"Oh, of course, please go ahead," Fouche said, stepping aside to let the officer through.
After all, he was merely a low-ranking policeman. The fact that he could guard Necker here all depended on the permission issued by Count Robel of the Secret Police.
The tall officer nodded and smiled at him and then approached the prisoner to take a careful look at this man with messy hair and a shaggy beard to confirm he was indeed Necker before pretending to search him.
"We've already searched him, you can rest assured. No dangerous items or valuables," Fouche assured him from the side.
The officer moved to Necker's side as if he was checking his trouser pockets but leaned in close to his ear and whispered rapidly, "As long as you say nothing, you will be rescued within three days and then taken to England."
Necker was startled and turned his head to look at the officer, who had already put on his gloves and was walking toward the door: "No problems here, I'll leave the rest to you."
Fouche waited for him to leave, immediately closed the door securely, and signaled to his subordinates: "Come on, make it quick!"
The interrogation of Necker had already begun that very evening.
The two Chief Examiners were Police Commissioners from the Secret Police, with Fouche and his colleagues listening in—such a case that agitated the Queen would undoubtedly have to be officially handled by the "claws" of the Secret Police.
However, the interrogation continued till dawn, and yet Necker barely spoke a word.
Even when faced with irrefutable evidence, he only looked at the Chief Examiner who was raging and neither admitted nor denied anything, as if he was not the person involved at all.
The two Chief Examiners, exhausted, decided to take a break for a while.
Fouche ordered Prosper to keep a close watch on Necker, forbidding even the Secret Police from leaving without permission, and then returned to the cell on the third floor of the Bastille with an assistant.
The officer from the Police Affairs Department guarding the cell saluted him, "Everything is normal, sir."
Fouche nodded and glanced through the small window in the door, then pulled over a chair and dozed off next to the door. Continue your saga on freewebnovel
It wasn't until noon that the clinking of dishes and cutlery woke him up.
He squinted and saw an officer and two soldiers approaching with food in their hands.
Fouche's subordinate immediately stepped up, exchanged a few words with the officer, who then smiled, took some spare utensils, and tasted each dish.
Once the officer from the Police Affairs Department gave the all-clear, the door was opened and they motioned inside: "Please come in."
The officer entered, and in front of several guards, placed the lavish food on the table. However, no one noticed that as he lifted the dish of creamed pea soup, his thumbnail dipped into it.
After the food was served, the officer gestured to Necker, who was sitting rigidly on the couch, and to the woman and child huddled in the corner of the room: "Your meal is served."
Almost an hour later, a disturbance erupted in the cell with loud voices and a woman's scream.
Fouche, who was still catching up on sleep, abruptly opened his eyes, sprang from his chair, and rushed into the room.
There he saw Necker lying on the couch in pain, his body spasming occasionally, with dark blood trickling down his stubbled face onto the floor.
Fouche touched Necker's neck to feel his pulse and turned to his subordinates asking, "Has he been poisoned?"
The officer from the Police Affairs Department pointed at the food on the table: "It appears so, sir. He started having stomach pains soon after he ate, and then this happened."
"The hand is quick," Fouche said with a cold smile, instructing those around him, "Arrest the ones who just brought the food.
"Oran, find some animals to test this food."
"Yes, sir!"
...
Royal Palace.
The Duke of Orleans pushed open the door to a large hall on the second floor, smiling and greeting the banking magnates who had been discussing strategies, "Don't look so glum, gentlemen, the situation isn't that dire.
"I suggest we all enjoy a delicious dinner first, perhaps by The situation will have resolved itself by then."
"Necker has had dealings with you too, so how can you be so carefree?" asked the owner of Belanger Bank, looking at him, "What exactly is your plan?"
"You'll find out soon enough," the Duke of Orleans gestured towards the hallway, "The dining room is this way."
Count of Isaac, catching something in his demeanor, said in surprise, "You've really solved it?"
Seeing the Duke's silent smile, the others were instantly overjoyed: "Oh, God, you have saved us all!"𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂
"Wonderful, looks like there's no trouble after all..."
