The Fool Ch. 11

"I don't have dementia, dear. I came because you told me how much this collection meant to you," she cackled again. "Sinclair, it's nice to meet you face to face finally."

"I am pleased to meet you too," he said smoothly. "May I introduce you to my parents?"

"Of course, dear boy, I am sure Carrington has far more important things to do than babysitting an old woman like me," she grinned.

"I should do one more quick walkthrough before the doors finally open. If you'll excuse me," Carrie smiled at them both and moved toward the entrance. Jordan's hand reached out and grabbed her as she moved past him.

"I just got a text from Edith, she and Grant are coming. They are on their way here from the airport," Jordan's expression said something was wrong, very wrong.

"We'll let it go until tomorrow and regroup in the morning, just go with the flow and, whatever happens, find out why they changed their minds about coming," Carrie whispered urgently. Her mind racing with how the old woman had managed to organise Edith's attendance tonight. She walked through the exhibits, reaching the curtained area, and took a shaky breath. She felt sick and suddenly felt the need to tell Sinclair everything. She pulled her phone from her pocket, wondering if it was too late, and pursed her lips.

Max and Daley guarded the curtained off area, and she saw them watching her with concern. She put her phone away and smiled the same fake smile she had been using for days. It was too late now; she had to just let it all ride on one final gamble and pray that everything worked out as CC had promised.

Carrie made her way back to the entrance and signalled the museum director that all was ready. The distinguish gentleman cleared his throat and came to a small podium before the doorway where Carrie stood, her team passing by her to enter the exhibit and take up their positions. Once the speech was over, and Carrie opened the doors wide, she felt the strong, comforting arm of Sinclair settle around her waist as he walked with her into the exhibition.

They walked through the maze-like spaces where people inched past the displays that circled the large space, ending up at the large deep red curtain hiding the final large space before the exit could be reached. Those present had been carefully handpicked for invitations. She smiled up at Sinclair as they walked through without stopping at the cases. Sinclair knew every piece and had been at the museum often enough over the last few weeks to have seen the majority of the displays and studied them in depth for accuracy.

"Sin," Carrie said in an almost whisper once they found a quiet corner before the rest of the patrons caught up to them. "Whatever happens tonight, I do love you, more than I could have believed possible."

"What do you mean, whatever happens tonight?" He asked, his voice lowering to the same volume. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know what will happen, but Edith is on her way, and Jordan looks like a disaster is about to occur. I just wanted you to know I love you, I know I don't say it much at all, and I wanted to say it tonight surrounded by the friends, career and the new life you have given me."

"Edith can't hurt me, not surrounded by so much security," Sinclair said, "You have to stop thinking like that."

"I know, but I wanted to say it tonight, anyway," she took his hand in hers and squeezed it, letting her anxiety show in the shiver that ran down her spine.

The large space at the end of the displays began to fill with those who had already viewed the exhibition as it was, and the Director of the museum once again took to a small podium as more champagne flowed and canapes were circulated amongst the guests.

"The curator of this exhibition has saved the best for last," he announced. "We stand now before the treasure room," he paused as a small ripple went through the crowd and indicated the security men who stood nearby.

"I would like to invite the family who made this exhibition possible to come and open this final room," he invited, and began a round of applause as Georgia, Frazer, and Sinclair looked at her in surprise.

"Go," she urged him. "I'm the curator tonight, not your fiancé, I'm working," she whispered.

"No, come with me," he hadn't moved, and his grip on her hand tightened as she tried to release it.

"Please, Sinclair, this may be the only time I get to be a curator in my own right, let me enjoy it without tainting by nepotism," she said reasonably, making him frown.

"Come on up, Sinclair. It was you who made all of this possible," the director called into the microphone.

"Come with me," Sinclair refused to let go of her hand and dragged her toward the front of the crowd who had surged forward eager to see the treasure room.

Carrie went reluctantly and stood on the edge of the platform. Sinclair stepped up, ungrateful that there wasn't enough room for him to drag her up there with him.

