succeed, and he not only provided the salvation Jean-Paul so badly craved, but they also might show the path for countless crime families to follow; fail, and it was back to the dark ages.
And now Roman’s rash action that one night compounded by his own lie could bring down the whole deck of cards. The crushing weight of it all was almost too much to bear.
Georges laid his right hand flat and firm on the refractory table to stop it from trembling. His attention was pulled sharply back by the mention of Roman.
‘…We could go around in circles speculating how this whole mess might have been avoided if Roman had just grappled Leduc’s gun away or pushed his gun arm to one side. But it could just as easily have backfired.’ Jean-Paul turned one palm towards Georges, his eyes softening. ‘Either yourself or Roman could have been shot. Regardless of the unfortunate repercussions now, it was self-defence. So we have to stick together on this.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Jon Larsen agreed; a tone of resigned compliance.
But Georges noted that Jon Larsen’s eyes stayed fixed mostly on him, perhaps picking up on his consternation or his slight flinch at the mention of ‘self-defence’. Georges wondered how much longer he could hold out alone bearing the burden of his knowledge; or whether simply too much had flowed beneath the bridge for him now to be able to tell anyone.
Michel Chenouda knew that he shouldn’t have risked the lie practically as soon as the words were out.
‘How long before they have firm identification?’ Chief Inspector Pelletier asked.
‘Nine or ten hours is their best estimate. But it could take as long as twenty-four hours.’ Michel fought to keep any hesitancy out of his voice. ‘The quality on CCTV photos is low, so there’s a lot of gaps for them to fill in. I’ll check with them as soon as we’re finished.’
‘And they’re pretty confident of being able to lift something positive?’ Maitland confirmed.
‘Yes, yes.’ Michel doodled absently on a pad. ‘So they told me at last count.’ The truth was far removed: the department dealing with photo enhancement, T104, adjoining forensics, had told him the shadows looked too heavy for a decent identity lift. They’d do their best, ‘But don’t hold your breath.’ But with every other lead dead and Pelletier and Maitland not in the least enlivened by his hopes of getting Georges Donatiens to testify, despite his efforts to play up the option – he felt as if everything was rapidly closing in on him. That Pelletier and Maitland had practically decided beforehand that they’d be presiding over the case’s funeral, and Michel’s explanations and defences were treated merely as eulogies. There was much head shaking from Pelletier about the manpower and cost of the case so far, with Maitland throwing in his bit about the difficulty of resurrecting any workable legal structure: ‘Even if Donatiens might be as hopeful an option as you make out, don’t forget he’s your last possible witness. There’s no possibility of his testimony being corroborated. With Savard, at least there was the hope that Donatiens – facing a likely heavy sentence for being an accomplice to murder – might well have turned Crown evidence and corroborated Savard’s story.’
Michel sensed that if he didn’t come up with something dramatic, fast, they might close the file there and then. Although late last night he’d come up with the idea of checking CCTV cameras on likely routes from the dockside, they hadn’t hit on any possible matches until just an hour before the meeting. Michel painted it as brightly as he could and threw it into the impatient jaws of Pelletier and Maitland to hopefully stop them in their tracks. It appeared to be working. So far.
‘Which camera did you catch them on?’ Pelletier asked.
‘Heading south over Jaques Cartier Bridge. They’d fooled us that they’d headed downtown, in which
And now Roman’s rash action that one night compounded by his own lie could bring down the whole deck of cards. The crushing weight of it all was almost too much to bear.
Georges laid his right hand flat and firm on the refractory table to stop it from trembling. His attention was pulled sharply back by the mention of Roman.
‘…We could go around in circles speculating how this whole mess might have been avoided if Roman had just grappled Leduc’s gun away or pushed his gun arm to one side. But it could just as easily have backfired.’ Jean-Paul turned one palm towards Georges, his eyes softening. ‘Either yourself or Roman could have been shot. Regardless of the unfortunate repercussions now, it was self-defence. So we have to stick together on this.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Jon Larsen agreed; a tone of resigned compliance.
But Georges noted that Jon Larsen’s eyes stayed fixed mostly on him, perhaps picking up on his consternation or his slight flinch at the mention of ‘self-defence’. Georges wondered how much longer he could hold out alone bearing the burden of his knowledge; or whether simply too much had flowed beneath the bridge for him now to be able to tell anyone.
Michel Chenouda knew that he shouldn’t have risked the lie practically as soon as the words were out.
‘How long before they have firm identification?’ Chief Inspector Pelletier asked.
‘Nine or ten hours is their best estimate. But it could take as long as twenty-four hours.’ Michel fought to keep any hesitancy out of his voice. ‘The quality on CCTV photos is low, so there’s a lot of gaps for them to fill in. I’ll check with them as soon as we’re finished.’
‘And they’re pretty confident of being able to lift something positive?’ Maitland confirmed.
‘Yes, yes.’ Michel doodled absently on a pad. ‘So they told me at last count.’ The truth was far removed: the department dealing with photo enhancement, T104, adjoining forensics, had told him the shadows looked too heavy for a decent identity lift. They’d do their best, ‘But don’t hold your breath.’ But with every other lead dead and Pelletier and Maitland not in the least enlivened by his hopes of getting Georges Donatiens to testify, despite his efforts to play up the option – he felt as if everything was rapidly closing in on him. That Pelletier and Maitland had practically decided beforehand that they’d be presiding over the case’s funeral, and Michel’s explanations and defences were treated merely as eulogies. There was much head shaking from Pelletier about the manpower and cost of the case so far, with Maitland throwing in his bit about the difficulty of resurrecting any workable legal structure: ‘Even if Donatiens might be as hopeful an option as you make out, don’t forget he’s your last possible witness. There’s no possibility of his testimony being corroborated. With Savard, at least there was the hope that Donatiens – facing a likely heavy sentence for being an accomplice to murder – might well have turned Crown evidence and corroborated Savard’s story.’
Michel sensed that if he didn’t come up with something dramatic, fast, they might close the file there and then. Although late last night he’d come up with the idea of checking CCTV cameras on likely routes from the dockside, they hadn’t hit on any possible matches until just an hour before the meeting. Michel painted it as brightly as he could and threw it into the impatient jaws of Pelletier and Maitland to hopefully stop them in their tracks. It appeared to be working. So far.
‘Which camera did you catch them on?’ Pelletier asked.
‘Heading south over Jaques Cartier Bridge. They’d fooled us that they’d headed downtown, in which
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