Syndrome E Quotes

“In 1973, the CIA, informed that reporters were sniffing around their affairs, had destroyed all the files concerning Project MK-Ultra. But the CIA is, above all, an enormous bureaucracy. Joseph Rauth was convinced that some traces had to remain of such an important project, which had extended over twenty-five years and involved dozens of directors and a staff of thousands. Under the auspices of the Rockefeller Commission, we were authorized access to documents or other materials relating to research into mind control. We hired an ex-CIA operative named Frank Macley to look into it. After several weeks of investigation, he confirmed that most of the files had been destroyed by two high-ranking officials: CIA Director Samuel Neels and one of his close associates, Michael Brown. But through his persistence, Macley unearthed seven huge crates of documents relating to MK-Ultra at the Agency’s records storage facility. Crates that had gotten lost in the administrative labyrinth.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“Sanders truly believed in these barbaric techniques. He held conferences, and even wrote a book called Psychic Driving—you can still find a copy now and then. The most illustrious doctors came to hear him lecture. It was at that point, at the beginning of the 1950s, that the CIA got in touch with him. The agency was strongly interested in his techniques and his writings. It secretly integrated him into Project MK-Ultra, and for years provided the funding for him to pursue his brainwashing experiments at the hospital. And that’s how MK-Ultra entered Canadian territory.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“In 1977, I was barely twenty-five. The law office of Joseph Rauth, Washington, D.C. Two men, a father and son, arrived in Joseph’s office. The son, David Lavoix, was holding an article from the New York Times, and the father seemed…troubled, absent. David Lavoix held out the clipping, which talked about Project MK-Ultra. Just so you know, the Times had sent the first shot across the bow two years earlier, in 1975, by revealing that in the fifties and sixties the CIA had conducted mind-control experiments on American citizens, mostly without their knowledge or consent. Investigative hearings were held and the American people were officially informed about the existence of this top secret project.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“So you’ve probably already shown them Bernard and Bianca—The Rescuers.” “Like every other mom.” “That cartoon contains a subliminal image of a naked woman hiding in a window, at one point. A small personal quirk of the animator’s, no doubt. Don’t worry, it won’t have any effect on your children’s minds—the image is too tiny! The fact remains that no one ever saw it, in all the years that cartoon was being shown.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“The sniper at the cabin wasn’t trying to kill me, I’m certain of it. He wanted to smoke me out and take me alive. There was something else.” Sharko stopped eating. He put down his chicken, wiped his hands, and looked at Lucie. “This is all my fault.” And he told her: his visit to Legion HQ, Colonel Chastel, his bluff, the photo of the young woman with her face circled in red. That same young woman sucked noisily on her straw as she took in the news. “So that’s why you finally agreed to let me come here—for four days, no less. You wanted to go it alone.” “I just wanted to keep you from doing something foolish.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“To snuff out a life, no matter whose, always leaves a deep, black fissure in your soul. Something indelible that can haunt you for a long time.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“Lucie rushed to Rotenberg, who was wheezing through a hole in his throat. She pressed her two palms over the wound. Her fingers instantly turned purple. “Hang on, Philip!” The man gripped Lucie’s wrists tightly. His eyes seemed to be preparing for death. Thick black smoke was pouring under the door. “On my neck…The key…Pull…” Lucie hesitated a split second, then did as told. She yanked on the thin chain at the end of which hung a small bit of metal. Blood had begun to foam from Rotenberg’s mouth. “What is this a key to?” The lawyer murmured something inaudible. A teardrop, then no more.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“He regained his calm. In his younger years, this man must have stared down a fair number of dangerous and influential people, faced the darkness and managed to keep his wits about him, and yet he was ending his days as a full-blown paranoiac.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“Sanders literally wanted to cleanse the brain of its illness. No one on his devoted staff dared question his orders, for fear of losing their job. Sanders was a cold man, authoritarian and devoid of compassion.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“For the psychiatrist, LSD was a miracle: not only did the patients remain tractable, but their conscious minds no longer blocked the way—so that words transmitted over and over through headphones would lodge directly in their brains.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“The areas they traveled through became less and less populated. They followed an interminably straight road, thickly surrounded by maples and conifers as far as the eye could see. Only rarely did their path cross a truck or car. Night was falling. Now and again they saw points of light in the distance, boats that must have been navigating the rivers and lakes. They had driven about sixty miles when the man told her to turn onto a path. The headlights lit the massive bases of tree trunks. Lucie felt she was on the edge of the abyss; she had seen only two or three houses in the past half hour. A cabin emerged from the darkness. When the cop stepped onto the ground, feeling feverish, she heard the furious roar of a waterfall.