"I swear, you are the finest, greatest of the Cape![note 1]"
As the banking tycoons heaped empty flattery, they bowed to the Duke of Orleans, each secretly relieved that choosing him as their patron had been such a wise decision!
Just then, the butler Donnadieu hurried over, presenting a small, seal-waxed scroll respectfully to the Duke of Orleans.
The latter lifted the scroll smugly to show everyone in the room, then broke the seal and slowly unfurled it.
However, upon seeing the two lines of text, his expression darkened instantly. He turned and demanded of the butler, "Didn't Ravier say it was done?!"
"Yes, that's what he reported at noon," the butler answered tremulously.
The Duke of Orleans tore the note into dozens of pieces with a vicious motion, dropping them on the floor: "How can this be possible?"
The note was from his mole within the Secret Police. It contained only two sentences: Necker would be interrogated in the afternoon, he had not implicated any other banks.
But Ravier had told him Necker had been poisoned at lunch!
The Duke of Orleans suddenly remembered something and hurriedly grabbed the steward, "Has Ravier been found?"
The steward was somewhat confused and quickly bowed, "I will send someone to inquire immediately."
The Duke of Orleans closed the door to the hall with the back of his hand and paced back and forth, cursing under his breath, "That fool Ravier, why didn't he prepare more!"
He suddenly stopped, realizing that no matter how Necker had eluded the poisoning, he most likely would no longer believe the lie of being "saved to go to England."
That is to say, the dealings between Necker and the banks were very likely to become known to the Royal Family.
He pulled over a chair and sat down tiredly, feeling agitated and at a loss—what to do next?
He had already lost control of public opinion and the High Court, and his infiltration into the army was abandoned due to a baffling assassination attempt. If he lost control over finances now, then the Orleans family's century-long challenge for the throne would certainly come to an end in his generation!
No, there must be a way. The Duke of Orleans wiped the sweat from the palm of his hand on his coat, What other powers can I still call upon...
Count Capefield, who was beside him, saw the atmosphere suddenly turn somber and couldn't help but ask cautiously, "So, are we still going to have lunch now?"
...
The Bastille.
In a cell on the third floor, Necker, who had changed into a white coat, cleanly shaved his beard, and was wearing a wig, stared wide-eyed at another "himself" lying on the ground, his heart filled with dread.
If the police had not taken him to the small building across from the Bastille for interrogation, the person vomiting filthy blood and turning into a corpse would have been him.
Yes, last night Fouché had placed a death-row inmate here to impersonate Necker, and thanks to Necker's previously unkempt hair and beard, it was difficult to see any difference at first glance.
Joseph had long known that the Bastille was as penetrable as a sieve. Jeanne, who had concocted the "Affair of the Necklace," had been able to escape from here, let alone such an important target as Necker. So, he ordered Fouché to create a fake target to draw fire, while the real Necker was kept in a civilian house by the roadside, which was surprisingly safe.
Necker suddenly thought of something and turned to Fouché in a hurry, "What about Susan and the children?!"
Susan was the name of his wife. To lure the assassin into a trap, these police had used his wife and children to cooperate with the imposter.
Fouché gestured toward the inner room, "They're fine. Their food was personally delivered by my people."
Necker breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the body on the ground, and suddenly said coldly, "This was just your ruse to plot against me, wasn't it?"
The door was pushed open, and Prosper walked in, tipping his hat to Fouché in greeting, "Chief, the one who brought the food was named Carla, a lieutenant."
"Did you catch him?"
"He's dead."
Fouché kicked the sofa in frustration, "Damn it! How did he die? Who killed him?!"
"He was poisoned," said Prosper, "He's still hanging on to life, but he can't speak anymore."
Fouché glanced towards Necker, his tone full of sarcasm, "Would you like to see how we poison an officer to plot against you?
"His Majesty the King has already pardoned you. Who do you think most wants you dead now?"
Necker's head drooped despondently, his last sliver of hope utterly extinguished.
Before long, Joseph also hurried to the Bastille upon hearing the news.
After listening to Fouché briefly describe the events since yesterday, he first asked, "Is the assassin still alive?"
"Sorry, Your Highness, he breathed his last two hours ago."
"So soon?" Joseph frowned, "Didn't you perform gastric lavage on him?"
