gave me the thumbs up. “Ace,” she said.
I made two phone calls before leaving. The first was to Air Canada. The agent cheerfully bumped up Duncan’s reservation from 6:00 P.M. to 1:ffl, although she was surprised at my insistence on having a connecting rather than a direct flight.
“I can put you through Toronto. You’d only wait half an hour for a connecting flight.” I could hear her ticking away on her keyboard.
“How about Winnipeg?” “There will be a two-hour stopover, and you’ll have to change planes.”
“Perfect. And please change the booking to A. O’Brien.” My middle name is Albertine. To this day I wonder how much rye my mother had drunk before she signed the papers for Vital Statistics. At least she didn’t forget the last three letters.
Following the airline, I called Sylvia in Vancouver, outlined briefly what I needed, and made a date to meet her at the Thai Kitchen for dinner. The instant I hung up I stuffed my laptop into my briefcase, shoved the salmon file in beside it, and headed out the door, making for the loading dock. I was just about to cross the platform when Bob drove into the lot. I stepped back into the darkened bay and watched him climb out of his car, slam the door, and stalk across the parking lot to the official back door of the building. Bob was definitely not a happy camper.
When I was sure he was well inside the building, I crossed quickly to my car, got in, and was out of there before he even reached his office.
chapter four
The plane trip from Ottawa to Winnipeg was uneventful, except for a juicy little filet mignon and a passable French cabernet: better than I’d get at home. With time to kill in the Winnipeg airport I called Duncan and updated him on my interview with Lydia.
“Oh, by the way,” he said. “Bob was down. He stomped around your office, opened desk drawers, and rifled your files. He also used inappropriate language.”
“Did he find what he was looking for?” “Nope. Because she’d already left. As an employee of the Crown I have been instructed to inform you, immediately on contact, that you must report directly to your supervisor on receipt of this message. There. I’ve fulfilled my obligation.”
“Registered. Oops. The line is busy. So, are you going up to say a formal goodbye to Patsy?”
“I could be convinced.”
“Mention the salmon network. How pleased you are that it’s gone to me. See what kind of reaction you get.”
“And what do I get for this?”
I hesitated for a moment, as if summoning up the courage to make a great sacrifice. “I’ll babysit.”
“You’re on.”
Actually, I adore Duncan’s kids. Whenever I go over we consume popcorn, coke, and trashy kids’ TV, all the programs that their dad doesn’t let them watch. Still, I try to retain some dignity in the negotiations and pretend that my compliance is worth significant payment in kind.
“I’m meeting Sylvia for dinner — “ “God, how’s she doing?” “Not great.” I veered away from details, mainly because I didn’t want to confront them earlier than I had to. “I’ve got her doing a search on this, so I’ll have a lot more background by tonight.”
“Keep me posted.” “I will. And Duncan, keep your nose clean, but not that clean.”
The Winnipeg-Vancouver leg of the voyage was more exciting, with an inflight movie and Angela. I watched her manoeuvre her bags down the aisle, feeling dread, then resignation, as she stopped at my row, smiled, and said, “Hi there. Jeez. They don’t give you much room, do they?”
She had more carry-on luggage than a hockey team, mainly shopping bags from Eaton’s, The Bay, and Holt Renfrew. She dumped all her bags on the seat and stood in the aisle, surveying the situation and blocking all the traffic behind her. She looked a bit like a middle-aged cherub, or how one would imagine cherubim would look if they ever aged to forty. But instead of fair hair, hers was jet black and cut in short, stylish waves that framed her face. She was dressed casually, but the jeans were designer, the neon yellow sweatshirt was new, and the cowboy boots looked like they came from an endangered species. Someone in the queue behind finally got annoyed and gave a firm shove, which travelled down the line to her.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, looking back, and wedged herself into that tiny space in front of the seat to let the others pass.
Having adjusted to my fate, I tried to be kind. “I can fit a bag in front of my seat. All I have down here is a briefcase.”
“Gee, thanks a bunch,” and she swung two bags in my direction. I arranged them as best I could, then sat up and took a good look at her. She had pulled out a compact and was patting her hair into place. I couldn’t help asking, “You go to Winnipeg to shop? It seems a bit bizarre, coming from Vancouver.”
“Oh, I don’t live in Vancouver. Ellesworth.” She snapped the compact shut and took in my blank stare. “Above Nanaimo, on Vancouver Island. And I got to tell you anyway, Vancouver’s not so hot. I’d rather shop in Winnipeg any day. Sorry if that offends you.” She didn’t sound sorry.
“I’m not from Vancouver. Ottawa, actually.”
A shadow of loathing crossed her face, and she shifted to the other side of her seat. “Really.”
“But I used to live in Vancouver when I was a kid,” I said quickly. “And I went to university in Winnipeg.” She relaxed a bit and moved back toward the centre of her seat. Apparently, with that pedigree whatever I had wasn’t contagious. I finished up lamely, “So I’m not really an Ottawa person, if you know what I mean.”
“Where I come from we don’t have much good to say about Ottawa, if you know what I mean.”
I did, so I let a second pass before changing the topic. “So, what brought you to Winnipeg?”
“Oh, my mum. Jeez, I wish she’d move west where I could keep an eye on her, but you know how old people are. ‘Winnipeg’s been good to me my whole life,’ she says. ‘I’m not going to abandon it now.’ Like Winnipeg cares. Well, that’s fine for her, but my George has to work, and he can’t do that in Winnipeg.”
“But he can in Ellesworth?” “Logging. He runs a feller operation on the blocks above Campbell River. On a good day on flat terrain he can take down four hundred trees. Makes a good living.” She reflexively held out her hand and examined the two chunks of diamond-encrusted gold on her fingers. Together they must have weighed more than a fork. The funny thing was, she wasn’t doing it to impress me. It was as though she was trying to remind herself that these were the benefits of all their hard work.
“You must worry about him. It’s a dangerous job.” She shrugged and switched on a smile. “What can you do? It’s not so bad really.”
“And with the way things are going —” I was stopped by her frank, appraising, and not very friendly look.
“You people in Ottawa think we’re all stupid, don’t you? Well for your information, there isn’t a man working out in that forest who doesn’t know what’s going on. What
