Vidocq walked back to his chair and sat down.
"How aware are you of the police situation in Paris?" he asked, folding his hands in front in the attentive manner of an old doctor.
"Not at all," answered Javert. "This is my first time in Paris."
"But do you at least know how the police divide their labor?"
"Like they do everywhere else, I imagine. Soldier guard for patrol, municipal inspectors for general surveillance and enforcement, court-attached bailiffs and sheriffs for warrant execution. And now also your squad for catching thieves."
Vidocq nodded with approval.
"Good, so you do know a little after all. But do you know why thieves have to be dealt with by my men and not the municipal police?"
"No."
Vidocq thought for a moment and then spread his hands on the table, as if demonstrating the size of 'the one that got away.'
"Imagine the following situation," he said. "Suppose a market stall has been robbed in Chaillot. The proprietor, who is usually some old hag, immediately raises Cain and several inspectors come running. The thief is spotted making his way through the crowd in the direction of Montmartre. What would you do if you were one of those inspectors?"
"Give chase, naturally," answered Javert.
Vidocq smiled and nodded, re-folding his hands.
"A very fine and logical decision. Only you see, as an inspector you are not allowed to leave your assigned district without your commissaire's explicit written permission - a chit of blue paper yey big with his signature on it. What then?"
"Well, then I'd have procured the permission beforehand, in case such a thing happens."
"That would be lovely indeed, except that the quarter-eyes - that is, the commissaires - really loathe giving those out. Think about it: if you are a commissaire, and all of your officiers de paix and inspectors run off after miscreants into other districts, who will be left to monitor your own? Any sort of thing can happen while they're gallivanting about the city, and you'd be held responsible. So assume that you do not have the permission. What now?"
Javert scratched intently behind his right ear, then said defiantly:
"I'd give chase anyway. A thief belongs in prison. The commissaire is welcome to sack me later."
Vidocq laughed and leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head.
"Well! I suppose that if all policemen were so intent on getting their man, this issue would have been addressed a long time ago. But, you see, they tend to worry more about keeping their positions. They often have wives to dress, children to feed, indigent parents to comfort, personal vanities to indulge, finally. And it's no skin off their back if some thief gets away - nobody really expects them to catch him, not even the Prefect. So they stay put in the place where they were assigned, and thieves go on thieving."
He leaned back in his chair, linked his hands behind his head and sighed.
"Ironic, isn't it? Heart and soul of the European civilization, Paris, but all a Parisian thief has to do to evade the law is cross a bridge over the Seine. Or dive behind a sewer grate. Or hail a cab and ride several blocks in some particular direction away from the gendarmes. How's that for a policing system, hein?"
"I take it your men are not constrained by districting."
Well now, you're quick, thought Vidocq.
"You are correct. They are not."
"Then why ask me how I'd behave if I were? I haven't come here to join the municipal police."
In fact, you're a bit too quick, thought Vidocq and unclasped his hands, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip
"Like I said before," he began evasively, "our brigade is an edifice built on the foundation of inconspicuousness. I can't take you on in the same capacity as all the others – there is simply no way to disguise your height. However..."
Vidocq's fingertips drummed out a little march on the table.
"However, we may just be able to work you into our system after all," he continued. "I could take it upon myself to convince Monsieur Henry – he is Chief of the Second Division, that is, the city's Special Investigative Branch – that I desperately need one regular inspector attached to my Brigade to help me coordinate our efforts with those of the municipality. Which is, in fact, perfectly true; I do need such a man. And I don't think he will refuse me. I do, after all, hold the rank of officier de paix; I am fully entitled to a helpmate."
Vidocq looked into Javert's round, intent gray eyes and added without really knowing why:
"What is a captain without a good lieutenant, after all? He is like a man without a good wife: incomplete."
Javert snorted.
"No offense, monsieur, but what sort of a man proposes on the second rendezvous? Especially when the first one was a decade and a half ago?"
Ah hah hah, thought Vidocq humorlessly. You funny thing, you.
"I take it you are wondering why I don't just pick someone already listed in my squad for the job. Well, not just anyone will do."
"So why me?"
Vidocq leveled a penetrating gaze at Javert.
"Because, my friend," he said seriously, "you are the only one who can actually enter the police proper on my behalf. Unlike my oh-so-esteemed colleagues, you have no criminal record."
Javert's eyebrows rose a little.
"Oh?" he asked with slightly off-key innocence. "Pardon?"
"You do not have a record," repeated Vidocq with carefully layered meaning.
