“That is something that very few people have accomplished.”
“All the better then.”
Luc, as I was starting to think of him, got up, took off his jacket and draped it across the back of his desk chair. Then he sat back in the leather chair and leaned forward, as if to share a confidence. “I can only tell you this. A person’s real identity is a subjective matter, a question of perspective.”
“It’s your perspective I am after.”
“I am not going to bare my soul during our first interview, Kris. Let me get to know you, develop some trust.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable suggestion. Normally, a profile like the one I was pretending to write would involve a series of interviews over several weeks, but I was impatient for progress on the Mae Wang story. Maybe Champagne was the kind of guy who preferred a courtship, but I would have been surprised. He was too busy, too handsome and had too much self-regard. I took him more for the kind who would offer a quick drink, then try to stick it in. I decided to do the same.
“Let me try something more straightforward then. Is there a love in your life? I’m sure you know that you have quite a reputation as a man who likes the ladies.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “So you do think I have brought you up here to seduce you.”
“I hope not, because then we’d both be wasting our time.”
“Touché. To answer your question, no. There is no one special.”
“More of a play-the-field type, then, as your reputation suggests?”
“No, just a man who continues to search for his soul mate.”
I wondered how many times he had said that, and if he was looking for someone who liked romantic dinners and long walks on the beach.
“You know about my late wife, I presume?”
“Only that you had one.”
“Yes, well this is a story I do not tell too often, but I don’t want you to think that I am some kind of Lothario.”
I nodded and tried to look as if that was not exactly what I was thinking. “Please, I’d love to know more.”
“Carole was the love of my life. We met while we were both undergraduates at McGill. I was studying economics, she, abnormal psychology. At first, I wasn’t sure whether she wanted to study me or date me. She was a beautiful woman. Long, thick dark hair, magnificent legs, brown eyes that were gentle, yet probing, but it was her mind that attracted me most. She was the most brilliant and most kind woman I have ever met. We had 12 years together before she died at 32. Brain cancer. I thought my life was over, but, one goes on.”
I was scribbling down everything he said, with the idea of checking later to see how much, if any of it, was true. It was a touching story and would have been even more so if I didn’t think he had been banging Mae Wang as regular as clockwork.
“That’s terribly sad,” I said. “And since then?”
“Well, I have had relationships, of course. A man has appetites, but I have never found another Carole. I do not think there is one, not for me.”
The look of sincerity and sadness on his face would have brought a tear to the eye of a woman less cold-hearted than me. I wondered if this was a story he told to seduce women, the Luc Champagne equivalent of Colin’s heroic war stories. It was tempting to use this spot in our interview to ask him about Mae Wang, but I knew it would bring our discussion to a quick end. The foreign affairs minister was hardly going to admit to having an affair with an interpreter at the Chinese Embassy, especially one who had come to such an unfortunate end. He clearly wasn’t going to tell me about his love life, but then, what man would? I switched to something easier, to keep him talking.
“Question I’m sure you have been asked many times, but why did you switch parties? That really threw people for a loop, especially the Conservatives. I’m not a Hill insider, but even I knew you were favoured to take the party leadership. Help me to understand, and please, don’t tell me you did it for the people of Quebec.”
“But it was that, partly. It was clear the party was going to lose power. I could do little for the people of my province in opposition, even as leader. Some say I would have won that race, but it’s hard to know.
“Of course there was more. One does not make a life changing move simply for the sake of others. I reached an understanding with the Liberal leader, about what my role would be if we were to win. But it was a gamble, the party was in third place when I joined it.”
“That was a bold move. Would you say that was your style?”
Champagne shrugged. “I think that is for others to judge, not me.”
I decided to circle back and get a little closer to my real target. “You mentioned the Chinese ambassador earlier. Do you know him well?”
“I wouldn’t say well. The relationship between our countries is of great importance, both economically and culturally. We stay in frequent touch. He seems a reasonable man, despite the public’s image of China.”
“The PM seems to be a great friend of China.”
“He is. No secret there. It’s such a huge and powerful country, being a great friend is better than being an enemy, wouldn’t you say?”
“Certainly. No one wants powerful enemies, although I’m sure that is an occupational hazard in your line of work.”
“It can be, but for me, if I believe that I am doing the right thing, then I am content. If others disagree, that is their prerogative.
“Now, let me ask you a few questions, Kris. I am prepared to tell you more about myself, over time, but I need to know more about you, your job, what motivates you.”
I decided to answer the part of the question that suited me best. I felt like I was learning from Champagne already. “What motivates me? That’s easy. Finding out the truth and sharing it with the public.”
“Ah, the truth. Do you find it easy to discover?”
“Generally not. In the world that I cover, telling the truth is not the first option for most people. I expect it is the same in your world.”
Champagne smiled and nodded in agreement. He had a warm smile. That could take you a long way in life, I had observed. “Most in my world rely on talking points. I think of them as baloney with just a light seasoning of truth.”
“So you, you are a truth teller yourself?”
“Yes. I find it can be quite disarming.”
