Deadline (8 page)

Flanagan had started a timeline on the Sawatski case, and when Ashton forwarded him the messages from Sophie, he added them to the document.

Approx 6 p.m.: Subject meets Sophie Fortin and Jack Macdonald at Darcy McGee’s. They eat. Subject drinks three or four beers.

Approx 8 p.m.: Fortin leaves D’Arcy’s.

10:15 p.m.:

De:
Sophie Fortin


A:
Ed Sawatski


Sujet:
Come home


I’m finished work and I’m bored.


10:28 p.m.:

To:
Sophie Fortin


From:
Ed Sawatski


Subject:
No way


Me and Jack are macking on Eskimo hotties.


10:32 p.m.:

De:
Sophie Fortin


A:
Ed Sawatski


Sujet:
Enjoy them


Just have a shower before you come to bed. :-p


11:45 p.m.:

De:
Sophie Fortin


A:
Ed Sawatski


Sujet:
Going to bed


I hope you got lucky with the Inuit ladies, cause I’m going to sleep.


12:18 p.m.

From:
Ed Sawatski


To:
Sophie Fortin


Subject:
Going to Quatre Jeudi


You should come! We can parlez vous.


12:32 p.m.:

De:
Sophie Fortin


A:
Ed Sawatski


Sujet:
No way!


I have an early morning tomorrow.


And so do you!


Have fun.


Bisous!


2:20 a.m.:

From:
Ed Sawatski


To:
Sophie Fortin


Subject:
Viva le Quebec Libre


If Quebec separates, we totally are keeping poutine.


Mmmm. Poutine.


3:12 a.m.:

From:
Ed Sawatski


To:
Sophie Fortin


Subject:
Pigale


Nonne of these bitches is hot like you.


But I’m going to get a lap dancce with this trashy little biler chick.


But don’t worry. I’ll get Jack to hold my bb.


Love you.


:*


4:48 a.m. Security video from Chateau Laurier shows two men walking from Parliament Hill to the Rideau Canal locks.

5:25 a.m. Sawatski discovered in canal by Isabelle Galarneau.

When it was finished, Flanagan emailed a copy to his partner and printed one for himself. Then he took a deep breath. He had already called his son to let him know that he might not be able to take him to the game. Jason had sounded quiet and sad, so he told him he was chasing some real bad guys, but he’d try to finish up in time.

While he was on the phone, he got a call from reception. It had to be Macdonald. He told Jason he loved him and headed down the stairs to fetch the reporter.

The kid looked like shit. He had a wine stain on his lapel. His face was pale and his hair was messy. They shook hands in the hallway, and Flanagan led him upstairs. He had already decided to talk to the reporter in one of the interview rooms, which had a window out into the squad room, not one of the shitty little concrete interrogation rooms. Play it nice.

He sat down with his notebook, a digital recorder and the time line. Macdonald pulled out his own notebook and digital recorder and switched on the recorder.

Flanagan looked at him over his glasses. “You recording this, too?” he said.

“I don’t need a lawyer, do I?” said Jack, looking around the room with unease. “I want to help you. But this makes me nervous.”

“You are entitled to a lawyer if you feel you would benefit from one,” said Flanagan. “But we don’t even know if there’s been a crime. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” He switched on his recorder. “What time did you meet Fortin and Sawatski?”

“About 6:30. Me and Sophie were there first, then Ed arrived.”

“And you stayed at Darcy’s for how long?”

“Well, Sophie left around 8:30. She had work to do, she said, so Ed and I were on our own. We had a few more drinks, tried to hit on some girls.”

Flanagan looked down at his notes. “These were Inuit girls?” he asked. “Is that right?”

Jack was surprised he knew that. “Yeah,” he said. “We chatted them up for a while, had a few more drinks, but D’Arcy’s was getting dead, so we decided to go to Quatre Jeudis.”

“In Hull.”

“That’s right. It was hopping. So we had a few more beers. We got pretty loaded.”

“And then you had poutine?”

“Yes, at that greasy little place on Portage, a pizza joint.”

“Then you went to Pigale?”

“It was Ed’s idea,” said Jack. “But he didn’t have to talk me into it really. We were pretty loaded.”

“And what happened there?”

“We ordered some beers. It was last call, so Ed got us each two beers and we sat down to watch the girls.”

“Did either of you get a lap dance?”

“Ed did,” said Jack. “He wanted me to get one, too, but I was too hammered. So he went off on his own, left me at the table.”

“Did you get into any disputes while you were there? Any hassles with bouncers or other customers?”

“No, we’re not those kinds of drunks. We were having fun, but low-key.”

“Did Sawatski express fear at any time?” asked Flanagan. “Did he say he was worried about someone harming him?”

“No, but to be honest with you my memory of the last part of the evening isn’t too good. We were really hammered. Like, really hammered. I felt terrible this morning. Still don’t feel too good, as a matter of fact.” Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have a hazy memory of Ed telling me something, something he thought was important, while we were at Pigale, just before he went to get his lap dance, but I can’t bring it back. It’s just ... gone.”

Flanagan leaned in. “Did you and Ed argue at any point in the evening? Were you upset with him?”

Jack shook his head. “No way. We were having fun. We weren’t upset or angry or anything. No.”

“What would you say if I told you the bouncers at Pigale said you two almost had a fight? That you seemed very upset with him?”

“I’d say they were confused. Or lying. It’s bullshit. Are you making it up? I think you are.” He stared at Flanagan hard. “Are cops allowed to make shit up?”

