possibility of a rising group of independents or bikers trying to play us and the Cacchione’s off against each other. Not only do they divert attention, meanwhile they take advantage of the resulting vacuum.’
Jean Paul nodded sagely for a second, then shrugged. ‘But we’re no longer involved in crime. We don’t pose a threat.’
‘No. But since the incident with Leduc, the police for one believe that we’re still heavily involved. And if that’s a clear advantage for the Cacchione’s, then it’s an advantage for others too.’
‘Except for one thing,’ Jon Larsen offered. ‘Gianni Cacchione would have to lay off blame in any case because of his situation with Medeiros. And this whole drama with the RCMP probably came about as a by-product of that. A happy accident.’
Around in circles. They’d tossed this same subject around probably more than any other at this table the past few years. Just when they were making good progress with their new direction, it would rise up again to drag them back.
The most likely scenario they’d hit upon was that Gianni Cacchione had put Leduc in the frame to divert suspicion from his own continued drugs dealing. With the Lacailles pulling back from drugs dealing and crime in general, Cacchione had eagerly filled the void. But fourteen months later he had a run-in with his supplier Carlos Medeiros, head of Colombia’s leading drugs cartel. Medeiros accused Cacchione of shafting him out of $11 million over the last seven shipments, and promptly cut off supplies. Cacchione tried other suppliers in Colombia, but Medeiros had either co-territorial or distribution arrangements with them, and word had already spread: Cacchione was widely blackballed. He found a supplier in Mexico for a few months, until Medeiros sent a message by killing two of his key men. After that, nobody would touch Cacchione.
A number of independents sprung up, some of them no doubt legitimate; but Medeiros began to suspect that Cacchione was still behind the biggest new player, and supplies were threatened again. At that point, magically, Eric Leduc — a Lacaille family Lieutenant who helped Roman out with security for their local clubs and casinos — came into the frame as linked with this rising lead drugs network. Worse still, they heard on the grapevine that Leduc had become the subject of an RCMP investigation. The police believed that the Lacaille’s new ‘legitimate business only’ direction was just a front; that secretly they were still heavily involved in crime and running drugs. With Leduc now as the link to prove that theory.
Jean-Paul was horrified. He was certain that Cacchione was behind setting up Leduc primarily to throw Medeiros off the scent; but now it had also resulted in putting the Lacailles under the spotlight with the RCMP. Cacchione must have been laughing up his sleeve.
They decided to get to Leduc’s bank accounts before the RCMP. The accounts’ movements were complex, and so purely through necessity — their original set-in-stone ground rules were that Georges would never be involved in anything linked to their past criminal activity — Georges was called on to quiz Leduc. Roman rode shotgun purely to provide psychological pressure with the silent threat of muscle should Leduc decide not to be co-operative, and Leduc was allowed to nominate one batsman of his own: he chose Tony Savard. The only other person present that fateful night was the driver, Steve Tremblay, a doorman from one of their downtown clubs, who was outside the car smoking and swapping stories with Tony Savard when Leduc was shot. The police saw Leduc’s death as confirmation of their involvement in drugs, that it was a result of their desperation to bury the traces. Now with Savard, further confirmation: the spotlight would be on them stronger.
‘We’ve invested so much time thinking Gianni Cacchione is behind it all,’ Georges commented. ‘And while that’s still the most likely option, we shouldn’t shut out all other options. We could find ourselves blindsided if something else suddenly comes up.’
‘I know. I know.’ Jean-Paul rubbed his forehead. ‘Truth to tell, I should never have sent you along to confront Leduc in the first place.’ Their ten month cat and mouse game to finally get Georges aboard had been mainly laying strong re-assurance that he’d only be involved in ‘clean’ business. Georges even stipulated that he would never get involved in any laundering;
‘You weren’t to know it would end so badly,’ Georges said. ‘And besides, who else could you have trusted to pick through Leduc’s accounts?’
‘I suppose so.’ Jean-Paul smiled tightly. The re-assurance offered little consolation. Hearing Georges even talk about it was a sour reminder of just how far they’d been dragged off course. Dragged back to the past. Jean- Paul turned to Jon Larsen. ‘What are the police saying?’
‘Three shots, the final one to the head. Professional hit, probably connected with Savard’s criminal activities. And that he was under investigation — no doubt part of their purge against us, though that part I’m assuming.’ Larsen glanced at the notepad before him. ‘Oh, and they’re looking for a black van — a Chevy Venture that they suspect might be connected. Apart from that, nothing. I’ll do some digging, but we might not get much more than that.’
Jean-Paul nodded. They’d pushed hard the last six months to get a stronger inside track at the RCMP. But their only contact was in Vice, and Chenouda’s group handling the investigation against them was tight-knit and secretive. Little of any value leaked out.
‘And what’s Roman’s view?’ Larsen asked.
‘I only spoke to him briefly on the phone, but he’s pretty sure Cacchione’s behind it.’ Jean-Paul tilted his head and shrugged. ‘Apparently, after the mess with Leduc, Savard confided in him that he was concerned that as a friend of Leduc’s, Cacchione might worry that Savard had been privy to secrets about Cacchione’s drugs network. That wasn’t the case, but Savard feared that Cacchione might believe it to be so.’
Larsen asked: ‘Do you think Cacchione might have been also responsible for Steve Tremblay’s death?’
‘Maybe,’ Jean-Paul conceded. Until now, they’d had no reason to believe that the death of the car driver that night was anything other than what it appeared: a boating accident. Now he was beginning to wonder.
Georges looked down for a second. Was it just family allegiances and respect for Jean-Paul that stopped anyone airing the other possible option: that with the increasing RCMP investigation, Roman might be keen to bury all traces to that fateful night. Or was it simply because of what he knew about that night that nobody else at this table knew? He could hardly scorn those allegiances, when it was exactly that which had made him shy away from telling all to Jean-Paul in the first place. Yet now that one lie — or at least not telling
Jean-Paul misread his look of concern. ‘If it’s Cacchione’s intention to target others from that night, you and Roman will have to be extra vigilant. I’ll talk to Roman about stepping up security.’
Great, thought Georges. So now his future health would rest in Roman’s hands, yet he’d cut himself off from being able to tell anyone why he didn’t feel entirely comfortable about that. ‘Okay,’ he said meekly.
‘This whole affair with Leduc has been messy, and unfortunately could get messier still,’ Jean-Paul said with resignation. ‘But I’m determined that it not be allowed to drag us back or in any way affect our new direction. I think the two of you appreciate more than most how important that is to me.’
As Jean-Paul came onto discussing with Jon Larsen their most recent problem of fresh licensing pressure with two clubs — which they feared was all part of the general RCMP Lacaille-family purge — Georges suddenly felt strangely remote, cut-off from their conversation; the stranger perhaps he’d always been. The weight and grandeur of the room pressed in as it had done at that first meeting with Jean-Paul and Jon Larsen: the rococo- edged ceilings and pillars, the rich red drapes tied with gold brocade, the high-backed Louis XIV chairs, the collection of family photos on a long side table with priceless ormolu clocks interspersed — an altar to time-family continuum; the ornate cherub ‘Houdon’ statue at the far end, who apparently had also made statues of Voltaire and George Washington. Struck as he’d first walked in the room with the feeling that Jean-Paul might see himself as a modern-day Napoleon.
But over those first few meetings, Georges started to see the other side of Jean-Paul: a warm, caring family man with noble — if venturesome and foolish — hopes and aims. An image that was keenly massaged by Jon Larsen in heart-to-hearts straight after those meetings:
A hard-bitten corporate lawyer for thirteen years before joining Jean-Paul, Jon Larsen perhaps saw in
