“You mean they’re afraid of losing votes.”
“Same thing.”
Another director said, “If we go ahead with this recommendation, we’d be abandoning an investment of over three billion dollars. How could we ever justify that?”
Abbott said, “We have a choice between two unpalatable options. Either we close our operations in this country, write off our investments here, and allow our parent company to transfer what they’re investing in us to a friendlier jurisdiction, or we continue to pump millions into our facilities here and risk losing even more. It’s the classic sunk cost effect. When do we hang in there, and when do we say enough?”
A director said, “Jake, level with us. Is this a bluff? Are you hoping that our decision to close operations will force the government’s hand?”
“Frankly, I hope it serves as a wake-up call. If it leads to some government action, I’d be a happy man. But having met with the two ministers, I’m not betting on it.”
He paused, his jaw tightened. “Understand, I don’t want anyone to vote on this motion on the assumption it’s a stratagem. This motion is for Vivace Petroleum Canada to close its operations in this country. Lest there be any doubt, let me be brutally clear. This motion means that we will seal our production wells, dismantle our facilities, ship our equipment out of the country, lay off our workforce, close all our offices including head office, and dissolve the corporation. The motion is prospective. It takes effect in thirty days. We can rescind it, but once that period has passed, there is no going back.”
He looked around the table. “I hope that within that thirty days, someone in government will come to their senses, but let there be no misunderstanding. This motion starts the clock ticking. After that, it is final. Are there any other questions?”
None of the directors looked at him, none spoke. Blackwell said, “There being no further discussion, I call for the vote. Those in favour?” Twelve hands poked into the air. “Opposed?” Nobody moved. “The motion is carried.”
Abbott said, “I just want to let you all know how much I have appreciated your support and your friendship. These have been trying times, but you all showed grace and strength. Thank you. Just one more thing. The mood of the public is ugly and unpredictable. This announcement may well trigger violence. I urge you all to take care of your personal safety and that of your families. My wife is waiting for me in my office. We will be joining our son at my brother’s farm. I hope and pray that the situation will improve, and that someday in the future, we can resume operations. If not, you have my highest regard.”
“THIS IS THE national news with Warren Styles.”
“Good evening and thank you for joining us. We have extensive coverage of the demonstrations that have rocked several cities across the country. We begin with Kate Harris in Calgary. Kate.”
“Warren, it’s late afternoon here in Calgary. The riots have overrun the ability of the local police to control. A group of demonstrators smashed through security in several office buildings that house oil companies. We understand that there have been fatalities, although the police won’t confirm that. We also have footage of a confrontation at the offices of Vivace Petroleum, the international conglomerate that produces about twenty percent of the bitumen from the oil sands. The CEO of Vivace, Jacob Abbott, started to address the crowd, no doubt hoping to calm them. A warning to our viewers. This video may be distressing to some of you. Please use your discretion.”
The video was grainy, the image stuttering. It showed Jacob Abbott emerging from the building to face a screaming crowd. Someone handed him a megaphone. “I am sad to announce that today, Vivace Petroleum is suspending its operations in Alberta because we cannot get our products to market. In thirty days, if the situation has not improved, we will have no recourse but to close permanently.”
The screams amplified. Shouts of coward, greed, sleaze echoed across the plaza. Abbott turned to go back into the building when a paintball splattered into the wall behind him. As if it was a signal, the crowd charged. It overran the ring of security guards and surged toward the door of the building. The camera zoomed in on the protestors trampling people who had fallen to the ground.
“Warren, we understand there were fatalities in the crush. We suspect Mr. Abbott may have been one of them.”
“Kate, it’s not clear if these protestors were anti-pipeline who were angry at the company or pro-pipeline who were angry at the shutdown. Can you comment?”
“Warren, the situation is chaotic. It’s hard to tell who is whom. Both sides seem to have been caught up in the violence. We’ve been—”
A uniformed officer pushed into the camera field and said, “You’ll have to move out. We can’t guarantee your safety. Get out, now.”
“Warren, we have to move. We’ll call in when we get to a safe place.”
“Stay safe, Kate. That was Kate Harris reporting from Calgary where a rampaging mob has attacked and may even have killed the CEO of a major oil company.”
23
ILONA’S LIFE
The snow was melting, the nights becoming milder. The deer meat Darius and Ilona had hung outside to freeze was thawing. They would need to smoke what was left before it began to rot.
The spring also forced the need for a decision onto Darius. In this house, with Ilona, he had found something he had never experienced or ever thought he could. He was content. Watching her, signing with her, lying with her, walking through the woods around the house, bestowed peace, rightness. This was the place he was meant to be. He could spend the rest of his life here.
Or could he?
He had started with a mission born of hatred and an ache for vengeance. He had wanted nothing other than to kill, to avenge his aunt and uncle and Sarah and the people in their villages. He had spurned Josiah’s offer to start afresh, knowing that while violence and retribution might not satisfy the dark hole in his soul, it was the only course open to him. And now, the lessons from his favoured books had given him a greater purpose.
Had that purpose evaporated? Could he be bought off with shelter, a full belly, and a bedmate? To be sure, whenever he reminded himself of that terrible day, his anger rose, and his body burned as his desire for revenge coursed to the surface. But he would see Ilona, and he would smell the scent of meat drying on the smoking rack, and he would settle down to a meal that rivalled anything he had ever had—more so for having helped produce it with his own hands—and the rage would pass as if it had happened to some character in one of the books in the library. Powerful, but distant. Compelling, but just a story.
During the long winter nights as they became more adept at signing, he told her of his mission and why he had to pursue it. And she told him of her life.
SHE HAD BEEN born unable to hear, but she was almost a year old before her parents and their village figured that out. Her affliction sparked a debate. Some urged death, insisting she be taken to a remote spot far from the village and laid on a deerskin hide where weather and wildlife would carry her to her ancestors. This was the compassionate way. She would never be able to participate in the affairs of the community. No man would take her as a wife. She could never learn the ways and customs of gathering food, drying hides, preparing meals. Oh, her parents might try to show her these skills, but they could never teach her the subtleties, and she, unable to speak, could never question, never learn, never contribute. Offering her to the spirits would be a kindness for her, and it would relieve her parents and the village of a burden.