Face/Mask, page 16
“Happy? No, I never really expected to be happy. I just wanted to have my life back. My family...”
She sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette, her expression softening somewhat.
“So, what will you do now?”
“I have to try to help him.”
“After what you did?”
“I have to,” he whispered. “That’s what Terry expects me to do. Otherwise...”
“Otherwise she might think you wanted for this to happen. Yes, Allen. I always understand.”
As head of a major municipal department it took Janus one phone call to learn that Joe had been taken to the main RCMP detention center in the east end of Montreal. It was located in an industrial area which had long ago been cleared of any residential buildings.
The drive there took over an hour, the heavy traffic moving slowly on the slippery highway. The car’s wipers worked hard to keep his windshield clear of the sticky snow. Janus tried to concentrate on the road, but was having a hard time controlling his racing thoughts.
Sahar hadn’t understood everything. He wasn’t doing this merely to avoid Terry’s suspicion. She’d always relied on him in the past and it mattered very much for him to be able to come through for her again.
He’d wanted to punish Joe and he had. Now his family needed him to help, and he was going to try. It didn’t matter that he was the one who’d set the police on Terry’s uncle in the first place. He had no idea what he was going to say when he got to the police station, but he would think of something.
He took the bridge back from Laval, before heading east along Highway 40. As he approached the east end of Montreal he was faced with the sight of a dozen oil refineries belching clouds of black smoke twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He couldn’t remember these refineries spewing so much smoke into the air when he was a young man, and wondered if anything ran as it was supposed to nowadays. He checked his air-mask reflexively as he got off at the exit, and drove along the service road past the giant, rust-covered fuel tanks.
In a few minutes he was in front of the new offices of the Security Directorate, with its quasi-military enforcement arm, the RCMP. Unlike the buildings that surrounded it, as well as most other buildings in Montreal, this one was well maintained. It was one of the symbols of power in the city and the administration hadn’t hesitated in pouring uncounted millions of dollars into the state-of-the-art facility.
Pulling up at the gate Janus lowered his car window and held his cit-card out to the electronic eye. A blue laser scanned the card and then did the same thing to his left eye through the air-mask’s glass shield. Around him Janus saw heavily-armed guards in sealed huts behind ten-foot high electric fences. One would have thought the building held the nation’s greatest treasure, or the world’s most notorious terrorists. In the end, it was simply a high-end police station.
This is where they bring dangerous subversives like Joe Pizzi.
He wondered who’d managed to confuse Joe’s petty offence with an act of treason. Somebody could have decided to add the conspiracy charge to make Joe seem like a bigger catch. Maybe there weren’t any dangerous terrorists left, and they needed to charge small-fry like Joe to justify the huge security apparatus they’d created.
Good thing they haven’t started accusing people of thought-crimes. Yet.
There was a loud clang, snapping Janus out of his semi-seditious reverie, and the gate opened with a harsh metallic rattle, trundling slowly back on itself like the door to an ancient dungeon.
Once he was through the gate Janus parked his car, and walked toward the building’s wide stairs. The snow had stopped coming down and he stepped carefully around foul-looking puddles. He felt the need to hurry, but the sight of the guns being carried by the guards made it clear that this wasn’t the place to break into a run.
Soon he was standing in front of a desk sergeant sitting behind a glass wall with a small speaker on the front of it. The policeman seemed entranced by something on his P-screen and didn’t look up as Janus approached him. Janus wasn’t sure if he should knock on the glass separation to announce himself, or if he should simply wait to be spoken to. Despite years as a director in the administration bureaucracy Janus felt ill at ease in the police station. He’d bent the rules too often in his personal life to feel comfortable surrounded by law enforcement officers.
He stood there for over a minute, clearing his throat in anticipation of getting noticed by the desk sergeant, before being surprised by a gentle tap on the shoulder. Turning he saw Caporal Therrien, the policeman who’d come to his house after Richard’s car accident a few days earlier.
“Monsieur le Directeur. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Janus was aware that he had never contacted Therrien to “thank” him since that visit. Did the officer think he’d come here to give him a gratuity in person?
“Caporal Therrien, hello. It’s so nice to see a familiar face. I feel quite out of my element here.”
“Did you wish to see anyone in particular?”
“Well, yes. I need to speak to someone who’s in charge. It’s about a prisoner I’d like to see... if possible.”
“A prisoner?”
“Or a suspect. I’m not sure what you would call him. It’s my wife’s uncle, Joe Pizzi. You remember him, surely. He was arrested tonight.”
“My goodness. That is a surprise.”
Janus wasn’t certain how sincere Therrien’s surprise was, but there was no time to worry about that. He needed help to get past the desk sergeant and inside where he could speak to someone in authority.
“Be that as it may, Caporal, I do need to speak to someone about this matter, and the gentleman here,” he pointed at the desk sergeant who was clearly following the discussion while keeping his eyes on the P-screen, “has been ignoring my presence. I don’t know if I could impose upon you to help me.”
