Face/Mask (40 page)

“Now then. I didn’t come up to your fair city just to tell you how to do your job, did I?”

“No sir.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved we all were down in Buffalo when we found out that somebody had recovered our…well, our information.”

Sévigny put the cup down on the desk and fished the small case out of his pants pocket. He opened it and held the chip out across the desk.

Reaching out to take the chip out of the case, Schultz raised his eyebrows again. “I see you’ve been keeping it in a secure facility,” he said.

Sévigny blushed, and put the empty case back into his pocket.

“It seemed like a good idea to not draw any attention to it, especially if it didn’t officially exist.”

“Well, here it is, so your theory seems to have been proved right.”

“Thank you, sir. And if I may ask, the clerk…in Buffalo, I mean, who gathered the information…”

“Sadly, he had suicidal tendencies. That seems to have slipped by the recruitment screening tests, I’m afraid. We’ve straightened that out. Made it hellishly difficult for us to figure out what he did with all that data. Good thing you have excellent sources.”

“Yes sir.”

“The gentleman in question, he was released as you requested?”

“Yes sir.”

“Now from what you told me, I gather he had an opportunity to view the contents of this chip. That is unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Sir?”

“Well, Robert. Nobody outside our small circle is to know about, you know, the contents of this little chip. Certainly not a Muslim. Your Mr. Kadri is not, I fear, part of our exclusive group.”

Sévigny lowered his eyes briefly, understanding what Schultz meant. Kadri wasn’t trustworthy at the best of times. Now that he knew what was on the chip, knowledge that could prove destructive to the administration, he became that much more dangerous. It looked like his promise to protect Kadri was going to have a time limit attached to it.

“I understand, Mr. Schultz,” he said.

“I knew you would.”

“I may still need him, though. For a short while.”

Schultz eyed Sévigny closely while he sipped his tea. After a moment his lips opened into a broad smile.

“Of course. He is your source, after all. I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job, Inspector. Just as long as you’re willing to be responsible for anything he might do while he is, um, fulfilling your needs.”

“Not to worry sir,” Sévigny said, feeling his collar tighten somewhat. “It won’t be for long.”

“Good, good. And the other people who had this chip. The lady…?”

“She has been removed to a secure facility sir.”

“Excellent work. And she received the chip from that Italian fellow…what was his name?”

“Antonio Cirillo.”

“Yes, Cirillo. I understand that he didn’t withstand his interrogation.”

“I’m afraid not sir. We’ve re-examined our protocols to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Well, you have to be careful about these things. He was a potentially valuable source, you know.  But there’s no use crying over spilt milk, is there?”

“No sir.”

“And other than him and this Muslim woman, nobody else in his circle knew of it?”

“Not as far as we could see, sir. There was another man, a friend of Cirillo’s that we arrested following a separate complaint about, well, about black marketeering.”

“I read that in your report. Did he have anything to do with this chip, Robert?”

“We’ve questioned him thoroughly. There’s no reason to believe he did.”

“Well let’s not waste any time with him, shall we? After-all, we’re trying to save our way of life from terrorists, not chasing after old men trying to save a few pennies on their grocery bill.”

“Yes sir.”

Svigny came to stand, then hesitated, opening his mouth to ask the question that had been on his mind since he’d looked at the chip’s contents, and then thought better of it. But Schultz picked up on his ambivalence right away.

“Something else on your mind, Bobby?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s my place to ask.”

Schultz nodded in understanding. “You viewed the chip’s contents?”

“I had to…”

“You had to make sure it was what they claimed it was. I understand; no harm done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And you want to know if it’s true.”

“I…well, it crossed my mind.”

Schultz took another sip from his tea and stood up, sauntering around his desk to look out the window at the rooftops of the working-class neighbourhood that surrounded the Homeland headquarters. A gentle breeze from the north had pushed the smog away from the downtown core, although that was expected to change soon.

After several seconds of silence Sévigny thought he was being dismissed, but before he could get up Schultz spoke without turning to face him.

“Does it really matter if it’s true?”

Sévigny wasn’t sure how honestly he should answer, but decided that the subject having been broached there was no point in holding back.

“I’m not so cynical to think that it doesn’t matter…sir.”

Schultz turned toward him, and his face held no expression.

“Let me give you an example. A man walks into a bank with a gun that he bought in a back alley somewhere, and shoots the tellers. Who’s to blame for the deaths: the shooter, or the guy who sold him the gun?”

Sévigny said nothing, wondering if this example wasn’t too simplistic for the horrible reality they were discussing.

“Look, Bob. Many years ago some people had, how can I say this, very particular ideas about how our world should be run. They knew that they had a very real enemy that would do anything to hurt our country.
Countries
, actually. They felt it was very important to fight and destroy this enemy, but too many people just didn’t care anymore. People do get tired of war eventually, you know.

“So in my example these people, who are all good people, you see, they would have sold the gun in that back alley. Now the bank robber, he could have gotten that gun a lot of different ways. This way was simply the quickest and easiest way. And, may I add, the way this, um, gun was sold, there were controls put into place so that none of the tellers that the good people were related to got shot. I think I’m mixing up my examples a bit here, but you follow me, don’t you Robbie?”

“I think so.”

