"That's all that Imbert knows, monsieur," explained a still grief-stricken
Évrard, "from what he has observed. He's clear that the Gypsies
have my son." And, according to the Ministry of Justice, the only thing
to do is to find the Court of Miracles. Another network of spies was presently
combing the city and beyond, diligently searching for the famed, mysterious
hideout.
"Is your man sure of his accusations?," asked Julian as he examined the
ransom note. "I mean, he could've seen Gypsies in any part of town on any
given day, and now suddenly he happens to remember placing them at scene
of the crime, and at time approximate to the kidnapping. It doesn't add
up."
He sighed as Évrard's expression changed from sad and dejected
to clearly frustrated. The father said to Julian, "But what if these people
truly have my son...?" Évrard fell silent, made a few turns of the
room as Julian focused once more on the note.
He asked Clarice when and where she found it. "Monsieur," she began,
"it was wedged in gate, out back. I didn't recognize the handwriting; I
thought it was from one of Évrard's or Anseau's friends. When I
read it..."
The poor woman could say no more as she buried her face in her hands.
At this point, Claude Frollo, who had been fairly silent most of Julian's
interrogation, offered, "May I see that note, Julian?"
The 21st Century spy handed Claude the ransom note who in turn scrutinized
it thoroughly. Jehan Frollo glanced over his brother's shoulder; his eyes
widened upon reading the first few lines. Julian picked up on this then
asked, "Uh, Claude? Of the total Gypsy population, how many are literate
enough to write something like that? I mean, the grammatical errors and
misspellings aside?"
The retired city magistrate's expression was very businesslike, the
tone of his voice rather bland. "My dear Julian, I would safely guess that
it's far less than one-tenth of one percent. Hmm...A minute fraction of
the peasant population is barely literate..."
"Which," interrupted Julian McNaney, "is why I suspect someone else. Look
at the ransom demand."
He directed his next questions to Évrard Ouimet. "M. Ouimet,
the kidnappers have demanded 500 florins. Now, we all know not too many
Parisians carry such currency. Why would the kidnappers specially request
a specific coin? Why not demand 500 livres? Sir, do you have...?"
Évrard replied quickly, "Why, I brought 5000 florins with me
from Marseilles. I had just conducted a business transaction along the
way to Paris last winter..."
He paused to glance at Claude and Jehan Frollo, then silently reminded them of a fateful journey north that winter – a journey that cost him the woman he never stopped loving. Saying nothing more, Évrard summoned his houseman to make a special trip to Maison des Chénes, his suburban home just outside Paris.
"I've kept it locked away in a safe place ever since my arrival."
"And," asked Julian, "does anyone else, other than yourself, know about
that money?"
Évrard Ouimet paused a bit, then replied, "No one else other
than myself, my houseman at Maison des Chénes, and my personal attendant."
"And who would that be?," asked Julian as he hastily scribbled notes onto
a pad of paper.
"Imbert l'Etrange, but I trust the man completely. He's been with me ever
since my marriage to Rixende Soulé."
Julian McNaney nodded to Jehan Frollo who by now partially figured out a few clues. Claude Frollo arose from his chair, made a few turns of the room, asking, "Évrard, where is your brother now?" Évrard tried not to appear angry, bitter even, but he put on a brave front for his son's sake. His own brother, the Minister of Justice, had not stepped foot in this house ever since the crime was committed. Philippe somehow ignored Claude Frollo's earlier advice about sifting through and following up on each and every piece of evidence. Judge Ouimet, beyond all doubt, was convinced that Gypsies had Orry, and that these people currently held him at the Court of Miracles.
"Claude," began Évrard to his friend-turned-rival, "Philippe assures me that he's doing everything humanly possible to bring my son home safe and sound..."
Julian couldn't resist with, "But, did he interrogate the eyewitness?"
"Eyewitness? I thought Imbert..."
"No, another person, a woman, saw the whole thing, but she's afraid to
come forth out of fear the kidnappers will retaliate."
Claude Frollo frowned. "That's preposterous! If she can indeed identify the culprits, then why won't she come forward?"
Jehan Frollo sighed, replying, "Perhaps the kidnappers have already
gotten to her, even threatened her with mortal harm if she told."
Julian nodded again, saying, "Which is why I want you, Jehan, to seek
out this woman. Gain her trust. If we can get Philippe Ouimet to cooperate
then maybe this woman will make a signed and sworn statement...Something
that's legally binding..."
He glanced at Claude Frollo asking, "Would that do, sir? A signed affidavit
or deposition?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't since I've used such devices in the past.
However she must, in person, identify the accused in a court of law."
Again, Julian McNaney and Claude Frollo outlined their plan to capture the kidnappers and bring Orry Ouimet home alive. "Évrard, I need handwriting samples from all your staff. Even if they're literate enough to sign their names, I want samples. Let me know of anyone who does not cooperate."
Then, "When the kidnappers deliver the instructions for the money drop, follow those directions to the letter. We can't leave anything to chance. Here's what I need you to do from your end..."
