A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 36: Raisons

Inasmuch as Courfeyrac dislikes the over-adulation that the presses tend to lean towards, he feels somewhat relieved on finding several inches of text devoted to the crushing verdict of the Bidault debacle. "Nothing on Fouche," he remarks as he closes the tab on the online newspaper he has been browsing. "St-Just certainly kept his word."

Enjolras smiles briefly he also pockets his phone. "He is an eager journalist but also ethical enough to desist or defer publication if necessary." He nods to a sergeant quickly crossing the corridor of the precinct detention house. "Is Mr. Garbe ready?"

The police officer rolls his eyes. "He's a crying mess-has been since he got wind that you would question him. Are you sure you have the right man?"

"I'm certain," Enjolras replies sternly. "Where is he?"

"Down the hall," the officer says, gesturing to a door. "You might need some tissue for the wuss."

"Chocolate is a better cure," Courfeyrac quips before he follows Enjolras towards the small cubicle. Not even the jailhouse officer's jibes are quite enough to prepare him for the sight of Simon Garbe holding his manacled hands to his face, his shoulders shaking under his oversized yellow detainees' t-shirt. "Is everything well, Mr. Garbe?" he asks.

Garbe's eyes are bloodshot with a wild look as he lifts his head. "They told me I killed that nun." He wipes his nose and takes a deep shuddering breath. "She was only trying to protect the girls-this one small girl she was hiding, she just wouldn't run and the gun went off. I only meant to scare her, I swear!"

"Yes, and that shootout? Was that only an attempt too?" Courfeyrac asks in disbelief. "You wounded half a police squad and six civilians!"

Enjolras' eyes are dark with impassivity as he regards a still wretched looking Garbe. "You were spotted at the fifth precinct, near the market. You traversed half the city before reaching the halfway house. Along your route there were many other avenues to make a getaway, yet you headed downtown. A most unlikely direction to flee."

Garbe pales as he looks up sharply at Enjolras. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"Did you have another reason to go to the halfway house?" Enjolras asks more sternly.

The accused man takes a few deep breaths. "Even if I tell, it will not matter. No one will be able to protect me."

"How you will be protected will depend on what you will reveal," Courfeyrac chimes in. "That is the reward for making a proper testimony of it."

Garbe shakes his head. "Pretty words. Do you think you can go up against the man who told me to go there, to that place?"

"So you were acting under orders-to do what?" Enjolras asks quickly.

"You do not stand a chance-"

"Mr. Garbe, I asked a direct question."

Garbe gives Enjolras a vehement look. "You know already! The girl! That one who was with Johannes! And yes, I killed him, and under orders too. Does that satisfy you, Attorney?"

"You have my thanks for the confirmation," Enjolras answers. "Johannes was murdered before there was any way of knowing whether he succeeded or not in fatally shooting Magnussen. Therefore this was not an attempt at fixing a bungled assassination, but a cover-up."

The hitman pulls uselessly at his handcuffs. "He would have died anyway, whether I picked him up or not," he growls. "The way I see it, I did him a favor, for a few months at least."

Enjolras' brow furrows. "Let me rephrase my question. Who ordered Johannes to shoot Magnussen?"

Garbe laughs. "I did. As I said, I was under orders."

"Now suddenly you are short of words," Courfeyrac says curtly, now thoroughly infuriated with this roundabout. "This only means two things: either you are hiding something, or you truly are out of the loop. In the first case, this would force us to set all the charges on you, and only you thanks to the lack of any co-conspirators. Then if the second one is true, we have no use to question you and we can send you on your merry way. It does not sound like a safe city out there for you."

Garbe sits up straight. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, he is merely stating the odds," Enjolras deadpans. "As it is, you are of no practical use to your former employer, and to return to the line of security work with a taint on your record will not do. Being convicted will not serve you well. Your best chance is to stand as a witness."

"A witness, like those that Johannes murdered when he blew up the outside of the courthouse," Garbe mocks. "What is to stop my successor from rubbing me out in the same way?"

"Your employer. He has much to account for."

The former bodyguard is quiet for several long moments. "Magnussen was about to use him for his own interests. I merely prevented that," he finally says. "Under orders."

'If I hear that line one more time, I just might have to deck him,' Courfeyrac tells himself. "So you will testify when this case goes to court?" he asks.

"You sound so sure," Garbe says with a sneer.

"That will do," Enjolras says, putting a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. "Give this situation thorough consideration. We will be back tomorrow," he tells Garbe before getting up to leave the room.

Courfeyrac quickly follows Enjolras out of the room, and is hardly surprised to see a thoughtful yet knowing look on his colleague's face. "Garbe is right. You already knew everything," he tells him.

"Certainly. I only needed the confirmation," Enjolras replies in a matter-of-fact tone.

