Friday, April 8th, 2011
Paris, France - 1:15 PM
The headquarters for the Prefecture de Police was housed in an old building on Ile de la Cite. With 34,000 sworn members and 87 stations spread out over 15 districts, Paris boasted one of the best police forces in the world. If the trip were for pleasure, Cal would have enjoyed watching Gillian gush about the architecture or the history. As it was, he didn't even glance at the building as Harrington led him inside.
Antoine Peroit, petty criminal, had been moved to the main building to accommodate Harrington's request. The symposium had been moved to allow for a "demonstration" by renowned scientist Doctor Cal Lightman, and as they walked into the small meeting room Cal was immediately bombarded with appraising stares and eager smiles from the group.
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen," Harrington was in his element, and Cal watched as he corralled everyone into their seats efficiently and quickly. There were about fifteen people in all from four different countries, though everyone present spoke English fluently. Once everyone was seated, he glanced at Cal with a nervous smile and continued. "Thank you for your patience and understanding. We have a real treat for you today. Doctor Foster has been unavoidably detained," Cal was certain he was the only who caught the thick swallow and nervous twitch that gave away the lie, "but we have Doctor Lightman himself here to demonstrate his unique research for us today." The room erupted in applause, and Cal slipped easily back into lecture mode as he approached the front of the room.
"Yeah, well, as Mr. Harrington said, I'm Doctor Cal Lightman. Now I'm sure you've all read up on what it is I do, so I won't bore you with the details. We have in this building a man arrested on an assault charge. I'm going to ask him a series of questions to determine whether he had an accomplice, or if he's working for a larger organization." Cal paused for a moment, assessing who among the assembled seemed most interested in his work and who would be trouble. He spotted one or two who were paying very close attention, and one in the back who seemed more interested in his phone than Cal's words.
"You there, in the back," the man looked up startled and quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. "What was your name?" Cal took a step forward, pressing him physically as the entire room turned to face him. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to play dumb, but he cleared his throat and lifted his chin proudly.
"Leonard." Cal suppressed a predatory grin as the British agent responded just as he hoped he would.
"You see how Leonard lifted his chin when he answered me? He's angry I called him out. And there," he pointed quickly, "he overcorrects to drop his chin, but his eyebrows are all scrunched together. Defensive anger is still anger, Leonard." The other officers in the room were quiet as Lightman continued, unwilling to be targets of his analysis. "What is so bloody important that you have to take care of it right now, in the middle of the conference?"
"Agency matters," he replied quickly, "none of your concern." The brows lifted in superiority then, and Cal chuckled humorlessly. "Right, well either pay attention or get out, but don't waste my time." He turned his eyes on the rest of the group and offered a charming smile. "Shall we?"
They brought Antoine and his counsel into a small interrogation room with a large two-way mirror on one wall and no windows. A simple steel table sat in the middle, flanked on either side by two rather uncomfortable looking chairs. Cal was waiting inside with a single Parisian officer while Harrison and the others waited in the anteroom on the other side of the mirror. Cameras mounted on the wall would be recording the session for playback later.
When the prisoner was seated at the table, Cal stepped forward as if to take the opposite seat, but he just placed his hands on the back of the chair and leaned forward.
"What's your name?" Peroit looked confused for a moment before sensing that Cal was completely serious. He licked his lips before taking a short breath.
"Antoine Peroit," he said quickly. His accent wasn't as thick as Cal expected, and he pressed forward with the next question.
"And where were you born?"
"Lyon." His tone was harsher, and Cal knew he was probably wondering what this was all about.
"How old are you?" The questions continued like this for a few more minutes as Cal got a baseline for the man's features. Finally, after an innocent question about his last meal, Cal stood up straight.
"And this bloke you just beat up and left for dead…did you know him?"
"I didn't beat anyone up," Antoine replied quickly.
"So this fellow, what, mugged himself and blamed you?" Antoine didn't reply, and Cal pressed further. "Is this first time you've attacked an innocent person?"
"I did not attack that man," Antoine insisted vehemently. His counsel was starting to get a bit impatient, so Cal switched tactics.