“All right,” said Flanagan. “Forget it. I’ve got to ask lots of questions.” He turned back to his timeline. “What time did you get a cab?”

“I’ve no idea. Four? What time does Pigale kick out its customers? Whenever that is.”

“Do you remember the cab company?”

Jack looked up at the ceiling. “No. Not at all. I barely remember getting into it, and I don’t remember much after that.”

Flanagan leaned back in his chair and looked away from Jack. “Do you remember going up to Parliament Hill?”

“No,” said Jack. “I’d remember that.”

Flanagan looked at him sceptically. “Do you remember walking down, you and Ed, going under the bridge by the canal, at about ten to five?”

Jack looked at him like he had two heads. “No,” he said. “That didn’t happen.”

Flanagan stared at him, hard. “What would you say if I told you I had a video that shows you and Ed walking down there together?”

Jack stared back, just as hard. “I’d say you were making shit up again. Jesus. What the fuck is this? I’ll tell you what happened. The cab dropped me off at my place. Ed didn’t get out. After that, I have no idea where he went or what he did, or how he ended up in the canal. I know he lives by the canal. Was he drunk enough to wander over and fall into it, pass out? I don’t know. I’ve got no idea. But I know I wasn’t with him, at any point, near the canal, and I don’t know who was.” He stood up, shaking his head. “Is that clear? Jesus. Maybe I do need a lawyer.”

Flanagan stood up, too. “Settle down, settle down. I have to ask all kinds of questions. Just because I ask you a question doesn’t mean I’m accusing you of anything.” He smiled, and gestured towards Jack’s seat. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

Jack sat down again, and then Flanagan did the same.

“Okay,” he said. “I think that’s everything I wanted to ask you for now. Is there anything you want to add? Anything you think might help us with our investigation?”

Jack stared out into the squad room. “Uh, I’d like to add that I had nothing to do with putting Ed in the water, and I hope you have more clues than you seem to.”

“All right, wise guy,” said Flanagan, thinking that if he finished the interview now, he could still pick up Jason and make it to the second period of the game. He sighed.

“Okay,” he said, standing. “That’ll do for now. I’ll follow up with you in the next couple of days.”

Jack was in the car and halfway home before he realized he still had Ed’s BlackBerry in his pocket. Flanagan hadn’t even asked him about it.

J
IM
D
ONAHOE ARRIVED
at Ed’s bedside at 7 p.m., sticking his handsome face in the open doorway and knocking quietly. Dave Cochrane stood behind him.

Sophie and Beverly Sawatski were sitting on each side of the hospital bed, and Tom Sawatski was next to his wife, holding her hand. They all looked up when Donahoe knocked.

“Oh, Minister Donahoe,” said Sophie, jumping up. “It’s good of you to come. You must be so busy.”

“I came as soon as I could get away, Sophie,” he said. “It’s a madhouse on the Hill today, with Stevens’ announcement, but I wanted to see Ed as soon as possible.”

He turned to Tom Sawatski and stretched out his hand. “I’m Jim Donahoe. None of us can believe that this has happened. We are so impressed by your son’s work, and we hope that he’ll recover and be back in the office very soon.”

Beverly Sawatski started to sob quietly.

“Well, the doctor doesn’t know how soon that might happen,” said Tom Sawatski. “We’re hoping for the best. They don’t know whether ... ”

He looked away and then sat down and took his wife’s hand again.

Donahoe stepped over to the bed where Ed was staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Ed,” he said. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re all pulling for you. We need you to get better and back to the office just as soon as you’re able. We know what a fighter you are, and we’re counting on you to fight this.”

He stood for a moment, then squeezed Ed’s hand and stepped away from the bed. He took a pen and a business card from his pocket, wrote down his cell number and passed it to Tom Sawatski. “This is my number. If there’s anything I can do for you, call me anytime.”

He noticed Cochrane standing in the doorway. “Dave, give them your card as well, will you?” He motioned toward Dave. “This is Dave Cochrane, my chief of staff. He worked with Ed, and I want him to keep closely in touch with you. It would mean a lot to us if you could keep us in the loop.”

Beverly Sawatski cleared her throat. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet with tears.

“There isn’t much of a loop, Mr. Donahoe,” she said. Then she excused herself and walked out of the room.

Donahoe looked at her husband. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We just want to keep track of his progress.”

“It’s okay,” said Tom Sawatski. “She’s just very upset.” Then he wiped his eyes and followed his wife out into the hallway.

Donahoe turned to Sophie. She stood hugging herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks tear-stained.

“Sophie,” he said. “I can’t even imagine how awful this is for you, but I need to ask you a question.”

Sophie nodded.

“The police told Dave here that Ed’s BlackBerry is missing,” he said. “This is a potential security breach, and we’re concerned. As a policy adviser, Ed was involved with some very sensitive files, and we’re worried that if his phone fell into the wrong hands, it could have serious consequences.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t know where it is.”

Cochrane spoke up. “Do you know what Ed was doing last night?”

“He was out drinking with Jack Macdonald.”

“The reporter?”

“Yes.”

Cochrane and Donahoe exchanged looks.

“And you have no idea where the BlackBerry is?” asked Cochrane.

“No.”

Donahoe patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry we have to bother you with these questions. You’re being very brave. Minister Mowat is lucky to have such a great person working for him. You look after Ed and the Sawatskis.”