"I feel honoured to see so many familiar faces in the room and would like to thank you all for coming to the preview of the Mansvelt collection. I hope you have enjoyed the journey through time beautifully designed by Carrington Wordsworth-Ward and her team here at the museum," he paused and indicated Carrie, who blushed at his praise. "I could not have trusted such valuable family treasures to anyone else."

"I couldn't have said it better," Frazer agreed, when Sinclair offered him the microphone and waved it away.

"Gentlemen, if you'd like to do the honours and lead the way," the director indicated a lever that would raise the curtain that hid the entrance to the treasure room.

"I think the woman who put all of this together should do the honours," Sinclair indicated Carrie, and began a round of applause encouraging her onto the small platform. She stepped up and smiled widely at the crowd.

"Thank you all for coming, please help yourselves to the refreshments in the treasure room," she said in a small voice barely amplified by the microphone and pulled the lever. The curtain fell away revealing the cleverly built stern of an old galley ship, the leadlight decorated doors leading into its belly open for people to walk through.

Sinclair took her hand again, preparing for her to berate him for putting her in the spotlight, when Brandie and Lee approached looking worried.

"Someone has tampered with the final hologram," Brandie whispered urgently.

"I need to get into the mechanism below it to see what's going on," Lee added.

"We can't get to it in there now," Carrie said, her eyes wide and her voice shaky with anxiety. "Can we get to it through the other one?" They had placed two holograms back to back with a wall between them. If they could access this side through the other one, it wouldn't be a huge problem, but trying to fix it in here with all of the guests looking on, as well as the museum director, would be mortifying for her.

"Maybe, but we'll need your master key," Lee considered her words.

"Brandie, stay here and call if any happens while we're in there," Carrie said. "Sinclair, make sure Brandie can get near enough to the hologram without the director realising there is a problem. Get him a drink or distract him somehow, please!" she instructed, her voice rising in panic before hurrying away with Lee.

Sinclair immediately looked around for the director, who was standing near the display housing the Heart of the Heartless, and, while keeping Brandie within sight, he moved toward the man. It seemed like only a few minutes, but was, in reality, more like fifteen when the hologram sprang to life startling the room.

"Who dares disturb me treasure!" the holographic image of Edvard Mansvelt shouted into the room, making everyone turn to look at the spectacle. Sinclair saw Brandie walk away from the hologram looking at her phone and excused himself from the director and followed the purple haired girl.

"Everything good?" he asked.

"I think so, I've let them know, but they aren't answering my text," she frowned. "I need to get back to the control room and ensure the program is running..." her voice petered out, and her mouth gaped open as the hologram flickered and seemed to morph into something completely different. Sinclair followed her gaze and saw what she saw. A rumble of disquiet ran through the room.

"Good evening Fools," the jester-like figure greeted the gathering. "It seems that the Mansvelt's have tried to trick me with a fake tonight, so, rather than the Heart of the Heartless, I have taken the Heart of Sinclair Mansvelt! If you want it back, you will bring each of your Hats to Port Royale." The hologram exploded then, showering the crowd with cards depicting the Fool.

Sinclair was already moving in the direction Carrie had gone to check on the hologram's mechanics. He found Lee unconscious and bleeding from a large gash on his head. Several Fool cards lay on the floor around him.

"Call an ambulance and the police. Now!" Sinclair yelled, looking at the people around him, seeking out one face in the crowd. Not finding it, he pushed past the people and ran back toward the Treasure Room. Finding his target, he grabbed Jordan by the lapels and lifted him from his feet. "What did you do!" Sinclair roared in his face.

"Me? What did you do?" Jordan spat, "This whole thing was your idea, not mine!" he honestly wasn't sure what was going on. Carrie had been so reticent to fill him in on her plans, and he held to the hope that this was her plan and she would make contact with him as soon as she could. The alternative was too painful for him to think about. If Sinclair had discovered her motives and had stepped in to stop her from fulfilling his family's legacy by harming her in some way, he would kill the man himself.

"Where is she?" Sinclair demanded through clenched teeth.

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Jordan snarled, pushing his arms up between Sinclair's and fighting his way free of the grip the larger man had on him.