When Julian finished, Claude Frollo told Évrard, "Do not worry, my friend. We will find Orry and bring him home––alive and well. Allow me to call on Philippe. Obviously, he has yet to make a move and time is of the essence."
That said, Frollo, after exchanging the customary good-byes, departed
for the Palais de Justice. Only Jehan Frollo hung back long enough to whisper
to Julian, "Take those writing samples if you must, but I know exactly
who wrote that note. All you need is to get her to identify her accomplice..."
"But, Jehan," replied a now worried Julian, "What if she doesn't? She just
might tip her accomplices that we're on to her."
A wicked glint lit in Jehan Frollo's eyes; he smiled thinly, the voice
taking on a rather confidently sinister edge. "Oh, if I know her,
I will soon have her revealing things that happened twenty years ago, rather
than just yesterday."
Julian grinned a bit then turned to Évrard and said in a reassuring
voice, "M. Ouimet, I'm off to revisit the scene of the crime and comb for
evidence that your brother might've overlooked. I want you and your family
to stay here in case the kidnappers should contact you. Let me know the
moment you receive as much as a note..."
The grief-strickened father replied that he would fully cooperate, adding,
"Thank you, M. McNaney, but, if and when the necessity arises, where will
I be able to find you?"
Julian replied, "I usually hang out at La Belle d'Avignon...That's where
I'll be after I revisit the crime scene. I want to chat to the Jouets and
their customers. Perhaps someone saw or heard something suspicious – something
that may shed some light on this mystery."
******
It was a simple mission yet cloaked in secrecy; nothing could be left to chance, cautioned his master.
Yes, conduct yourself as though it's a minor household task. If anyone should ask, tell them it's an errand – perhaps to fetch something M. Ouimet or the Flamberts left behind. Tell the suspicious sorts that Clarice Flambert's favorite mirror needs to be fetched; Orry wants his favorite toy when he is returned home.
The servant made his way through darkened corridors. He noted the furniture and other objects now draped in heavy muslin – M. Ouimet and family may not set foot in this house for several seasons. Most of the movable items are either in Paris or on the way home to Marseilles.
Up the many flights of stairs, down more corridors, to another wing of the grand house, the servant's journey ended at a locked door at the end of a narrow hall. He took out a small iron key, unlocked that door, then disappeared for a few moments. Afterwards he emerged with a iron reinforced strongbox; then he locked the door and retraced his steps. No one detected him as the house was quite empty.
Once outside, the servant secured the box in a secret compartment within the wagon bed. He resumed his journey back to Paris without incident. No one knew the man was carrying 5000 florins. If only that servant had remained in the house a few moments longer. If only he had gone to the uppermost story by mistake...
******
The child stirred himself from a sound slumber. How long had he been
asleep? It didn't matter for the boy was tired, frightened, and profoundly
worried. The moment those kidnappers brought him to this place they merely
left a few instructions: Orry was to remain in this room until his father
could be contacted; they left the boy three days' food and water. There
was also a change of clothes, but nothing else – No books, no paper, no
pens.
Then they merely untied the bag, unbound the boy's hands, then quickly
left Orry all alone. Orry waited several minutes after they left before
emerging from the bag.
At first he didn't recognize his surroundings, but everything became familiar the moment he looked about the room. It was a rather cramped space, about the size of Uncle Philippe's dungeon cells but not as sparse and scary. Actually it was a room situated in the uppermost story of a tower. The only light filtered through a tiny stained glass window that Orry could only reach by standing on a makeshift platform. Through that window Orry cautiously peered out. Oh yes! Just as he suspected! Those two – Orry's "faithful" servant and that horrible woman – could be seen hurrying across the grounds.
Orry thought he had means to escape but the door was locked and bolted
from the outside – Orry couldn't free himself if he tried. Here he was,
out at Maison des Chénes – his own home! – in a room that so many
times served as a quiet place for reading, writing, thinking, dreaming.
Many times his father or Clarice would join him. It was a neat room filled
with lovely memories, but now it served as Orry's prison. Nearly every
piece of furniture was taken, except a small feather cot, a table, and
rickety chair.
Those people didn't even leave Orry a book to read. All Orry had was
time to think about the consequences of disobeying his father. If only
he hadn't sneaked back to see Nadine Frollo; if only he had, for one morning,
obeyed his father and remained indoors.
But no, thought Orry, Imbert would've kidnapped him anyway. He knew something was not right about that man but now it was too late to warn his father. Orry's only hope was that Uncle Philippe, the Minister of Justice, would find Imbert and that woman, then bring Orry home to Évrard.
As he continued to peer out the tiny window, Orry kept hoping that Philippe and his soldiers would come storming up the road. What a wonderful way for his father and Uncle Philippe to reconcile and finally put aside differences.
Orry's thoughts soon turned to Nadine; he wondered if he'll ever see her again.
He began to cry when he heard....IT!
Copyright©2001 by FrolloFreak® AKA The FanFiction Diva