Page 10 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
“Then…” Léon’s voice escaped him. What if the prisoner he requiredwasto die in the morning? He would never get Émile back if he had nothing to barter. He all but leapt on Mollard, locking his fingers around the ring of keys.
“Back!” Mollard shouted, shoving him off and stumbling several steps away with the volition of his push.
All the men stared at Léon, who grasped the side of the killing machine for balance. He stuttered out, “But… M-Mollard, do you not w-want it to be a good show? Are you so short sighted?” Warming to the line he’d randomly hit upon, he spoke more vehemently, admonishing Mollard, “Can you be so narrow minded? Don’t you want the people to embrace this wonderful—” He gestured at the shining blade.
“The Louisette,” the Parisian offered. “Some are calling it the guillotine, but I don’t think it will catch on.”
Léon nodded uncertainly, then continued with his impressive job of seeming excited. “Our first execution should be someone enormous, who has done something absolutely terrible. We’ll spill so much blood they can bathe in it! We’ll spill it straight on the ground. We’ll let the head drop to the crowd—let them have the first one. Perhaps all of them! Just for tomorrow.”
DuPont let out an approving chortle, rubbing his hands together. “I like it, Léon.”
Léon, desperately hopeful his plan was working, turned back to Mollard. “You pass me those keys, and I shall organise a show like you’ve never seen.”
Mollard spat straight down on the sheep’s head. “He’s been trying to get these keys all morning.”
The bastard!Léon could no longer hold back the glare of hatred, but he knew his place in DuPont’s heart well enough to push Mollard a little further. “That’s because some of us are professional. Some of us believe in the revolution. And sometimes I wonder why you wish to stand in the way of progress.”
A fearful look came over Mollard, his eyes scampering up to DuPont. “I do not stand in the way of the revolution.”
“Then why,” Léon pursued, “when I ask for your help, do you not help? Is there someone you’re protecting? A journalist, perhaps? Or worse, a priest?”
“No,” Mollard insisted, gelatinous lips wobbling about the place. “No! Take the keys. Kill them all. See if I care.”
Léon snatched the keys Mollard held out, then turned to DuPont, and, just for good measure, said quietly, but loudly enough for Mollard to hear, “It’s strange that I had to ask so many times, don’t you think?”
DuPont, aware of their mutual hatred, even if he preferred Léon’s looks and company, attempted to keep on neutral ground. “Perhaps Léon needs his own set of keys.”
Léon could not believe his luck, and he entirely failed to hide that fact when he cried, “Why, yes! I can just keep these?—”
“That’s the only pair I’ve got!” Mollard yelled.
The spiteful, spiteful bastard!“Surely you have more than one set?” Léon rounded. “What happens to the prisoners when you lose them?”
“I don’t lose them,” Mollard threw back. “I’m careful. That’s why I never let them out of my sight.”
“I’m not convinced.” Even as he said it, Léon knew it was a stretch, but he still gambled on, “I think I should hold on to them for safe keeping.”
“You little shit?—”
“Léon. Mollard. Enough.” DuPont spoke exactly like a bored adult breaking up a fight between two children. “Mollard has been running the prison for thirty-five years. I believe he’s capable of running it a few days more while we await the new keys.”
“I could…” What was the time? How long exactly had all this taken? “I wonder, could we do it now?” Léon asked as innocently as possible. “I could take these keys to the locksmith this very moment?—”
“What are you after?” Mollard’s words came long and cold, like a slug on Léon’s back.
“If-if we’re to have so many e-executions, and prisoners—w-well, someone needs to be efficient around here.” Léon thrust his handsome head up arrogantly. “And anyway, I don’t have time for this right now. I must plan tomorrow’s show.” He disliked the use of the word ‘show,’ but it rolled off his tongue with cunning ease and landed just right in DuPont’s ear, provoking a grin. Léon nodded in response, and all but ran for the cells.
But he was grabbed on the biceps by DuPont on the way past, pulled in close, and the low voice against his ear said, “One moment. I need to talk to you about one of the prisoners.”
Léon could have screamed. “Yes?”
“Not here.” DuPont glanced around at the other men. “It’s a delicate matter. There are some special circumstances regarding one of the condemned… Around their execution…”
He refused to be drawn out now, not when he was so close. “Then I shall come straight back to you. And I can tell you my plans for tomorrow then, too.”
“Léon!” DuPont called, but Léon had already, quickly and forcefully, pulled away.
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