"If you've harmed one hair on her head, there isn't a hole on this earth that you could crawl into where I won't find you and end you!" Sinclair threatened, and, as he saw Jordan about to spit back another accusation, he lost any reserve he was clinging to and hit Jordan, knocking him to the ground where he sat dazed as Sinclair stalked off. He knew she'd been gone from his sight long enough for whoever took her to be far enough away that running around the museum looking for her was a waste of time. He wanted to go back and hit Jordan again, just to make his point crystal clear, but, instead, he went back to where Lee lay unconscious, ignoring his parents and sisters as they tried to talk to him.

"Sin, it's war party time," It was Christopher voice that finally cut through the angry red mist surrounding Sinclair.

"What?" he shook his head.

"We're going to war in Port Royale. You want her back, don't you?" Christopher said, sounding just as angry as Sinclair felt.

"Yes!" he hissed and came to his feet. "Brandie, you tell me the moment he wakes up. Go to the hospital with him and tell me everything he says about what happened," he ordered in a threatening way, making her nod at him with wide open eyes.

"I'll go with them," Max said, and Sinclair realised the two men who had been charged with guarding Carrie looked sick with the gravity of what had just happened. "Daley can stay with you, and we'll keep an open line between the hospital and here."

"Fine!" Sinclair snapped and stalked off, following Christopher, who had begun to walk to where an animated group of men all stood talking in low tones and watching Sinclair. Several of the men held one of the cards that had flown out of the exploding hologram.

Sinclair approached the men warily. None of them knew that what had just happened was impossible. Carrie was the Fool, yet the fool had kidnapped her. His anger fogged his thinking, and he couldn't make sense of anything that had just happened. The one thing he knew for sure was that the woman he loved was missing, and someone inside this museum had done it. He said nothing as the men stood talking around him. He was handed one of the cards.

"These are the cards left near where the boy was found," the gentle voice of Ben Morgan spoke. "We got them all. I expect the police would have tried to detain us if we didn't. It lists the nine of us, plus Joseph Nau, Gerard Myngs and Jordan Bonnet. It seems like they're getting the band back together."

"They? They who?" Sinclair growled, still feeling like he needed to punch someone.

"The Windsor's, I assume," Ben said without thought.

The idea that the Windsor's had taken Carrie gave Sinclair some hope. Surely her family wouldn't harm her, and they could know about her connection to the Fool. From what Carrie had told him they knew a lot about her life. He decided not to divulge what he knew about Carrington's heritage and her role in the thefts to his colleagues until he had more information about who had her and why. For now, they had to get through tonight and make it to Port Royal by the deadline. It was only then that he realised that he didn't know when that deadline was.

*****

Carrie took a deep breath and steeled herself against going up on deck to greet the man she loved. She knew the love she felt for him was real, and beyond a shadow of a doubt now. She hoped he understood why she had not told him what she had agreed to and forgave her. She looked at the two Amazon-like women who sat with her in the private lounge of her suite on the huge yacht. It was more like a cruise ship, she acknowledged, and she turned her head toward the porthole as she heard the engine of the smaller yacht get louder as it approached carrying twelve men who had come to face their nemesis. One, though, had come for her, and she allowed herself a small smile of hope that he came because he still loved her, not because he wanted retribution for her betrayal.

She knew that, as they arrived, law enforcement agencies were moving to arrest Grant, Edith and the other men and women involved in the trafficking of drugs, arms and young women. The evidence of the organisation's crimes and the powerful people behind it having been handed over by the Windsor's, who had been gathering information since the thefts of the Fool had begun. Carrie had lamented that the organisation had been allowed to prosper for so long, when the Windsor's must have discovered their crimes long ago, must have, but found out that knowing and gathering irrefutable evidence on powerful people who covered their dealings by using middlemen was difficult.

Jordan would find himself without family or friends when it was all over, and she felt for him, despite the fact that he had tried to force her into a relationship with him that she didn't want, she still cared what happened to him. He was manipulated, just as much as she was; it was just that he seemed happy with what they wanted for him and he went along with it. He'd had nothing to do with the criminal activity and would be a free man. CC offered to have him contained once he boarded the ship, but Carrie doubted he would pose a threat to her, especially after hearing what she had to say today.

