Four o'clock in the afternoon. December 24th, 1800.

In a dimly lit room hidden away in a nondescript building. The royalists' conspirators gathered around a long wooden table.

Fran?ois Carbon leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "We must ensure that the cart is perfectly positioned on Rue Saint-Nicaise. The explosion must be timed to occur just as Bonaparte's carriage passes by. It's our only chance at success."

Pierre Robinault de Saint-Régent, his eyes ablaze with fervor, added, "Cadoudal, you must make certain that our message reaches the British. We need their support if we are to restore the rightful monarchy to power."

Georges Cadoudal nodded solemnly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I will contact our allies across the channel. Once they received word that Napoleon is dead, they would inform the Austrians who are keeping our King."

As the conspirators continued their sinister discussion, they were suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

The conspirators exchanged glances at one another, concerned etching their faces.

"Are we expecting another man in this plan?" Joyaux asked.

"No, everyone is present," Carbon said.

"Then who is at the door?" Villeneuve inquired, his voice rising out of worry.

Cadoudal rose to his feet and walked over to the door. As he arrived in front of it, he spoke.

"Who is there?"

"We are from the Minister of Police," a voice answered from the other side of the door. "Is this the property of the La Haye-Saint-Hilaire?"

The moment Cadoudal heard the word, police, fear gripped his heart. His co-conspirators were also alarmed at the presence of the police and one of them, Jean-Baptiste Coster, spurred into action.

"Quick! We must leave immediately!" he urged panically.

The conspirators scrambled to find a place to escape. Chairs were knocked over, and papers flew through the air as they rushed to salvage what they could.

Fran?ois Carbon's hands trembled as he attempted to collect his belongings. "This can't be happening! How did the police find out?" he muttered under his breath. Outside the room, the banging on the door grew louder and more insistent. "What's going on there? Open the door!"

"We have no choice; we must find a way out!" Joyaux d'Assas declared, his eyes darting around the room for a potential escape route. He found a window directly to the back alley.

Without hesitation, the conspirators made a mad dash for the kitchen, knocking over furniture and scattering in all directions. The noise of their scrambled footsteps echoed through the building, further alarming the police outside.

The police outside grew more impatient, and the officer continued to demand entry.

Georges Cadoudal, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, reached the window first. With a swift motion, he pushed it open.

"This way! Through the window!" he shouted to his fellow conspirators.

One by one, they leaped through the open window and into the narrow back alley and ran.

The police, suspicious of the activity inside, decided to break in. With a heavy kick, the door's hinges gave way, and the police officers, armed with musket rifles, flooded into the house.

Fouche himself entered the room, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the scene. The room was in disarray, kitchen utensils scattered, chairs overturned, and three large wine casks sitting conspicuously against the far wall.

On that far wall was an open window, and he caught a glimpse of the conspirators running.

"Catch them, don't let them escape!" Fouche barked his orders.

The police officers sprang into action, pursuing the conspirators through the winding back alleys of Paris. The chase was on.

As the police officers were chasing the conspirators, he walked around the room, looking for something that could prove that the group of men who just fled were about to commit treasonous action towards the First Consul. He first approached the three casks and examined them closely. The casks were large, much larger than the typical wine casks one would find in a household.

Fouche's suspicion grew as he noticed the distinct smell of gunpowder lingering around them. He opened the lid of one of the casks and found it partially filled with a mixture of gunpowder and shrapnel. There was no doubt now that these casks were intended to be used as explosives.

Napoleon's anonymous informant was right, the people on the list intend to assassinate him tonight. But, the cask alone won't explode on its own. It needs a fuse, so he decided to search for it in every drawer, cupboard, and nook of the room. And in one of the cupboards, he found a length of slow-burning fuse, confirming his suspicions.

However, even with this evidence, Fouche has to confirm that this explosive cask is going to be used against the First Consul. So he waited for his men that were chasing the conspirators.

Ten minutes later, Fouche's men returned to the house along with the conspirators whose hands were cuffed with sturdy iron shackles. The conspirators were pale and weary from the chase. Their eyes met with the sight of Fouche, standing near the casks with a grim expression on his face. "Gentlemen. I have some questions that need answering. I found these casks filled with shrapnels and explosives, enough to obliterate an alley. I'm certain it's not for safekeeping."

Fouche's voice was stern, his eyes locking onto each of the conspirators in turn, searching for any sign of guilt or remorse. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the conspirators refusing to speak or acknowledge the Minister's presence.

Fran?ois Carbon, the most senior among them, raised his head defiantly, refusing to give Fouche the satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes. He remained tight-lipped, his jaw clenched, determined not to yield to the pressure.

Pierre Robinault de Saint-Régent and Georges Cadoudal mirrored Carbon's defiance. Joyaux d'Assas, Villeneuve, and the others maintained their silence as well.

Fouche's lips curled into a cold smile, recognizing the audacity of their resistance. "You believe that by remaining silent, you can protect each other, but I assure you, it will only make your situation worse. Your conspiracy has been exposed, and there are witnesses who can testify to your plans. Otherwise, why would we show up at your doorsteps?"

Hearing no words from them, Fouche spoke again. "Are you planning on using them against the First Consul?"

With that, Carbon's face twitched slightly, almost imperceptibly, a reaction that betrayed his internal turmoil.

"I see," Fouche muttered and spoke loudly. "Gentlemen, it is my duty to inform you that you are hereby under arrest on charges of conspiring against the First Consul and committing acts of treason against the state."

As the police were about to take them out, Cadoudal, stood up defiantly and declared,

"The Republic is a malignancy that must be eradicated! We shall fight to restore the rightful monarchy, regardless of the price we must pay."

Fouche's eyes narrowed, and he regarded the captured conspirators with contempt.

"Your cause is misguided, and your actions will bring only chaos and suffering to France."

"Chaos and suffering?!" Cadoudal scoffed derisively. "You revolutionaries are the ones who have brought chaos and suffering to our country!"

Fouche's face remained stern, but a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. "Your loyalty to the monarchy blinds you to the progress we've made under the Republic," he retorted. "The revolution was necessary to break the chains of tyranny and oppression that bound our people for over centuries."

"Progress? All I see is a power-hungry man taking control and suppressing any opposition. Napoleon has become no different from the despots of old, he too would like how the National Convention and the Directory, govern this country."

"Then you are blind," Fouche coldly replied. "Now that you have spoken such things, you just incriminated yourself and your fellow conspirators even further. Your words are evidence of your treasonous intentions, take them out immediately."

The police officers promptly escorted the captured conspirators out of the house, and into the carriage waiting for them. The people passing by stopped in their tracks and wondered what was going on.

"You may have caught us, Fouche, but there are more of us out there! We are not alone in our fight, and we will not be silenced so easily!"

Fouche remained composed, unmoved by Cadoudal's words.

"And we will arrest them all, and send them to the guillotine."