A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 9: Bloody Deeds and Wretched Hearts

By the time Gavroche and Barrecrosse arrived at the Rue de Pontoise, the bells at the church of Saint Nicolas were already ringing out the hour for Vespers. 'Bahorel said to be back by sundown but there's no telling with these clouds,' Gavroche thought as they alighted from a rickety fiacre. "Welcome to the crows' nest," he said to Barrecrosse.

The brigand sniffed at the sight of the squat building that housed the Prefecture's headquarters. "Some things never quite change. Still reeks of pompous mold in those holes."

Gavroche nodded, deciding not to mention for the time being that Glorieux had spent the better part of two days in one of these holding cells. Much to his surprise the building's foyer was abuzz with conversation and shouting as soon as he stepped in. "What's this all about?" he asked a messenger who was running through the hall.

"Detective Thenardier! Haven't you heard so yet?" the messenger said enthusiastically. "Tolbert and senior Inspector Beaufort have just come back from raiding the Faubourg du Temple."

"Why, what for?"

"To get those blackguards who killed that Englishwoman and her child."

"Someone was sloppy about pulling the heads in!" Gavroche muttered. "Anyone dead?"

"Five, they say."

"Nevertheless the rest of the group is in La Force," Tolbert announced as he sauntered down the stairs, all the while wiping his hands. He made an exaggerated bow to Gavroche but reserved a sneer for Barrecrosse. "I see your venture was successful."

"Useful," Gavroche replied. "So who did it?"

"A crew of robbers. Beaufort knew their movements almost from seeing the scene." Tolbert's smile was cool as he eyed Gavroche. "I have reserved a table at the Musain. You are free to join us."

For a moment Gavroche thought of refusing, but for recalling his conversation with Minette in the park. 'I should like to see if she got the cufflinks after all,' he decided. "I will merely see to my visitor first," he finally said. He nodded to Barrecrosse. "We'd best talk to the senior inspector."

Barrecrosse huffed as he glanced back at Tolbert. "How does he not get shot with all that metal?" he asked Gavroche.

"It blinds the gunmen," Gavroche quipped as he led his companion to Bahorel's office. He found his senior colleague there tossing aside the remains of a cigar. "Presenting the lesser known Laffitte," he said by way of announcing his guest.

Bahorel turned to look at them. "At ease, Citizens." He extended a hand to Barrecrosse. "It is very good of you to join us."

"Only to save my skin," Barrecrosse said gruffly. "I know you; you were with one of the groups that would raise the Latin Quartier. The boys at the Musain."

"In more dangerous days," Bahorel said amiably. His cheery expression grew troubled as he surveyed the two newcomers. "Were you accosted?"

"By a pistol from the street," Gavroche replied.

"Did you see the man?"

"I know who he is-he almost had me collared but for my fainting away after a job," Barrecrosse growled. "Is he here in the Prefecture?"

"You will have to describe more than that, Citizen," Bahorel said.

"You boobies, always protecting your own!" Barrecrosse yelled exasperatedly. "He's an agent here; should be far older by now but I'd know his murderous hand. Give him to me!"

"Easy there, man," Gavroche said, putting a hand on Barrecrosse's shoulder. "You'd scare off those chickens who'd sing something."

"You're all the same!" Barrecrosse roared. He made to stalk off, but paused at the clanking of the shackles still at his wrists. "Unhand me now."

Gavroche made for the key in his pocket but even as he did so he noticed Beaufort passing the corridor outside, talking to another agent. For a moment Beaufort paused in his tracks, as if trying to see what was going on in Bahorel's office, but just as quickly he turned away and continued with his conversation as if nothing had happened. Barrecrosse on the other hand took a half step forward, only to swear and grit his teeth. "Let me out."

"You're agitated my friend. Take a seat," Bahorel said firmly. "Have you been receiving threats of any form, from a particular individual?"

"I know when someone is coming for me. I have only one reason for it," Barrecrosse yelled before spitting at Bahorel. He attempted to kick the inspector, only to have Bahorel cuff him and shove him into a seat. "Unhand me!"