"See, Antoine, the thing is we know you assaulted this man with a lead pipe. What we don't know is why." Cal's question was met with silence, and he was beginning to understand Wallowski's constant sour mood. He stared down at the thug intensely, willing him to slip even a little. Finally, after almost two minutes of silence, Cal sighed.
"The man you 'didn't' assault was a tourist – an Englishman – and he's already contacted his embassy in regards to the crime. Mr. Ian Harrington has already agreed to take on his case, and is helping him bring in the best lawyers from Mildenhall. Admitting your guilt now might save you some headache, plus get you a lighter sentence." Cal watched as Peroit glanced sidelong at his lawyer, asking silently if that were true. But Cal had seen something else – something he'd inquired about without asking directly – and he smiled smugly.
"Thank you, Antoine, you have been a tremendous help. Enjoy your stay." He left a bewildered prisoner behind and turned toward the door. "Oh," he turned back and tilted his head toward the side in genuine curiosity, "do you ever get down to Magenta Boulevard?" An expression of guilt flashed across Antoine's face, almost imperceptible, but Cal caught it immediately. He wanted to stroll over there and beat the information out of him, but with the cameras and fifteen witnesses behind the mirror Cal knew he wouldn't get his chance. Not yet, anyway. Without another word he strode out the door purposefully and into the anteroom.
Cal gritted his teeth as he was forced to speak to the conference attendees again, this time for a play by play of his interview. He pointed out the necessity of the baseline, identified certain markers and manipulators, and answered all the questions in his normally curt and abrupt manner. The entire ordeal lasted for one grueling hour, and by the time they were filing out of their seats Cal was ready to throttle Harrington.
"I am so sorry, Doctor Lightman," the other man seemed to have learned something about facial expressions as he shied away from Cal's anger. "I had no idea this would take so long. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"Yeah, get me in a room alone with Peroit. And no cameras." Harrington sucked in a breath sharply, and frowned.
"I'm…I don't know if that's possible. His counsel, at least, will want to be present."
"No. Just me and him, or you'll never find out if your mother is really in danger." That struck a nerve, and Cal could read the anger and disdain on Ian's face. But he was playing hardball now, and he needed information.
"You know," Ian said darkly, "you know and you're blackmailing me."
"What, no, I would never do that. I just have a hunch. But I can't know for sure unless I can ask him directly. And I don't imagine that you want me to do that in front of God and everybody." He had won, and Ian knew it.
"I'll go arrange it. Stay here." He left Cal alone in the small conference room, wondering how this attaché who had absolutely no authority with the French Police was going to pull this off. He was beginning to suspect there was more to Ian Harrington that he'd let on. He pulled out the phone David had acquired for him and dialed a preset number, waiting the requisite number of rings before inputting a four digit code that connected him directly with his friend.
"Cal, where are you?"
"Prefecture de Police," Cal said poshly, "and it's quite nice. And before you ask, no I'm not here because I got in trouble. But, the grass is greener. I'll let you know more when I do. In the meantime," he softened his voice in case the walls had ears, "could you do me a favor and look up a friend of mine?"
"I think so. Are you alright, though, Cal? You sound like you're not among friends."
"It's called 'being careful,' or so I'm told. Gillian recommends it now and again. She was supposed to meet a bloke at the airport; I just need to make sure he's on the up and up."
"Will do, Cal. Be careful." Cal disconnected without saying goodbye, confident his friend understood the message. Ian Harrington was about to be the subject of a very intense and thorough search.
"Alright," Harrington slipped back through the door with an anxious frown. "You've got five minutes. That's all I could get."
"That's all I'll need." Cal followed Ian into the corridor and down a winding series of hallways. Finally they reached a solid black door. There was no plaque or sign to indicate where they were, and Cal wondered briefly about why they would have such a room. Ian turned the knob and stepped aside, letting Cal entered the room alone.
