3/9/13

Hello :) I'm off back to school soon :( so updates will be less frequent as I really need to work hard this year to do well in my AS exams!

Chapter 7

Enjolras was still sat there watching the feed long after the chat had finished. Combeferre had managed to download the contents of the disc onto both his and Enjolras' phone so they knew Grantaire's condition at all times. Combeferre had driven his friend back to his apartment and prepared to spend the night over there. There was no way he was leaving Enjolras alone when he was in this state and there was nothing they could do until morning anyway. The whole of the car journey was spent in an awkward silence with Enjolras staring obsessively at his phone screen. Grantaire had been given a sketch pad and a pencil to entertain himself and probably keep their prisoner out of trouble. No matter how many times he examined the room, there were no hints to Grantaire's location. These men were professionals; that was not good for them at all. He didn't even look away from the screen as Combeferre herded him out of the car door. The only time Enjolras did stop looking at the screen when Combeferre prised the phone out of his hands and pressed a cup of coffee in its place. Even then it was a few seconds before Enjolras blinked and realised he was looking into steam not a screen. He let out a pitiful noise of despair and looked up at Combeferre with tears in his eyes. No one had ever seen the mighty president like this before apart from Combeferre. Enjolras did not deal with loss and emotions very well. Any emotions were magnified to the extreme and mood swings hit him with a vengeance. When Enjolras' mother died, he cried for two days straight and refused to see anyone apart from Combeferre for a month.

"Drink, Julien," Combeferre ordered; the only way he would pull Enjolras through this was by taking charge and not giving his younger friend a moment to let the guilt strike. Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sipping at the scolding hot liquid. They sat in silence as Enjolras drank and drew in the comfort radiating from Combeferre. They sat in a blissful quiet where the only noise was Combeferre's fingers racing across the keyboard.

"I-I'm gonna go to sleep, 'Ferre," Enjolras murmured as his trembling hands set the empty cup onto the table gently. Combeferre nodded as his friend left the room. Without Enjolras knowing, Combeferre had been searching the number plate recognition and finding the CCTV camera footage of Grantaire's street. There were hundreds of black cars in Paris with that as the beginning of their number plate. And he had to wait for the camera footage to be sent to him. So instead of sitting idly he turned on the camera feed. It had been about half an hour since they last looked at it and Grantaire had been busy. It seemed the stunt with the tracker had alerted Grantaire to the camera in the corner and he was trying to help. With shaking hands he was showing them a piece of paper with clumsy drawings on. It was blatantly obvious that the brash reporter was terrified at what situation he was in and who he was being used as ransom for but he was still trying to get himself out of there as quickly as possible. The drawings, despite being drawn with a trembling pencil, were pictures of his captors that he had seen and names. Combeferre hurriedly took a zoomed in screenshot of the drawing before Grantaire had to tear it off and screw it up when his captors walked in. "Thank you Nicolas," Combeferre whispered before he set to work

XXX

Grantaire had just managed to screw up the page and stuff it under the bumpy mattress before a new face walked in. So far he had managed to put faces to Claquesous and Babet. The men came in unmasked when they were dealing with him but kept their backs to the camera; another thing to confirm that there was someone sympathetic to him on the other end. This time it was someone else but he voice matched the one of Montparnasse; he was a lot younger than the others and attempted to dress like he was posh and fashionable. Attempted being the key word in the statement; he just looked ridiculous. "Breakfast lover boy," Montparnasse chuckled laying a tray on the bed. Grantaire frowned at him; they were always saying things like that. They made no sense.

"Wh-why am I here?" Grantaire stuttered; he was still scared but he needed to know why they kept him in this room.

"You're ransom against your valiant lover," Montparnasse said mockingly and Grantaire's frown grew. He was ransom against Rene, who would want to use him against Rene? He was French ambassador in Britain, but that didn't warrant a ransom attempt. Before Grantaire could ask another question, the door was slammed and he was left alone once again. But he couldn't get Montparnasse's words out of his head. Rene was his lover but why would someone kidnap him to use against Rene? He slowly ate the food they provided as his cogs in his mind whirred into action. They could be maybe using him against Combeferre; Rene was his brother so if Rene's lover was kidnapped then Combeferre would help. Maybe this was some roundabout way of getting to Enjolras. But then Eponine would be a better choice or even Combeferre himself. All the scenarios his frantic mind could conjour just circled round to one question; why him?

XXX

The pictures and names Grantaire had sent them gave them the identity of the group that kidnapped him. They were called Patron-Minette and were all convicted felons that had disappeared off the radar as soon as they were released and were suspected of many things but never caught. Their leader was a man named Claquesous who nobody knew what he looked like thanks to the bandana he always wore; he was put away for ten years for armed robbery. Gueulemer was one of Claquesous' gang in the robbery and got the same time as his leader. Next was Babet who was locked away for four years for bond forgeries and was a jack of all trades. The last was the youngest of the group and the only one that had been heard from since his release. Montparnasse was a nineteen-year-old that had been arrested for twelve months for theft but unlike the other of his group, he had arrived for all his bail appointments and had a registered address. His next appointment was in two days; there was their first lead. Combeferre had worked all the way through the night and was now feeling his eyelids droop. He just arranged to go to Montparnasse's meeting then shut his laptop. The rising sun was just appearing on the skyline when Combeferre finally dropped onto Enjolras' couch. He could know sleep easy knowing that soon they would get some answers.