Bahorel whistled to a constable waiting by the door. "Let him sit for a while in a holding cell, till his temper wears off," he ordered. "Citizen, if you will not cooperate, then we will have to release you but without any guarantee for your safety should you be attacked once more," he said to Barrecrosse. "You should consider that."

Barrecrosse gave him a venomous look. "Is that so?"

Bahorel did not say anything more but only motioned for the brigand to be brought away. "He'll come around," he muttered before nodding to Gavroche. "Did you take note of the gunman?"

"He was well muffled. The gun he had was heavier than a knock-me-down," Gavroche replied. "He only fired once; he knew that missing his mark was not worth another pop."

"A practiced hand then," Bahorel observed. "In all likelihood he is a hired assassin."

"Barrecrosse said that this had to do with some crime he and his comrades committed years ago," Gavroche said.

"He has been circumventing the details. Something or someone is preventing him from opening that sepulchre and making a clean breast of it," Bahorel pointed out. "Unless we can overcome that impediment he will not be very helpful as an informant."

'Some people would say he could be culpable,' Gavroche thought. "Will you question him?"

"In the morning." The older inspector checked his watch. "Glorieux has been exonerated thanks to Beaufort's work. He's going free in a while. Because of that there is a celebration at the Musain tonight."

"Will you join us?"

"Perhaps, after a previous assignation."

Gavroche grinned approvingly. "Give Citizenness Bahorel and your sons my regards." He saluted once more and headed out into the rapidly darkening street. He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked unhurriedly to the Place Saint-Michel, all the while whistling an old ditty: 'We were five to six good chaps, Coming back from Longjumeau. We went in an inn. To drink some wine of the year, It's a drink a drink a drink, It's a drink that we need.' He laughed and tipped his hat to some drinkers who chimed in with the lyrics of the song. "A fine chorus, Athenians!" he hailed them as he continued on his way.

Gavroche arrived to find the Musain bright and crowded, with many of the Prefecture's younger agents as well as some grisettes all gathered around a long table in the middle of the taproom. Tolbert was in the place of honor, grinning at some toast being made to him. Gavroche took the opportunity to steal in and slip into a vacant seat. "A nip of the jug if you please," he whispered to his seatmate.

"You need to be warmed up, Thenardier," his comrade said, handing him a full glass. "A pity you missed Tolbert's expedition. A perfect raid it was-"

"If you'd been to the Prefecture earlier, you could have joined it!" Tolbert called. He raised a glass to Gavroche. "We charged into the biggest house at that foul faubourg, caught a dozen of them dividing up spoils like the Romans did to Jesus Christ. They tried to flee but we had the house surrounded at all exits and even on the rooftops."

Gavroche took a healthy swig of the drink he had in hand. "And how many cats did you have with you aside from the big mouser Beaufort?"

"Ah he's the genius of the day. Said he'd know their handiwork anywhere. It's the years he has on him," another agent concurred. "He used to get the bloodiest cases in the Prefecture, so he certainly knows his business."

"Some call him a butcher, others say he is efficient. I rate him as somewhere in between," an older detective chimed in.

Tolbert's expression soured but a moment later a smile spread on his face as he glanced at the door. "Good evening Citizenness Debault."

"To you, Citizen Tolbert," Minette said, her tone all gracious as she nodded to him. She brought out a small box from under the folds of her shawl. "It's not a medal but I think it serves far better."

Tolbert smiled bemusedly at her as he opened the box. "How did you come across such cufflinks?"

"A pretty place I heard of," Minette replied. It was all that Gavroche could do to hide his smirk in his drink on hearing these words. "Do you like them?" she prattled on.

Tolbert inspected the cufflinks for a moment before closing the box. "Thank you, Citizenness. They will do very nicely."

"Is that all you will say?"

"What, a kiss too? Now come and have a seat and I will tell you all about today-"

Minette frowned at the jug of brandy and stout being passed around. "I will order wine."

