Whipped: An Arthur Beauchamp Novel(49)
Sierra nodded and smiled. “Of particular interest, of course, are Mr. Sabatino and Ms. Glinka. She cannot be that difficult to locate, even in Europe. Forward and outgoing. Flashy may be the word. A vigorous spender of money. I shall likely have to go overseas.”
“That will be looked after,” Arthur said. Margaret wondered how he could be so confident that his office would bankroll these costs. But he’d assured her that Tragger, Inglis, with friends in the Opposition, would prosper from the government’s embarrassment.
Sierra continued: “I find it difficult to believe there are no copies of the video. Even a relative novice to computing would know how to make duplicates. External drives, DVDs, the cloud. Ms. Glinka is no novice; she has shown herself capable of producing cinema verité. And Mr. Sabatino is a computer nerd, if I may use that commonplace. Surely, if only for self-protection, he would have hidden away a copy or two.”
He turned to Margaret. “He told you he’d been undeservedly fired?”
“With some niggardly amount in compensation. I got the impression he has minimal resources. His wife cleared out their joint account.”
“He talked to you about the sad state of his marriage. Let’s run over that again.”
She tried hard to remember. Sabatino had moaned and groaned about his dressmaker wife, Celeste, and their two children. A boy and a girl, young, grade school. Her calumnies, her threats to leave him, and, finally, running off with the kids. He’d mentioned her parents might be hiding them. Somewhere in northern Quebec.
Sierra probed until her well ran dry. It was nearing eleven, Pierette was jiggling her car keys, it was time to leave for the plane. Margaret was about to give Arthur one last hug when Jennie bolted from her computer and snatched up the TV remote. “Farquist. A live press briefing.”
She found the public affairs channel, CPAC, and in a few minutes they were looking at the stage of the National Press Theatre. A few minutes of confusion as sound checks were made, flashing cameras, rustling sounds. Then Emil Farquist strode toward the rostrum, backed up by stern-faced staff. He waited stiffly while he was introduced by a subaltern, then took the microphone. Dark suit, blue tie, hair badly combed, a face like a clenched fist. He launched right into it, without notes.
“It has been brought to my attention that certain scurrilous and egregiously false remarks have been made about me by the leader of the Green Party. I would say Honourable leader of that party, but she is without honour. Her remarks, which I understand were taped under circumstances that remain unclear, are not worth repeating here, though they have apparently inundated the internet. Let me add that I have consulted experts in voice identification, and there is no question as to who the speaker was.”
His voice was raw, maybe over-exercised by the profanities that must have flowed liberally the previous day and night. Margaret felt like a zombie watching this, stripped of feelings and emotion, standing still as a tree stump, her carry-on over her shoulder. She started when Arthur put his arm around her, then sagged as they listened.
“In less grievous circumstances I might allow some time for Ms. Blake to frame her apology, but I am instructed that no apology can undo the damage done by her irresponsible and callous comments. As I speak, lawyers in Calgary are filing a writ and statement of claim naming her as defendant in a suit for five million dollars plus forty-five million in aggravated and punitive damages. That is all I have to say. No questions.”
But of course there was a clamour of questions. They went unanswered. Farquist’s political aide took the mike to “respectfully” caution the press that an injunction was being sought to restrain further publication of the defamatory words, but he could barely be heard. Farquist made for the exit, tripped slightly over a power cord, flapped his arms out like a penguin to regain his balance, then disappeared.
Jennie turned the TV off, and there was silence until Sierra said, “Not very nimble of foot, is he?”
Maybe it was that comment, maybe the preposterous claim in damages, but Margaret released an unladylike snort of laughter.
“Very well,” Sierra said, “we have our work cut out for us.”
PART TWO
THE CLIPPINGS FILE
Ottawa Citizen, Thursday, June 27
OTTAWA — A political earthquake is shaking the staid corridors of Parliament Hill over alleged incendiary comments by Green Party leader Margaret Blake about Environment Minister Emil Farquist, who has launched a slander action against her for $50 million.
The claim is for $5 million in general damages, $25 million in aggravated damages, and $20 million in punitive damages. If upheld, the award would be the largest by far in the history of Canadian defamation suits.
In announcing his court action on Wednesday — at a five-minute press conference in the National Press Theatre that set Parliamentary records for brevity — Farquist appeared visibly outraged, and was unsparing in his condemnation of Ms. Blake. He described her alleged remarks, caught on tape, as irresponsible, scurrilous, and egregiously false. He said experts had identified Blake’s voice on that recording.
Although links to it have gone viral on social media, their further publication has been restrained by a Canada-wide injunction granted Wednesday by Justice A.J. O’Donnell of the Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench. A hearing to determine if the injunction will stand is set for this Friday in Calgary.