CHAPTER 29
Masquerade Ball
The two assassins posing as French diplomats, Dubois and Fournier, were tracked down at the Pulteney’s Hotel in Piccadilly earlier today. With the help of Blackthorn and Hansford’s agents, they were detained and questioned at the underground interrogation room at the Foreign Office.
They discovered that exactly at ten o’clock, the two hired guns were ordered to assassinate two men: Wellington and the Prince Regent, England’s future King. Once Michael and Blackthorn retrieved the costumes the assassins were supposed to don for the ball, the team was ready for their attack.
Michael stepped into the large foyer of Shaw’s elaborate estate dressed as a gladiator. Dozens of footman were lined up to see to the guests. Next to him was Blackthorn, dressed as Rembrandt with a black mask.
The chandelier hung from the ceiling with hundreds of candles. A crowd of people dressed in their costumes made their way toward the west wing to the ballroom. Marie Antoinette rushed by Michael with Caesar by her side. Genghis Khan and his minions and other historical figures slowly filled the foyer, some rushing to get to the ballroom, while others stood sipping their drinks and conversing.
It was clever of Tomkin and his accomplice to plan out the assassinations this way. As it was, there were already three other men dressed as gladiators. Wellington always dressed in military uniform and the Regent always came as himself. Everyone involved in tonight’s plan, including the Regent and Wellington saw no reason to do otherwise with dozen of agents around them all evening. Besides, the team did not want to risk suspicion of Shaw and Tomkin.
“Once the Regent arrives, I’ll check out the east wing. You check the other,” Michael said to Blackthorn in perfect French.
Once they entered the grand ballroom, Michael handed his card to the butler.
The butler called out: “Monsieur Armand Dubois.” The crowd looked his way. Then, the butler took the card Blackthorn gave him and read: “Monsieur Burrell Fournier.”
Michael and Blackthorn entered the ballroom and split up in opposite directions. Beeswax candles, small and large, were scattered about and perfumed the ballroom. To his left he saw a rectangular table with dozens of edible bites and punch for the guests.
Up ahead, he saw Wellington dressed in his uniform of red and gold speaking with a gentleman dressed as Alexander the Great. Shaw could be any one of these people.
Carefully watching the crowd, Michael walked deep into the ballroom. Making eye contact with Wellington, he gave him a quick nod and walked in the opposite direction.
Soon, he’d slip away to the east wing of the estate as planned and search for Emma.
* * *
“What the bloody hell is wrong with her?” Shaw entered the guest room on the east wing of his estate. He saw Emma sitting by the hearth and staring into the fire as if she was transfixed by the flames. “What is that damn smell?” He waved away the strange stench.
His partner grimaced. “It’s opium. Don’t you have guests to attend to? You could have been noticed by the servants.”
“Dubois and Fournier are here.” Shaw looked back at Emma for a brief moment.
“Good.”
“There is something more,” he said pointing to his stomach. “Prinny just arrived with an unusual number of entourage. They are not leaving his side.”
“Why does that surprise you? Prinny is the future King of England. It is only fitting that he has a large number of servants and friends to entertain him.” Tomkin pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. “Don’t fret. It will all be over soon.”
“Not soon enough.” Shaw paced the room. “Your unmarked carriage is ready in the stable yard. I suggest you take your leave now while the guests are still enjoying the festivities.”
“Not before I make sure the deed is done. That is when I shall make my escape.”
“You will take that bitch,” Shaw said, pointing his finger at Emma sitting by the fireplace, “and leave now.”
“Or what?”
Shaw said, “Or that particular letter you’re missing will be delivered to the authorities.” He watched Tomkin’s expression morph into a scowl.
“You stole the letter from my study?”
“If anything happens to me tonight, the letter will be delivered to the proper authorities. You underestimate me, Tomkin. I told you, you shouldn’t have brought her here.” He backed away and felt the door knob. “If I don’t get what is owed to me, you will be very sorry.” With that, Shaw quickly exited the room.
* * *
Michael noticed Shaw’s thinning red hair; he was donned in a William Shakespeare costume leaving the ballroom. Keeping an eye on the fop, he trailed behind his target, but kept his distance. The man’s steps quickened as each second ticked by.
When his target came to the last room in the east wind and stopped, Michael quickly slipped into the adjoining room to avoid being discovered. Keeping the door ajar, he saw Shaw slip into the room.
Michael went to the adjoining wall and pressed his ear to listen. A murmur of voices was heard, but it was difficult to discern who Shaw was speaking with or the content. This went on for several minutes. Then the door clicked open again and someone exited the room.
Moving back to the door, he looked through the crack and saw Shaw walk away. The man looked distressed, irritated. Once Shaw left the premise, Michael pulled off his gladiator mask, set it on a chair, and waited a few more minutes for good measure.
Just then, Tomkin came out of the same room Shaw had walked out of. Blood pumped through Michael’s veins, but he reined in the rage to beat his enemy to a pulp. The Home Secretary quickly looked side to side before he walked off in the same direction as Shaw.
Taking the opportunity, Michael quickly twisted the door knob and slipped inside….