The Last Witness

FOURTEEN

‘You just don’t seem to grasp the seriousness of this.’ Roman threw his right hand towards Jean-Paul as if he was tossing dice. His hand gestures had become increasingly volatile as their arguing hit fever pitch.

‘Yes, I do.’ Jean-Paul eyes stayed fixed hard on Roman, had only shifted at moments as their voices raised, as if concerned others might hear beyond his office walls. ‘More than obviously you appreciate. But what I don’t want to do is throw everything away, everything we’ve worked long and hard towards these past three years — over a two minute panic.’

‘He could destroy us, Jean-Paul. And yeah, that’s all it takes — two minutes. Two minutes with the wrong thing said. But he was there fucking hours, and he lied to you about it. And that might be just the tip of the iceberg, who knows what else…’

‘Enough… enough!’ Jean-Paul held one hand up. ‘We went through this chapter and verse yesterday. I thought hard on it overnight, and I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to rake over the same ground now.’ Jean-Paul moved the letter-opener used for that morning’s mail to one side. ‘Besides, this isn’t just about you, me and the remnants of our past activities. Georges is practically family. There’s Simone to consider, and our mother too holds great fondness for him. There’d be a lot of people hurt if we made the wrong move on this.’

‘I know.’ Roman looked down, bracing his right hand hard on his thigh as if to forcibly stop it from gesturing wildly. ‘But that could be part of the problem right there. You know, that was always our father’s main worry with you: that when it came to the crunch, you might shy away from strong action. That you going the more reasonable, diplomatic route, would one day not be the right route to go. This could be that crunch time now, Jean-Paul, and you’re too blindsided with Simone and family to be able to make the right move.’

‘That as may be.’ Jean-Paul shrugged: impatience, as if he’d only half-registered the remark or wished to give it scant relevance. ‘We just can’t be sure yet — which is my main point. And why for the moment I think we should-’

‘I mean, if you’ve got a problem with that, you don’t need to say it straight out. The fact that it’s your daughter puts you in a predicament, but not necessarily the rest of us. Just silently nod or close your eyes for a second — and I’ll take it as understood that you just don’t want to know about the problem anymore, and I’ll take care of it. I’ll take it off your hands.’

Jean-Paul visibly jolted with what Roman was suggesting. He blinked heavily for a second, as if he might have picked up the wrong signal. But seeing the intent in Roman’s eyes, his body arched slightly forward, little doubt remained. Jean-Paul contemplated Roman stonily. ‘You know, that’s the other thing father said — that you were far too rash, impulsive, hot-headed. That’s why in the end he left the final decisions with me, not you.’ Jean-Paul’s tone was cutting, acid. ‘And make that decision I will — when the time is right and we have all the facts.’

Roman met Jean-Paul’s glare challengingly, his jaw setting tight; then finally his eyes flickered down uncomfortably. Hopefully he’d given the intended impression: suitably cowered. ‘Yeah, sure… sorry. I, uh… it’s just there’s a lot for us to lose, that’s all.’ He’d feared just this reaction from Jean-Paul, which was why he’d already started sowing the seeds of his other plan. He’d gone as far as he could pushing Jean-Paul conventionally. ‘And maybe too some rumours I heard about Donatiens at the club, and I’m putting two and two together and coming up with five.’

‘What sort of rumours?’

‘Well, you know, it’s probably nothing.’ Roman tried to shrug it off, but Jean-Paul was looking at him keenly. God, he knew how to play them: Leduc, Georges, Venegas, and now Jean-Paul. And they all thought he was so dumb. ‘Just talk that when Georges does the take at the club, he’s a bit over-friendly with a couple of the girls. But, as I say — it’s probably nothing. Only me getting paranoid in face of all this other shit now.’

As Roman watched the cogs turn in Jean-Paul’s mind, he wondered what was most prominent: if the rumours had substance, Georges cheating on Simone would make it a stronger bet that he was also cheating on them; that it would then be easier to make a move on Donatiens vis-a-vis family; or simple, straightforward concern for his daughter’s emotional welfare.

‘Still, looks like it warrants watching, following up.’ Jean-Paul’s hands had clasped tight together on the desk top. He freed one and gestured to Roman. ‘Which brings me back to what I think we should do for now. He should be watched closely — I want to know his every move. And anything new from the club about Georges, I want to know immediately — not like with this other thing, a month or two later. Right?’

‘Sure… sure.’ Roman struggled hard to keep dead-pan, conceal his inner mirth. Watched closely! He’d had a bug up Georges’ ass the last month without anyone knowing, and now Jean-Paul was personally sanctioning the club sting he’d already set into motion. Which was just how Roman had hoped it would go. Played so well.

And for one of the first times he didn’t feel intimidated in Jean-Paul’s study with its tomes and diplomas; for once, he was in control. He talked about Frank and who else he might need to keep an eye on Donatiens, glancing at his watch as if considering when he might be able to get hold of them. But in reality his thoughts were already shifting to timing the final parts of his sting plan and just how much longer Donatiens had to live.

The full impact of Georges’ story hit Simone halfway through her Plaice Florentine. Her fork hovered, suspended, above her plate. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a second. ‘God, what a mess. You should have said something earlier.’

‘I know… I know.’ Georges said it like a penance. ‘But I was fresh on the scene and so afraid of coming between your father and Roman by telling tales out of school. And by the time I’d waited, hoping meanwhile Roman would say something himself, it was already too late for me to come clean and make good.’

‘But still… Roman… Roman.’ She shook her head again. ‘If the situation was reversed, he’d have been pretty quick to speak out against you.’

‘I know.’ More penance. ‘But I wasn’t aware of that so much then: that I was such a thorn in his side and he didn’t totally agree with Jean-Paul’s new moves with the business. And it was still early days for those moves; I just wasn’t sure how much the old rules of staying silent and not ratting one to the other still applied.’

Simone stayed looking at him levelly and shrugged, as if she only half accepted his rationale. Her fork finally dipped down again to her plate.

Georges continued. ‘Okay, now it’s easy to see I made the wrong decision. But it wasn’t made lightly, I can tell you.’ He picked at an Alaska King Crab claw. His favourite, but he wished now he’d chosen something else. It had been difficult enough getting through this with Simone, and at times the cracking of the claws grated, added an extra flinch. ‘I agonised long and hard over it, and more than a few times came close to telling your father.’

‘So, fine. You’ve got good reason not to say anything early on. But when you were hauled in by this guy Chenouda — why didn’t you say something straightaway then?’

‘There was so much to weigh up. Too much. If Chenouda knew from Savard’s statement that Leduc didn’t have a gun that night, was he aiming for a murder wrap? If so, I felt that was unfair. Because however hasty or stupid, it was an honest mistake by Roman: he thought Leduc had a gun.’ Georges leant forward, keeping his voice low, practically a whisper. ‘Also, would that then make me and your father accomplices: me for being there, your father for ordering the meeting. And what about Savard? Did Roman have him killed to cover his tracks, or was Chenouda just pushing that angle for leverage? And again it would have felt odd just blurting out to your father that I’d been lying all that time. It was all bubbling away: all I wanted was a week or two for it to settle and decide what to do. But meanwhile I started to worry that your father might have heard or at least suspected something — and then with our meeting the other day, I knew for sure.’

‘Did he mention directly that he knew?’

‘No. You know your father — he’s far too subtle for that. He started talking about confiding and commitment,