The Bounty Hunters Of Paris

Part Four - The Man Of The Water

Marius Pontmercy, newly-wed and distraught (not because he was newly-wed), had sobbed all the way on the trip in the fiacre, from his residence to a rather shabbier part of the city. Even as he got out and paid the driver he had fresh tears bubbling up, as if his eyes were two mountain springs, like the ones you get pictures of on bottles of water. He trudged up the steps to the house, the house where he hoped help would lie in wait for him. He tapped on the door, and wiped his sore eyes with his sleeve like a little boy. He heard voices coming from the basement, something like,

"Was that the front door?"

"Nah."

"It blatantly was!"

"What if it was the back door?"

"Then I'd still have to get it!"

"Hurry up then. It's your house."

About a minute later, the door opened, revealing a grumpy-looking Javert.

"Yes?" he asked monotonously. He thought that it may be someone who still thought he was a policeman and needed some assistance, because apart from that, no-one ever called round. Except Eponine, who let herself in usually.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy," Marius began, taking off his hat and clasping it in the hands, "And I need your help. I heard that a couple of bounty hunters lived here ..."

Javert nodded, and felt as if he had met this young gentleman before.

"That's correct. But don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Hang on ... are you Inspector Javert? The one who gave me -" Marius nearly mentioned the pistols he had kept, but thought better of it at just the right second.

"Well, I suppose you'd better come in. I'll have to explain the current situation to you." Javert said, pulling the door wider.

"Are you still with the police?" Marius asked, having imediately assumed that he had been.

"No." came the reply, full of shame, as the two men began to descend into the basement. Marius was surprised, as Eponine had been at first, at the disorder of the room, and the random items which covered nearly the entire floor space. He was aware of another presence besides Javert even before he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Monsieur Marius ..." said a voice, which Marius had last heard in its lat dying moments.

"'Ponine!" he cried, as she came into view, sprawled on a sofa, "I - you - what - how - this - oh my god!" was all he managed to muster.

"Yes, it's all rather confusing." Javert said calmly, "It happened to her and I. We died, it is true, and even visited - well, an afterlife of sorts, but I do not know if it was heaven or hell. Purgatory, perhaps - but no, that's not the point. The fact is that we're back, and that is all we know. Why, how, we just have no conception of the answers to these questions that I can see you're bursting to ask."

"But how?!" Marius said.

"Umm, refering to what I've just said, we do not know."

"But why?!" Marius said. Javert shook his head, and looked at Eponine.

"You're being awfully quiet, for someone who had an apology for me." he said to her. She was staring at Marius in a very peculiar way.

"Forget that." she said slowly.

"What?! After that performance? Going to see some scum-bag and asking them - it ... whatever - for help?"

"I'm extremely sorry, but could I just tell you my predicament?" Marius said, holding up a hand. Eponine smiled warmly at him, and went and sat on the floor beside him.

"Of course you can." she said, and continued to smile.

"It's very tragic ... Cossette, my wife -"

"YOUR WHAT?????"Eponine bellowed.

"Shut up!" said Javert, throwing a magazine at her.

"I thought you would have seen that coming, 'Ponine! You knew that we were in love!" Marius reasoned, feeling the tears start to reappear, "And now she's been kidnapped by some fiend by the bounty alias of 'V-D Vouivre'."

"What does the 'V-D' stand for?" Javert asked him.

"Errr, 'Very-Devious', I think." Meanwhile, Eponine had taken possession of Marius's left leg and was proceeding to rock back and forth.

"But you're mine ... mine ... always ... ha ha ha ... mine." she kept on saying to herself, her eyes unblinking and wide. Javert ignored her, and Marius tried to, but it was quite difficult for him, his leg having been taken hostage.

"We shall do everything we can to ensure your wife's safe return, and that justice is served as far as the criminal goes." Javert said, sounding professional and feeling pleased with himself for doing so. Marius attempted a smile.

"It's been such a strange day ... first I wake up to find her missing ... the police no help ... and now, 'Ponine, I - 'Ponine, please let go, I have to shoot off - 'Ponine?"

"Oh, I am sorry." Eponine said, and graciously ungripped her fingers from his calf. Javert suddenly bolted upright in his seat.

