Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,14
order to kill me. Period. If I hadn’t had the Taser, I’d be dead.”
“Ah, yes, the Taser,” the cop murmured with a reprimand in his voice. “I’m glad you came back to that. Are you aware, Ms. Laurent, that a Taser is a prohibited weapon in Canada? Importing and owning one is a crime. If it’s missing as you say, then I suppose I can let it go, but I would strongly advise you not to replace it.”
Abbey brushed her mahogany bangs out of her eyes with a swipe of her fingers. “Seriously, you’re worried about my Taser? That’s what you’re taking away from all this? A man tried to kill me. Right here. A hit man.”
“Well, that’s very dramatic, but I’m not sure we can leap to a conclusion like that,” he sneered at her. “I understand that journalists like to think they’re all characters in a Tarantino film, but if this happened as you say, the most likely explanation is that this man is some kind of stalker.”
“Call him whatever you want. The question is, how are you going to find him?”
“As much as we’d like to help, Ms. Laurent, I’m afraid we have very little to go on. Frankly, you’re in a better position than we are to identify this man. When you figure out where you crossed paths with him, or if you see him again, then you can let us know.”
“Don’t you have cameras all over town?” Abbey asked. “I told you what he looked like. I told you when this happened. How hard is it to check the cameras around the bar and try to find him? Maybe he had a car, and you can get a license plate. Maybe he was staying at a local hotel.”
The police officer gave her a strangely pained look, as if he wished she would just let it go. “In normal circumstances that might be an option, but I’m afraid there were technology issues in the city last night. Most of our surveillance cameras were offline.”
“Offline,” Abbey said. “Does that happen a lot?”
“No, it’s quite rare.”
“Starting when? When did the cameras go offline?”
“Sometime before ten o’clock. The issue wasn’t resolved until the middle of the night.”
“Well, that’s pretty damn convenient,” Abbey said. “Ten o’clock is the time when I was at Château Frontenac. I already told you that. And now there’s no way to confirm anything I’m telling you. Look, what happened up there, anyway?”
“There was an incident, but we’re not releasing details at this time.”
“Why? What’s with all the secrets? What are you people covering up? I was supposed to meet someone on the boardwalk who didn’t show up, and not long after that, I hear about people getting shot and killed up there. And then somebody pretends to be the person I was supposed to meet and tries to kill me? You don’t seriously expect me to believe that’s a coincidence, do you?”
“If you have questions about the incident at Château Frontenac, or if you feel you should be interviewed, you’ll need to contact the public information officer, and she can put you in touch with the appropriate government authorities.”
“The appropriate authorities? You mean the Quebec police aren’t running the investigation?”
The police officer didn’t answer. He simply combed his mustache.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” Abbey went on. “Go home? What if this guy is waiting for me?”
“If you have concerns for your safety, you should certainly call us back,” the officer replied with another condescending smile. Then he took a phone from his belt and gave her a look that said he had better things to do. “Otherwise, if you don’t have any other information to share, I think we’re done here.”
Abbey scowled. “Thanks for the help.”
“Please remember my warning about the Taser, Ms. Laurent.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Abbey stalked away in disgust. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the policeman watching her, making sure she was actually leaving. His phone was poised in his hand. She kept walking, her shoes crunching on the gravel path. She passed the park’s welcome center, then turned the corner past a stone wall near the outer gate.
When she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she crept back to the corner to listen.
Almost immediately, she heard the policeman on the phone, but it took her a moment to realize it was him, because his voice and tone had changed completely. He didn’t sound like a bored, stuffy street cop anymore, handling a citizen’s complaint with polite disbelief. He