The Marionette, page 26
There were a few chuckles from the assembled, and Adama laughed, too.
“When we could not find Amina in the helicopter’s cabin and then discovered the opened emergency hatch, I’m told my face turned white—and you can imagine how difficult it was for me to achieve that particular look. I then immersed myself in the role of the father terrified and traumatized at the thought that he may have lost his only child. All parents have imagined such a tragic circumstance, and I confess I inhabited it. I embraced it. I wore it like a new suit, and if I do say so myself, that suit fit very well indeed.”
More laughter from our little group. But Adama was just getting started.
“I called my old friend the Minister of Defence, and commanded that he amass a force of soldiers and have them transported to Kéniéba at the hint of first light to begin a thorough search of the area. Through tears and a show of great distress and desperation, I implored Demba, my once good friend, to come back with me to Kéniéba to help, reasoning with him that some things transcended national affairs and personal enmity. He readily agreed. I was not surprised he was so willing, as Amina’s safety was the leverage he daily used to pull my strings as president. There may have been additional incentive for him to accompany me back to Kéniéba, but you’ll hear more about that shortly. So, Demba Dembele came, with four of his burly and surly President’s Personal Protection Force soldiers, who were all in his pocket. Now I will invite Monique Tardif to tell the rest of the story.”
Monique took a small step forward, smoothed out her dress, and began to speak.
“When the Minister of Defence and three transport choppers filled with soldiers arrived very early the next morning, they started a systematic search of the area, looking for any trace of Amina. Adama—if I may call you that, sir?”
“Of course, Monique, of course. Please proceed. The best part is coming.”
“Adama and Demba arrived shortly thereafter in the president’s chopper. Adama looked positively stricken and immediately left to join the search team. I should clarify that Demba was so eager to accompany Adama back to the mine site not just because finding Amina was important to him but also because I’d called him the day before to tell him we’d just had a record-breaking diamond haul earlier that week, including the largest diamond we’d yet found. While that information was somewhat less than truthful, I can assure you, nothing would have kept Demba away from the Tardif mine that morning.
“Two of the four PPPF soldiers followed Adama and the other two stayed with Demba, who, by the way, was not at all happy to see me. He wasn’t happy because upon landing, he’d been informed that my executive team had somehow escaped the country. The chief security officer at our compound had been scared to tell Demba and hoped the Canadians would be found before he arrived. Alas, James and Lauren had already escorted my team across the river and into Senegal. So, the chief security officer had no choice but to break the bad news to Demba as soon as he landed.
“He was so angry he probably wanted me arrested. But first, he needed me to show him the new diamonds. Finding Amina may have been his top priority but checking out the diamonds was a close second. He took my arm and dragged me over to the secure storage building where we keep the diamonds. The search for Amina would carry on without him, at least for a few minutes.”
Monique looked at Amina, who smiled shyly.
“I took my time opening the heavy metal door. I was savouring the moment. He followed me inside, and I immediately opened the safe and pointed to the large drawer holding the latest precious stones we’d recently extracted. In fact, they were lovely diamonds, but they were no larger than any others we’d found. I just needed to distract Demba for a very brief moment. While he was preoccupied, searching for the promised large diamonds, I simply walked back out the main door of the building and swung the heavy door shut, relocking it from the outside and detaining Demba on the inside.
“It took quite some time before he realized he was alone and unable to get out. I’m sure he tried calling his guards on his phone, but no cell signal can penetrate the thick concrete walls of the building. So, he started banging on the door and shouting, though we could barely hear his pounding.”
Adama was smiling and obviously enjoying Monique’s story. He nodded to her, so she continued.
“A few minutes later, when all was ready, the Minister of Defence stood in front of me as I opened the big door again and quickly stepped back. A furious Demba Dembele burst out to face two dozen soldiers, their automatic weapons trained on him. His two PPPF guards had already been disarmed and cuffed and were locked in the back seat of a Tardif truck parked nearby. His other two guards were arrested shortly thereafter.
“The look on Demba’s face was worth all the risk. As he processed what was happening to him, his bravado crumbled before our very eyes. He knew it was over. He was handcuffed, searched, and relieved of a pistol and the stash of diamonds he’d just pocketed. By this time, Adama had arrived on the scene, looking very stern. He nodded to the Minister of Defence, who then stepped forward and officially placed Demba Dembele under arrest for corruption and crimes against Mali. And in my mind, that was the moment the presidency of Adama Camara actually began.”
She nodded to Adama while he beamed.
“Oh, and I was never arrested,” Monique concluded.
