FAMILY TIES

BY:  ROSE CARR

CHAPTER ONE

Javert stopped in mid-pace; hands clasped behind his back, and gazed through the blurry north window of his office at the choppy waters of the Seine and the magnificent bridge that spanned it. Had he been less impatient at that particular moment, he might have appreciated the unobstructed view of the bridge softened by the rain. The view took on the subtlety of a painting done in oils and Javert had a certain taste for that sort of thing. The bridge’s spare beauty was once again uncluttered, as he preferred. The weekend was over and the holiday bunting had been taken down and put away for the next celebration. The display of the new flag had evoked the usual protests from the narrow-minded royalists, but Javert saw the banner’s symbolism as prophetic, as if the flag’s designers had tapped into the joy of the freedom that so much blood had been spilled for.

He was tempted to curse the weather, but restrained himself, the rain was needed, and Richelleen and Nicholas had gone away for the weekend to attend a family conference, which left him feeling out of sorts. The nagging worry that Richelleen was hiding something from him, an illness perhaps, which she denied, stayed with him. So, to keep busy he had decided to go to the office and get caught up on his paper work, a job he was not fond of but one he knew had to be done.

Abruptly, he turned his back on the view, strode to his desk and sat down. The pile of paperwork before him seemed to have grown to the size of a small mountain when his back was turned. Getting his promotion was nice…more prestige and money, but getting stuck behind this desk was not nice. With a loud sigh he sat down and began to work his way through it.

“Good Morning.”

“Yes, Detective Montreal, and a wet one it is too,” Javert answered, smiling faintly at the young man who peered at him from the open door.

“I hope you don't mind me barging in sir,” said Detective Severin Montreal, a darkly handsome young man who was almost as tall as Javert but not as commanding a figure as his famous boss, “but it’s now noon and I thought you might want to take a break and allow me fetch you something to eat.”

His thick silver brows lifted a millimeter, not in surprise--Montreal could not recall ever seeing Inspector Javert look surprised--but in question. Montreal slowly released a sigh. Javert always made him nervous even though he had never been anything but kind to him.

“We may have a problem,” murmured a voice from behind Montreal. It was Charles Bouchet, his dark eyes troubled. “There is a small crowd of dissidents outside, growing by the minute.”

“What is it they want?” Montreal asked.

“I…don’t know. I’ve sent two extra officers to guard the door but I haven’t talked to them myself.”

“Do you know who they are?” Javert interjected.

“Yes sir, they are from the Freedom For The Common People group that has been suspected of several acts of terror around the city this past year.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with them, but as far as I know none of them have ever been prosecuted for crimes.” Javert said.

“This is true sir, and as far as we were concerned, the law has always considered the FREECOMS as a refuge for weak-minded racists and mindless thugs. I examined the records; there were no more than forty or fifty in the entire city. But now, government estimates their numbers to be in the hundreds. Why this sudden spurt of growth, and now this gathering in front of our headquarters?”

Javert hesitated, on the verge of asking a question, but was interrupted.

“Chief Detective Javert?”

The men turned as one of the young officers, Henri, approached. Only this morning, the young man had asked the Chief Detective if he could spare a moment to be introduced to a visiting Detective from England, a friend of his, and Javert had agreed. Now, however, Henri’s unlined features were more somber than normal. “Chief Inspector, I believe we must cancel the meeting I requested.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“I just received a memo from the Security office,’ he announced. “Chief of Police Dupree asks that we stay inside the building until they can dispatch sufficient officers to control the crowd. It has grown larger and it is not safe to go outside. They say that under no circumstances should you agree to meet with the FREECOMS leader, Chief Inspector.”

Javert raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Has such a meeting been requested by the leader of this group?”

Montreal cleared his throat slightly. “As a matter of fact, it has, sir,” he said. “A message arrived a short while ago from the demonstrators.”

Javert smiled and absently stroked the crease between his brows, the result of squinting all morning at reports. “Why was I not informed?” he said, his words carefully measured.

“Chief Inspector, I never considered that you might wish to grant such a meeting-that would not be wise. It could even prove to be dangerous.” Montreal sounded faintly aggrieved, and Javert could not blame him, for his aide did not know that in his heart Javert empathized with the plight of the people even though he deplored the actions of the radicals who took the law into their own hands. He would take the young man into his confidence today, Javert decided. Montreal was skilled in diplomacy; something Javert lacked and this trait would prove useful in the coming days.

“Who requested this meeting?” Javert asked.

“The leader of the FREECOMS,” Henri said. “His name is Fontenot. He is from the province of Toulon.” Javert rose from his uncomfortable chair as his muscles rebelled at their hours of disuse. Stretching to his full height and secretly happy to be alleviating several more hours of tedious paperwork he strode to the window and Henri pointed to a large man who stood nearly a head above the others. “That is Fabrice Fontenot,” he said.

The Inspector studied the imposing figure of a swarthy man with thick curly brown hair dressed in a suit of the finest worsted wool over a white silk shirt. On his feet were black leather boots polished to a high shine. Javert smiled, so much for being part of the common people.

“I will talk to him,” he said, making a sudden decision. He needed more information about this group, and meeting him face to face might give him a glimpse into his real character and motive.

 

to be continued....

© 2005 Rose Carr

Contact the author:  Rosematuse@aol.com

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