How to Save a Life
Javert didn´t speak anything on their way, except for the name of the man they were about to save. God, what did he expect them to do? Valjean was close to believe the former inspector had lost his mind at last. What in all these scribbled notes had given him the idea that this man, Lecomte, could be in danger? As far as Valjean had understood it, Lecomte had been the one responsible for the strange movements of troops, connected with the battles. Didn´t that rather mean he was one of their suspects? But obviously Javert saw it differently. Obviously he considered it more important to protect this man, instead of looking into his case.
The house he led Valjean to was small but very nice. Definitely one of the better places in Paris. There were only two lights left, that late at night. One in a room upstairs and one in a small window on the ground floor. Probably the chamber of a servant.
Javert led them to yet another back door, and drew a gun from under his coat, handing it to Valjean.
"I know you know how to use one of these." he said. "Only not how good you are. Just try not to hit me. Or yourself. Understood?"
With this he turned away, not caring about how startled he´d just left Valjean, and once again got busy with the lock of the door.
The gun felt heavy in Valjean´s hands, more heavy even than the gun he´d held at the barricades, supposedly to shoot the spy Javert with it. Only this time Javert had put it into his hands, and for a moment Valjean actually wondered if it was even loaded. Surely this was some sort of test. Javert could not seriously trust him enough to hand him a loaded gun. Maybe he´d lost his mind after all.
The door went open as willingly under the skilled hands of the former inspector, as the first he´d picked in this night. Valjean´s heart leaped into his throat, as he followed him inside. Last time it had been an abandoned place, of a dead woman. Now they were truly trespassing into an occupied home. Not quite what he´d imagined doing, or being connected with. And that after all those years of laying low, avoiding to break the law and draw attention. What was he doing here?
Javert led them upstairs, with certain steps, as if he´d been here before. Maybe he was. This Lecomte was a police man after all, probably a colleague. Maybe a superior. One of those who ordered Javert´s death? And at this a dreadful thought crossed Valjean´s mind.
We need to save a life, Javert had said. Maybe, in the end, he´d not talked about this man, Lecomte, but himself. Maybe Javert had come here with the plan to kill Lecomte, to save himself, and blame the murder on him, Valjean. Was that the reason why he´d handed him the gun?
But this thought came too late for him to stop and turn around. They´d already reached the writing room of this unsuspecting Capitaine Lecomte. For a second, Valjean played with the thought to call out a warning, but it was too late even for that. Javert opened the door, almost casually and drew a second gun from under his coat.
The man sitting behind his desk, over a heap of papers, looked up, probably expecting his servant, and paled when he saw who´d really entered.
"Javert!" he cried, instantly reaching under the table. Valjean heard the sound of a drawer.
"Lecomte." Javert nodded, with an arched brow, aiming his gun at the man as if it was a simple gesture of politeness. "I bet you a good evening, Capitaine. I´m here to save your life."
The next thing Valjean knew was that Lecomte was holding a gun too, aiming it at Javert. "That is hard to believe from a man that aims a gun at me." he said.
"You´re a wanted fugitive, Javert. A murderer."
"I didn´t kill Gareaux." Javert stated. "You should know me better than that."
"His most loyal servant saw you." Lecomte returned. "Running from his corpse, red handed."
"He saw nothing that really mattered."
Javert had started this last statement, shouting, but forced himself to talk quietly after the first word. Only the redness in his face, showed how he really felt.
When he was finished, the two men just stared at each other in silence, as if none of them knew how to go on. And Valjean, trapped right in the middle of this without knowing why, took it upon himself to speak and clear this situation. Someone had to do it, for cry out loud.
"I saw the real shooter." he told Lecomte. "Javert is speaking the truth."
Or at least I hope so, he added in his mind.
Lecomte considered his words, for a moment, regarding Javert carefully. The former inspector was unreadable. At least to Valjean. And to Lecomte too, as it seemed.
"Tell me how I´m supposed to believe you, under such circumstances." the Capitaine demanded, and finally Javert reconsidered his tactic.
A moment went by, then another. Eventually Valjean had the honor to watch in amazement, how Javert took down his gun and lay it on the edge of Lecomte´s desk.
Everything inside him tensed, unsure what to expect next. Would Lecompte shoot now, disregarding Valjean´s gun? Would Javert attack, having only distracted Lecomte with this surrender? Would he draw a third, hidden gun?
But all Javert did, was spreading his arms, to the officer. "If you want to shoot me, go ahead." he spoke. "But that won´t save you. Or solve this riddle."
Lecomte frowned, very slightly, at this. "Save me from what?"
"You are on a list, my friend." Javert told him. "We both are. They already tried to kill me, and they succeeded in killing Gareaux. Now it is your turn."
Lecompte´s mouth twitched in a smirk, and his eyes checked Valjean´s gun for a moment. The only threat left for him in this room. He seemed to estimate his chances well, before shaking his head. Just as he was about to do something, Valjean wasn´t sure what – speaking, shooting, even laughing – Javert spoke again.
"You didn´t by any chance, give some orders concerning troop movements lately, did you, Francois?"
Lecomte´s eyes darted to Valjean again, before he answered: "No." The Capitaine rose from his seat, very self conscious, and Javert cocked a brow.
"Well, someone did. And I´m sure you know who. There are only a few people who could speak in your name, giving such orders. And as soon as you find out, you´d be a risk that can´t be tolerated any longer. Since they have already started to clean up, I don´t think they would have waited until you found out on your own."
"Who are you talking about?" Lecomte wanted to know. "Do you know who they are?"
