CHAPTER ONE
In Which The Services of Phileas Fogg Are Requested
"Chattsworth?" Just the sound of the man's name sent a shiver down Fogg's back.
"Why in the bloody h-Il would I want to see Chattsworth?"
Rebecca puffed out her cheeks in frustration. She had known this would not be
easy. "Because he would very much like to see you." She said sweetly.
Fogg turned to regard her, one eyebrow arched in a patronizing manner. "Oh, I
highly doubt that, Rebecca. I believe he despises me more than I despise him. If
that's at all possible."
Oh, it's possible, she thought but instead said, "Oh alright, Phileas. It's not
that he would like to see, it's that he needs to see you."
This time the other brow went up. "Really?" he exclaimed, a smile catching at
the corner of his lips. "Needs to see me? Well, that's positively intriguing."
A full-blown smile broke out on Rebecca's face before she could stop it, and she
playfully swatted her cousin's arm. "Oh, shut up, Phileas."
The smile was catchy. Fogg grinned at his younger cousin as she walked over to
the desk in the parlor of the Aurora and picked up the piece of paper she had
dropped there a few moments earlier. She unfolded the note as she walked back.
"See for yourself, Phil." She remarked as she handed it over to him. The note
was short, sweet, and to the point. Very Chattsworth.
Rebecca,
Have a very delicate situation come up. Secrecy is imperative. Need Fogg.
Chattsworth
"A delicate situation?" Fogg repeated as he looked up.
Rebecca shrugged. "You know as much as I do. The note came by messenger just an
hour ago and I came here as soon as I could get away."
Fogg refolded the paper very neatly and handed it back to her. "Well, I've
nothing better to do tonight. Passepartout has the weekend off and it's really
rather boring around here without him."
"You're all heart, Phileas. Aren't you the least bit curious?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't think of anything Chattsworth would have to
say that would in the least bit interest me."
Well at least I've got him to go, she mused. Wasn't nearly as difficult as I had
expected...
"I've a coach waiting outside." She replied.
* * * * * * * *
"Have you noticed how busy it is around here today?" Fogg inquired as the
carriage finally rolled to a stop outside the walled entrance to the building
housing the British Secret Service.
"Busy?" Rebecca repeated. She hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. There
was the occasional carriage rumbling by and a few passersby walking along the
cobbled streets, but nothing that wasn't normally there whenever she paid a
visit to the office.
He nodded his head out the window of the carriage. "The extra guards on the roof
and as we passed, I was able to count at least one guard at the corner of each
of the buildings within the city block."
Rebecca sat up straight and leaned past her cousin to look out the window
herself. She had to stare up at the roof for several moments before she was able
to pick out the men that Phileas had so casual observed. And she had not noticed
anyone along the street that would have made her pause to think they might be
agents of the Secret Service.
"No, I had not noticed." she admitted slowly, not wanting to, but realizing that
Phileas already knew she hadn't. He always knew when she slipped up.
"Ah," was his only response. He climbed out of the carriage then and turned to
help her down. She couldn't help but notice the flick of his eyes as he scanned
the area around them. The hand that held hers was stone hard, reflexes ready at
a second's notice, but to a casual observer, Fogg would have seemed relaxed and
completely unaware of his surroundings.
"Do you think something is wrong?" she whispered, dropping her voice so low that
he barely heard the question.
"Wrong? No." he answered. "Expected. Yes."
He held his arm out and she placed her hand demurely on his wrist. To anyone
watching, they appeared a perfect gentleman and his consort as they walked at a
casual yet determined pace through the gate and down the walk toward the door.
Once inside they were promptly greeted and told that Sir Jonathan Chattsworth
awaited their arrival in his office. As outside the building, Fogg noted the
increased number of guards that seemed to be mulling about, appearing
lacksidasical yet tensed in readiness. This time Rebecca was quick to notice as
well. She caught her cousin's eye and nodded. He smiled in response. She was a
quick learner.
* * * * * * * *
Sir Jonathan Chattsworth was the head of the British Secret Service, yet one
would have been hard pressed to guess so upon casual observation this evening.
