THIRTY-THREE
‘And she’s already left?’ Claude Donatiens asked.
‘Yes, just about forty minutes ago.’ Michel glanced through his office window to the squad room clock. Seventy percent of the staff had already left, but a faint hubbub rose from those remaining. He’d made so many calls in the past few hours that some of the activity had spilled over. ‘She’s staying overnight and returning tomorrow.’
‘And you’re sure that’s she’ll bring a message for us.’
‘Yes, sure. That was the deal made. Messages for both you and his fiancee.’ Michel had been more concerned with Georges’ fast-growing cold-turkey with Simone, but he’d extended it to cover his parents as well. In only a few months Georges could start to feel the same way about them. The ideal halfway house: Georges gets to meet his long-lost mother and gets messages to his loved-ones as well. Two birds with one stone, and who better for poignancy to pass on the messages. Michel dropped his voice a note. ‘There was just too much danger attached to either yourselves or Simone seeing Georges. This was the best compromise I felt we could make. I hope you understand our position.’
‘Yes, I… I understand. I just hope she keeps to what was agreed and brings the message.’
‘I’m sure she will.’ Listening to the strain in Claude Donatiens’ voice, Michel wondered how much he really did understand, or any parent could. After the note, nothing but wilderness. No contact at all. It was a pretty poor substitute: a single note to fill the space of the long years they’d never see him. Again Michel felt a twinge in his chest at what he’d done, but then what other option had there been? With Georges dead, that loss would have been more final and heart-rending. ‘I’ve already spoken to Georges about the message, and it’s very important to him. And I’ve also got one of my men there to remind him. I’m sure it won’t get forgotten.’
There was a faint buzz and crackle on the line towards the end, and Claude said that he was sorry, ‘I didn’t quite catch that last part. We had a telephone engineer call a couple of days back about a fault, but it seems worse than ever.’
‘I said I’ve got one of my men there as well, so I’m sure the message won’t — ’ Michel stopped mid-track, a lightning bolt running through him. ‘What was that you said? A telephone engineer?’ Michel’s voice was suddenly high and strained.
‘Yes…. uuh, called a couple of days back. Maybe three.’ Claude stumbled slightly with the fresh sharpness to Michel’s tone.
‘I thought I told you to let me know if anything unusual happened. Anyone called to your house out of the blue.’ Michel’s voice was raised; he was almost shouting. A couple of heads turned form the squad room.
‘Yes, but… but this happened before you told us. Before it had even been announced about Georges’ attempted abduction and him testifying.’
‘How long before?’
‘Well, uh, the day before… maybe two days.’
The lightning bolt ran deeper through, hit the pit of his stomach. He felt physically sick, and his hands were shaking so hard that for a moment he feared he might drop the receiver. He should have realized! He’d marked the announcement of Georges testifying as the pivotal point, but Georges had already been missing two days and his stepparents’ home was a logical place for him to make contact. Michel slowly closed his eyes. There was still a chance he might be wrong.
He answered, ‘I don’t know yet’ to Claude quizzing ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘…I’ve got a few calls to make.’ He signed off hastily, looked up Bell Canada’s number, and dialled straight out, giving them the Beaconsfield address and approximate time to check their records for an engineer calling. They said it would take five minutes or so. They’d phone him straight back.
Michel burst out of his office like a whirlwind. He spotted Maury in the corner and signalled him. ‘Grab a guy from Dauphin’s department who knows anything remotely about electronics and head out with him to this address in Beaconsfield.’ Michel hastily wrote down the Donatiens’ address. ‘And if he’s got anyone else spare, they should at the same time head here to check.’ Michel wrote down the Montclaire hotel address underneath and ripped the page from the notepad. ‘I’m looking for telephone bugs planted at each — like now! Pronto! So separate cars to each if Dauphine can spare anyone.’
Maury grabbed his jacket from his chair-back as Michel whirled away. One of his office lines was ringing. Michel grabbed it on the third ring. It was Bell Canada. No, they had no record of a call made at that address or indeed in that street in the last week.
‘Last noted service call in that street was eighteen days ago, at number 1426.’
Michel’s stomach sank like an express elevator, and for a moment he felt dizzy, his legs unsteady. His own voice sounded distant as he said ‘Thanks’ and hung up. Maury was only halfway down the corridor, and already he knew most of the answer. But it was enough to alert S-18 to stop Elena Waldren before she got there, or get a message to the safe-house. By the time Maury got out to Beaconsfield to fully confirm a phone bug, it could already be too late.
But when he got hold of the S-18 control room operator, she advised him that she didn’t have any of that information on her computer, the only people who had that information or could authorise contact were Superintendent Mundy and Inspector Graydon.
‘Then put me through to one of them.’
‘They’re not available right now. Inspector Graydon’s on a week’s break, but I might be able to get a message to Superintendent Mundy later on tonight if it’s urgent.’
Michel ascertained what she meant by ‘later’, then asked her name. He eased a weary sigh. ‘Look Constable Fuller, or Melanie — whatever you’d prefer. In two hours it will be too late. It’s that simple. The mark that Mundy and your department have gone to so much trouble to protect will be dead! Unless you can somehow get a message to Mundy right now, or find some other way to contact the safe-house or the team heading out there now to warn them.’
She started stumbling under the pressure. ‘I… I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can with what I have. The operation is top security-coded, and there’s just no other information on screen.’
‘I know. I know.’ Michel backed off a step, clutching at his hair. He’d simply got the stone-wall protection he wanted, and there wasn’t a single frame of reference he could think of to guide her. Two S-18 men who apparently made up next month’s guard shift had flown up from Ottawa to pick Elena Waldren up from her hotel and escort her all the way. No idea where they were flying from and no names; nor were any exchanged in the few conversations he’d had with the safe house. That was the whole ethos of the operation.
Constable Fuller drew fresh breath. ‘All I can do is try and raise Mundy. He says that he’s not available — but I don’t whether that means he simply can’t be contacted, or just doesn’t want to be. If he starts shouting, I’ll blame you.’
‘Thanks. But quick, huh. Every second counts on this.’
‘I think I’ve got that clear. I’ll phone you back in ten minutes if I can’t raise him on his phone or bleeper — sooner if I can.’
‘So just the four jobs, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ Santagata shrugged. ‘And then this one now.’
Roman’s mind was racing. Four contracts? Didn’t show much of an allegiance. But then if they were key contracts, ‘Santa Dave’ could be one of Giacomelli’s stars.
‘All pretty much the same as this?’
‘One the same, backing up. The other three hits.’
They fell silent again. Roman kept his gaze straight ahead, watching wisps of mist drift past the plane’s window as they battled through the night sky. He’d asked the questions nonchalantly, as if it was only of passing interest; and he didn’t want to press too hard or ask too many questions. Santagata might latch on that he was angling at something. Guys like Santagata usually had natural antennae for warning signs: it’s what kept them alive. Roman could feel Santa Dave’s eyes on him for a moment before he looked back ahead again.