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Authors: Gabriel Boutros

Face/Mask (22 page)

BOOK: Face/Mask
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“I can’t believe it.”

“No, you don’t want to believe it. That's not quite the same thing. What you don’t get is that under the Illegal Alien Enforcement Act, the consequences for even the most minor infraction for non-citizens have become draconian. And the charges here are far from minor.

“But, let’s assume that he really is innocent, or at least not nearly the danger to national security they’re making him out to be. There are some people who work in our judicial system who understand that government witnesses may lie, and cops may plant evidence, and false accusations may be brought for a variety of reasons. And these very few people can be convinced, from time to time, to let some poor, deserving Joe, or Giuseppe, slip through the cracks.”

Terry leaned forward with a look of supplication that almost broke Janus’s heart.

“So these people could help my uncle? If he’s nothing more than just a naïve old man, maybe they’d look the other way?”

“It has been known to happen.”

“If they want to help out the innocent,” Janus spoke up, still not trusting a thing this lawyer was saying, “then why do we have to bribe anyone?”

“Because, Mr. Janus,” Silver spoke with a sigh that showed he’d had this conversation once too often in his life, “these people are not auditioning for sainthood. Like everyone else, they’re just trying to make a living and keep out of trouble. It bothers them when good people get run over by the administrative apparatus, but that doesn’t mean they’re in any hurry to put their own necks on the line for anyone. So…”  

“So, you pay them off.”

“You make it worth their while to take a pretty big risk.”

“And nobody suspects anything?”

“There are dangers, so everyone involved has to be very careful. And very well-compensated. But it’s a very big machine, a huge bureaucracy. Witness statements sometimes get lost. Police reports have to be rewritten to take account of new evidence. There are always enough poor bastards to meet a prosecutor’s quota of convictions. You just want to make sure your Uncle Joe isn’t one of them. You pay them enough and they’ll pass over his name and go on to the next
schmuck
.”

“This is ridiculous,” Janus exclaimed.

“But are there no trials? No rules to follow?” Terry asked.

“Yes there are. And the word from on high at the Security Directorate is to enforce the law like it’s the word of God. But the reality at the most basic levels, like with some Security Prosecutors I’ve dealt with, is that not everyone believes there are terrorists under every bed. And like I said, there are so many others who can’t get their hands on the money they need to save their asses that few people care if the occasional harmless son of a bitch can help himself by spreading some
geldt
around.”

Janus stared at the lawyer, not sure what to say. Silver was so matter of fact about the whole thing that Janus wanted to believe it was a joke. But Silver was clearly being serious.

“We’ll still have to present a defence based on humanitarian grounds,” the   lawyer continued. “Show that he’s a great guy in the community, well-loved, and so on. Not a rabble-rouser or anything. Then the prosecutors decide who is worthy of the court’s clemency and who isn’t. All we do is help them decide.”

“I can’t believe this,” Janus said, standing up abruptly.

“Allen, please,” Terry sobbed.

“No. We can’t even be having this conversation.”

He suddenly looked around him, as if someone was standing there listening to him. Then he sat down hard and bent over to look under the desk top.

“Are we being bugged? Is this some sort of set-up? Because we’re not going along with this crazy guy’s plans, if you’re listening to us.”

“Hey!” Silver yelled out, slamming his hand loudly on his desk to get Janus’s attention. “Relax, will you? You aren’t being bugged, by me or anybody. In fact every lawyer in town with half a brain has signal jammers in their offices. So, just relax.”

He waited a few seconds to make sure that Janus wasn’t going to interrupt him again, then continued in a calmer voice. “I realize this must be quite an unexpected conversation for you. Believe me, when I was called to the Bar forty-two years ago I never dreamed such a thing would be possible, let alone commonplace. But it
is
commonplace. It
is
how the system works, despite the best efforts of certain gung-ho chief prosecutors to convict anyone who so much as spits on the sidewalk.

“Maybe it’s how the few
mensches
that are left out there thumb their noses at the stupidity and cruelty of the laws they’re obliged to enforce. I don’t know. But it works and is so accepted that there are going rates. I didn’t exactly grab that two hundred thousand number out of the air, you know. That’s what it will take. Fifty for the prosecutor in charge, and a hundred to be split between the cops involved in the investigation.”

“How about the other fifty?”

Silver raised his eyebrows and allowed himself a little smile, letting Janus know exactly how much he planned to make from his role in this bribery.

“I can’t believe they’d accept to do this,” Janus complained. “How do they live with themselves?”

“Very well, I’d guess. Maybe they figure they’re doing a
mitzva
, instead of ruining some poor bastard’s life, and they make a little something on the side at the same time. They’re happy, your uncle is happy, your wife is happy. Or you can just decide you’re not willing to spend the money and kiss the old guy goodbye. Am I being too subtle for you, Mr. Janus?”

 

The ride back from Silver’s office was funereal in its silence. The rain that started moments after they got in the car left beige stains on the side windows. Only the ammonia-laced wiper fluid kept the windshield clear so that Janus could make his way through the heavy traffic.

The inside of the car grew darker as the windows grew dirtier, and the oppressive greyness surrounding them reflected his mood. The lawyer’s words were tumbling over each other in Janus’s head; insistent, yet terrifying. He couldn’t believe what Silver had suggested: bribe cops and prosecutors? Was the man living in some 90’s gangster movie?

Janus was sure that if he tried to pay anybody off he’d land in jail, bringing nothing but disgrace to Terry and the boys. As if Joe’s arrest on terrorism-related charges wasn’t bad enough.