What a story. It had in fact unfolded precisely as we’d drawn it up. Hard to believe, but apparently true.
The PM then stepped forward to present the third medal to Monique Tardif, for, in his words, “courage and resourcefulness in the face of imminent danger and in the service of Canada and her ally, Mali.”
She had not expected that.
Angus raised his hand as the applause died away.
“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Angus said. “Now, I am filled with regret about what I will next say, but I am not filled with doubt. Let me echo what the prime minister said at the outset, for it bears repeating. I’m afraid only those of us in this room know about this heartfelt but necessarily secret gathering, not to mention the events that prompted it. The nation is in your debt, even if they know nothing of it. So, I must insist that you keep not only this ceremony a secret, but, more importantly, that wee little adventure in which you partook as you left Mali by somewhat unconventional means. It is possible that somehow the story might leak—heaven knows it’s happened before—but I trust no one among us today will be the source.”
With the ceremony over and the brief reception underway, the PM slipped out for his next engagement. I sidled up to Coop as she looked out one of the windows overlooking the front lawn of Centre Block.
“You’re not a very good spy if you can’t keep a secret,” I said, smiling.
She snapped a quick glance towards Vivian and Angus, who were talking with Monique on the other side of the room.
“Did they find out why? Did they tell you?”
“They did, and I can now put that issue to rest.”
“Well, what was the reason?” she asked. “Come on, the suspense is killing me.”
“The short answer is that I just wasn’t bland enough or average enough for intelligence ops. The long answer would require me to list all the areas in which I am above average and therefore too ‘memorable’ for field work, and it would veer much too close to bragging…actually, it really would be pure, unadulterated bragging, and that’s just not who I am.”
She was laughing by this stage.
“I guess I can see their point. You do make an impression,” she said. “It makes me happy that you now know why you didn’t make it through. You have resolved what was such a long-standing and festering mystery for you. I sincerely believe that it, and not your aborted engagement, is what has held you back from, as they say, living your best life. Now you can move on with your future and be happy, fulfilled, satisfied.”
“Well, I had been skeptical of your little theory, but based on how I have felt since Vivian and Angus enlightened me, I’m beginning to think you were right all along.”
“Of course I was right. So, what now?”
“Well, I have a novel to finish and then another to start. The wheel keeps on turning.”
I said nothing of Angus’s offer to keep me in mind should future needs arise.
“So, I do want to thank you for caring enough to breach protocol and abuse the chain of command the way you did. It was good of you to ask Vivian and the minister about the baggage I’ve been lugging around for the better part of three decades.”
“That is a long time,” Coop said. “But you’re carrying those years pretty well for someone as old as you are. I would have only put you at fifty-five, or maybe fifty-six. So, I think you actually look good for your age.”
“I’m fifty-three, Coop.”
“Oh. I see. Well, I was misinformed, I guess,” she said, smirking. “Sorry.”
“No matter, Coop, I’m in a forgiving mood. Nothing can dampen my spirits today,” I said. “Anyway, thanks again. I know this is not goodbye. In fact, I’m really hoping we’ll get the band back together again sometime.”
“I’m in.”
She gave me a hug and made her way out of the room. Vivian had mentioned that Coop had a new assignment beckoning. Lucky her.
Seeing that I was alone, Monique broke away from her conversation with Angus and Vivian and approached me. We hugged and I kissed her cheek.
“You two certainly deserve the medals you just got, even if you can never pin them on your chests in public,” she said.
“Well, I was definitely shocked,” I replied.
“Not as shocked as I was when Adama brought me up to the front of the class, too.”
“I wasn’t surprised in the least, especially after hearing about the day you had with Demba. I love a good sting operation, and you pulled it off! You were very brave,” I said. “You earned every ounce of that medal you just received.”
“I was so nervous that morning, but the plan was nearly foolproof. Demba’s greed was always going to get him into that building. I knew it would work,” she replied.
“I’m sorry we never told you about Amina,” I said. “We thought you would be safer if you didn’t know. We withheld that little part of the plan for your own benefit.”
She nodded.
“You don’t have to explain. I would have done the same thing,” she replied. “ ‘Need-to-know basis,’ and all that.”
“Well, I’m very glad to see you here.”
“And I’m glad to see you,” she replied. “The minister called to invite me a week ago. I had to be in Montreal for a regulatory meeting anyway and thought this was important enough to delay my return to Mali until tomorrow.”
“Um, listen, do you have time for dinner before you go back?”
She smiled and placed her hand on my arm.