“So, there it is. They sold the darn thing, they made sure the bad guys didn’t get a worse darn thing, and they made sure the darn thing wasn’t used on their own people. But, nobody forced those sand-monkeys…it doesn’t offend you if I use that term, does it Bob?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Nobody forced those sand-monkeys to use the darn thing. Just like the bank robber, nobody forced him to rob the bank or shoot the tellers. So the guys in the back alley were certainly wrong, and they were, I assure you, punished for their misguided actions. But they aren’t the ones who blew up half a city. And it’s the ones who did it that we’re fighting.”

Schultz went back to his chair and sat down, trying to look as if he had just imparted a deep truth, although some uncertainty lingered in his eyes.

“So you see why it doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Sévigny answered, suddenly feeling a strong need to leave as fast as he could. He considered asking Schultz if he was the “H.S.” who’d generated the reports found on the chip, but there was no need to ask.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“No. Thank
you
, Robert. Thank
you
.”

October 24, 2039:

For the four days after he’d met Sévigny in Sahar’s apartment Janus lived with a poisonous mixture of feelings: anger, grief and guilt. He was angry at the smug policeman who had lectured him about his relationship with Sahar, and filled with grief at the certainty that he’d never see her again. The last feeling, guilt, had been the most unexpected, but it was the one which kept him awake the longest.

He had no idea what Sahar had been arrested for, but he was convinced that it arose as much from her involvement with him as anything else. Sévigny had been waiting to see him at her apartment, to tell him personally that she was gone. This was a clear warning to Janus about his own behaviour, which obviously was not a secret to the administration.

Had Sahar disappeared because somebody higher up disapproved of their relationship? This possibility haunted Janus as much as the fact that he would never see her again. As Sévigny said, it was time for Janus to go back to the reality of his wife and children. He always knew this day would come eventually, and his family’s many needs helped him bury the pain he felt at Sahar’s disappearance. But the possibility that any harm that might befall her was his responsibility made his days unbearable.

He needed to know the real reason for her arrest, so he called on someone whom he’d been trying hard to forget for several weeks:
Caporal
Therrien. The policeman had made it clear that he expected a financial reward for his discretion when Richard had his driving accident. He’d even let Janus know that his buddy, the cop who hadn’t wanted to let him in at RCMP headquarters, was also to be “thanked” for his helpfulness.

Until now Janus had simply dismissed all thoughts of this corrupt
Con
. But he needed information now, and the one person he knew who could help him was the man he’d already failed to bribe once. This time, Janus would not make the same mistake.

He sat in a small diner about two kilometers from the station where Therrien worked, and reached down to pat the briefcase that leaned against his leg. A briefcase which held twenty-thousand dollars, courtesy of Walid Kadri. He’d come here right after work, telling Terry that he was still trying to use this money to get Joe freed.

Once Walid had been arrested, Janus thought that he’d be out of circulation for a long time, but somehow the money-lender had gotten out of jail. Janus had considered returning the money, to cut his debt burden by half. But, as it turned out, he still had need of the cash.

When Therrien arrived at the appointed hour and sat across the table from Janus his expression was not friendly. Janus cleared his throat, looking for a way to broach the subject, but Therrien solved his problem by getting straight to the point.

“I hope you called me here to settle our past accounts.”

Janus wondered at the policeman’s willingness to speak so openly. For all the man knew, Janus was wearing a recording device, and was going to turn Therrien in. Then again, maybe Therrien was doing the recording, and was planning on arresting Janus for attempted bribery. Janus realized that they were both taking a huge risk meeting like this, but there was no other way to find out what he needed to know.

“I need some information. I hoped you could help me.”

“
Quoi?
You expect more help from me when you haven’t shown any gratitude for the help I gave you before? You have lots of nerve,
Monsieur le Directeur.
”

“I know I’m in debt to you. I intend to repay that debt right now. And much more than you expect, I’m sure. Because I need this information and you’re the only person I can think of who can help me.”

“What information?”

“A woman was arrested last week for anti-administration activities. In Laval. Her name is Sahar Chamseddine.”

If you wish to know what happened to her, you can keep your money. I’m a patrolman; there’s no way I can find out where rendition cases end up.”

The word “rendition” was like an added punch to Janus’s already bruised heart. He held back the tears that threatened to burst from his eyes at the thought of the suffering Sahar might be going through right now. Swallowing from a cup of coffee that had been sitting untouched since his arrival at the diner, he composed himself.

“That isn’t what I want to know. I know that in…these cases, there is no way for even close family to get information about the person who was taken. I just want to know why. Somebody must have alleged that she did something to have this happen. I need to know who set the RCMP onto her.”

“This is not easy information to get,
Monsieur le Directeur.
It will take much effort on my part. Can you pay for my time?”

“I have twenty thousand dollars in the briefcase below the table.”

Therrien’s eyebrows shot up in a comical look of surprise, and he swallowed hard at this news. Clearly he’d never expected such a lucrative payday.

Janus sat quietly, watching the policeman’s eyes as all sorts of thoughts raced through his mind. After a minute, the expression of surprise faded from Therrien’s face, and was replaced by one of greed.

“This is quite a generous offer you are making. I see that you are serious about needing this information, but I am also serious about how difficult it will be to obtain. The money, which I will take now, will be a good down payment. And it will cover your previous debts, of course. But I will need the same amount again when I provide you with what you need.”