The Napoleonic Rose

Prologue

"Are you Lieutenant..." A man in a crisp gray uniform stood in front of me, squinting down at a sheet of paper. "...Eve Masters?" His face contorted into a perplexed look, and he shrugged to punctuate it. The incessant clacking of typewriters gave a background buzz to his speech, but was ultimately muted by curtains hung along each stone wall. I straightened my back, chin out, and gave a quick nod.

"Yes sir, Lieutenant of the Special Courier Service, as of last week." I suppressed a smile, still feeling a bit of pride at my promotion to officer. Only a scant month ago, I'd been a field nurse with no rank at all. "Are those my orders?"

"They're sending a fresh mug out on this one?" The man snorted, passing the manila envelope across to me, while not strictly answering my question. "Good luck, darling." The pet name caused me to bristle, and I clenched my free hand into a tight fist. The calf skin of my glove creaked in protest, but I managed to swallow once,heavily, and regain my composure.

"Same to you." I snapped, instantly regretting even that outburst. The man gave no notice, but I was trying to set a good impression during my first mission. As he trundled away and back into his office, I flipped the envelope over in my hands, peering at the wax seal that held it shut. The sound of the several code breakers on their typewriters was slowly drawing me insane, so I left the room before opening it. Inside was a slip of parchment, simply worded and to the point.

Lt. Masters,

You are to reconnoiter the Devil's Bridge warehouse and report back on any Apache Gang activity in the area. You are acting of your own recognizance, and should take such actions as are necessary to prevent harm to the civilian populace of the city.

-Major

I still hadn't learned the Major's actual name, he seemed to use it rarely, if ever. An enigmatic figure, he had arrived in the hospital while I was recovering from a disastrous misadventure. I had been stationed at Fort Vaux, a hardened military fort on what had been the front lines. When the Germans made their push to Verdun, it was surrounded and besieged. Another major, Major Raynal, had crammed a courier bag full of intelligence and sent me through a secret tunnel to escape.

That's a story for another time, but suffices to say, I made it back to Entente lines and was promptly shot by friendly fire. The Major had heard of my escape, and came to offer me my current job. The Special Courier Service wasn't strictly a military outfit, but we had the authority to deal with the military on even terms. Our job was far more clandestine; we handled your various traitors and enemy agents,and dealt with the sort of thing that other groups didn't particularly care to admit existed. The 'Courier' in our name was a red herring; we weren't involved with delivering messages in the slightest. Rather, it kept attention off of us while giving us an excuse to crop up in strange locations.

This was more of the former, as the Apaches were a violent class of street gang in Paris. They had a tendency to crop up behind weapon sales and illicit materials. If they were using this particular warehouse, near Notre Dame, as a way point, we might be able to deal a serious blow to their supply lines. The sun was blazing down as I stepped outside of the municipal building and onto the streets of Paris, and I was glad to be wearing light civilian clothes, rather than the heavy wool that seemed so prevalent in the military these days. I tucked the envelope into my satchel, and mounted my new motorbike.

 It was only a matter of finding a spot to watch, and I had already formulated a plan. A single kick was all it took to roll the engine over, and I gunned out towards the Seine.