“Do you mean do you another favour, sir?”
“Yes. Yes, that is what I mean. And clearly I will be even in greater debt to you. I would certainly not forget your assistance.”
“Well, as long as you don’t lose your memory, sir, I’m sure we can do something to help you.”
Therrien walked over to the desk sergeant and whispered into the speaker-phone. The other man didn’t seem either interested or impressed with whatever Therrien had told him, and kept his eyes locked on the P-screen. Therrien leaned closer and whispered with a greater sense of urgency. After a few seconds the desk sergeant looked up and Therrien nodded to him. The desk sergeant reached his hand under his desk and pressed a hidden buzzer to unlock the door on his left.
Therrien walked over to the door and held it open, motioning Janus to follow him. As Janus advanced he waved to the desk sergeant and thanked him. In the doorway Therrien leaned over to whisper into Janus’s ear.
“His name is Jolicoeur, and he expects to be personally thanked as well.”
“Yes, of course,” Janus replied, depressed at the impunity with which the policemen displayed their corruption. He felt they could do whatever they wanted with him. He looked back at the desk sergeant and received a none-too-subtle wink in response.
Therrien took Janus down a long corridor and into what looked like a lunch room, and asked him to sit.
“You’ll have to wait here,” he said. “You can have a cup of sim-choc from the machine if you wish.” Therrien left the room, and closed the door behind him.
Janus looked at the shiny new dispensing machine, but felt no desire to drink. He sat on a well-cushioned chair and asked himself what it was he thought he could do there. Since Terry’s call he’d acted as if he knew what needed to be done to help Joe, but that was far from the truth.
He’d expected the prestige of his official title to open some doors for him and to gain him a little respect, but it was clear that here his position would afford him few privileges.
They kept him waiting for twenty minutes, and he was beginning to wonder if Therrien had decided to abandon him there when the door opened. The man who stepped in was shorter than Janus, had a barrel chest, and wore his uniform sharply creased. He had a bushy moustache, but otherwise the rest of his face and head were clean-shaven.
“Vous êtes le directeur, Allen Janus?”
“Oui. Uh, yes. My French isn’t great, I’m afraid.”
“That isn’t a problem, monsieur. My name is Robert Sévigny. I’m not, I’m afraid, in charge at this station. But I am in a position of some authority. I’m head of security operations for Laval, and I just happened to be in a meeting here tonight. Perhaps I can help you.”
“All right, if there’s nobody else who actually runs things here.”
“I’m afraid I’m the only person who will see you now, monsieur,” Sévigny said with a firmness that indicated that he wasn’t used to being argued with.
“Okay then,” Janus conceded, not sure what, if anything, this man could help him with. “Thanks very much. It’s my wife’s uncle. His name is Joe...Giuseppe Pizzi. He was arrested at my house earlier today.”
“Arrested? Why did they arrest him at your house?”
“He lives with us. For two years now, since he came from Italy.”
“I see. And was he arrested as an illegal alien?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. In fact, it’s really a very minor matter. He’d bought some meat at an unlicensed butcher, you see.”
The policeman lifted a palette that he had with him and scrolled through it for a moment, before stopping and reading from the green-lit screen. He finally looked up at Janus and turned the palette to face him, as if to justify what he was going to say.
“Monsieur le Directeur, it seems that your uncle-”
“He’s my wife’s uncle.”
“Yes, fine. It seems that your wife’s uncle has been charged with conspiracy against the administration, as well as supporting a terrorist organization and committing acts in aid of enemies of the state. This is not so minor a matter, I fear.”
Janus was stunned at hearing the offences they’d charged Joe with. Until that moment he’d hoped that it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe Terry had confused what the arresting officer had told her. Joe was truly in trouble, and it was his anonymous call that had put the police on his track.
“But you’ve made some sort of mistake,” he protested. “He’s just an old man who doesn’t know anybody. He isn’t a terrorist or a subversive or anything.”
“I would think a man in your position would understand that these types of charges are in fact very serious, and wouldn’t have been brought without a significant evidentiary foundation. In fact I’m surprised that you permitted such a person to live under your roof while he was openly flouting the law.”
Janus suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He realized that he could be blamed for anything Joe did under his roof. In fact, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he and his family could be charged as accomplices.
He had hoped to keep them all out of the picture during Joe’s arrest and prosecution. At one time he’d imagined Terry standing worriedly on the sidelines while the wheels of justice slowly rolled over her uncle. Now, by coming down here like the cavalry riding to the rescue in an old western, he was bringing himself and his family to police attention.
The insecurity of his own position was clear to Janus, and Sévigny’s sarcastic expression showed that the policeman was thinking along the same lines. Janus had hoped to show Terry that she could rely on him, but at that moment his only thought was to get himself out of there as fast as he could.
He stood up and cleared his throat, trying to sound official, if not officious.
“Well, I won’t take any more of your time, Monsieur Sévigny. I do understand the gravity of Mr. Pizzi’s situation now.”
“Good. I’m glad you understand...everything.”
