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Thénardier had high esteem in his ability to guess a man’s… inclinations. It had been quite the profitable talent in his innkeeper days— if a fellow walked in with more money than discreetness, and Thénardier dropped enough hints over the course of the night that he knew, it was often easy enough to add an extra franc to the bill for the additional service of keeping the secret (and was it really blackmail if he was already a paying customer?)And now, he was about to bet his freedom on this instinct.Honestly, Thénardier hadn’t expected anything better than a momentary distraction from mentioning the prison mark on the white-haired bourgeois he’d just tried to rob— maybe in the moment of confusion he could flee, like his wife and daughter and gang had already managed to do (and oh, he’d have strong words with those deserters when he saw them again, that was for sure, but he had to escape first). He never expected anything more useful to come from it; obviously, police wouldn’t actually take the word of a man like him. But then, for some reason, Inspector Javert did. Thénardier could scarcely believe his eyes as the Inspector paced back and forth, piecing together implications of the brand and the bourgeois’ flight and the presence of the girl (the one who Thénardier was sure was the Lark)— and, with stars in his eyes, concluded that the fellow might be ‘Jean Valjean’. Thénardier didn’t quite recognise the name, but if the strictest cop in all of Paris was so desperate for a lead on the guy that he’d believe the testimony of a common crook, he must be a pretty big fish— or maybe— Thénardier noticed how starry-eyed Javert had gone upon making the deduction, and suddenly made a deduction of his own… Well, regardless of whether this Valjean fellow was wanted by the entire police, or just by Javert, maybe Thénardier could get something in return for the information. “In the absence of a victim, dear Inspector, may I go?” Javert’s glare did not imply the answer to be ‘yes’, but Thénardier could not stop now. “And remember, when you’ve nicked ‘im, it was me what told you so…”Javert crossed the distance to Thénardier, eyes full of loathing. “Let the old man keep on running,” he stopped directly in front of Thénardier, their faces barely inches apart, and practically spat, “I will run him off his feet…”A pause. It might have been meant to be intimidating, but was better described as awkward. Thénardier had to suppress a snort— oh God, that wording, his second theory was absolutely the true one— …and unless he was going crazy, the gendarme behind him had also just barely restrained himself from laughing. Hm.Did Javert just… blush? Well, there was no time to be sure one way or the other, because the Inspector immediately turned on his heel and stormed off through the crowd, yelling (in the general manner of it being an order to the gendarmes), “EVERYONE ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS, CLEAR THIS GARBAGE OFF THE STREET!” Silence, for a moment; the gendarmes seemed to be waiting for Javert to exit earshot. Then, the shortest of the three muttered something to himself in a mocking voice. “Oh, break in the Valjean case, better run off and brood all night.” This earned a chuckle from one of the other two. The short policeman then remembered his job, indicated Thénardier, said, “Anyway, let’s get this guy back to the station,” and was met with vague murmurs of approval.At this moment, Thénardier would have been willing to bet any amount of money on what his instinct was telling him about Inspector Javert. Unfortunately, he had no money at this moment— but he had an idea that might be just as good— he could, in a sense, bet his freedom, on the combination of the instinct’s accuracy, and the gendarmes’ willingness to gossip about Javert.And all things considered, he doubted that was much worse odds than the instinct alone. So, Thénardier brought it up, perhaps a little more heavy-handed than necessary. “Wow, that Inspector sure is… dedicated to this Valjean case. Seems like he might have a desire for more than just justice, if you know what I’m sayin’…”The one who had handcuffed Thénardier (and was currently putting the key back on his belt), burst out laughing— holy shit, had— had this actually worked? “Oh God— you don’t know the half of it. Dude’s been at that case since— well, for ages, I’m told, and honestly, that’s the only reasonable theory for why he makes it such a priority.”The shortest one nodded jovially in agreement. “I don’t think he realises how obvious it is; someone should really tell him.”“Why don’t you do it then, Lefevre?”“What? No way, he’d kill me.”“And you expect someone else to—?”“Okay, okay, I see your point.”The gendarme with the key had let go of Thénardier’s arms. Thénardier surreptitiously shuffled sideways, hoping the motion would not be noticed— and his hope was not disappointed, as the tallest of the gendarmes chimed in at this moment.“Hey, Mercier, you know Pierre back at the station?” Mercier (apparently the name of the one with the key) nodded; the motion was visible in the corner of Thénardier’s eye as he reached for the key behind him and lined it up with the keyhole of the handcuffs. “He used to work at that town in the Calais— what’s it called again, the one where— anyway, whew, the things he’s told me about Javert…”“I haven’t heard anything from him, but there was this other guy, Jacques— I worked with him before I transferred to this arrondissement— and his friend used to work in that town, and apparently Javert recognised the guy by his muscles, no joke.”The short one, Lefevre, spoke again. “Okay, if we’re talking, I have to tell this one, this is some prime shit. So, remember Officer Dubois? Yeah, God rest his soul and all, but last year he told me—”“You’ve already told this one.”“Maybe to you, Dupont, but not to him. Anyway, Dubois told me about this thing his brother said in a letter— so, the brother’s friend knew a guy who worked in Toulon in the early ‘10s, and everyone who was there then had heard this one—”“Get on with it!”“Alright, alright— it was that at one point,” he lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper, “a guard walked into a storage closet and saw—” The retelling of the scandalous rumour was never finished, because at that moment, Lefevre heard a distant laugh, turned, and belatedly noticed Thénardier’s absence. “—OH SHIT!”Thénardier had been running down the street at top speed for at least half a minute now— that laugh was definitely a bad idea, it’d alerted the gendarmes to his position, but it didn’t matter; he’d outrun them regardless with this head start. He heard “HEY, WAIT, STOP—”, followed by a crash and a noise of pain. Had one of those idiots actually tripped over the dropped handcuffs? That was a hilarious possibility to consider— but he couldn’t risk turning to confirm it— now, where was the nearest sewer entrance— ***
Paris Police Prefecture, the next day.
Javert was fuming. How could his subordinates possibly be this incompetent?! “What do you MEAN, ‘he escaped’?! You had him handcuffed, for God’s sake!”Officers Dupont, Lefevre, and Mercier were sweating bullets. They said nothing, all apparently too terrified to speak. “Answer me! HOW did you let him escape?!?!”“He… created a distraction.”