Jean-Paul. Do you mind if I call you that?"
Jean-Paul shook his head. "No... John. Now please. I have much to think on."
When the Inspector was gone, Jean-Paul sat staring into nothing. Had he made a mistake in agreeing to go along with the Inspector? The man was... persuasive. Ah, Kieran, he thought. Q'est-ce que tufais? What are you doing?
***
12:10, Wednesday afternoon.
RCMP Superintendent Wallace Madison shook his head as Tucker finished his report. Madison was sixty-three, due to retire in a couple of years. His life, like Tucker's, was the Force. Period. He was tall and distinguished looking and needed a cane because of a hip injury in '69 that hadn't been treated properly.
"I don't know, John," he said.
"Know what?"
"Whether to promote or demote you sometimes. I really didn't think you'd have any luck with this Gagnon over at Health Protection. When Hogue came crying to me..."
Tucker lifted his gaze despairingly.
"What can I say, Wally?"
Madison sighed. "Not much." The bantering tone left his voice. "I need something hard for the Minister, John."
Tucker shook his head. "You've got to stall him. Give us a couple of days. Foy can't have gone far. Hengwr disappeared in Ottawa and, unless what Foy told Gagnon was a crock of shit, he's gonna hang around here looking for him. Then we pick him up."
"You've got a way with words, John. No doubt about it." Madison shoved the operation's file into his briefcase. "I'll do what I can. Do you have time for some lunch?"
" 'Fraid not. I've got to check out a couple of leads. You remember that stuff we found in Hengwr's room? The stuff Benson's been checking out?"
"Ted's got something?"
"Not exactly. What he has got is some guy that came into the museum with a bone disc that he wants to get dated. Thing is, it matches the set from Hengwr's room."
Madison nodded. "I can use that with the Minister. Following some hot leads."
Tucker grinned at the Superintendent's sarcasm.
"It's the only break we've got so far, Wally. I'm going to take a run down and have a talk with this guy. Benson's stalling him for us."
"If you get anything..."
Tucker smiled. "I know where to reach you. Kissing ass in the Solicitor General's office."
"Get out of here!"
"Yes, sir! "
They both laughed.
Chapter Five
On Wednesday morning, Sara woke up feeling better than she had in ages. She wasn't normally a morning person; even with ten hours sleep, it took her two coffees and as many cigarettes just to creak her eyes open and start the gears turning. But today she woke up vibrant and alert.
Her alarm clock informed her that it was eight-thirty. But instead of burrowing her head back under the pillows, she jumped out of bed and set about getting dressed. A few minutes later, she headed down the stairs to the Silkwater Kitchen wearing jeans, moccasins and a pink sweatshirt with a picture of David Bowie in his "Ashes to Ashes" clown makeup on the front.
There was a fresh pot of coffee simmering on the stove— a sure sign that she wasn't the first up, she deduced with what she thought was a splendid show of deduction for this hour of the morning. She poured herself a mugful and settled down at the table that overlooked the garden to roll her first cigarette of the day. She leaned back in her chair and contentedly blew a wreath of silvery-grey smoke up to the ceiling.
She was seriously considering even having some breakfast, when she happened to glance out the window. Blue's new friend Sally was in the garden, wearing a burgundy Danskin top, leotards, leg warmers and black Chinese slippers. She was performing some esoteric warm-up ritual that looked like a cross between ballet and Kung Fu. Her movements were slow and deliberate and she spent as much time holding a pose as getting to it.
Sara watched until Sally finished, then got up to get more coffee as Sally headed for the kitchen.
"Morning!" Sara called and motioned to the pot. "What do you take in it?"
"Just black, thanks."
"You must
Jean-Paul shook his head. "No... John. Now please. I have much to think on."
When the Inspector was gone, Jean-Paul sat staring into nothing. Had he made a mistake in agreeing to go along with the Inspector? The man was... persuasive. Ah, Kieran, he thought. Q'est-ce que tufais? What are you doing?
***
12:10, Wednesday afternoon.
RCMP Superintendent Wallace Madison shook his head as Tucker finished his report. Madison was sixty-three, due to retire in a couple of years. His life, like Tucker's, was the Force. Period. He was tall and distinguished looking and needed a cane because of a hip injury in '69 that hadn't been treated properly.
"I don't know, John," he said.
"Know what?"
"Whether to promote or demote you sometimes. I really didn't think you'd have any luck with this Gagnon over at Health Protection. When Hogue came crying to me..."
Tucker lifted his gaze despairingly.
"What can I say, Wally?"
Madison sighed. "Not much." The bantering tone left his voice. "I need something hard for the Minister, John."
Tucker shook his head. "You've got to stall him. Give us a couple of days. Foy can't have gone far. Hengwr disappeared in Ottawa and, unless what Foy told Gagnon was a crock of shit, he's gonna hang around here looking for him. Then we pick him up."
"You've got a way with words, John. No doubt about it." Madison shoved the operation's file into his briefcase. "I'll do what I can. Do you have time for some lunch?"
" 'Fraid not. I've got to check out a couple of leads. You remember that stuff we found in Hengwr's room? The stuff Benson's been checking out?"
"Ted's got something?"
"Not exactly. What he has got is some guy that came into the museum with a bone disc that he wants to get dated. Thing is, it matches the set from Hengwr's room."
Madison nodded. "I can use that with the Minister. Following some hot leads."
Tucker grinned at the Superintendent's sarcasm.
"It's the only break we've got so far, Wally. I'm going to take a run down and have a talk with this guy. Benson's stalling him for us."
"If you get anything..."
Tucker smiled. "I know where to reach you. Kissing ass in the Solicitor General's office."
"Get out of here!"
"Yes, sir! "
They both laughed.
Chapter Five
On Wednesday morning, Sara woke up feeling better than she had in ages. She wasn't normally a morning person; even with ten hours sleep, it took her two coffees and as many cigarettes just to creak her eyes open and start the gears turning. But today she woke up vibrant and alert.
Her alarm clock informed her that it was eight-thirty. But instead of burrowing her head back under the pillows, she jumped out of bed and set about getting dressed. A few minutes later, she headed down the stairs to the Silkwater Kitchen wearing jeans, moccasins and a pink sweatshirt with a picture of David Bowie in his "Ashes to Ashes" clown makeup on the front.
There was a fresh pot of coffee simmering on the stove— a sure sign that she wasn't the first up, she deduced with what she thought was a splendid show of deduction for this hour of the morning. She poured herself a mugful and settled down at the table that overlooked the garden to roll her first cigarette of the day. She leaned back in her chair and contentedly blew a wreath of silvery-grey smoke up to the ceiling.
She was seriously considering even having some breakfast, when she happened to glance out the window. Blue's new friend Sally was in the garden, wearing a burgundy Danskin top, leotards, leg warmers and black Chinese slippers. She was performing some esoteric warm-up ritual that looked like a cross between ballet and Kung Fu. Her movements were slow and deliberate and she spent as much time holding a pose as getting to it.
Sara watched until Sally finished, then got up to get more coffee as Sally headed for the kitchen.
"Morning!" Sara called and motioned to the pot. "What do you take in it?"
"Just black, thanks."
"You must
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