It was true that nothing was more convincing than a clever lie wrapped in sincerity. I weighed whether to put his contention to the test. If national security agencies were really monitoring our phones and computers, as Farrell thought, then there was no way that Champagne didn’t know I was pursuing the Mae Wang story. Of all the people in cabinet, the foreign affairs minister had the closest ties to national security. I decided to go for it.
“That’s good to know. Maybe you can give me some insight into a story I am working on.”
“Glad to help if I can. I assume this has to do with the Sandhu mess?”
“Actually, it doesn’t. I am sure you must have heard about that Chinese interpreter who fell to her death from the roof of the building where I live.”
“Of course. It was brought to my attention. I have read the media coverage.” His expression was neutral and I saw nothing in his eyes that suggested either fear or wariness.
‘I’m hearing that she didn’t jump, that she was pushed.”
“Really. I have not heard that. If so, it should be thoroughly investigated. I’m surprised that the ambassador has not raised the issue. I will ask my chief of staff to follow up.”
“That’s very helpful. Perhaps you can have someone keep me informed of what he finds out.”
“I will do it myself, happily.”
I glanced at my watch. I was five minutes past the 30 that I told Colin I would take. The demand that he come in shooting was an inside joke that went back to our adventures in the Adirondacks, but I knew he would be anxious. It also seemed like a natural place to end the interview, with the promise of more to come.
“Why don
’t we leave it at that for now, then. Perhaps we can continue our talk in the next few days.”
As I stood to go, he said, “I will look forward to that. I will be in touch.”
Champagne rose from his chair, then stepped toward me and ran his finger lightly over the tattoo on my left wrist. I felt goose bumps as he said, “That’s a beautiful design. Does it hold special meaning for you?”
In fact, the initials of my dead family held enormous meaning, but I wasn’t going to share that with Luc Champagne. Stepping back, I pulled a business card from my purse and offered it to him, but Champagne said, “Oh don’t worry. I know where to find you.”
As I went back down the stairs to retrieve Colin, Champagne’s words rolled over in my mind. Was it a casual phrase or was he telling me something more?
THIRTY-FOUR
Mike Reilly blew through a series of red lights on the Vanier Parkway as he pushed the old Crown Vic to its limits. Drivers on intersecting streets were slamming on their brakes and pounding their horns. Fuck them. He had his dash flasher on. This was a police emergency.
Reilly saw everything in front of him through a red haze, the one he usually experienced before he did something he would regret. When he caught the bastard who did this to Suzy, there would be no regrets. Not for him, anyway. He’d feed him his balls for breakfast, and that was just for starters.
It hadn’t taken Pete Dombrowski long to triangulate Suzy’s phone. She was near a parking lot along Timm Drive, a rural road that ran through the federal Greenbelt between the western suburbs of Nepean and Kanata. Reilly remembered the road from his days on patrol. It was dark, lonely and heavily wooded. It was a bad place to be lost.
Was this guy who had taken her pursuing her through the woods? If so, every second counted. Reilly tried to reassure himself with the thought that the attacker would have been smart enough to take off once she ran. If he wanted to kill her, he would have done so already, but he couldn’t convince himself. He had no idea who Suzy was up against.
It was his fault. He should have warned her as soon as he talked to Farrell.
Reilly whipped the car onto the exit for the Queensway and pushed it to 140 km/h when he hit the main highway. He figured Timm Drive was 20 minutes from his original location. He wanted to make it in less than 15.
Reilly realized that his own heart was pounding and he had broken into a sweat. Don’t have a heart attack now, you old bastard, he thought.
He took a few deep breaths and tried to think rationally. Up until now, his pursuit of Mae Wang’s killer had seemed like a chess game played against an opponent who was always a few moves ahead. Kidnapping Suzy amounted to turning the board upside down. Who the hell was behind it, the Chinese? The move had their style. Those bastards didn’t give a crap about Canadian laws and always acted like they were on their own turf.
Was this a warning or were they really trying to eliminate Suzy? Maybe they thought it would scare him off, shut him and Kris down. For just a second, Reilly wondered if it was a trap, whether someone was using Suzy to draw him out into the country, then deal with them both. His hand brushed the Glock he wore in a holster on his belt. He considered calling for backup, but that would mean that the story about the police reporter found naked in the woods would spread through the force in minutes, expanding the humiliation exponentially. Many of his fellow cops gave Suzy a hard time just because she was a woman. That would make it impossible for her to do her job. Besides, by the time a proper search was organized, it could be too late.
Whatever was out there, he’d have to deal with it alone. He just hoped that decision wasn’t another mistake. What if the guy was in the woods, looking for her?
Reilly weaved the car from lane to lane, looking for openings in the traffic. He was up to 150 now and moving out of the city core. He missed some asshole plodding along in a beige Corolla by inches. The guy had the nerve to lay on the horn.
Reilly saw the Moodie Drive exit just ahead. Timm was less than a kilometre away. He slowed the car, but kept the flashers on. Turning right at a fruit stand not yet open for the season, he hit the high beams and slowed further. The road was several kilometres long, but Pete had pinpointed her phone near a parking lot that led to a nature trail, but where was Suzy now? What if she had made it out to the road?
