Author:
LOVEROY - HAPPY 2006
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Date Posted: Wednesday, January 11, 12:18:07pm
In reply to:
Loveroy
's message, "Thank You My Dear, here it goes..." on Wednesday, December 14, 05:40:32pm
This portion of the story is taken (word for word and then some) from:
"THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS”
an Oscar winning 99 minute film, staring 29 Canadian actors, a bunch of extras...
‘ET ROY DUPUIS’
delivering the 5½ minute performance that defined the Oscar. 24 minutes into the story the 2003 Academy Award for the Best Foreign Film was clinched with M. Dupuis’ 330 seconds realization of cinematic supremacy…
“…It’s an Invasion” Gilles Levac
The stark Police Station lobby with institution-green walls and worn linoleum floors was meticulously clean. The area clamored with the exotic sounds of the spoken French language. A female Information Officer sat at the counter behind a stand-alone computer screen and continuously stroked the keyboard of a slightly outdated PC.
Sebastien walked through the big glass doors and straight towards the wood topped counter were the woman worked, addressing her in effortless French, “Bonjour.”
The female distractedly acknowledged the newcomer’s greeting replying, “Bonjour.”
The new arrival continued addressing the woman, “I’d like to meet someone, a police officer or detective on the Narcotics Squad.”
Sebastien elegantly dressed in an expensive charcoal suit and white shirt contrasted severely with the polyester grayish-blue uniform shirt and tie the blasé Clerk wore; she civilly directed Sebastien to a chair ordering, “Have a seat.”
From the uncomfortable place he occupied Sebastien faced yet another set of doors that flanked an elevator. Eventually he heard the lift ‘ping’ and its doors ‘whoosh’ and the lighted arrow on its control panel change from signaling down to signaling up. Next, Sebastien noticed a man exiting the imitation wood interior of the elevator who placed his right hand into his left breast pocket as if searching for something.
Shuttering his eyes and pulling out of his jacket a plastic card, the man swiped it with his left hand at the electronic dock while opening the glass door with his right. He exchanged a glance with a pair of similarly clad men and an uniformed officer leading a suspect as he replaced the card into his jacket inside pocket and moved towards the sitting Sebastien.
Before the man introduced himself, it was already evident to Sebastien that this was the officer he asked to see. It was then, while shaking the man’s hand that Sebastien noticed the woman standing beside the authoritative male figure. Quiet, inconspicuous and subservient, Kim Delgado was obviously there as a prop for the perfect male detective standing beside her. She watched with a modicum of amusement the entire testosterone filled exchange between the somewhat cynical cop and the waiting Sebastien as they marked their territory.
In a honey voice that caressed the language the macho officer said, “Gilles Levac; my partner – Kim Delgado.”
Sebastien acknowledged the introduction with a polite response of his own, “A pleasure.”
The green eyed officer wore his dirty blond hair sleeked back, longish, soft and un-styled. Perhaps because of too much cream-rinse it seemed to fall in total relaxed distinction about his handsome head. The coiffure or lack thereof, lent him an air of unpretentious elegance, for the officer was clearly comfortable in his tanned skin.
The light gray tone shirt dressed Levac’s broad shoulders, while the tie was a darker shade with swipes of silver running through it. His jacket was fashioned from a light-on-dark charcoal check winter cloth, and his black trousers hugged nicely obviously muscular legs. The man evidently a detective wore his height, ample chest, handsome features and scruffy chin as the perfect compliment to his in-charge attitude and his almost perfect caricaturish traits.
His companion, Ms. Delgado continued disappearing into the background solely due to her partner’s obvious distinctiveness and dominant persona. The bemused smirk on his on his beautiful lips and the one hand reposing inside his jacket pocket confirmed Levac’s bring-it-on attitude for his job and probably his life. Although Sebastien was himself a take-charge type individual he fell short of the officer’s evident command. The cop walked with confidence and as Sebastien watched him gracefully move he thought that M. Levac efficiently used a strut rather than a saunter.
“This way,” Again few words propelled Sebastien to do as Levac direct and he followed the officers to a room somewhere on the other side of the glass doors and the elevator.
Ms. Delgado entered first through the interrogation room door that was framed by frosted glass and a green pushbutton telephone that hung beside it. The continuously bemused Detective Levac, still strutting, brought in the rear and entered the room lastly, closing the door. The focus of the room seemed to shift to the image of the assertive Detective who looking down promenaded towards his chair. The striking man was reflected on the obligatory mirrored windows covering most of the upper portion of all the walls.
Gilles Levac unbuttoned his jacket with his right hand as he instructed the other man, “Have a seat.”
A determined and yet tense Sebastien answered, “Thanks.”