Courfeyrac chuckles as they exit the detention facility. "I remember what they used to say about cross examinations: never ask a question you don't already know the answer to," he remarks even as he already feels his phone beginning to buzz in his pocket. Much to his surprise it's Azelma's number that he finds on the screen. "Hello my dear. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise in the middle of a school day?" he greets her.

"You owe it to R," Azelma replies, her tone one of disbelief. "He's here in the school cafeteria with me, and he's been trying to get a hold of you and Enjolras, but neither of you picked up till just now. There's no use calling my sister since she's probably either scrubbing in or meeting with the nuns about the halfway house girls."

Courfeyrac glances at Enjolras, who apparently has also just discovered the missed calls on his own phone. "Why didn't he just use his own number?"

"Darren dumped his phone into a fishbowl. You know how four year olds can be," Azelma replies mirthfully. "Anyway he wants to meet up with you guys now. I can't keep him and Darren here at the school all day."

Courfeyrac laughs again on hearing Grantaire in the background, calling for Darren to get out from under a table. "Why is R in such a hurry?"

"Because he says he heard something you boys need to know about that businessman Fouche," Azelma says in a low, hushed tone. "Just get here, please."

"Right away." Courfeyrac ends the call and smiles on seeing Enjolras' puzzled expression. "It's not Zel's doing, it's Grantaire's. Apparently he has learned something about Fouche, but his phone is out of commission. That's why he asked Azelma for help."

One of Enjolras' eyebrows shoots up. "It is unlike him to go to such great lengths."

"Enjolras, you should get more used to surprises these days," Courfeyrac points out. "He and Darren are hanging out with Azelma. We should bail them out before her lunch break is over."

"I hope this has not inconvenienced Azelma too greatly," Enjolras points out.

"She did not sound cross about it," Courfeyrac replies. In truth this is a more startling development, especially considering Azelma's reluctance to have anything to do with this investigation. 'I shall have to make it up to her,' he decides as he follows Enjolras to where the latter has parked his car.

The noontime traffic ensures that it is nearly one in the afternoon by the time they reach the schoolhouse. They find Azelma and Grantaire both sitting in the sandbox, keeping a careful eye on Alexandra as she crawls about, as well as Darren as he tries to build sand sculptures. "That looks like something we should get for the house," Courfeyrac quips as he walks up to them.

"For you or for Alex?" Azelma asks. She reaches over to dust some sand off Grantaire's shirt. "Spill. This better be good."

Grantaire seats Darren on his lap before grinning triumphantly at Enjolras and Courfeyrac. "I have caught Fouche trying to arrange a match between Hermes and Eumonia."

It takes Courfeyrac a moment to recall the Greek deities for commerce and civil order, respectively. "Are you saying that he's trying to make some sort of deal with the government or someone there?"

"That is too ambitious. Simply with the vacant chair of Magnussen-that is, his potential successor."

Enjolras clears his throat. "Firstly, how did you come by this information?"

"Darren and I were painting at the Botanical Garden today, when we saw Lafayette and his Minister of Science and Technology looking over the hydroponics yard," Grantaire begins as he bounces his son. "They were talking of the vacant chair that poor Magnussen left, and the men who just might fill it. Fouche has a seat-warmer in mind; he was there and he handed his friend's credentials to Lafayette."

"Without some actual documentation of this encounter, this is still hearsay and cannot be used as evidence," Enjolras points out. "It will be your word against everyone's on the investigation."

"I'm a poor herald, but I may be a sibyl just yet," Grantaire insists. "The man is Gordon Raymont. You might have heard of him as having the singular credit of being animated carbon with the power of speech, and little else."

"Associated with Magnussen, Bidault, and of course Fouche, but his name is free of notoriety." Enjolras mutters with a knowing smirk. "What did Lafayette say?"

"That the matter would be decided on by the end of this month," Grantaire replies. He counts on his fingers." This leaves you less than two weeks."

"Ten days to figure out this Raymont," Courfeyrac concurs. "Is there anything else?" he asks, seeing that Enjolras has brought out his phone.

"This turn of events is crucial. There are many upcoming hearings set on government contracts and procurements, and a Minister of Trade is needed-there are too many parties who will want one who is malleable to some interest," Enjolras notes. He looks at Grantaire curiously. "You said that you would not interfere in this venture."

"Man is a creature of opportunity and I am no exception," Grantaire says, making a slight bow. "Besides, who am I to hinder a knight in his quest?"

"I would hardly call this errantry."

"I believe otherwise where you're concerned."

In the meantime Courfeyrac moves to where Azelma is now crouching next to Alexandra, ready to catch the little girl as she pushes herself to her feet. "You didn't have to make the call," he whispers when she looks at him.

"I had to," Azelma replies.

Courfeyrac swallows hard as he takes in the trepidation mingled with silent triumph in her eyes. It's not something he has seen in her since this case began. "No, Zel. Why?"

Azelma smiles as she touches his chin and moves her hand down to his chest, right where he can feel the beating of his heart. "You're a good man, and who am I to stop you?"