“I think I can squeeze in dinner tonight. I’m staying at the Château Laurier.”
“How convenient. So am I. Shall we meet in the lobby at seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Then, with the same sense of purpose that always seemed to guide her, she strode out of the room. I had surprised myself by asking her to dinner.
“So, what now?” I asked Adama when most of the others had left.
“Well, we have big plans ahead. There is legislation to draft, and regulations, too, alliances to forge, corruption to staunch, elections to run, and so much more. But I am as happy and optimistic as I have ever been about Mali’s future.”
“Will you run when the time comes?”
“I do not think so,” he said. “There are at least two other candidates who, if I can persuade them to stand, would better serve the nation than I ever could as president. After all, I have a daughter to raise, and I actually miss teaching economics. So, we shall see.”
Just then, one of his security guards approached to signal it was time for the president and Amina to leave for the airport. I offered Adama my hand, but he pulled me in for a bear hug, whispering his deep thanks for the umpteenth time. Then he and Amina and their two bodyguards left the room, but not before Amina winked at me.
A few minutes later, as I looked out over the lawns of Parliament Hill, I noticed movement reflected in the glass. I turned around and saw a youngish man in a suit walk into the room. Angus waved to him and started pushing Vivian in her wheelchair towards the door. I figured the newcomer was Angus’s famed executive assistant, Daniel something-or-other, who’d come to fetch his minister. Angus stopped at the door, looked my way, and raised himself to his full height of about five foot nine. His beard and hair looked as wild and chaotic as ever. Vivian gave a little wave that had a we’ll see you again vibe to it. Angus smiled and bowed his head in my direction, before pushing Vivian out the door and down the corridor. To my writerly eye, the whole scene felt like the ending of a novel.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I may have written this novel, but it would not be in your hands without my wonderful publishing family at McClelland & Stewart/Penguin Random House Canada. I’m indebted to my amazing editor Joe Lee, our ever-eagle-eyed copyeditor Erin Kern and proofreader Eleanor Gasparik, diligent editorial assistant Rebecca Rocillo, and our talented designer Matthew Flute. And I thank my publisher Stephanie Sinclair, my publicist Ruta Liormonas, and the rest of the team for their efforts. After ten novels, there’s still no place I’d rather be.
Of course, I will always be grateful for the years of support from my former editors, Doug Gibson—who I will always think of as my editor emeritus—and Bhavna Chauhan.
Beverley Slopen became my literary agent back in the spring of 2008, and my gratitude for her years of loyalty, expertise, and friendship knows no bounds. She has recently retired after a long and storied (pun intended) career and has earned a well-deserved rest. Looking ahead, I thank Carolyn Forde of Transatlantic Agency for agreeing to be my new literary agent. I look forward to our many new adventures together.
I’m grateful for the support of fellow writers I respect who kindly provided ringing endorsements for this novel. Thank you Wayne Johnston, Rod Carley, Susan Juby, Ali Bryan, Trevor Ferguson (aka John Farrow), and Drew Hayden Taylor.
I also thank my twin brother, Tim, for his “first read” through the manuscript and the sage advice that followed.
As I always will, I give deep and abiding thanks to the Stephen Leacock Associates for miraculously recognizing my debut novel, The Best Laid Plans, with the 2008 Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour. My life as a writer changed overnight all those years ago.
Finally, my wife, Nancy Naylor, and our two sons, Calder and Ben, have supported my writing life from its earliest days. I give thanks for their gift daily and will never forget it.
Terry Fallis, Toronto, February 2025
© Tim Fallis
TERRY FALLIS grew up in Toronto and earned an engineering degree from McMaster University. Drawn to politics at an early age, he worked for cabinet ministers in Ottawa and at Queen’s Park. His first novel, The Best Laid Plans, began as a podcast, then was self-published, won the Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour, and was re-published by McClelland & Stewart to great reviews. It was crowned the 2011 winner of CBC’s Canada Reads as “the essential Canadian novel of the decade,” and was adapted as a CBC Television series and a stage musical. His next two novels, The High Road and Up and Down, were finalists for the Leacock Medal, and in 2015, he won the prize a second time, for his fourth book, No Relation. His other novels include Poles Apart, One Brother Shy, Albatross, Operation Angus, and A New Season and were all national bestsellers. A skilled public speaker, he lives in Toronto with his wife, and blogs at www.terryfallis.com. Follow @ TerryFallis on Twitter and subscribe to his newsletter at terryfallis.substack.com.
DISCOVER MORE FROM TERRY FALLIS
Terry Fallis, The Marionette
