Chapter 28

I had no more nightmares during the next week. That was just as well, since both Shauna and I were very busy at work. We needed out sleep.

The reason that we were so busy was that things in the Jake Singh case were heating up fast. Allegations were coming out fast and furious in the press, and we were able to get some of the people involved to appear on National Affairs. On Thursday, we had a major breakthrough. Mélinde Mercure, a lobbyist for Belluga Aerospace Industries, appeared as a guest on the show. During our chat, she inadvertently referred to encountering Minister Singh and his "friend" in France. When I pursued it, she realized what she'd just said. She tried to pass it off as a chance meeting. But thanks to Jean-François, I knew otherwise.

I asked her, "Weren't you staying at the same hotel as Mr. Singh and Ms. Munro? I believe it was the Méditerranée in Cannes."

"Well, yes," she admitted.

"Who was paying for your trip and accommodation?"

"Naturally, it was my company, RMM: Relations de médias Mercure."

"So you were there on business?"

"But of course," she said.

"So in fact your purpose in being there was to represent a client."

"That is the nature of my business, yes. I represent many clients."

"Who was the client in this instance?"

"I do not remember."

"Madame Mercure, I find that difficult to believe. You were in the Riviera, in Cannes, on business. You met with one of this country's most influential cabinet ministers. And you can't remember whom you were representing at the time?"

"Such information is confidential. My clients rely on my discretion."

"Were you representing Belluga?"

"As I said, that is confidential. Mr. Connolly, I believe that this interview is at an end."

That evening, that interview was replayed on the National News. It was reported on every newscast in the country. On Friday morning, the press had a field day. The banner headline on the front page of the Ottawa Citizen read "Lobbyist's convenient loss of memory. No comment from Singh."

Friday's edition of National Affairs was largely taken up with our panel of pundits. They all agreed that Singh was in deep trouble. The hour was spent recounting what we knew so far and speculating just how high in industry and government the scandal might go.

After the show, Joe called me in my office. "Turn on the TV," he said, "you'll want to see what's on Newsworld."

I turned on my television. I saw the face of the Minister of Justice. He was saying that he'd directed the RCMP to begin an investigation. It was beginning to seem probable that Jake Singh would face criminal charges and would likely be joined in the dock by some lobbyists and perhaps even a captain of industry or two.

As Shauna and I were preparing to leave the office that afternoon, my phone rang. It was Inspector Robinson.

"Mr. Connolly," he said, " we now believe that we know who carried out the extortion attempts involving you and Mr. Ménard. It was a petty gangster named Cho Huang. He's known in the mileu as 'Joe Wang." The description of the woman involved matches that of his girlfriend, Nancy Lee."

"That's great," I said, "do you have them in custody?"

There was a moment's silence. Then he said, "No, we don't. You see, neither we nor the Ottawa Police have been able to locate them. They've not been seen near their apartment this week. Huang's car is in the garage, and the apartment looks occupied. But there's no sign of either Huang or Lee. They may have been spooked and flown the coop very suddenly or..." He left his thought unfinished.

"Or what?"

I could hear Robinson taking a deep breath. "I don't want to speculate," he said, "I'll simply say that perhaps whoever hired them was not happy with their work."

The hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up. Christie Lau had told Shauna not to worry. I had an uncomfortable feeling that I knew why she'd said Huang and his girlfriend wouldn't bother us again. I was getting into this business far to deeply for comfort.

"Thanks, Inspector," I said. "Please keep us informed of any developments."

"I will," he said. Then he asked the question I least wanted to hear. "By the way, have you been in touch with Ms. Lau since we last spoke?"

There was no reason to lie. Robinson would probably find out the truth anyway. "Yes," I said, "I did speak to Christie Lau. She denied any involvement in the matter."

"Of course," he said, "let me know if you hear from her again."

I agreed, and we rung off.

My fear of Christie had returned. Big time. Shauna noticed my silence after I hung up the phone. She came over to my chair and put her arm around my shoulder. "Tell me about it," she said.

I recounted my conversation with the Mountie. Shauna seemed much less disturbed than I at the disappearance of the two thugs. "They probably haven't come to any harm," she said. "probably either Christie's people or someone else just put the fear of God into them."

I held her hand. "Darling, I'm not as worried about the crooks as I am about us, especially about you. I certainly don't want us involved. Remember, someone tried to run down Jean-François."

"Yeah, but that doesn't really seem to fit with everything else, does it? He said that it was an SUV of some sort. Most people who drive those things can't drive anyway. Couldn't it just have been an accident?"

"It could be," I admitted, "but if it wasn't coincidental, that could mean that we're in danger. The RCMP is watching our houses, but they can't follow us around all day. We have no idea how many groups may be involved in this. For that matter, just who and what is Christie? The Mounties seem to think that she's pretty high up in organized crime. And I get the feeling that Inspector Robinson seems to think that I know her a lot better than I do. Hell, I've only spoken to the woman three or four times. I don't want people thinking that she and I are pals. I sure as hell can't be seen to be connected to the mob. If people suspected any such thing, at the very least it would spell the end of my career."