He had been pacing a hole in the Oriental rug covering the floor of his office
for a good two hours now. Ever since the messenger had left the building with a
message for Rebecca Fogg. Although he knew without question that she would come
immediately upon receiving the note, he was not so sure she would be bringing
her cousin. Phileas Fogg was a very hard man to pigeonhole. Just when you were
certain you had his responses all figured out, he would go and do something
totally unexpected. And that frightened Chattsworth more than anything else. A
man that could not be predicted was a dangerous man indeed. Especially when that
man was as full of passion as Fogg.
Perhaps I should have told him at whose behest his presence was requested, he
thought. Surely he would not decline that invitation. So Chattsworth berated
himself for not having done that very thing. Of course, he had not done it in
the first place because of his ill feelings towards the man. But as head of the
Secret Service, he should have been above such feelings. D-mn that man for
bringing out such things in me.
A knock at the door brought him abruptly out of his revelry and he hurried over
to his desk, sitting down behind it, before speaking. It would not do to find
the head of the Secret Service pacing nervously up and down the carpet. "Who is
it?" he called out, hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt.
"Rebecca Fogg." came the young woman's reply.
Chattsworth swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Come in."
The door opened a moment later and his prized best agent flowed into the room.
He thought flowed, because Rebecca Fogg had a way of filling a room with her
effervescent presence whenever she walked in. She, like her cousin, was a force
that could not be ignored.
Behind her, walked in Phileas Fogg and Chattsworth breathed a sigh of relief. He
had not relished the idea of what would have happened had the young man not
come.
"Ah, Miss Fogg. Glad you came as soon as possible." He got up from the desk and
walked around it to greet her properly.
She inclined her head. "Sir Jonathan."
Chattsworth then glanced up at Fogg. The younger man was regarding him with the
intensity of a cat watching a caged bird. And that's exactly how he felt. "Fogg,
good of you to come."
A slight smile formed at the corner of Fogg's mouth. "How could I resist,
Chattsworth, It's not very often that one is needed." The emphasis on the last
word made the older man cringe. He had dreaded wording the invitation that way,
but he could think of no other word that might appeal to the man's senses.
'Well, yes...." Chattsworth started to stutter out. Fortunately he was saved
further embarrassment by a familiar voice that sent both Foggs twirling around
in their tracks.
"Yes, Mister Fogg, your services are quite needed."
For the first time in his life, Phileas Fogg was at a loss for words. Rebecca
made a small noise in the back of her throat and curtsied deeply to hide her
surprise. If the speaker had been anyone but the Queen of England, Chattsworth
would have thoroughly enjoyed the flustered expression on Fogg's face. As it
were, however, he felt the need to step in...and quickly.
"Your Majesty, I present to you Phileas Fogg and his cousin Rebecca Fogg."
Fogg recovered quickly and moved forward to take the Queen gloved hand in his.
He bowed deeply at the waist and kissed the knuckles of that hand. "Please
forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty," he said as he straightened to his full
height, nearly dwarfing the poor woman. "I was unaware we had company."
The woman reached out and gently patted the hand that still held hers "Normally
I would have waited to be introduced, but I am afraid that time is not a luxury
we have at the moment."
She waved a small hand toward the chairs gathered around Chattsworth's desk "Let
us have a seat first and Chattsworth with tell you what is required."
Fogg escorted the Queen to the nearest chair and assisted her in sitting. He
then in turn helped Rebecca, and finally took a seat for himself. Chattsworth
waited until all three were seated before returning to his desk.
"I am sure you have heard about the disappearance of the Bloodstone of Healing
from the British Museum last night." he started.
"Disappearance?" Fogg repeated. "I had assumed it was a robbery."
"That is what we are letting the newspapers report, Fogg. But they have not been
given the entire story." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk.
"There is more to this theft than what meets the eyes." And for the next forty-
five minutes he proceeded to tell them why.
There was a few moments of silence after Chattsworth finished in which the two
Foggs sat, digesting what had been said. Finally Phileas broke the silence.
"Do you actually believe all this...this," he was wont to say nonsense, but he
did not wish to offend the Queen if she did, so instead he just left it.
"I'm not sure what I believe right now, Mister Fogg." The Queen replied. "But
someone believes it is true. In the interest of national security I would know
who that is and what they plan to do with the crown."