"Er, what's gastric lavage?"
Joseph shook his head and sighed. It seemed that gastric lavage hadn't been invented in this era. If they could have performed it on the poison victim immediately, he might have survived the night, and perhaps they would have been able to extract information about the mastermind behind the scenes.
"How much did Necker confess?"𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢
Fouche bowed his head, "He has been silent. He says he will only reveal more if we agree to exile him."
Joseph sneered, "Still trying to bargain? Once that person arrives, he will confess everything obediently."
"Alright, go attend to your duties, but keep a close watch on Mr. Necker."
"Yes, Your Highness."
After Fouche and the others left, Joseph then turned his gaze to Bernard-René Jourdan de Launay, the commander of the Bastille's garrison, who had a pained expression on his face as he stood by.
"Marquis of Launay, do you realize how important Necker is? Do you understand the impact his death would have caused?
"That, Your Highness, I am truly sorry. It was negligence on the part of my officers," Launay wiped the cold sweat from his brow, relieved that the Royal Family had been alerted so quickly and that Necker was not dead, otherwise, his position would have been difficult to keep.
Joseph gave him a cold look, "Negligence by your 'subordinates'?"
"Oh, no, no," Launay bowed repeatedly, "It was my negligence!"
Joseph nodded, "Hmm, I will report this truthfully to Her Majesty the Queen."
"Ah?" Launay immediately panicked, "Please don't do so, Your Highness! Give me another chance, please..."
Joseph stopped walking and looked at him, "From now on, change the guards at the gates of the Bastille, the cooks, the cleaners—everyone to my people. Your officers and soldiers are to stay at least a hundred steps away from Necker's cell."
"Good, good, I will follow your orders!"
"Furthermore, you have half a month to find the mastermind behind the murder plot against Necker."
"Yes, yes, I will definitely find that person!"
Joseph knew that the mastermind behind this was almost certainly someone from the Banking Guild, but there was no way Launay could find them.
Nevertheless, the Bastille had become a sore point in the hearts of the French people, frequently used to smear the Royal Family. He took this opportunity to gain leverage, which would make dealing with the Bastille much easier later on.
Night fell.
In the interrogation room on the second floor of the Bastille, Necker was gnashing his teeth, only repeating "I need a promise from the Royal Family," "Only exile is acceptable," and such.
Suddenly, the door to the interrogation room was pushed open, and a familiar face appeared before him.
Necker was taken aback, blurting out, "Carolina? What are you doing here?!"
Carolina, donned in a simple black coat, casually bowed to him and smiled warmly, "Good evening, Mr. Necker. How long has it been since we last met? Ah, since my exile two years ago, right?"
"You, why have you come?" Necker repeated mechanically.
Carolina nodded to Fouche and the others before taking his seat at the Chief Examiner's position, expertly flipping through the interrogation records and case files.
After a moment, he raised his head to look at Necker and smiled again, "The Crown Prince has sent me to be your Chief Examiner. Mr. Necker, my old friend, are you surprised?" Continue reading at freewebnovel
"Why you..."
"Heh, we've fought in the open and in the shadows for so many years, I am probably the person most familiar with those things you've done in this world." Carolina browsed the dossier, "Let's not waste time, let's start with this loan agreement you have with Belanger Bank."
"No, I need a promise for exile!"
"Hmm, let me guess, you probably signed two contracts for this loan of four million livres with Belanger Bank." Carolina completely ignored him, feeling a surge of vengeful pleasure as his mind swiftly pinpointed all suspicious details and deduced them with his years of experience in embezzlement, "Look here, at the government's interest expenditure, you may have balanced the accounts, but the direction of the funds here has left a trail..."
Necker listened to him drone on for over an hour, his expression shifting from anger to shock—Carolina's words matched the reality more and more until they were almost identical. And this was something only he and the directors of Belanger Bank knew!
"Hmm, it seems you're agreeing." Carolina nodded in satisfaction and asked the clerk, "Did you get all that?"
"Yes, Viscount Carolina."
"Very well. Tomorrow have the Royal Police make arrests and check the accounts according to this; I'm sure there will be discoveries to be made."
Necker's cold sweat immediately began to stream down his back...