“Yes. Yes, well I’ll leave you to do your work. Obviously the legal procedures will unfold as they must.”
“Obviously.”
“I will, you understand, be retaining legal counsel for Mr. Pizzi.”
“You go right ahead and do that, Monsieur Janus.”
“Yes. Well, thank you again. Good-night.”
“Bonsoir, Monsieur le Directeur.”
On the long drive home Janus found himself thinking about the things he’d done in recent years, and wondering how he’d gotten into the position he was in. He’d never been a very ambitious or adventurous man. All he’d ever wanted was a job with decent pay to satisfy his professional ambitions. And a nice suburban home, with a loving wife and healthy kids to fulfill his personal needs.
Except, obviously, none of that was true. He had the stable career, the good salary, the comfortable home and loving family. Yet he’d always needed an outlet to release the restlessness and frustration that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. Over the previous two years he’d become someone he didn’t recognize.
He’d never chased after women before, but now his relationship with Sahar was an integral part of his life. And even though she was a prostitute that he was paying for sex, he would always think of what they had as a relationship. He’d become a stereotypical cheating husband, making up lies as they became necessary, and he’d been willing to take on that role without a second thought.
Of course the secrecy and lies had all begun with betting on dog-fights in one of the seediest parts of town. He was revolted at the memory, yet he’d gone there for months. He’d mixed with the lowest kind of men; men who were, in effect, just like him. He’d laughed at the suffering of the animals, and shouted with glee when a dog he’d bet on tore its rival to shreds.
He’d been glad to bet more than he could afford, and when he lost, which was often, he indebted himself to loan sharks so he could bet some more. To this day he couldn’t understand how he’d let himself get so deep in debt, nor how he let Joe give him the money to get out from under.
That was the one thing that had never made sense to Janus. Joe had given him the money without hesitation, and without expectation of ever getting it back. As hard as it was for Janus to understand his own actions, Joe’s selflessness was even more incomprehensible. And Janus had repaid his generosity by having him arrested.
He shook his head in wonder at how easy it had been for him to cause so much suffering to so many people.
When he got home Janus was relieved to find that Terry was disappointed, but not surprised, at his inability to even see her uncle at the police station. Richard had gone online to look up information about police procedures and explained to her that arrested suspects were always kept in total isolation until they appeared in court.
“Did you know that they’re not even allowed to speak to a lawyer,” she complained to her husband.
“Are you sure? What about their one phone call?”
“That’s just in the old movies,” Richard explained. “That’s been done away with for years now.”
“And here I was wondering who to call for him. I even told the officer I’d be getting Joe a lawyer and he just smiled at me. Probably thought I was an idiot.”
“It’s not your fault,” Terry said. “I realize there was nothing you could have done. It was very sweet of you to go down there though.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I suppose we should all try to get some sleep. It’s late, and I don’t know how Richard is going to get up to go to school in the morning.”
“I’m not going to school, mom. I’m going with you guys to the court.”
Janus sat down on the sofa between Terry and their son and put his arm around his shoulders.
“Listen, Rich. I appreciate you staying up with your mom. But I think it’s important for your brothers that we don’t disrupt their routines more than necessary. They’re going to be very upset when they wake up and find that Uncle Joe is gone. Especially since we can’t really give them any idea of how long he’ll be gone for. Or if he’s ever coming back.”
“Allen, you can’t be serious about that,” Terry gasped. “This is all such a minor matter.”
“That’s what I thought. I even said that at the station, and they looked at me like I was nuts. Or worse, an accomplice. We’ve all been sort of winking and looking the other way over this, well, this under the table stuff. But the police are saying that there was a lot more to it than what we thought. Joe is in deep trouble, and we’re going to have to get him a really good lawyer if he’s going to have any chance.”
“It’s like we’re living in a fascist state,” Richard said, surprising both his parents with his vehemence. “So people have to break the rules just to live a decent life.”
“Richard, don’t say that,” Terry scolded.
“No, let him,” Janus said, knowing that his son was expressing his own feelings. “He’s not far from the truth, what with all the crackdowns on protesters, and people being encouraged to spy on each other. Canada was never like this when we ran our own government.”
“Allen, please.”
Janus looked in his wife’s eyes and was surprised to see, along with the pain, more than a little fear. He took a deep breath and told himself there was little point getting them worked up over the state of the country. Time to change the subject.
“You’re right. There’s no point talking about that now.”
“Wait a minute,” Richard insisted. “Are you guys trying to protect me from the real world, or are you just afraid to talk about this?”
“Richard, there are other things we should be talking about.”
“Why? Is our house bugged or something?”
This comment stunned Janus for a moment. Although he’d never seriously considered such a possibility, he realized that the doubt was always there, in the back of his mind. He looked at Terry and realized that she was thinking the same thing he was.
“Probably not,” she said.
The three sat quietly, looking at each other for several seconds, and then Richard let a small giggle slip out.
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he said, clearly not meaning it. “Here I was worrying about what I could say in my own home.”