The red light of a silver colored camera that sat perched in the upper corner of the opposite wall, blinked on as it moved. At the standard issued metal table on standard issued metal chairs sat Levac to the right of Detective Delgado and Sebastien sat across from him. The officers had their backs to the two-way mirrored window while Sebastien faced it and as a result also faced whoever hid behind the plate glass monitoring the room’s occupants. To those that could see him the only discernible part of the watcher was his right shoulder covered by a nondescript shirt while he sat fiddling with controls perched on a bank of monitors.
Sebastien’s grim reflection was mirrored all around the room and while sitting he recounted that his father was hospitalized in Montreal. The glass directly to his left cast-back his likeness, his tie dangled towards the table emphasizing his nervousness at the revelation he was about to make. Detective Levac relaxed on his chair with his hands folded on his lap, quizzically and yet amusedly watching the man before him muddle through his monologue. The detective’s left knee bopped up and down a couple of times even though his demeanor was one of total placidity.
As Sebastien pulled the black pleather armchair closer to the table he continued, “He gets lousy care and he is in pain. A doctor friend suggested I get him some heroin.”
Levac listened, his back relaxing on the chair as he ‘almost’ nodded his head in understanding and positioned his right arm on the armrest. The additional camera on the left corner of the room facing the detectives was painted the same color as the walls to make it unnoticeable, but its red light betrayed its location. The characterless watcher and listener held a mild interest in the interview until the named opiate crossed the visitor’s lips and was picked-up by the microphone hanging from the ceiling. All ears and eyes were now on the visitant and his suddenly fascinating narrative.
Sebastien expounded, “As a student I smoked some pot.” Paused and then continued his admission, “Drugs are sold in every city, and the police know where.” Levac presently wore an abstracted expression as he listened to the man continue his surprising narration. “I hoped perhaps naively that you could recommend some spots where I can find high-quality heroin.”
Gilles’ right hand now rested on the table; he cocked his head as he shuttered his eyes again before making his point. “that’s fascinating, except that…” Two fingers of the right hand pointed, moving and tapping gently the white table top, “Our job is to arrest dealers…” Incredible smirk adorned his mouth, his softly slicked-back hair rested on the starched shirt collar, “…Not help prospective buyers.” His eyebrows lifted and his scruffy chin remained perfectly square as he finished his scurrilous remark.
Sebastien quipped, “Think of me as a smart guy trying to save time.”
“Think of me as someone not too dumb,” Gilles’ eyes lidded and his smirk became more prominent, “…Who doesn’t want to read a headline…” He looked down and then up at Sebastien, the bemused smirk – GONE, “Police Help Our Journalist to Buy Narcotics.”
Levac’s smirk returned after the statement, the brows lifted one more time and the man looking from the other side of the mirror paid stricter attention. Gilles had made his point both for the benefit of the visitor as well as the enlightenment of the watcher. As always, everyone in the room focused on their own agenda and the encroachment of life itself, while mildly engrossed in the visitor’s dilemma.
Sebastien started to justify himself, “I’m no…”
Levac looked to the right, leaned towards his partner at his left and said, “She and I don’t want to end our days directing traffic in Chibougamau.”
Sebastien further protested, “I swear I’m not a reporter.”
There was palpable sarcasm from the handsome man with the incorrigible smirk on his luscious lips and the expressive eyebrows, as he softly spoke, “Why should I believe you?”
Sebastien emphatically stated, “I’m a market operator with MacDougall Deutsch.” Handing Gilles a business card, which the detective took with his right hand across the table as all eyes landed on the piece of card stock when it changed hands.
Sebastien continued, “It’s easy to check.”
Levac amusedly read the card that he held in two fingers of his right hand, the sprinkling of gray on his gorgeous head was now necessary in making him look seasoned, turning the card over he noted, “It’s easy to print phony cards.”
Curtly rising Sebastien said, “Sorry to disturb you…”
Then turning to Delgado Sebastien uttered, “Madame.”
Levac continued relaxing on his chair as Sebastien shook his hand again and finished, “I’ll have to try the discos.” The handsome detective blinked twice.
--- (WE ARE WEAVING IN AND OUT OF THE MOVIE – HOPE YOU REALIZE WHO GILLES LEVAC IS…)
As Sebastien boarded the faux paneled elevator in the police station, he closed his eyes, sighed and entered a text message into his fancy cell phone. Nikita Wirth, the intended recipient felt her own cell phone vibrate and looked at the message. The text simply read – ‘No luck, meet U as planned.’ The second text message Sebastien sent was to an undisclosed recipient within Section One. The dark reading-glasses framed intense blue eyes scanned the text as it appeared on his panel, while the gray smoke of an aromatic Tiparillo encircled his head.
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