"Is something the matter?" said Marius. He saw that Javert's eyes were directed at the window, at the very top of the wall. Although it was grubby and small, one could see fairly well out of it.

"There's someone watching us." Javert said, and quickly made for the stairs. He rushed outside, only to hear footsteps running around the corner.

"Stop!" he cried, and began a chase (why is it that people say that? Of course they're not going to stop!).

"What was all that about?" said Eponine, watching the dust clouds that Javert had kicked up fall smoothly back to the floor.

For half a mile he had pursued him, and they were approaching the River Seine at top speed. Javert started to pant heavily, and felt the urge to stop and take a breather. But that would give the stranger time to properly escape, and that would be a huge dent to Javert's already battered pride (he was too tall to have an ego, as some people may think). He considered his route; they were nearly at a bridge, one of the smaller ones at any rate. In the dark, and with a scrambled mind, Javert had trouble deciphering which it was exactly. The man he was chasing had now reached the bridge, yet stopped dead in the middle. Javert saw him turn around, and caught a glint of a toothy grin.

"You there, who are you, you, yes you." Javert said, feeling that he had somewhat abused the word 'you'. The stranger lunged for him with hands outstretched. Javert was unable to dodge, being exhausted by their little jog together, and was pushed back. Next, he was assaulted with a series of punches to the stomach, but was able to keep the cries of pain inside and to maintain his upright posture. When the flying kick was unleashed, he ducked over to the side, grabbing the parapet. But his attacker was far too quick, and spun around in mid-air. With an amazing impulse of strength, he lifted Javert a small way off the ground and flung him over the bridge into the depths waiting below. Needless to say, Javert got a huge sense of deja- vous when he entered the water.

You-Know-Who and Surprise-Surprise were sitting by the river at this time, complete with their fishing rods (Emile had fixed his). Delanoe, always the lucky one, felt his rod tug, and forced downwards.

"Whoa, this is a biggun!" he said excitedly, and held on to Emile for support. His catch was pulling him down too. Hesitantly, Emile took hold of the rod as well and both used all their might to surface the strong thing beneath the water. After a few seconds, it showed it's identity.

"Well lookie here Emile, it's the Inspector again! Fancy that." Delanoe said. Javert had emerged from the water, with the most irritated scowl imaginable. This was not only because it was the second time he'd been in the Seine that week, but because he was covered in the local fishermen's favourite colloquialism, 'Seine crap'. He waded to the dock, and hoisted himself up onto it.

"My, that's the second weird thing I've pulled out in the past two nights!" Delanoe said, examining his rod as if it was magical, "First, this little silver box, then that cool Inspector guy ..." Javert, who had began to walk away, spun around, his ears having pricked up at 'little silver box'.

"What?" he said.

"What what?"

"What little silver box?"

Delanoe smiled, clasping his hands together.

"Ahhh, lovely little thing, it was. It had, like, a nice pattern on it, umm, what was the pattern on it, Emile?"

"An entwined thorny thing."

"Yeah, that was it! An entwined thorny thing." Delanoe repeated. Javert looked at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, where is it?"

"Oh, I dunno. I've lost it, the same as the bugger who owned it before me. I only had it half an hour or so ago ..." Delanoe sniffed. Javert scowled at him, having an unsuppressable urge to strangle Delanoe. His snuff box, his antique snuff box, one of his prize possessions, mistreated so ... As he was contemplating the act of murder, a face appeared from around the corner. Well, from around a collection of fish nets and those cone shaped things that fishermen use, in any case. It was a grubby, youthful face of a boy, which grinned with suprisingly white teeth. It beared an uncanny resemblance to someone Javert knew well.

"Evenin', Guv'ner." the grinning face said, and a hand, presumably belonging to the face, produced Javert's snuff box. Javert acted immediately.

"Give that to me!!" he shouted, lunging for it. The face, and indeed the hand too, in a flash disappeared, leaving Javert falling flat onto the stone ground. Despite his nose hurting like hell, he got up, and chased after the boy. Emile and Delanoe watched in semi-amusement. When Javert's reverberating growls of anger had faded somewhat, Delanoe turned to Emile and said,

"So he nicked the box. Clever little rascal."

"It was Gavroche, weren't it? Ain't he dead?" Emile said uncertainly. His friend shrugged, and the pair continued to 'fish' as if it had all never happened.