“Getting rid of the Peaks? No chance of that.”
“Maybe not, but it’s what I want. Can I do it? I don’t know. But I have to try. If I don’t, I won’t have a life. Not one that’s worth living.”
“Where you gonna go? The capital?”
“No. I’m going to the West Coast. That place is infested with Peaks. I’m going to find the resistance there, I’m going to join it, and I’m going to pull triggers until they bury me.”
“The West Coast? That’s a long way away. How you gonna get there?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
So Darius clasped Josiah and Arnie by the hands and wished them well, knowing he would never see them again. He forced himself back into the village and packed some clothes that hadn’t burned, some preserved food, his throwing knife, and a set of hunting knives. At the barricades, he sat down, looking over the charred desolation of what had been his home. His eyes blurred with tears even as he berated himself. Uncle Rolf and Aunt Helena would tell him to be a man. To stand up tall. To face the world. But Uncle Rolf and Aunt Helena were lying splayed with the remains of their friends under a mound of earth. And he cried.
14
EQUIVOCATION
Whatford snarled, “Baxter. With me.”
“Where are we going?”
Whatford pressed the elevator button for the executive office floor. Baxter felt dampness oozing in his armpits. In the year since Whatford had restricted his access, his efficiency rating had dropped, but was still hovering around eight. Was he about to get reprimanded again for being too good? No. Whatford would just reduce his hours. Had Whatford found his cozy nest? No. Even if he had, the man would handle this himself.
He started to panic. Maybe he’d messed up some software fix. One of the risks when you modified software was that in fixing one problem, you created another. Had that happened? Had he disrupted an entire government department? Caused damage that would cost millions? Even make the news? Was he about to get fired? Sued? Imprisoned?
Baxter followed Whatford into Adam Forrester’s office, bracing himself to handle the censure he was convinced was about to descend. But Forrester grinned and grasped Baxter’s hand. “Todd Baxter. Seems I picked right when I gave you a job.” He gestured toward another man. “Todd, this is Ivan Kryss. Ivan, this is the software whiz who’s been giving Bob heartburn because he’s so much better than the others in the department. Bob, thanks for bringing Baxter in. We can take it from here. I’ll put HR on the lookout for a replacement.”
Whatford leaned toward Baxter and muttered, “You got until the end of the day to get your crap out of the storage room.”
“Todd, have a seat. I guess you’re wondering what you did wrong. Right?” He chuckled. “That’s a typical response whenever someone gets called into the boss’s office. But that’s not why you’re here. Ivan, explain to Todd what’s going on.”
Ivan Kryss was a tall man who looked as if he’d never had enough to eat. His pinched face and eyes reminded Baxter of the buttons typical of oriental dolls, dark and unrevealing. When he spoke, his voice was high-pitched, almost a squeak.
“Mr. Baxter, before we proceed, I want you to understand the gravity of what I’m about to say. And I require that you sign this.” He pushed a sheet of paper across the table. “Take your time in reading it. Make sure you are absolutely clear before you sign it.”
The paper was a non-disclosure agreement, Baxter’s name already filled in. He was used to these—many of his clients demanded them—and at first glance, this didn’t seem any different. Until he read the paragraph that outlined the penalty for violating it. Life imprisonment, no parole. He choked. “Life in prison? That’s crazy. And no parole? Even murderers get parole.”
Kryss said, “Adam, since he is unwilling to execute this agreement, we have nothing further to discuss.”
“Hold on, Ivan. You need to take sales training. You’re supposed to enthuse about the benefits before you hit the customer with the price. I don’t think Mr. Baxter understands what’s in it for him.”
“I’m not in a position to tell him anything until he executes this agreement.”
“Fair enough, but you still have to win him over.” He turned to Baxter. “Todd, I can’t give you any of the details because even I’m in the dark about what Ivan has in mind. But I can say this. You’re here because of your remarkable track record in maintenance. Nobody in Bob’s department has come close to your efficiency rating even after Bob cut your hours. We want to offer you a position that will take advantage of your skills and one that will pay you well. I can say that your salary will double, and you’ll have a full benefits package. Health, dental, four weeks paid vacation in the first year. Todd, we want you. All we’re asking you to do is to agree not to blab about anything you find out. Hell, you wouldn’t do that anyway, would you? Would you?”
“No, of course not. I’m used to non-disclosure agreements, just not ones with such drastic penalties.”
“Well, Todd, the penalties should be a concern only if you plan on violating the agreement. If you intend to honour it, they shouldn’t matter. What do you say?”
Baxter re-read the paper. “You’re right. I don’t reveal confidential information.” He scrawled his signature.
Forrester signed as a witness and said, “Okay, Ivan, you have your agreement.” He stood up. “Todd, you’re now in Ivan’s capable hands.”
JACOB ABBOTT SAT across from Elizabeth Muir. Abbott said, “Minister, it’s good of you to meet with me.”
Muir smiled. “Jake, it’s always a pleasure to meet one of the country’s business leaders, particularly you. Vivace Petroleum is one of the most important drivers in the oil industry. We appreciate the economic value you provide. As federal Minister of Economic Development, I know that your company and those of your colleagues are critical to our prosperity. Our prime minister has often said that our role in government is to let the private sector create the jobs and the wealth this country needs. That’s especially true in the oil industry.”
“Thank you, Minister. I appreciate your comments.”
“Not at all. Now, Jake, I expect I know why you requested this meeting, but I don’t want to make assumptions. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for from us?”
“Minister, our concern, and that of the entire petroleum industry, is getting our products to market. You know that Western Canada is rich in deposits. We’ve developed one of the most vibrant and productive industries in the country. I’d say even the world. What we’ve been able to accomplish is remarkable.”
“Of course. I understand. But what is your concern?”
Abbott frowned. “As I said, our concern is getting our products to market. Our people are great at getting petroleum out of the ground, but we need to transport it, and that’s getting harder. Pipelines are the most efficient and safest methods of transport, but we can’t get those built because we’re blocked by Indigenous and environmental activists. And even if we could, as we’re finding out, pipelines are susceptible to sabotage. We do ship by rail, but that’s riskier. Not just from sabotage, but from rail accidents.”
“I’m not aware of any sabotage attempts on the rail lines.”
“There haven’t been any, but there have been rumblings from some of the more extreme environmentalists. Communities along the rights-of-way are getting nervous and are starting to prohibit the transport of dangerous goods, including oil. We’re concerned that if current trends continue, we won’t be able to ship by rail either. Which means we won’t be able to get our products to our customers.”