The traffic on the Ville-Marie Expressway was at a standstill, allowing him to rub his face and squeeze his tired eyes shut for several seconds. He’d gotten himself and his family into this nightmare, and while Terry was counting on him to get them out of it, Silver’s idea would make things worse.

Who am I kidding?
I don’t have two dimes to bribe anybody, so why the heck am I worried about getting caught?

He looked over at Terry, who was leaning her head against the window, her eyes invisible behind the dark glasses. The way she’d looked at him at Silver’s office told him that she’d latched onto the sliver of hope the lawyer had held out. What they had to do was clear in her mind, whatever dangers existed.

“We can’t exactly go to the bank for a loan,” he’d said when they left the lawyer’s office. “There’d have to be no official sources and no paper trails, and the administration has made that virtually impossible. I just don’t know where else we could get that kind of money.”

Janus’s arguments dampened her enthusiasm, although he wasn’t sure for how long. She reverted to her earlier silent state, but he suspected she was still trying to think of some way to get the money. He doubted that she had any more idea who to turn to for an off-the books loan than he did.    

He shook his head and leaned it against the side window. He couldn’t believe he was even worrying about where to get the money, when the very idea of bribing an administration agent was crazy. He should have brushed Silver’s suggestion aside, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to. Nor would Terry let him.

Last night he’d thought it would be enough for her that he was doing his best to help Joe, even though he expected nothing he did to work. Now she had a faint hope that something could be done, and she would make sure he clung onto that hope with her. It was illegal and very risky, and he didn’t know how he was going to get her to drop the idea.

      

September 17, 2039:

 

Terry’s head rested against the scratched and dirty glass that separated her from her uncle. His own bald head was pressed up against the divider, a half-inch away, although they might as well have been in different worlds. She had come to visit him in the
Rivière des Prairies
Detention Center, and the harsh reality of the place terrified her: the barbed wire fences, the body-scanners, the stone-faced guards carrying truncheons.

Dear God, we’re in a real jail. How can this be happening?

She had already been crying for several minutes when he was brought into the small visitors’ cubicle. Joe rushed forward when he saw her, and he leaned against the pane to get as close to her as he could. After a few seconds she saw that he was waiting for her to get her sobbing under control. His expression was patient and loving, but he wasn’t crying. And he wasn’t happy that she’d come to see him.

“Teresa, this place is no good for you. You should not come here.”

“Uncle Joe, what are you talking about? I had to see you, to make sure that you’re…you’re…”

“I am fine. Nobody has hurt me.”

“I wanted to see how you were. If you were in pain, or sick. Do you need anything?”

“I need to come home, Teresa. But I do not think this is going to happen soon.”

“We’re working on getting you home. Allen and I, we met a lawyer. He may have a plan.”

“What kind of plan? Who is this lawyer?”

Terry looked over at a guard who was keeping a close eye on them. She hesitated to discuss Silver’s idea in a place with so little privacy, but there was something that she needed to speak to Joe about.

“This plan, Uncle Joe…I can’t say much about it now. But you need to know that it’s pretty expensive. And, frankly, we’re trying to figure out how to get the money we need.”

“That is very kind, Teresa, but you should not waste your money with an expensive lawyer.”

“What’re you talking about? Getting you out of here isn’t a waste of money. It’s just that I…well, I wanted to know if
you
had any money…”

She could feel her face reddening. This was harder than she’d thought it would be.

“When you came from Italy, you must have had a bit of money.”

“I have only a little bit. Not very much, Teresa. Back home, they did not give me much for my farm.”

Terry was surprised at his answer. She knew her uncle wasn’t rich, but she expected his farm to have had some value.

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “But, anyway, Allen is working on getting the money we need. We’ll be able to get it, I’m sure. I just thought...”

Joe looked her in the eyes and shook his head slowly.

“I am sorry, Teresa. I bring very little money to Canada. They say to me I may leave the country, but my money has to stay.”

He reached out and touched the glass, as if to pat her hand.

“Do not worry about money, or about me. You and Allen must be careful now. They can do this to anyone. Go home to your family now,
amore
.”

 

When Terry got home from visiting Joe at the jail Janus found her strangely pensive. She barely said hello to him then walked straight to the kitchen and set about making supper. He got up from the dining room table where he was helping Rollie with some homework and followed her into the kitchen.

“It must have been pretty awful in there,” he said, keeping his voice low so that their son couldn’t hear them.

Terry looked at him with her lips pressed together, then swallowed hard before speaking.

“You have no idea.”

“Joe; was he ok?”

“I suppose he was doing as well as could be expected.”

She turned away and began pulling pots out of a cupboard. Janus knew her well enough to see that she was searching for a way to tell him something, and he wanted to find a way to help her get it out.

“What did you talk about? Did you tell him about Silver’s plan?”

“I didn’t want to get into a lot of detail in there. I was worried the guard could hear whatever we said. But…well, Allen, I thought Joe would have a good amount of money from selling his farm.”

Janus was surprised by her comment, which seemed to come from left field.

“Why are you mentioning that?”

“I told Joe we had to get our hands on a lot of money quick. I thought that any savings he had could help. But he said he hardly has anything at all. He was really vague about the whole thing.”

“Vague, how?”

“Like he didn’t want to tell me something. I don’t know, maybe he never had much money to start with. We’re going to have to come up with it on our own.”

Janus turned toward the water-dispenser and half-filled a small glass. Terry was too busy rummaging in the fridge to notice the look on his face, a combination of shame and relief that Joe had kept his secret. Terry didn’t ask him what he thought had happened to the money, so he didn’t have to lie. He breathed a little easier, knowing that this was one problem less that he’d have to face.

BOOK: Face/Mask
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