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TWENTY-ONE

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The Peace Tower clock on Parliament Hill was striking noon when I entered Carrie’s suite of tiny offices tucked into a back corner of the West Block. Cramped and narrow, her office looked more like a broom closet, which it probably once was when the number of people required to govern the country was considerably less than today. Since Carrie was still tied up in a committee meeting, her assistant gave me a security badge and told me to wait for her at the parliamentary restaurant.

Carrie Zbrowski, a good friend since university days, had gone the political route after graduation and was now a full-fledged Member of Parliament. Although she didn’t represent my specific electoral riding, she did represent another Quebec riding, and a powerful one at that. I figured she would know someone who could make CanacGold’s pursuit difficult, if not stop them altogether.

I made my way through the throngs of gawking tourists towards the Gothic arches of the Centre Block’s main entrance. After flashing my badge at the guards, I headed along the stone corridor towards the House of Commons, past the watching eyes of yesterdays’ Prime Ministers, and was stopped by a loud and blinding media scrum intent on cornering the current Prime Minister in the Commons foyer. With a few forceful elbow jabs, I squeezed my way past, climbed up several flights of stairs, to where the restaurant was hidden far from public view above the House of Commons.

I quickly scanned the long and very full room for Carrie’s familiar face, but the marble columns, which support a line of Paladin dome ceilings, obstructed much of my view. The House had obviously broken early for lunch. Crammed with assorted politicians, journalists and various hangers-on, the restaurant was a bustle of craning necks, planted smiles and waving hands. A few I recognized as people I’d met through Carrie, but most were faces seen through the glare of television lights or peering out from black and white print. All the treasured alcoves were occupied, their inhabitants engrossed in tête-à-tête conversations.

Thankfully, Carrie’s assistant had made a reservation. The maitre d’ led me through the congestion to an empty table next to one of the marble columns supporting the domed ceiling. While I waited for Carrie, I immersed myself in the pulse of the current rulers. Today it was a low rumble of muted conversations and clattering dishes. There was an undercurrent of tense anticipation, perhaps a reflection of some key vote that was scheduled in the House for later today.

Signalled by a turning of heads, Carrie arrived. Looking every inch the sober politician, she was dressed in a dark grey worsted suit, the pale yellow of her silk blouse providing a softening contrast to her deep brown hair. The life of the parliamentarian obviously suited her. She had a confident, in-control manner that blended well with the friendly, outgoing aura of her personality.

With her life extremely busy and mine in retreat, we had not been together since the night we’d celebrated my divorce. Deciding I wouldn’t bore her with my woes over Gareth, I plunged into the subject of CanacGold the minute we finished greeting each other.

“So, Carrie, can you stop them?” I asked optimistically.

“Well, Meg, as I told you on the phone, CanacGold’s in bed with almost every politician in this city.” she replied, glancing over the menu infamous for its country club meals at luncheon counter prices.

“Hopefully not with you,” I conjectured.

“What? Me? Get out of here. But, now that you mention it, the CanacGold CEO does have potential.”

“He could only be a sleaze ball. I thought you had better taste than that?”

“Well, a man’s a man” she replied, rolling her eyes, at which point the waiter minced towards us for our orders, and we both burst out laughing.

Continuing in a more serious vein, Carrie said, “It’s going to be very tough to stop CanacGold. Not only are they firmly entrenched in Ottawa, but they also have strong connections in Quebec City. In fact I discovered that the CEO’s sister is married to the Quebec politician whose ministry hands out the mineral rights.”

“Shit, I should have expected something like that. We can’t fight that.”

“Don’t be so hasty. There’s plenty we can do.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve pointed the environmental watchdogs in their direction.”

“Tell me more. I like the sound of this,” I replied with my eyes glued to the thick slice of filet mignon being placed before me. Fine cuts of beef rarely made their way to the Migiskan General Store. I glanced at Carrie’s lobster salad. No wonder she retained her slim girlish figure while I kept adding inches.

Carrie cut herself a small slice of the lobster, then continued, “It seems Quebec’s Environment Minister didn’t know that CanacGold had screwed up royally in the Territories with their gold extraction process. Now he knows. Apparently they weren’t careful with the tailings. And the arsenic that has been leaking for years is now causing a major environmental disaster.”

