it on their front pages, and have all of Paris talking about it for a year! If you can do that, I might consider giving you the twenty thousand livres directly."
The gaunt man thought for a moment and said, "Then we'll find an opportunity to infiltrate the Saint-Antoine district police station, kill ten officers, and then set the station on fire. How does that sound to you?"
"That's a good idea," Guizot said, rubbing his chin, a smile playing on his lips. 'The police station burned down? Wouldn't that completely humiliate the Crown Prince? The Municipal Commissioner would surely be pleased.' "Let's do it!"
The gaunt man nodded, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Let me repeat our agreement: you will pay twenty thousand livres to hire us to kill ten police officers and burn down the police station. Is that correct?"
Though Guizot found the phrasing a bit odd, the content was indeed correct. He simply assumed the thugs weren't articulate and unconsciously nodded. "Yes, that's right."
"No one is forcing you to make this decision, are they?"
"What? Of course not."
The gaunt man met his gaze, a slight smile on his face. "I'm very curious, Monsieur Guizot, why would you spend such a large sum of money on something that yields no profit?"
Guizot's face darkened. "Fools, that's not for you to ask! Now, get out of my carriage at once and go back to the Saint-Antoine district to do what you're supposed to do!"
"Indeed, it's time to get down to business," the gaunt man said, smiling as he sheathed his Dussack blade, removed his ragged leather hat, and peeled off his fake beard. Then, he drew a cast-iron handcuff from behind him and dangled it. "Guizot, you are suspected of conspiring to murder police officers, burning down a police station, and threatening the Crown Prince's safety. I hereby formally arrest you in the name of the Royal Police."
The Royal Police was a more refined term for the Secret Police, akin to the FBI of later eras, possessing immense authority, which included the power of direct arrest.
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