"Well," Rebecca remarked, "It's an inside job. That much should be completely
obvious. Has someone checked out the guard who was on duty?
The Queen nodded. "Her name is Marion and she is Lord Marcus's daughter. She is
above suspicion."
Fogg sat back in his chair, elbows on the arms of the chair and his fingers
steepled in front of him. It was a posture Rebecca knew well. She stopped
herself from making a comment, deciding it was best to let her cousin think
through what he was about to say instead of blurting - as she was always wont to
do.
"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," he replied slowly, "No one is above
suspicion. Not even Lord Marcus. We are, after all, a very self-centered race.
Everyone - even someone as above reproach as Lord Marcus - has a price. It's
just that not everyone's price is monetary."
Chattsworth actually blanched. Rebecca's eyes threatened to pop out of her head,
but she bit her lip to keep from making a remark. She knew if she kept quiet
long enough, Phileas would make a point.
The Queen, however, was intrigued. "And you. Mister Fogg, have you a price?"
"I am only human, Your Majesty." A small smile crossed his face as he looked
over at Chattsworth. "Despite what some people may think. It is based, of
course, on your priorities."
"Do go on, Mister Fogg. You have my interest peaked. And the honor of Lord
Marcus at stake."
"Let us say, for example, that Lord Marcus was to find out that his beloved wife
was deathly ill. Her only hope of making a full recovery is to undergo a very
expensive operation. He does not have the expenses to cover the operation, nor
does he wish to impose on his closest friends. He does know, however, of a
certain artifact in the Museum - where he is curator - that would fetch a hefty
price. He fabricates an elaborate hoax to cover the theft, making it nearly
impossible to discover the true culprit. He then sells the artifact to someone
willing to pay what he needs. His wife is saved and no one is the wiser for who
would dare accuse him of such villainy. His price you see, was not the money,
but the life of his wife."
"That is a very frightening thought, Mister Fogg." The Queen replied. "Then are
we not to take a gentleman at his word? Are we to consider everyone suspect?"
"This can be a very frightening world, Your Majesty. Even a true gentleman has
a price, but he will let you know when his price has been paid for he will not
ask you to take his word."
"Ah," she smiled in understanding. 'Very enlightening, Mister Fogg. I am very
glad to say that you are on the side of the British government. Such
intelligence in an enemy would be too frightening to comprehend. I knew you
would be the man for the job."
Fogg pursed his lips for a moment, thinking. "What would you have me do with
the stones once I find them?"
The Queen was happy to note that he had not said 'If I found them.' "You are
to return whatever you find and whoever you find to Sir Jonathan. We will then
decide what needs to be done."
Silence reined for the longest of moments as Fogg sat in his chair, fingers
steepled before him again, lips pursed, and a faraway glaze to his eyes. Three
sets of eyes watched him. And when he finally spoke, three sets of lungs finally
breathed.
"I'll need all the information we've secured so far." He replied, "And I'll need
to speak with Lord Marcus and his daughter. As well as everyone else that had
access to where the bloodstone was kept." He gazed intently at the Queen. "I'll
also need complete license to do what I think needs to be done."
She smiled. "If you can give me your word as a complete gentleman, Mister Fogg,
that whatever you do will be in the best interest of England and the Queen."
Fogg couldn't help but return the smile. "You have my word as a gentleman, Your
Majesty,"
"Than complete license you shall have." She glanced over at Chattsworth. "Give
Mister Fogg whatever he requires, Sir Jonathan. That includes manpower. This is
to be considered priority one with maximum privacy." Her eyes narrowed then as
she saw the expression spreading across the man's face. She knew very well of
the animosity between the Head of the Secret Service and the best agent it ever
had. Their feud was no secret. "And, Sir Jonathan, he answers to know one save
myself. Is that understood?"
Rebecca shot her cousin a reprooful look. Now was not the time to gloat. Fogg
raised an eyebrow as he caught her eye, but his face did not change expressions.
He knew better than to provoke a fight in such unfair circumstances. There would
be plenty of time for that after the job was done.
(
geocities.com/lady_of_sherwood)