“This will help? Sounds like Echo Lake’s death knell to me,” I groaned.

“Trust me, Meg. It’s good news. When the Minister was informed, he vowed that he would tie CanacGold up so tight in regs that they wouldn’t be able to fart without his permission. Seems that there is a little matter of a long-running feud between the two ministers, so this guy has jumped on the chance to screw one of his opponent’s darling projects.”

“Do you think he can stop them?” I asked, looking around. Many of the diners were starting to leave.

“Perhaps not immediately. But give him time. I am sure he will think of a way.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men across the room leave one of the alcoves. With a shock, I recognized one of them.

“Quick, Carrie. See those two men walking towards the door. Who is the one on the right?”

“Why, that’s Senator Canelli. He’s got his nose into everything around here. Wait a minute. Isn’t that your ex with him?”

“Right on. Now what do you think Gareth is doing with the Senator?”

“Well, coincidental to our discussion, Canelli is one of the big power brokers around here for mining interests. Would that concern Gareth?” She asked, peering at me through her wire-rim glasses.

“You bet,” I replied and proceeded to tell her the latest on Gareth.

When I’d finished, she said, “That explains it. I saw the two of them a few weeks ago, deep in conversation at one of the party fundraisers. Although I was surprised to see your ex so far from his home ground, I assumed he was just keeping up his contacts with the government in power. Obviously, he was lobbying for CanacGold.”

“How much influence does Canelli have?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, a lot, but I can counteract with my own influence,” Carrie said with a confident smile. “Still, the senator isn’t above underhanded dealings. He has a reputation for doing whatever is necessary to further his and his friends’ interests. The RCMP have investigated him a couple of times but have never found enough evidence to charge him.”

“Well, given the kind of man Gareth’s become, I’d say he’d go right along with whatever Canelli proposes. What can we do about it?”

“Leave it to me. I’ll put the right people in the know about his link to this new mine. They’ll know what to do.” Carrie brought out her pager. “Drat, the call I’ve been expecting. Sorry, Meg, I’m going to have to cut our lunch short. I hate to do this, but look, I’ll make it up to you by doing all I can to stop this disastrous mine of yours.”

After settling the bill, Carrie raced off, leaving me to make my way to the rotunda, where I escaped back into the normal world. I headed towards my truck, which was parked around the back of the Parliament Buildings, close to the flying buttresses of the Parliamentary Library. For an extra measure of luck, I made a quick detour to rub the glossy tail of Queen Victoria’s regal lion sitting at the base of her stolid bronze statue.

I needed all the luck I could get. Maybe Carrie’s feuding minister could make life very difficult for CanacGold and eventually stop the mine, but he wouldn’t be able to achieve anything by next week, or even next month. I was convinced that by the time he got the slow wheels of government rolling it would be too late, the ancients’ forest would be gone. Moreover, I didn’t trust party politics. Despite Carrie’s best intentions, I had no doubt that the party hierarchy would close ranks around Senator Canelli and do little more than issue a cautionary warning.

I’d almost reached my truck when I recognized a car I’d seen only two days ago tearing down my road. Gareth stood beside the black Porsche, his back to me. He was engrossed in a conversation on his cell phone.

Thinking it might be useful to listen in, I snuck up behind him.

“Canelli said to destroy those files, so there’ll be no—” He turned around and saw me. “Do it,” he said and snapped his phone shut.

He glared at me, then attempted a crooked smile. “Well, well, well. Small world, isn’t it.”

“What files?” I asked.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Must be bad news for CanacGold, if you want to get rid of them.”

“Look Meg, I don’t know where you think you’re going with this. I’m just talking about a brief I put together for the senator that’s no longer valid.”

“Anything to do with your special project . . . that failed?” His smile turned to a thin grim line. “No Three Deer Point, no big bonus, eh?”

Gareth’s response was an angry scowl and the slam of his door as he jumped into his car. He was gone before I remembered the missing registry files for another significant property.

I ran to my truck and drove to the nearest phone to call François. Although my notary was disgusted by the possibility of a fellow lawyer stealing legal records, he viewed it as another indication that the land wasn’t crown-owned. Unfortunately, until he had actual proof that the land was privately held, there was nothing he could do to stop CanacGold. Meanwhile, his clerk was continuing her search through the municipal records.

Meg Harris Mysteries 6-Book Bundle

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