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Guerrier got to his feet slowly. "I would have hoped for more compassion from a fellow Frenchman."
"My fellow Frenchmen murdered fifty innocent people in an attempt to assassinate me. Consider yourself lucky, Jules, that I don't lay the blame on the doorstep of the Parti quebecois. The outrage and whiplash would cause irreparable damage to your cause."
"You have my solemn word, the Parti quebecois played no part in the pla
ne crash."
"What about the terrorists of the FQS?"
"I have never condoned the actions of the FQS," Guerrier said defensively. There lip service. You've done nothing to stop them."
"They're like ghosts," Guerrier protested. "No one even knows who their leader is."
"What happens after independence and he comes out in the open?"
"When Quebec becomes free the FQS no longer has a reason to exist. He and his organization can only wither away and die."
"You forget, Jules, terrorist movements have a nasty habit of turning legitimate and forming opposition parties."
"The FQS will not be tolerated by Quebec's new government."
"With you at its head," Sarveux added.
"I should expect so," Guerrier said without a trace of ego. "Who else has the mandate of the people for a glorious new nation?"
"I wish you luck," Sarveux said skeptically. There was no arguing with Guerrier's fervor, he thought. The French were dreamers. They thought only of a return to romantic times when the fleur-delis waved majestically throughout the world. The noble experiment would be a failure before it began. "As Prime Minister I will not stand in your way. But I warn you, Jules, no radical upheavals or political unrest that will affect the rest of Canada."
"I assure you, Charles," Guerrier said confidently, "the birth will be peaceful."
It was to prove an empty promise.
Villon was furious; Danielle knew all the signs. He came and sat beside her on a bench outside the hospital. She shivered silently in the cool spring air, waiting for the eruption she knew would come.
"The bastard!" he finally growled. "The underhanded bastard gave Quebec to Guerrier without a fight."
"I still can't believe it," she said.
"You knew, you must have known what Charles had in the back of his mind."
"He said nothing, gave me no indication-"
"Why?" he interrupted her, his face flushed with rage. "Why did he make an abrupt about-face on his stand for a united font."
Danielle turned silent. She had an instinctive fear of his anger.
"He's pulled the rug from under us before we could build a strong base. When my partners in the Kremlin learn of it, they'll withdraw their commitments."
"What can Charles possibly gain? Politically, he's committing suicide."
"He's playing the canny fox," said Villon, coming back on keel. "With a senile old fool like Guerrier at the helm, Quebec will be little more than a puppet regime to Ottawa, begging for handouts, long-term loans and trade credits. Quebec will be worse off as a nation than as a province."
She looked at him, her expression turning hard. "It doesn't have to be that way."
"What are you saying?"
She clutched his arm. "Bury the FQS. Come out in the open and campaign against Guerrier."
"I'm not strong enough to take on Jules."