"Such extravagance," Tolbert remarked. "You must have a good payday!"

Minette did not say anything to this but instead merely crossed the taproom to speak to one of the young servers. Gavroche waited for Tolbert to return to the business of regaling their comrades before getting to his feet and joining Minette at where she was awaiting her drink near the cafe's counter. "A medal would have been more to his taste," he said to her.

"I know that. I figured out as much even when I bought them," Minette said.

"Then why did you?"

"A girl has to make a show from time to time." She laughed as she met his questioning look. "He's not the only one who has money. I do honest work myself."

"Some old hens would say you're wooing him," Gavroche said with a smirk.

"You are mistaken, Citizen. He is wooing me." Minette turned to get a glass of wine being handed to her and she raised it with a mocking smile. "As for me, I am simply being practical."

'Does he know?' Gavroche wondered as he stepped aside to let her return to the table and take her seat next to Tolbert. Her smile was bright but for a moment it seemed as if her eyes darkened with a sort of slight when he barely nodded at her. 'A half practiced actress!' Gavroche could not help thinking even as he fished in his pocket for some sous to order more brandy.

Despite what restraint was exhibited by some of the more sober members of this company, it was past midnight by the time the agents quitted the Musain and stumbled back to their respective homes. 'This is a way of drinking fog,' Gavroche thought the next morning when he opened his eyes to the suddenly blinding sunlight intruding through the shutters of his apartment. He rubbed his eyes and then got up to wash his face and shave before following the smell of coffee and boiled eggs downstairs to the concierge's lodge.

Navet, who was seated at a rickety table, raised his cup of coffee by way of greeting. "In with the brandy and out with the comb."

"I'll set this rug straight soon enough," Gavroche retorted as he ran a hand through his still tousled hair.

Navet rolled a boiled egg and passed several pieces of bread across the table. "So the older newspapermen say that Butcher Beaufort is now back in Paris."

"Butcher Beaufort?"

"That's what he's called when he's not looking," Navet said confidentially. "You remember that old man Javert, who used to pull us off by the ear? Perfectly sweet smelling compared to Beaufort."

Gavroche frowned as he began to peel the egg. "Most agents have popped a man or two."

"It's not the bleeding that gives him the name. He's more of a wolf, since he never quite gives up the hunt," Navet said. "At least that was before he failed to stop an ambuscade out at the Faubourg du Temple. Some friends of his died there too and it was an embarrassment to the Prefecture. Much ink spent discussing that."

'While Barrecrosse, Glorieux, and their crew ran free?' Gavroche wondered silently as he shook some sticky eggshell off his fingers. "How many years ago was this?"

Navet shrugged. "Half our lives, maybe more? He left Paris before 1832. I am sure of that or we would have heard of him skulking about the barricades."

"Well he hasn't gathered moss yet," Gavroche muttered before wolfing down the egg and then pocketing the bread. "May your ink be well spent!"

"Where are you going-" Navet began before he was suddenly interrupted by a rapid knock on the door. He hurried to open it and was greeted by the sight of their concierge rushing in. "Now what's flown up your petticoats, Citizenness?"

The concierge nearly fainted on seeing Navet and Gavroche. "There's a dead man in the alley! You must go after him-"

At these words Gavroche immediately headed back upstairs. "Where are you going?" Navet shouted after him.

"To catch a cat!" Gavroche exclaimed as he hurried up to the house's topmost floor, which was little more than a narrow, dusty gable with a single window. He pushed aside the cobwebs just in time to see a fiacre rushing away from the alley, in the direction now of the Quai Montebello. 'Wings on the street!' he realized as he ran downstairs and outside towards the commotion just outside his lodging house.

Navet and several passersby were trying to keep the crowd away from the form of a man lying on his side with his arm thrown over his face. "Thought you'd want to take a look, Gavroche," Navet said in a whisper. "Looks like he was running."

'To here, or away?' Gavroche wondered even as he bent down to close Glorieux's now unseeing eyes.