Shauna stroked my cheek and smiled. "Even if it comes to that, there's no problem," she said, "After all, we're rich! You can simply buy your own TV station."

I laughed, hugged and kissed her, and we headed home. In Shauna's car, of course. I was beginning to wonder if the new sedan would ever be broken in. So far, it had only been driven home from the dealer and on two short trips to the local supermarket. With the top up, Shauna's sports car had just about enough room in the trunk for a set of golf clubs. With the top down, there was enough room for a briefcase. A small briefcase. The car was clearly not meant for grocery shopping.

But we did shop for groceries. Shauna was determined to prepare a special stir-fry that she'd seen in the Gourmet magazine. Unfortunately, it required many ingredients not commonly found chez Connolly. I held some of them in my lap on the journey home.

When we arrive at home, Shauna took over the kitchen, and I was shooed away. Instead of sitting at the computer, as would usually be my wont, I went downstairs to the "family" room. I turned on the home theatre system. The sixty-inch plasma screen showed a Chinese chef preparing her gourmet stir-fry dish. She looked more like a Playboy bunny than a cook. For some reason, I started thinking about Lynn Chan. Lynn was the first Chinese-Canadian with whom I'd ever been close. I worked closely with her on the show. I became her friend. And I became her lover. She couldn't have been more different than Christie Lau.

When Lynn joined the National Affairs unit, our show was just celebrating its first birthday. Lynn's position was given to us as a sort of birthday present by our department head. She was to be the associate producer, what the hell ever that meant.

It soon became apparent that what the title meant was for her to be a sort of "dog's body" -- a person who did whatever no one else did. Lynn was ideal for the job. She seemed to be good at everything. Things just ran more smoothly when she was around. In a short time, she began producing segments for the show. She was successful at that, and Joe Dudich gave her more responsibility. All of this was in spite of the fact that Lynn never claimed her own turf. She was the sort of person who appeared happy simply to fade into the background.

Lynn was petite. Her features were quite pretty, but her normal black-rimmed glasses, minimal makeup and baggy clothes moderated them to such an extent that she faded, as I've said, into the background. She was also quite reticent. She was never the first to speak up at a story meeting. But when she did, people listened. We all began to take more notice of Lynn. So, I wasn't too surprised when Joe gave Lynn the job of producing our coverage of the Regina conference of First Ministers.

This was one of those silly-assed things that happens every year or so. The Prime Minister of Canada meets with the premieres of the provinces and territories. It's a feel-good session. Usually very little is accomplished. But National Affairs, being a public broadcasting show, has to cover these things. When the meetings are in Toronto, Vancouver or Montreal, it can be a good time. But this one was in Regina.

At the risk of offending Prairie readers, I must say that Regina is one of my least favourite cities in Canada. It was originally known as "Pile-O-Bones." That name came from a huge pile of bison bones that had been amassed by the aborginal inhabitants over centuries. Later, the town was given a new name, "Regina" or "Queen," in honour of Queen Victoria.

By the way, the story goes that the original hill of bones was sold to the British by the Indians for about $15,000.00. That would be a huge amount of money in today's dollars. It would seem to be one of the few exchanges in which the aboriginals weren't totally ripped off.

However, Regina remains one of my least favourite cities. Again, at the risk of offending people on the Canadian Prairies, it seems to have little to recommend it.

So, Lynn and headed off to Regina. We were to use the local cameramen and soundmen for our coverage. Lynn and I would plan it. I would write and moderate the segments, and she would direct and edit them. We were to stay at the Radisson Plaza Hotel in Regina.

It was one of the grand old railway hotels. When the Canadian Pacific Railway first opened its coast to coast service throughout Canada, it built great hotels in every major city along the route. This hotel had been one of those.

Had been. Now it was run by the Radisson chain -- not a cut-rate organization, but not really first class. Not like CP or its successor, Fairmont. In any case, the Radisson was still the best hotel in Regina.

Our plane was a bit late, so we just enough time to check in before setting up for our first shoot. I was pleased to see that the grand old building was still quite beautiful, and the renovations seemed tasteful. I was fortunate to have a big room with a lovely view. Lynn's room was immediately next to mine. We dumped our suitcases and left for our shoot.

After that first day of shooting, Lynn and I decided that low-stress dining was in order. We went to our rooms and unpacked the minimum necessary. Then we met for supper.

Rather than looking elsewhere for a place to eat, we had supper in the hotel's "Cortland Dining Room." It turned out to be quite a reasonable restaurant with a decent enough menu.

Over supper, I learned more about Lynn. She was twenty-five, a bit older than I'd guessed. Her family was from mainland China. Most of the Chinese immigrants in Canada are from the Hong Kong area, not the mainland. Lynn explained to me that the two groups have less in common than might be imagined. She told me about some of the differences in language, culture and background. I found her explanation quite interesting.

She also told me a few things about herself. Lynn had been a star athlete in high school and university. She was a gymnast. At one point, as she said shyly, some people expected her to compete for an Olympic medal. That never happened. An injury, which she didn't specify, kept her from international competition.

As I looked at her, I could see that she had a gymnast's build. She had fairly broad shoulders for a woman, small breasts, full thighs and muscular legs. I wondered why I'd never noticed that before.