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“God dammit, Shark! What the hell possessed you to go messing with the Legion?” Sharko was seated on the couch, his head in his hands. The world was coming down around him and his chest felt like it was being crushed. He was suffering for the woman he’d sent straight into the danger zone. “I don’t know. I wanted—I wanted to draw them out. Stir things up a bit.” “Well, you succeeded.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“American accent. Broad shoulders, at least fifty years old. He was wearing generic sunglasses and a cap that read NASHVILLE PREDATORS. His lips were thin, sharp like a palm leaf. Lucie stood up; the man took up position behind her. The cop looked around for pedestrians, witnesses, but no luck. Alone and unarmed, she was helpless. They walked about a hundred yards without encountering a soul. A Datsun 240Z was waiting under the maples. “You drive.” He pushed her roughly into the car. Lucie’s throat was knotted and she was finding it hard to stay calm. The faces of her twins swam before her eyes. Not like this, she kept thinking. Not like this… The man took a seat next to her. Like a pro, he quickly patted her pockets, thighs, and hips. He took out her wallet, removed her police ID—which he looked at carefully—then turned off her cell phone. Lucie spoke in a slightly shaky voice: “No need—it isn’t working.” “Drive.” “What is it you want? I—” “Drive, I said.” She started the car. They headed out of Montreal due north, via the Charles de Gaulle Bridge. And left the lights of the city far behind.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“I’ve never heard of a Syndrome E. But there are two more things you should know. Since we have delved into these shadows, we might as well go all the way. At the beginning of the 1940s, and up until the 1960s, a law adopted by the legislative assembly of Quebec allowed the Roman Catholic Church to sell the remains of orphans who had died within their walls to the medical schools.” “That’s horrible.” “Money encourages the worst monstrosities. But that’s not all. You asked about experiments, miss, so I’ll tell you. Adult patients—living patients—were sacrificed for experimental purposes in the depths of these insane asylums. I’m talking about the involvement of the American government in Quebec’s dark period.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“What Lucie was hearing surpassed all understanding. A mass derangement, with the aid of bogus medical records and money under the table.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“From the 1940s to the ’60s, under government auspices, Quebec doctors employed by the religious communities falsified the medical records of the illegitimate orphans. They pronounced them ‘mentally unfit’ and ‘mentally retarded.’ In the blink of an eye, thousands of perfectly healthy children found themselves interned in asylums, mixed in with actual mental patients, for years on end. Simply because they had had the misfortune of being born illegitimate. Those children are now adults, and they’re still known as the Duplessis Orphans.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“When Maurice Duplessis came to power in 1944, it was the start of a critical period in Quebec’s political history. People would later call that period the ‘Great Darkness.’ The Duplessis administration was first and foremost about anticommunism, the use of strong-arm tactics against trade unions, and an invincible political machine. His party often enjoyed the very active support of the Roman Catholic Church in electoral campaigns. And you know how powerful the Church is, miss…” Lucie pushed Alice’s photo toward the librarian. “And what does this have to do with these orphans? How is this little eight-year-old girl involved in all this?”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“In the years you’re asking about, they did not forgive a woman for giving birth out of wedlock. Mothers who did not observe that norm were treated as pariahs, sinners. Their own parents rejected them. Because of this, pregnant young women tried every means to hide their sin, often leaving their home for several months so they could give birth in secret behind the walls of the convent.” Lucie unconsciously circled the name “Alice Tonquin” in her small memo book. She couldn’t get the little girl’s face out of her mind; she knew that the old film she’d watched that first day, in her ex-boyfriend Ludovic’s private cinema, would continue to haunt her for a long time. “They abandoned their children there,” she murmured. Richaud nodded.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“In the years you’re asking about, they did not forgive a woman for giving birth out of wedlock. Mothers who did not observe that norm were treated as pariahs, sinners. Their own parents rejected them. Because of this, pregnant young women tried every means to hide their sin, often leaving their home for several months so they could give birth in secret behind the walls of the convent.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“On the other side, the linoleum floor creaked slightly. Sharko felt the edge of his sofa and crouched down, his gun aimed blindly in front of him. He could have attacked from the front, by surprise, but he didn’t know how many there were. One thing was for sure: they rarely went out alone. The creaking in the hall stopped. The cop’s palms were moist on the grip of his gun. He suddenly thought of the photos of the film restorer’s body: hanging from the ceiling, disemboweled and stuffed with film. Not an enviable fate. The door handle turned, very slowly, before returning to its initial position. In the following seconds, Sharko expected them to go for the lock, then burst in armed with knives or silencers. Time stretched out forever. Suddenly he heard a rustle under the door. The creaking started up again, then decreased in a regular rhythm. Sharko rushed to the door and gave the dead bolt a precise twist. The next second, he was in the hallway, barrel pointed forward. With his fist, he banged on the light switch and flew into the stairwell. Downstairs, the main door slammed shut. Sharko took the stairs two at a time, almost unable to breathe. The foyer, then the street. A long line of pallid streetlamps ran down the asphalt. Left, right—not a soul. Just the murmur of a slight breeze and the slow breath of night.