"This is the second reason why I´m here. The man who is behind all this will be here soon. I want to get him."
"So this is only about your revenge?" Valjean couldn´t stop himself, the words were out of him before he knew it.
Javert glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "This man can tell us who´s behind all this." he clarified. "We need to question him. This … is why I´m here."
Lecomte thought very hard, for a moment. "So you don´t have any names, just yet." he asked, for one last confirmation.
"We will have a name soon." Javert promised and as if on cue, there was a noise downstairs. Clattering as if something got thrown down.
"You believe us now?" Javert faced Lecomte. "They´re staging it like a robbery."
Valjean inched to the door, listening. "I hear at least three men."
There was the muffled voice of a man, startled, probably the servant, and then muffled cries of panic, as he got overpowered. Valjean tensed, and reached for the door handle. Only Javert wouldn´t let him.
"No." he blocked his way. "This is what they want." As they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, he quickly looked around. "Take cover." he commanded, and took his gun again, from the desk. Lecomte already took cover behind the desk, and in his lack of another place to hide, Valjean followed.
"You pick out the leader for me." Javert ordered him. "Take out the others."
With that he marched back to the door, his gun at the ready, and for a moment he just stood there, waiting for them. In the very last second he reconsidered and took his position beside the door, his back flattened against the wall. And this turned out to be the right decision. The footsteps halted just outside, and instead of entering the room, three shots were fired through the closed door. Had Javert still been there, he´d been dead.
Valjean met Javert´s gaze, and Javert stamped down his foot, imitating the sound of someone dropping dead. The door opened and three men stood there, startled to say the least to see no bleeding man on the ground before them.
Javert threw Valjean an expecting glance, but he could only shake his head.
"It´s neither of them." he told them, and his words finally made the men understand, that there was someone lurking for them, behind the door.
One of them aimed at Valjean, and Valjean, more reacting by instinct than by conscious choice, pulled the trigger. The man fired his shot but too late. He didn´t hit anything, and dropped to the ground, holding his chest, in disbelieve.
Beside Valjean the Capitaine shot too, and another man dropped dead. The third one was at Javert. Or Javert at him, Valjean was unable to tell. Until the arm of the strange attacker got pushed down, and the last shot echoed in the room. The man tensed, staring at Javert, and slowly dropped to the ground, still holding his guts.
Javert leaned over him, hasted. "Listen to me, man. You´re hit in the abdomen. You will bleed to death from the inside. This is a painful death. And very slow. If you tell me what I want to know I´ll make it quick for you, I promise. Who are you working for?"
Valjean watched with dread, how the man turned his head, to look at his dead comrades. His eyes were already half closed, but he was still very conscious.
"I only receive the orders … from a messenger." he told Javert. "We don´t use names, you should know that …"
"And who´s your delivery man? Where can I find him?"
"You can´t. There are too many." Javert grabbed the man´s collar but failed to intimidate him. "I told you what I know." was all he´d get.
"Who´s next in line, after you?" Javert demanded. "Come on, give me something."
But he didn´t get what he wanted.
"You gave me your word." the man coughed, through bloody teeth.
Javert was fuming at this lack of information. Valjean expected him to beat the man, in his frustration. But he didn´t. He just let go of him.
"Yeah." he affirmed, and got up, taking his gun.
"Javert." Valjean´s heart stumbled, in fear, but Javert didn´t even react.
Beside Valjean Lecomte held out his arm, to keep Valjean away. And by the door, Javert aimed his gun at the already dying man. There was nothing in his eyes but coldness, when he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into a man´s heart.
For a moment Valjean felt numb, the echo of the shot still resounding in his ears, followed by a faint ringing, that lasted strangely in the deadly silence that followed. The footsteps of Lecomte approaching Javert seemed to come from far away. So did his voice when he asked: "What are we doing now?"
Javert took a moment to think about this.
"You should report a robbery." he decided at last. "After all. This is what this was supposed to look like. And then you should leave the city. Disappear for a while."
Lecomte nodded. "I will see what I can find out from afar." he promised. "If I do, you´ll hear from me." When he offered Javert his hand, the other man did not accept it. Maybe he was not completely cold about what he´d just done, after all. Surely he had to feel something, after murdering a man like this. Only Valjean couldn´t see it. He saw nothing.
Eventually Lecomte lowered his hand again. "Thank you, my friend." he spoke, and yet again, Javert did not react.
Outside there were voices now, and Javert´s eyes found Valjean. "We should take our leave." he said, but Valjean couldn´t move.
"Where will you go?" Lecomte asked. "In case I need to find you."
The former inspector thought for a moment, considering. "I believe it is better if you don´t know that." he then replied. "Don´t worry. I will reach you somehow."
The Capitaine seemed hesitant. But then there were voices again, downstairs, and someone who called out: "Police!"
No time for any of them to reconsider anything.
Reluctantly Lecomte hurried outside, and Javert took Valjean´s arm, dragging him behind. He indeed knew this house, because the way they took to get out was different than the one they´d taken to get in. A narrow staircase in the back, hidden from view. Valjean just followed, numb and out of pure survival instinct. He thought of Cosette, and that she expected to see him again. He could not get arrested. Not with this man in tow. It would be just a joke of fate, if he´d allow this.
When they were back in the streets, and safe from discovery, Javert finally stopped dragging him behind, and turned to look at him. When he noticed the gun was still in Valjean´s hands, he reached out with a faint smirk and took it. As if he´d be doing him a favor.
"So now …" he asked, as if Valjean´s pale complexion was even amusing him. "How does it feel? To have taken a life instead of saving one?"