“Not yet…”
“Well I have… and the gate’s intact. Stems didn’t drive his truck over that bridge. And the gate up by the bend in Kennedy Road is intact, too.”
“It’s a half-ton pickup truck,” I said. “It’s not impossible to off-road a little.”
“Come on… why risk getting stuck in the muskeg in hostile territory when you can take a nice old rail bridge controlled by your friends at Taykwa Tagamou?”
“He has a point,” Alain said. “There’s a very good chance that Gerald Archibald let Stems through.”
“We need to confront him,” Rihanna said.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Ooh,” Justin said, “more indecisiveness… keep it up, Baptiste… you haven’t killed us all, yet.”
I wasn’t going to take that. “Enough, Justin. I’m not going to put up with your shit for another second. Either you’re a part of this team or you’re not. You can’t sit there sniping at me every thirty seconds and pretend that you’ve got my back.”
“I don’t ‘got’ your back. I don’t support you. I support the idea of keeping us alive. And that’s pretty much at odds with your leadership.”
“I think you should go, Justin,” Sara said.
“That’s your answer to everything. Someone makes a good point? Just kick ’em out.”
“Come on, Justin…” Alain said.
“No, Alain. You need to pick a side here.”
“That’s not how this works,” Sara said.
“This doesn’t work,” Alain said. “This is one-man rule and it is failing us.”
“What one-man rule?” I asked.
“Who chose to attack the gunmen at Silver Queen Lake?” Justin asked. “And who did it without wanting me to know?”
“I wasn’t hiding it from you.”
“I think you were,” Matt said.
“Shut up, Matt.”
“Don’t tell him to shut up,” Justin said. “He has as much a right to speak as anyone else.”
“Don’t do this, Justin,” Kayla said. “Please…”
Justin ignored her. “Speak, Matt. Tell us why Baptiste likes to keep secrets.”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Matt said.
“But why?”
“Because you’re using us,” I said. “You came here begging for help, and then you and Marc Tremblay kept on with your little indenture shuttle. That’s why you wanted that goddamn dongle… so you could take the Lamarche daughters and sell them to Detour Lake… so you could rob the Smiths blind in exchange for some indenture contracts. How can anyone trust you?”
“Calisse de crisse, Justin,” Alain said. “You’re doing it again.”
“Fuck, Alain,” Justin said. “You drank the booze. You ate the fucking belgian chocolates… you knew what we were doing.”
“And with Detour Lake again? After what they’ve done? To the Marchands… to Antoine… they tried to kill you. Did you forget?”
“They weren’t after him,” I said. “They don’t shoot their hired help. They just wanted to put a hole in the Supply Partnership, I’ll bet. Maybe put a hole or two in me.”
“They wanted us on their side,” Justin said. “They knew what Stems was up to, that he’s going to come for all of us eventually. You needed to pick a side, Baptiste. But that’s always been too hard for you.”
“I can’t believe you would all betray us,” Sara said.
“I didn’t know,” Suzanne said.
Sara shook her head. “You’re lying… you’re all guilty. Every last one of you.”
“Ta guele! Tu m’invites ici, puis tu insultes moi… et mon mari mort!”
“Ton mari meurtrier.”
“Chienne.”
“Picrelle.”
“Enough,” I said. “This is way out of control.”
“Then reign them in, Baptiste,” Justin said. “You know, Baptiste-style. Bad-choice them to death.”
“Are you a fucking ten-year-old?”
I heard a chuckle from the living room. “You all sound like ten-year-olds,” Graham said. “What the heck is going on in here?”
“Sara’s lost her shit,” Lisa said. “This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.”
“We should adjourn,” Sara said, trying to sound calm. It wasn’t working. “Maybe we can try again tomorrow.”
“I’m going to New Post,” Justin said. “I’m going to get some answers.”
“I’m pretty sure they hate you at New Post,” Lisa said.
“I should be the one to go,” I said.
“Oh?” Justin said. “Well… uh, sorry Baptiste… I wasn’t clear. I want someone to go to New Post and not fuck it up. So you’re out.”
“I’ll fuck you up…”
“You’ll both go,” Alain said. “But take someone with you… maybe someone they don’t hate.”
“I’ll go,” Lisa said. “I’m the right colour.”
“I think that might be racist,” Graham said.
“It’s only racist when you say it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “White people, eh?”
Lisa nodded. “You’re still half-racist, Baptiste. Never forget.”
“Enough goddamn chit chat,” Justin said. “I’ll be outside in twenty minutes. Bring me a vest and helmet. There’s no way we should show up without our gear.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“If that’s decided,” Sara said, “I think we’re done.”
“You mean adjourned?” Lisa asked.
“Whatever.”
She stormed upstairs before Justin had the chance to stomp out through the living room.
You know things are messed up when Lisa starts looking like the calm one.
“So what do we do?” Lisa asked me.
Justin was outside, waiting to go. Apparently his strategy was to pretend like we had no reason to hate him.
“What can we do?” I asked. “Can we shoot him?”
“Make it look like an accident?”
“We still need him.”
“He tried to kill you, Baptiste.”
“I don’t think he did. It’s not like he’s been giving orders to Detour Lake. He’s just under the mistaken impression that we can work with them.”
“He can work with them,” Lisa said. “You and I are the ones who can’t. Unless those assholes want to give us some kind of ‘honourary Aryan’ badges. I honestly think we should make sure Justin Porter has an accident. You already threw a nice one for Marc Tremblay.”
“I don’t know…”
“He’s going to cost us. More than we can pay.”
“Once he’s gone, he’s gone,” I said. “That’ll weaken us.”
“We need people we can trust.”
“We need people who can shoot.” I picked the third riot suit up out of the chest. “At least for now.”
Justin, Lisa and I were in full gear when we took the Tremblays’ truck to New Post. There was still enough diesel for the trip (but not much more), and I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of Ryan Stems and his guns tearing through what little horse flesh we have.
They were expecting us, with almost a dozen people waiting for us at the New Post gate. I counted six hunting rifles and a shotgun, and a couple of council members standing behind the engine block of a pickup.
No sign of Stems.
We got out of the truck and walked towards them in a line, our guns at our sides, but ready. Justin looked just as comfortable with his rifle as I was with the Mossberg, while Lisa actually seemed the shakiest for once.
Gerald Archibald stepped around his hiding place and walked up to us.
I guess he didn’t think we’d shoot him.
“I’m sorry, guys,” he said as he held out his right hand.
I wasn’t about to shake it. “What kind of arrangement do you have with Ryan Stems?” I asked.