Face/Mask (37 page)

“The woman who told me, she was Kadri’s girlfriend at the time. He bragged to her about the bombing so she left him. Right away, of course. But she had no reason to lie when she told me this several days ago. And if there is a link between the two bombs…”

“And what is your relation with this woman?”

“We’re…we’ve been having an intimate relationship.”

Prescott sat quietly for a moment, looking straight into Janus’s eyes like he was trying to read something there. Janus was beginning to wonder if he’d come to the wrong person, when Prescott spoke up again.

“Does this woman have any kind of proof?”

“I don’t think so. But surely there are reports of some sort from the earlier bomb that could confirm the kind of timer that was used. If they match I’m sure your people could pick up Kadri and…you know, get the proof you need from him.”

Prescott stood up suddenly from behind his huge desk, and this time his smile was positively warm as he stepped toward Janus and shook his hand.

“Thank you,
Monsieur
Janus, for doing your civic duty. This might well be very valuable information, I can’t say yet. But if what you say is true you’ll have done your country and the administration a great service.”

He took Janus by the arm and led him toward the door, their meeting clearly over. “I have no doubt that our investigators will be able to uncover any links between the two bombs,” he continued. “I will see to it that they speak to this Walid Kadri before the end of the day. You know we need more citizens like you, who make it their business to inform us about crimes they’re aware of. Thank you again,
Monsieur
Janus.”

October 19, 2039:

Walid Kadri had lost track of time. He’d been in the sub-basement of the East-End RCMP headquarters, far from prying eyes and all electronic surveillance devices, since they’d picked him up just before midnight at his apartment. At the time he’d been glad that he was alone, because he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of being arrested in front of people he knew. Now, whatever time it was, he realized that if nobody knew he’d been arrested then nobody would be coming to rescue him.

His two interrogators hadn’t gotten too physical with him yet, but he didn’t know how long that would last. At times during the night they’d screamed at him and threatened him, while at others they tried cajoling him with promises and bribes. But all the time, he’d never been allowed a moment’s respite. He’d had nothing to drink, and was kept with his wrists tied to the arms of a hard wooden chair. He wanted desperately to lie down and sleep, but there was no hope of that.

He couldn’t believe they were questioning him about the bombing of the RCMP station. Of all things, they had to choose a crime he honestly knew nothing about. Whoever the bomber was, and whatever his motivation, Kadri was as clueless as the two men threatening to beat him to a pulp. Unfortunately, they weren’t about to believe his repeated protestations of innocence, and he had nothing to give them in reply to their demands.

He’d lost all hope when the door behind him slammed open. The two agents who were questioning him looked up in surprise and confusion at whoever it was that had entered behind him. One of the two men put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes, before both stepped away from their prisoner.

Kadri felt his bindings loosen until he was able to move both arms freely. Rubbing his bleeding wrists he looked up into the scowling face of Robert Sévigny, and wasn’t sure if his situation had just gotten better or worse.

Kadri sat in a small office on the fourth floor of the RCMP building, sipping deliciously cool water from a paper cup. Sévigny had brought him here half an hour earlier, after exchanging several angry words with the other two agents about jurisdiction and interference with a sanctioned interrogation. Kadri had understood right away that Sévigny hadn’t approved of his detention, and may even have overstepped his authority by interrupting it.

He looked across the metal desk at the man who’d rescued him, and knew that he was far from out of the woods.

“You’re just lucky I happened to have a meeting here this morning, Kadri.”

“I promise not to get arrested again without informing you,
Monsieur l’inspecteur
.”

“This isn’t funny. I’ve stepped way out on a limb here. It won’t be long before they come for you, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop them.”

“Why did you stop them, then?”

“Because, unlike the interfering bureaucrat who ordered your arrest, I’m still not convinced of your involvement with the recent bombing.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“But if you do know anything, even a rumour about whoever was involved, then I’d rather you told me now before they get their hands on you and I end up losing one of my best informants.”

Kadri hung his head, trying to find some way out of his predicament. He was neither a martyr nor a hero. He had no illusion about how long he could hold up under intense pain. But he was also faced with a terrifying realization: he had no information about the bombing, yet there was no way his questioners would believe him. They would hurt him, and keep on hurting him until he gave up the information they were sure he had, yet he had nothing to confess.

He could lie, invent something plausible just to end his suffering, but they would not release him until they verified it. Once they knew he’d lied, their efforts would redouble. They could end up killing him while trying to get at the secrets that he didn’t even have. And it would be a slow, unpleasant way to die.

Sévigny was his only way out because he still doubted Kadri’s involvement in the bombing. But Sévigny couldn’t let him go home just because he had doubts. He’d need something to offer his superiors to justify ending the interrogation. Kadri only had one bit of information that was that valuable.

“I have something you might want,” he said, getting right to the point.

Sévigny’s expression had a hint of hopefulness about it, as if he wanted nothing more than a way out of this situation.

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” he said. “There was no reason for this to drag out so long.”

“This isn’t what you think. As I said, it’s something you
might
want. It isn’t about the bombing.”

“
Merde
, you’re wasting my time,” Sévigny said, slamming his hand on his desk. “Enough of your stupid games.”

“This isn’t a game. This is important. I would even say, vitally important.”

