Napoleon Must Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

Berthier attentively, waiting.
    “Yes. The scepter has not been found,” said Berthier heavily. He rubbed his stubbled chin. “I was dictating a recommendation a moment since.”
    “In what regard?” Napoleon motioned Murat and Bessieres to move closer. “Keep your voices down. I don’t want the details all over camp by morning.”
    “Of course,” said Berthier. He faltered, then said, “I have reason to t-think that the man responsible for the death of the marine private and the theft of the flail scepter is the gendarme officer, Inspector Lucien Vernet. He has no one to account for his whereabouts except his wife, before the murder was discovered, and he was present when the guard over the treasure was set. It was his responsibility, in any case.” He put his hands, palms down, on the writing table. “He is not a rich man, and he has a young wife that he dotes upon. He must make his fortune in the army.”
    “What’s his reputation?” asked Napoleon of Bessieres. “Do you know anything to his discredit?”
    “Nothing worth mentioning,” said Bessieres. “His wife did come here against your wish that all wives stay home. He is considered a good man, logical, if a little unimaginative.”
    “Not a bad quality in an Inspector-General,” said Napoleon. He swung around to face Berthier once more. “Find Desaix. I’ll want him here in ten minutes. I want to discuss this with you after I talk to him.” Saying that, he turned on his heel and strode to the tent door. “I will be back shortly. I expect you to be here.”
    As soon as he was gone, Murat shook his head in admiration. “He is always two jumps ahead of the rest of us.” He chose one of the canvas chairs and sat down. “We might as well be ready when he returns.”
    Berthier was not so sanguine. “How am I to find Desaix?”
    “Let Eugene do it,” suggested Bessieres, one of Napoleon’s most respected division commanders. “What else are secretaries for?” His long, lean frame was ill-suited to perching on canvas chairs, but he made the best of it, locking his hands around his knees.
    “Eugene,” said Berthier to his secretary.
    “Yes. I will attend to it at once,” said Eugene, setting his writing supplies aside and rising. “I will return shortly.”
    “With Desaix,” Napoleon’s aide added as he chewed the nail of his little finger. “This is a very bad thing, gentlemen. We must take care to keep the story from getting out.”
    “Why?” asked Bessieres. “Who will care what has become of a single marine private? Anyone who saw the battle this morning has more deaths to consider than one man’s.”
    “But the scepter. The private was guarding the treasure and the scepter is gone. It is likely that whoever stole the scepter killed the private as well,” said Berthier.
    Murat slapped his hands on his knees. “It’s the scepter that unquestionably matters the most. Those Egyptians want it returned to their control, more than they want most of the treasure. Not that there are a dozen men in Alexandria that would hesitate to steal us to perdition. It’s more than a stick of gold to them. It’s a symbol. Like our regimental flags. They would rally to it. There are men who benefitted from Mameluke rule. They’ll pay well and ask no questions to have it returned. Surely there are desperate men who know this.”
    “That’s what concerns me,” said Berthier. “Who is to say that the thief was not acting at the behest of the Pasha? If a French officer is so compromised ...”
    “It won’t be the first time an officer looked to improve himself with foreign gold,” said Bessieres laconically. “Dismiss the man, and make an example of him. If there are others in it with him, hang one of them. That should put a stop to the thefts. A hanging and one or two officers released in disgrace would put the rest on notice that Napoleon will not tolerate any mischief.”
    “My thought exactly,” said Berthier, cocking his head toward