If Suzy was in the ditch, it wouldn’t be easy to see her. The road was dark as hell. He’d have to hope she saw the flashers. What if she had passed out? He had no idea how seriously she was hurt and she had sounded nearly hysterical when she called him.
He powered down the windows, hoping to hear her call for help. The lights of his car seemed dulled by the thick mass of underbrush at the edge of the road. Reilly struggled to see. The ditch looked steep and dark. He saw a deer’s eyes reflected in the lights, then the animal darted out onto the road. He braked and let it pass. The night air flowing in through his open windows smelled of cedar and swampy decay.
Finally, a kilometre down the road, Reilly reached the parking lot where the signal from Suzy’s phone had been picked up. He pulled off to the shoulder, but left the dash flasher on. Maybe it would scare off the kidnapper, if he hadn’t already left.
Reilly picked up his phone and called Dombrowski.
“Pete, any fresh location on that phone?”
“No, it hasn’t moved. Boss, what the hell’s going on?”
“Personal matter, Pete. Don’t worry.”
Reilly hung up and eased the car slowly down the narrow track that led to the parking lot. He remembered it as a lover’s lane, a secluded spot where young couples could enjoy a few drinks and each other. Pity there hadn’t been any there tonight.
The only vehicle in the lot was a black Chev Suburban. The rear plate was covered with mud, but Reilly could see a dull red through the dirt. Diplomatic plates. Shit, it was the Chinese, then. That was bad, really bad.
Reilly parked his vehicle across the rear of the SUV, to block its escape. It was locked up. No one in sight. That meant the guy in the woods, looking for Suzy.
Reilly got out of the car and drew the Glock. He hadn’t fired his gun in the line of duty in years and didn’t spend a lot of time at the range. He hoped he could hit something if he had to.
The moon was half full, but it did little to reduce the gloom of the surrounding forest. Reilly liked the woods, in the daytime. At night, it was a different world. He had a Maglite under the passenger seat, but using it would just make him an easy target. He tucked it into his belt anyway, in case he found Suzy.
He studied the perimeter of the parking lot. Most of it was surrounded by low, thorny growth. No one would take that route. When Suzy had run, she would have headed straight for the trail that led back into the woods. It was the logical place to start.
Reilly edged down the trail just far enough to make himself hard to see, then stopped, listening for any sign of other humans. All he heard was the wind blowing through the trees. He moved cautiously down the trail, treading silently on the wood chips that made up its surface. The night was cool and he was wearing only a suit coat, but he could feel sweat trickling down his sides.
Suzy must be freezing. She had said she was naked. Had this bastard raped her?
Reilly made his way stealthily down the path, listening intently, looking for any kind of unusual shape in the forest around him. Part of him knew finding her was a long shot. The forest was dense with cedars. He could be standing practically right beside Suzy and not see her.
Another hundred yards down the trail, Reilly stopped and admitted the obvious. This wasn’t working. The Chinese guy had to have found her. Her phone was off. He’d told her to leave it on. He’d played this wrong. By going deeper into the forest, he’d given the kidnapper the chance to circle around behind him.
It was time for a new tactic. He had to let Suzy know he was here, try to flush the other guy out. Reilly ran back to the parking lot, stumbling over a tree root, but not going down. The SUV was still there, dark and silent. He turned on
the dash flasher in his car and the Maglite and shouted, “Police. It’s all over. Lay down your weapon and come to the parking lot.”
His demand was met with silence. Reilly pointed the Glock in the air and let off a round, then shouted, “Police, surrender now.”
His ears were ringing from the sound of the gun. By the time he heard the footsteps behind him, it was too late.
THIRTY-FIVE
I reluctantly closed the door of the Uber Colin and I had taken back from the party. I knew I should really invite him up for a drink, but he was pissed, or “not best pleased” as he liked to put it. I tapped a farewell on the car’s window, then turned and headed towards my building.
In Colin’s opinion, I had spent a worrisomely long time “sequestered with Champagne in his private office.” I took his reaction to be some combination of jealousy and the mother-hen approach he had taken with me ever since my brush with death last year. I wished he had been able to see what a smooth character Champagne actually was. I started to describe it, but that just made things worse.
I had learned some things about Champagne, principally that he was slippery and multi-layered. I certainly wasn’t willing to take anything he said at face value. At the same time, we seemed to have some sort of connection. Maybe I would do better in the follow-up interview, if there was one.
I decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator. I took off my heels, hoping that they hadn’t permanently crippled me. The stairs were no doubt none too clean, but the carpet still felt good on my feet.
By the time I had gone up three floors, I was beginning to think the elevator would have been a better bet, but I persisted. When I got to the door of my apartment, I fumbled around in my purse, looking for my keys. I had downed only a couple of drinks, but I hadn’t eaten any dinner and the few puff pastries and bits of elk on a cracker that I had consumed didn’t do much to dilute the alcohol.
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