The corners of Javert's mouth twitched upwards, then fell, then twitched again.
"So... Where'd it go, then?" he asked stupidly.
Vidocq sighed.
"It's simple, really. It's always been simple, in fact - you're the one who's always tried to make it complicated. It never existed. No trial, no conviction - ergo, no record. 'Uncaught, one is not a thief.'"
Javert smiled a little.
"Ah, you've spent time among the Rom."
"Yes, there is that business, too," said Vidocq distractedly and drummed his fingers on the table again. "But let's leave that aside for now. As for that so-called 'murder'... From what I gathered you're the only one who still makes anything of it. There are no relatives pressing the issue; the head of the orphanage and all the brothers who could testify against you are dead; and I've taken measures to ensure that Renault won't talk. So I say, let it go. It was decades ago; it was an accident - these things happen. Don't think you can't promote law and order because of some bloody schoolyard brawl. We are none of us perfect. Don't be so precious with the single incidental body on your civilian conscience. Besides," he continued in a lighter tone, "if you are so strict with yourself, and you only have one dead man to answer for, how can I employ you? I have dozens of them. Duels, brawls, anything you want."
Javert didn't look convinced.
"This cannot be right," he said, shaking his head. "You took measures, you say? Renault had held this death over my head for twenty years. Some 'measures!'"
Suddenly, Javert's eyes flashed with mad elation.
"So that's why he suddenly agreed to release me from service..." he murmured. "I wondered why he suddenly changed his mind like that. How did you do it? Threats? Blackmail?"
"There was some blackmail," said Vidocq reluctantly.
It was becoming very obvious that Javert knew nothing of the battle he had waged with Renault over his person. This would explain why he'd stopped replying to my letters, thought Vidocq. Renault must have tampered with their correspondence. And then there was that fateful arrival of an army recruiter, who placed his new agent on the road to Russia instead of on a diligence to Paris… So that's what Renault had meant with that simpering apologetic scribble! suddenly thought Vidocq. Oh, you black-hearted scoundrel! "Circumstances beyond my control" my left nut! You were just scared stiff that your little secret was going to slip the leash, so you sold him into soldiery to keep yourself safe! But it didn't come easy, did it, sending your own flesh and blood to the slaughter? It couldn't have, or else you wouldn't have spent two days in a drunken stupor beforehand. You utter, utter scoundrel.
"Let's talk no more about it," he offered out loud. "You're in Paris, he's in Toulon, and that's all that matters. If you must know, yes, I did go through some trouble securing your release from duty. Take it as a compliment. I don't exert that much effort on charity cases: you are an investment of mine, and I expect to see you yield a good return. But tell me: are you willing to enter the police on a permanent basis to serve as my connection to the municipality?"
"Sure," answered Javert and smiled. "As long as I don't end up inspecting gutters and broken lanterns for a living."
"That much I can promise."
"Then I'm fine with it. But will I suit them? I mean, politically?"
"Don't worry about that. It's less of an issue than you would think. There's such a shortage of men right now that they'll take almost anyone, as long as he's able-bodied, which you obviously are, head wound or no. We'll probably even be able to talk your way out of the trial period, since you've been a guard in the galleys for so long."
Smiling, Javert relaxed fully against the wall and let his head roll back.
"So is this it then?" he asked.
"Almost," smiled Vidocq. "There's just one little detail left. A formality, one may say."
A very fun one, he amended, feeling almost guilty.
"You see, the idea underlying my Brigade is that of 'like attracts like.' One must know how to relate to the dangerous classes. Position yourself as a competent brigand, and all other brigands will open their souls to you. But this is not easy to do. On several occasions my men have had to accompany their so-called pals through all sorts of trouble, including arrest and imprisonment, just to alleviate their suspicion. I myself have done about two years in various detention houses without having been sentenced to a day. The good news for you is that you aren't fit for such stunts: anyone who'd been schooled at Toulon can probably identify you on sight. But even so, there will definitely be times when you will have to approach some thief or another as one of his own kind. Does this worry you?"
"Not very much," said Javert. "I've spent most of my life among thieves. I know their ways."
"This goes beyond slang, you know. You must be able to slip into a thief's mindset on demand. Could you do that?"
"If the demand came for a good reason, yes. If there was a real need for it."
"Jolly good."
Vidocq slipped his hand into the folds of his blue waistcoat and pulled out a beautiful gold watch.
"Steal this trinket," he said, placing the watch on the table before him.