Her biggest threat now was retribution from the other men she was about to face. Once again, she clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to stop her brain from twirling around all of the possibilities from today. She looked up as the door to her suite opened.

"How are you feeling?" Marina said, closing the door behind her.

"I'm okay," Carrie said, clenching her fists again.

"You need to be better than okay; you need to be strong and committed. If they see you waver they will doubt your words," Marina lectured. "Be an actress; you are not Carrie Ward for the next few hours, you are Lady Carrington Windsor, one of the richest and most powerful women in the world. These men are beneath you, and you owe them no explanations or apologies for your actions. You are merely delivering information and instructions from their betters."

"Are they onboard?" Carrie asked.

"Yes, and before you ask, they all came," Marina said. "They are putting their belongings into lock boxes. No phones or any sort of technology will be allowed in the room with you." Although she didn't say it, Carrie knew the men would be searched for weapons as well. Her uncle would be handling the welcome for the men, and she would be called to make her speech. It seemed everyone she met in the Windsor clan was an uncle or aunt or cousin of some description. The only people she was sure she was related to were her father and grandmother. She stood and walked to the window, pouring herself a glass of water from the small bar.

"If it's all the same to you, Marina, I'd like a little time alone before I face them. I think I've had enough pep talks this week," she smiled. "I will be fine, honestly. I have been acting my whole life; today will be no different."

"I'm afraid not," Marina shook her head. "You and the twins can go straight down. The Hats are putting up no resistance, and Sinclair is making demands about seeing you before he agrees to anything further."

"Showtime then," she let out a long breath and placed her glass of water back on the bar. The Amazonian women flanked her as she walked as if she were a prisoner being escorted to a trial, and she shook her head at the analogy. When she entered the well-appointed conference room, the occupants fell silent, and all eyes turned to her.

"Carrie," Sinclair breathed, his relief at seeing her unharmed evident in his voice as he came to his feet. One of her many cousins stepped forward and put a hand on Sinclair's shoulder, and the two women moved closer to her until he resumed his seat.

"As I was saying," her uncle continued. "If you will hold your questions until after Carrington has delivered her information and the instructions you require for when you return to your lives, this will go a lot faster. As you can see, she is unharmed and quite well, so I will let her begin if you are ready to listen, Mr. Mansvelt?"

Sinclair nodded, but glared at the man as he moved away, and Carrie took his place sitting at the head of the conference table. Carrie watched Sinclair carefully, seeing the bunched muscles and obvious tension that radiated from him as the two women who escorted her took their places beside her chair as if she was a forced participant here as the men were.

"Firstly," she began formally. "I have been asked to inform Jordan, William, Henry and Edward that the organisation known as the Leather Barrows has been raided and the people who arranged and profited from its illegal activities have been arrested. These include Edith Ward and Grant Roberts, as well as a long list of people known to each of you."

"No!" Jordan shouted. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm afraid so," she said, genuinely sad for Jordan who had become an orphan for the second time in his life. The other men that she had named had the good sense to stay silent as the unnamed men looked at them dubiously.

"Because of the demise of Edith Ward, my grandmother, and a good deal of her cronies, I am free to tell you all some truths about thefts that have plagued your association, not just in the last decade, but centuries," she said, her voice strong and steady, albeit unemotional.

"No!" Jordan's voice ran through the room a second time, and he came to his feet only to have one of the big men move to place a hand on his shoulder, and the women beside her closed rank around her again.

"It would be in your best interests to sit down and listen, Jordan," Carrie said coldly.

"Why are you doing this?" Jordan asked miserably.

"Because I want my freedom," she admitted, stealing a glance at Sinclair, willing him to understand why she had done this. "In two thousand nine, when I was just sixteen," she nodded at the man standing behind Henry, "I stole a cutlass from the Teach family." The man laid a box on the table in front of him and stepped back. "In two thousand and ten, I stole an etching from the Vane family." Carrie went on to admit all of the thefts she had performed, returning what was stolen to its owner. The men said nothing, silently inspecting the boxes they had been given.