If Antoine Peroit was surprised to see Cal, he did a very good job of hiding it. His hands were cuffed and sitting in his lap, but he was otherwise unrestrained. Cal walked in and sat quietly in the chair across from him, staring the man down. No doubt the hardened criminal thought Cal to be a simple scientist or – at worst – an aging detective.
"Here's how this is going to work," Cal started. "I'm going to ask a series of questions. You're going to answer them. If you lie to me," he curled his upper lip as he leaned forward menacingly, "I will know about it. And there are no cameras in here, no witnesses, and a load of rather unpleasant inmates in there who could have very easily roughed you up a bit." It was faint – an almost indiscernible widening of the eyes – but Cal knew his point had been made.
"Okay, so I beat up the guy and took his wallet. What does that have to do with anything?" Cal's lips curled into a smirk and he leaned back.
"I don't care about a mugging. I'm more interested in your employer."
"My what? What does my job have to do with any of this?" He was playing dumb, which was fine for Cal…for now.
"Oh, not your job – I'm sure the toilets at the train station will get cleaned without you. I mean your boss, your leader. The one who told you to rough up Ian Harrington to get him under your boss' thumb." Bullseye, Cal thought as Peroit closed up.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Classic avoidance posture, Cal remarked to himself, analyzing every detail of Peroit's body language.
"Oh, yes you do. You were sending him a message, yeah? And when that didn't work, you stepped up your game. Told him you'd hurt his mother if he didn't cooperate. But that was a bluff, wasn't it?" Antione's eyes snapped back to Cal's, and the older man smiled. "Yeah, thought so. Your gang probably has its fingers in a lot of pies, so to speak, so getting basic information about Harrington wasn't hard. Just enough to scare him into doing what you wanted him to."
"You think you're so smart. So what if I lied to the guy?" This time Cal's grin faded, and his eyes darkened.
"I don't care, really," Cal admitted. "Though threatening a guy's mum is pretty low in my book. No, what I'm really interested in is your business a couple of days ago on Magenta Boulevard." Peroit's jaw tightened and his nostrils flared, sending a clear message to Cal's already overstimulated brain. He launched himself across the space between them and gripped the man's jail suit tightly.
"That is what I'm after," he snarled. "You were trying to send him another message, weren't you? Trying to intimidate Harrington by attacking an innocent woman." His hands tightened, and he could feel Peroit trying futilely to escape his grasp. Cal stood up, dragging the cuffed man with him, and slammed him against the wall forcefully.
"Tell me where she is!"
"I don't know!" Cal pulled him back and slammed him again, his other hand coming up to grip the man's jaw. A few more inches and his fingers would close around Peroit's throat.
"Liar!" Peroit had stopped struggling now, but craned his neck in an attempt to get Cal away from his neck. But Cal was livid now, his face contorted in a vicious sneer that promised retribution. "She did nothing to you, and you snatched her right off the street. Did you hurt her?" Peroit's eyes dropped and Cal's blood boiled. "You did."
"Emile did!" Peroit confessed fearfully. "I grabbed her from behind and she struggled. She kicked Emile in the stomach and he got mad! He…he slapped her across the face just before we put her in the car. Knocked her out for a few seconds, I think. But I didn't hurt her, I swear!" Cal growled savagely and slammed him against the wall again. His time was running out, and he didn't have enough information.
"I need Emile's last name and where you took the woman. You give me that, I might let you walk out of here unharmed."
"Rousseau! Emile Rosseau. They're holding her at his place until the boss gets back in town. Please don't hurt me." Cal snarled and released his hold on Peroit's neck, only to lash out and strike the man across the jaw with the heel of his palm. Peroit's head snapped around and collided with the wall as Cal let go of his shirt. Peroit crumpled to the ground with a painful moan as Cal walked out without so much as a backwards glance.
"Your mum's safe," Cal whispered to Harrington, watching as relief flooded his features. "And I know where they took Gillian. I'll leave you to clean up your own mess."
I had to do a bit of research for this chapter as I've never been to Paris. If I've gotten anything wrong, please let me know so I can fix it immediately. Thanks!
Next chapter will be from Gillian's POV, catching us up on what's been going on at her end.