Page 42 of A Life Betrayed

“What’s this?” Allen snapped, furious.

“We tried to stop him,” one of the officers offered meekly.

“Stop me from what?” Dubois announced. “Seeing my client, whom you have denied legal representation? Refused access to adequate facilities and…” He tutted, taking in the state of Mathias’s wrists. “Subjected to physical intimidation?”

Allen’s face darkened. “This is a federal case under my jurisdiction. We deemed it more important to—”

“We’re not in Ottawa, sweetheart.”

The inspector flushed at the lawyer’s condescending tone.

“And if you’re conducting police business in Quebec, you follow provincial laws. Or I start proceedings for a human rights violation.”

“Come on,” she scoffed.

“Why is my client still handcuffed?”

“He’s a safety risk.”

“Is he? But you have him in for…” Dubois raised the piece of paper in his hand and held it up to his face. “‘Holding shares in a company allegedly benefitting from the proceeds of criminal activity.’ Doesn’t sound like a violent offense, now, does it, Inspector? And by the looks of the treatment he’s received under your care, it seems my client is the one who should be concerned about his safety.”

Allen clicked her tongue and gestured to one of the uniformed policemen. “Uncuff him.”

“You can do more than that,” Dubois said snarkily. “I’ve spoken with the magistrate, and he’s dismissed the charge without conditions.” He opened his briefcase and placed a stack of paperwork down on the table as the officer removed the restraints from Mathias’s wrists.

“The bail hearing’s not until noon,” Allen countered.

“He approved my request for expedition, considering that my client has been unlawfully detained for the past sixty-five hours,” Dubois said. “Mr. Beauvais’s shares are held in a purely custodial role, and he has no connection to the management or activities of the company in question. Not to mention, as a silent shareholder, he’s legally exempt from prosecution.”

Allen picked up the first document in the stack and began to flip through it, a deep line forming across her forehead.

“Don’t worry—I’ll be sure to have my secretary send additional copies through, along with a civil claim for wrongful arrest and detainment without sufficient evidence.”

It was Mathias’s turn to smirk when he saw Allen’s reaction.

“Now, if you don’t mind, Inspector, I’d like to speak with my client in private,” Dubois said, pointing at the recording device sitting on the table. “With that turned off.”

After the cops had retreated from the room, Dubois tossed his briefcase and plopped down on the chair Allen had vacated. “Hell, I’m never up this early.”

“You’re not getting extra for that, Dubois.”

“Even locked up, you drive a hard bargain,” the lawyer quipped with a shake of his head.

They went back years now, yet the number of times he’d had to engage Dubois’s services could be counted on one hand. “First time I’m happy to see your gold-plated ass,” Mathias remarked, masking his relief.

“Worth every penny.” Dubois chuckled. “A little birdie told me you might be in trouble with the law. I see you still have loyal friends, Mathias.”

Mathias blinked.He scanned his memory but couldn’t think of anyone at the office who might have sounded the alarm, what with Tony gone and Jacques not the sharpest tack in the drawer.

“It was tricky to find you. They pulled you up on a federal charge, had an Ontario judge approve the warrant, and buried the case in paperwork. You could tell it was weak because they kept it quiet, didn’t make a big splash in the papers. Thought they’d take advantage of the weekend lull to hold you as long as possible. No doubt, they’re trying to scare you.” Dubois reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and raised it to take pictures of the marks around Mathias’s wrists. “Against protocol—it all helps. If we can show mistreatment in a white-collar case like this, it doesn’t matter what the fuck you did.”

Mathias knew why they’d kept him in cuffs. It was how they liked to see him—the infamous mafia captain shackled like the criminal he was.

“Anything else? Broken bones, missing teeth?”

“I’m fine,” Mathias said flatly. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

In the back of Dubois’s car, as his driver peeled out of the parking lot beneath the station building, Mathias absently rubbed his wrists, the feel of the restraints lingering. He looked down at his watch and took a strange comfort in seeing it returned to its rightful place. The farther they got from the station, the less his chest ached. Mathias stared out the window and found himself drinking it in—the skyline, the people, the freedom.

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