‘Therefore we need a confession,’ Margont went on. ‘If you see me raise my arm, come to my aid. It will mean that I’m in danger or that he’s said enough to be arrested.’
‘And what if he doesn’t talk?’ asked Dalero.
‘I’ll let him go. Then we’ll discuss what to do next.’
That last point would depend above all on Prince Eugene’s judgement.
‘I want you to position yourselves in a circle around me. Then, in order to meet up with me, our man will enter the circle without realising it. There’ll be no possible retreat. Piquebois will take up position in the next-door house to my right, Sergeant Fimiento in the one to my left. Lefine will hide in the garden to protect the rear. Fanselin and Saber will be in the street opposite the house. Captain Dalero and Sergeant Andogio will place themselves at the far left of our street, where it’s intersected by the crossroads. Captain Dalero will be on the same side as me and Sergeant Andogio opposite, hiding in the ruins adjacent to the building where the battalion of the 48th has its quarters.’
‘There are more men on the left,’ Dalero pointed out.
‘Correct. Because it’s easier to hide there: the buildings are in a better state. But you told me that Sergeants Fimiento and Andogio were excellent marksmen.’
Fimiento smiled but it wasn’t clear whether it was in response to the compliment or because he was remembering a few particularly well-aimed shots.
‘I’ve positioned them at key points. Sergeant Fimiento can have the whole of our street in his line of sight as well as the one opposite this house. Sergeant Andogio is covering both our street and the crossroads. Any questions?’
‘We’re going to spend more than twenty-four hours hiding beneath the remains of walls in danger of collapsing and without making a fire – so having to freeze all night and eat cold food – is that it?’ asked Lefine.
‘Absolutely. Any more questions? So, let’s wish ourselves good luck.’
CHAPTER 28
IT had been a long wait. At last the time fixed for the rendezvous had arrived and Margont was pacing up and down at the front entrance, surveying the area, his breath turning to steam. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his grey greatcoat. His fingers stroked the butt of his pistols. He had also brought his sword and a knife. He smiled at the thought that he hadn’t been as well armed as this when he launched into the attack on the Great Redoubt. He was trying to guess which of the four faces he would find himself up against. He was also wondering whether the man would answer his questions. And if so, whether it would just be to allay his suspicions before trying to eliminate him.
After what seemed both a short and a particularly long period of time, he glimpsed a silhouette. His heart began to race. The passer-by was alone. He was coming from the right, Piquebois and Fanselin’s side. He was walking slowly. He too was wearing a greatcoat and had his hands deep in his pockets.
Gradually, the distance lessened. The stranger had his collar turned up and was wearing a cap, so that it was still not possible to make out his face. When he was about a hundred paces away, he stopped. He was looking at Margont. Suddenly a shot rang out. Margont was hit full in the chest and fell. The stranger did an about-turn and started to run. The shot had been fired from the corner of the crossroads, where Sergeant Andogio had taken up position. Piquebois was the first to jump out of his hiding-place.
‘There are two of them!’ he yelled. ‘Fanselin, come with me!’
He set off in hot pursuit of the figure, who was by now far away from the circle that was supposed to trap him. Fanselin suddenly emerged holding a pistol and ran to join Piquebois. Dalero and Saber rushed towards the marksman whom Fimiento was already aiming at. The man was lurking in the darkness. He had thrown aside his discharged musket and was taking aim at Fimiento with Sergeant Andogio’s weapon. The sergeant was lying at his feet. Two shots rang out almost simultaneously. Fimiento’s bullet lodged in the section of wall behind which his opponent had positioned himself and Fimiento fell to the ground immediately afterwards. The marksman dropped his second musket and then it was his turn to flee. He sped across the street and into an area littered with rubble.
When the fugitive failed to respond to his warnings, Saber opened fire with his pistol. Dalero did likewise. The two bullets were way off target. Lefine skirted the house and ran towards Margont, who was sitting up. His greatcoat had been holed near his right lung.
‘It’s all right. I’m not hurt, look.’
He opened his garment. He was wearing a cuirassier’s breastplate. The piece of metal was thick enough to stop bullets and was pigeon-breasted to deflect projectiles.
‘I borrowed it from a friend. I’m not wounded. It was the shock that made me fall. And the fear as well. Why did no one spot the marksman?’
‘We were too busy watching the other one,’ Lefine replied. ‘He created an effective diversion.’
Margont picked himself up. He looked at the hole in the material.
‘A hell of a shot …’
By now Dalero and Saber had also ventured into the rubble. Behind them lights and faces were appearing at windows and a sentry had sprung out from a porch.
‘Who goes there?’ he yelled.
‘Friends! France!’ Saber answered, to avoid getting a bullet between his shoulder blades.
There were piles of rubble that were liable to collapse underfoot, sections of wall from behind which someone could pounce on you, areas of shadow capable of hiding a marksman … Dalero and Saber, sabres in hand, were progressing speedily but cautiously. Saber noticed the man on the run disappear behind a heap of fallen masonry.
‘Over there!’ he exclaimed, pointing with the tip of his sword.
He wanted to press forward but the charred floorboards gave way beneath him and he went sprawling amongst the ashes. Dalero got slightly ahead of him. When Saber caught up with him, it was only to be told that the man had disappeared.
In the opposite direction Fanselin was still in pursuit of the other man, while Piquebois had stopped to lean against a wall. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the concussion he had suffered at the Moskva. The figure turned round, pointing a pistol. Fanselin instinctively hunched his shoulders and bent over. But the marksman did not slow down and his bullet missed the lancer by a long way. Fanselin had noticed that the fugitive was in excellent physical shape. He ran very fast and had been doing so for some time. Sensing that if it came to endurance he would be the loser, Fanselin decided to use guile instead. When the man turned into a street, he himself went into a parallel one. He lost sight of him but could still hear his footsteps. Fanselin was trying to make as little noise as possible, even if it meant slowing down. The man almost gave him the slip but Fanselin made up for lost time by taking a short cut through the rubble. The fugitive turned round several times and, with no one in sight, thought he was safe. He changed direction and disappeared down an alley. Fanselin thought he was going to lose him for good but he glimpsed him again, separated from him by a row of crumbling houses. The man had started to walk to get his breath back. He wandered through the streets for a moment, frequently looking over his shoulder. Fanselin contented himself with following him in parallel, guided only by his hearing. Reassured at last, the man eventually reached a splendid-looking palace with several windows lit, even at this late hour. The two sentries guarding the railings surrounding the garden presented arms. He did not bother to look at them and went into the drive.
Fanselin edged closer and put his face to the icy bars. He recognised Colonel Barguelot.
Margont was examining Sergeant Andogio’s dead body. The murderer had slit his throat. Dalero was gazing at the discarded musket.
‘Line infantry musket first produced in 1777 and modified in 1801. How many of these are there in the army?
