Page 82 of Full Mountie

And once I get into the first interview room, I realize two things pretty quickly.

One, these jackasses are no threat to national security.

But two, I don’t give a fuck, because they’re jackasses who think the world should be served to them on a platter.

So if they need to think they’re being investigated as national security threats to make them quake with fear…that’s just fine with me.

The guy I talk to first is the one the investigator feels was more of a follower. Weak, and easily flippable, although I’m not in the mood to give him that carrot just yet because I don’t like the garbage spewing out of his mouth. I don’t spend much time with him before I leave him to sweat and move on to the next.

Craig, douchebag number two’s name is, and he’spissed.

When I walk in, his face shifts into forced politeness, but it takes effort on his part. “Bro,” he says. “I haverights. I’ve been waiting forever to call my lawyer.”

Bro.

I grab the chair across from him and spin it around so I can straddle it. The stupidest shit disarms idiots. “The way I understand it, you’ve all had a chance to make a call and they’re on their way in.”

“That bit—the other cop won’t let me talk to my attorney.”

“It’s four in the morning, man.” I give him an easy shrug and ignore the fact he was about to call Corinne a bitch. Rising to that bait wouldn’t get me anywhere. “It takes some time for people to put on pants. But I didn’t see any lawyers on my way through the building. Although maybe this is good for us. We can clear this up before they come in and make you stay quiet.”

“Make me?”

“You don’t want to be turned into a free speech martyr, do you? Have this come back on you at work?” There’s a fine line here. I can’t threaten him, even though I want to. “The investigation into your threats is going to take some time. Better for you if it stays quiet.”

“I didn’t make any threats.”

“You said…” I flip open the folder Corinne gave me. “Someone needs to teach that treehugger a lesson he won’t forget.”

“That was a joke.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

He scowls and slumps lower in his chair.

“I’m going to talk to your friend next door. Think about what kind of attitude you want me to ask your boss about when I go in and tell them you’re not going to be coming to work today.”

“We just—”

I stand up. “We take threats seriously. Excuse me.”

The third guy is still too drunk to talk. I don’t think this is going to court in a serious way, but just in case it did, I wouldn’t want to risk questioning someone whose words might get tossed.

Instead, I head to the break room and grab a cup of coffee from the machine. It’s hot, and that’s all that I can say about it.

Corinne finds me there and jerks her head back to the interview rooms. “Lawyers have arrived.”

“Good.” I drain my cup and toss it into the recycling bin. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The defense attorneys they’ve hired aren’t that familiar to me. In the year that I’ve been at Parliament Hill, I’ve only had to come down and do this twice. But one of them recognizes me, and knows that I’m the PM’s chief of security.

It helps if they know we’re taking this seriously.

“What do you want here, Ross? You don’t really think this is a security risk, do you?”

I give the lawyer a bland shrug. “I don’t presume to know anything more than what the evidence tells me. Your client’s words were inflammatory and dangerous. So far I’ve heard a whole lot of excuses and not a lot of self-reflection or comprehension of the severity—”

“Okay. Give us twenty minutes to talk in private.”

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