“More important than who bombed our police station?”

“Yes. In the big picture, more important than that.”

Sévigny eyed him suspiciously, not yet ready to take the bait.

“In about five minutes those boys you spent the night with will have finished speaking to a very touchy Deputy Minister, and they’ll come in here with clear orders to take you back downstairs. I will be able to do nothing to stop them. Do you understand?”

“Of course I understand. I’ve been thinking of nothing else since you brought me here. I also understand that I will probably die in their hands because nobody is willing to believe that this bombing wasn’t done by Muslims.”

“So you say.”

“You know me, Sévigny. I am a coward, and unashamed to admit it. If I could help you and spare myself the barbarity that awaits me downstairs, I surely would. But you have people above you; I understand that too. These people want answers for this bombing, and for the next few days this is all they will think of.

“But there have been bombings before. Not just the little ones that scare people but hardly break a window, but real bombs like the one we had today. Maybe Montreal has been spared for a long time, but other cities, especially in America, have not been so fortunate.”

“You’re wasting time here, Kadri.”

“I’m not! I’m trying to explain to you that what I have is more important, to you, to the administration, to everyone, than the bombing this week or even the next one. Eventually you will catch the people who did this, and you’ll pretend that they’re Al Qaida’s bastard grandchildren or something, when they’re just some local troublemakers with crazy dreams. And the world will keep turning as it always has. What I have to tell you is something that could put an end to much of what your masters hold dear.”

“My masters?”

“I was going to say ‘what
you
hold dear,’ but I have doubts about your ideological purity.”

“Cut the crap! What do you have to trade?”

Kadri took a deep breath, relieved that Sévigny had at least understood that what they were talking about was in fact a trade for his life.

“Quebec City,” he whispered.

“What about it?”

“What if I tell you I know who sold them the bomb?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake! That’s just a rumour you Muslims have been trying to spread for years, hoping to wash your hands of what your people did.”

“My people? Yes, that is how you see us. I understand. But I’m not talking about a rumour. I’m talking about proof. I’m talking about an electronic chip full of information that was stolen from the deepest recesses of Homeland Security itself. Information that would put the lie to all we’ve been told for the past two decades. Information that would force the administration to admit that Laval and all the other camps are founded on the most scurrilous of blood libels, and that people have been imprisoned and tortured and killed with no just cause!”

Sévigny’s eyes widened as if he had just understood a long-held secret. He sat back and rubbed his chin, looking nervously toward the door where the goons could come barging in at any moment. He turned his attention back to Kadri.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he growled.

“I’m talking about the truth! The truth that the administration wants desperately to keep hidden. And you can help them get what they want. Just think what a feather in your cap that would be.”

“How come I never heard about this stolen information? Don’t you think every security force would be out looking for it if this were true?”

“No! Don’t you see? They can’t even admit this information exists. Imagine the public outcry.”

Sévigny chewed on his lower lip for a moment, like he wanted to let his roiling thoughts settle. Finally, softly, he spoke.

“So this chip…the information on it. It really does exist?”

“Oh yes, it exists. I have seen it. I have held it in my hand.”

“It’s here, in Laval?”

Kadri leaned across Sévigny’s desk at the same time there was a series of loud knocks on the office door.

“Promise me I leave here with you. I take you to where the chip is, and then I go home. I am
not
going back downstairs.”

Kadri turned his head as the door opened, although Sévigny had never responded to the knocking. It was the same two grim-faced men who’d questioned him all night. They looked in Sévigny’s direction, and Kadri did the same. Sévigny was looking down at his desk, breathing hard through his mouth as if he’d just run up the six flights of stairs from the interrogation room.

Finally he looked up at the men in the doorway and spoke in a voice they could just make out.

“Don’t touch him. I’m going to speak to the Minister myself.”

The two glanced quickly at each other, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disappointment, then they backed out of the office and closed the door.

Of course, Sévigny had no intention of speaking to the Justice and Security Minister, or any other politician, civil servant or Division Head who might have jurisdiction over the interrogation. If this chip that Kadri was talking about contained the information sought by Hans Schultz, then he was right: nobody could know of its existence.

Yves Prescott had proven himself to be a major pain in the ass, getting his prosecutorial connections to order Kadri’s arrest for reasons that Sévigny couldn’t even suspect. The only way to end his informant’s torture without revealing the reasons was to go to the one man whose authority superseded them all.

Sévigny called Schultz on a direct com line, and Schultz answered on the first beep.

“Inspector Sévigny, I hope you’re calling me with good news.”

“I think I found what you’ve been looking for, sir. I’m not sure if I should go into much more detail on this call.”

“Quite right. Do you have it in hand?”

“No sir. I have a suspect in this week’s bombing. He says he knows where the information is. From his description I have no doubt that it’s what you’re looking for. He wants to trade for it.”

“How strong is the evidence of his involvement with the RCMP bombing?”

“I’ve been told there is a link, involving a signature. I don’t believe this man to be the bomb-maker though. At most, he may have dealt with him via some proxies. And it may prove to be nothing in the end.”

“If he has what you say he has then you understand that this is more important to national security than solving this particular attack?”

“Of course, sir. That’s why I’m calling you.”