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“In the dead of night, his keen senses suddenly focused on the entry door. An infinitesimal sound of metal pierced the silence in the hallway. Immediately, Sharko turned off the light and grabbed up his Sig. Here they were. Beneath his door, he saw, very briefly, the beam of a flashlight, before everything went black again. His jaw set, he slowly got up from his chair and crept toward the living room. On the other side, the linoleum floor creaked slightly. Sharko felt the edge of his sofa and crouched down, his gun aimed blindly in front of him. He could have attacked from the front, by surprise, but he didn’t know how many there were. One thing was for sure: they rarely went out alone.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“The questions that tormented him, the late hour, Eugenie’s constant visits, and the palpable tension in the apartment prevented him from really concentrating on the list. His head was full of shadows. Sharko sighed. He finished his mint tea, staring into space. The military, medicine, filmmaking, this business about Syndrome E…The cop knew he was involved in a case that went far beyond the standard manhunt. Something monstrous, the likes of which he’d never seen. And yet he’d confronted his share of monstrosities, more than he could count on both hands. In the dead of night, his keen senses suddenly focused on the entry door.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“Two hundred seventeen lives—one hundred sixteen men and one hundred and one women—that he had to dissect in detail, on the basis of fifteen-year-old suppositions.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“They called them the Duplessis Orphans.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“She had done it. A photo, one simple photo, had brought her back through time and closer to her goal. She thought of Alice, that once nameless girl who now had a name. The little orphan with no father or mother, tossed about from hospital to convent, without bonds, points of reference, anything. Raised in the coldness of a religious institution: prayer at mealtimes, household chores, nights in the dormitory, an austere existence geared toward order and obedience to God. What future could she have had after such disastrous beginnings? How had she grown up? What had happened in that room with the rabbits? From the bottom of her heart, Lucie hoped she would soon have the answers to these questions. All those thoughts, all those faces that tormented her day and night, had to stop. Alice had to reveal her secrets.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“At 1:15, she attacked the year 1953. At around 5:00, after two bananas and a visit to the bathroom, she dove into 1952. This time as well, there was an nth Lydia who led her to another religious institution, La Charité Hospital in Montreal. Mechanically, Lucie pulled out the tall stack of files relating to that establishment and began her last search of the day. The archives closed at 7:00, and in any case her head was about to explode. Names, names, and more names.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“You never answered my question. What illegitimate children?” Patricia Richaud removed her small round glasses and rubbed them fastidiously with a chamois. “As the name suggests, they are children born out of wedlock. You said you’re with the police? What is it you’re looking for, exactly?”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“You’re in luck—we received those files only a few weeks ago. Normally they would have been restricted because they belonged to religious institutions. But now Quebec is turning away from its religion. We are now a world besotted with modernism, and one by one those institutions are being forced to close due to a cruel lack of funding. And so their records have come to us, because they have nowhere else to store them.” She sighed.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“There’s something I need to ask you…” “What’s that?” “Have you saved a lot of lives in your career?” “Some, yes. But unfortunately not always the ones I would have liked.” “In our profession, we comfort the families by finding the people who killed their loved ones. We probably give a handful of people a reason to go on living, because we give them an answer. But, Inspector, haven’t you ever felt like just quitting the whole thing? Don’t you ever tell yourself the world would be no better or worse off without you?”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E

“The flight attendant verified one more time that everyone’s seat belt was fastened. The passenger seated next to Lucie, a big blond fellow, had practically dug his fingers into the armrests. He stared at her with cocker spaniel eyes. “Here it comes again—I’m starting to feel like I’m dying. I really envy people like you who can sleep anywhere.” Lucie gave him a polite smile. Her mouth was pasty and she didn’t feel like making chitchat. The landing at Montreal-Trudeau airport was soft as could be. The ground temperature was about the same as a classic summer in the north of France. No real sense of disorientation, particularly since much of the population was French-speaking. Once the usual business was behind her—customs, verification of the letter rogatory, the wait at baggage claim, currency exchange—Lucie hailed a cab and let herself collapse onto the backseat. Evening was just beginning here, but across the Atlantic night was well under way.”
― Franck Thilliez, Syndrome E