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СКАЧАТЬ we had time, which we don’t, I would take you in to see the People’s Council in action down the hall. They’re definitely in touch with the problems of the people, and in their hearts they know the solutions. It’s just a matter of keeping them from getting panicky about media reports of a ‘native uprising.’

      “Okay, Alex, that’s enough for now. Bill will show you around and give you more immediate instructions for the next phase. You’re going to Winnipeg. We’ll talk later. Thanks for last night’s work.” Molly scooped up her papers and turned to leave.

      Captain Gabriel, officer and gentleman, stepped forward to open the door and put out his hand. “Molly Grace, I assume? A pleasure to meet you. I wasn’t sure you were real, but you certainly are that.”

      Molly recoiled, slightly wary of the unexpected courtesy and the obvious test. His actions were gracious, but her exit was softly blocked. She looked into Alex’s eyes, and as she held out a hand, her voice lost its commanding edge. “You’ll go far in this effort, Alex. I’m depending on you to work for the people. Lead and they’ll follow you.”

      Tuesday, August 31, 1838 hours

      Radisson

      After a long day on the road, Will circled back to Radisson and his hotel late that night. As he pulled in, he saw Bob Ignace leaning against the side of his patrol truck in the parking lot.

      “How’s the fishing, Boucanier?” Ignace called out as he walked towards the vehicle. “Never knew you were much of a fisherman. Take some lessons in the army? Doesn’t look like your rods even got out of the cases.”

      “Never had to take any lessons, Bob. Don’t you know, we traditional natives have a natural sense about these things. Why, we can catch fish without a line and a hook, just call them out of the water and they jump into the boat. Isn’t that what we tell the government inquiries?”

      Will collected his kit and walked towards the hotel.

      “Real smartass, Will. Tell me, since when have you been so interested in beaver ponds?”

      Will paused, then without reply or turning around, walked on. Mission accomplished so far. He was getting out there and being seen. That was his prime directive, as they say in TV-land.

      Tuesday, August 31, 1915 hours

      Akwesasne: The Complex

      It had been a long day for Alex too. He left the command centre with his head buzzing from a day of information and rhetoric. Molly Grace had grabbed his heart and his imagination, as she did with most people.

      Alex’s immediate instructions from Bill Whitefish were clear and simple, yet extremely puzzling. “Go to the stores building, get dressed and outfitted. A driver will take you by car to Trudeau Airport in Montreal. Stay at the Best Western Hotel there, and stay in your room, order room service. On Wednesday morning, use the ticket you’ll be given and fly to Winnipeg, and there take a taxi to the Occidental Hotel on Main Street.”

      “Winnipeg? I thought I was here to fight.”

      “Someone will meet you there and take you to Sam Stevenson. I believe you know him.”

      “Colonel Sam Stevenson! I certainly know him. Everyone in the army knows Sam Steele – that’s what the soldiers call him.”

      “He’ll give you your next orders. Have a good trip.”

      Bill Whitefish shook his hand and walked away without another word.

      Looking back at the day, Alex admitted to himself that he was a bit confused and more than a little suspicious of the various people he had met in the group. The most obvious question was: could these civvies actually plan and conduct the operation they had just outlined for him? But his bigger concern was: could Molly and her sidekick, Bill Whitefish, be trusted?

      Tuesday August 31, 1900 hours

      Ottawa: NDHQ, Thirteenth Floor, Conference Room C

      General Bishop had deliberately chosen Conference Room C, a room just big enough that he could frankly brief Minister of National Defence Jim Riley without the inconvenience of too many of the minister’s political staff or his own staff officers around to inhibit the discussion. It was precisely 1900 hours as the CDS held the door for the minister to enter the room first.

      The Intelligence Centre director, Colonel Ed Conway, stood at the lectern ready to deliver the first part of the briefing. He waited while the principals found seats and for General Bishop to introduce the topic – it was the CDS’s show all the way.

      Andy Bishop was a tall, thin man with dark hair cropped close over a narrow face and long nose. It was difficult to imagine how he’d ever squeezed his frame into the cockpit of a fighter plane. But he had, and was by reputation a superb pilot as well as a proven creative tactical commander. In January 2010 he commanded the Commonwealth Humanitarian Intervention Force, CHIF, deployed to Zimbabwe under a UN “responsibility to protect” mandate issued by the Commonwealth leaders. He personally conceived and directed the strategy that destroyed Zimbabwe’s air force in two days, eliminated its army’s combat capability in seven, and put a Commonwealth “Save the People” directorship in place immediately afterwards. His reward was the thanks of Parliament, promotion to full general, and appointment as CDS.

      General Bishop was also the first CDS in the history of the Canadian Forces to earn a Ph.D., having studied law and international relations at Queen’s University, Kingston, and at Oxford. But he wasn’t a people person. He was considered a cold fish by almost everyone, except intensely intellectual officers like himself. While he was not well known by the rank and file, he was greatly admired by the young, “new model” fighting officer corps he led. No matter his aloofness, nobody disputed his ethical principles or his orders once he had made a decision. The new Canadian Forces Headquarters he had established was, as another Canadian general officer in another era had demanded, “a small, thinking headquarters devoid of administrative detail.”

      The CDS would listen carefully to briefings and discussions but cut in quickly if they wandered from the point or glossed over crucial issues, and he was notoriously impatient if his incisive queries elicited vagueness. He trusted only a few staff officers – “Bishop’s brats” as outsiders referred to them, though only out of earshot – chosen because they were well-educated and experienced in the field and at sea. They knew they could speak bluntly with Bishop; “frank unto the Kaiser” was the norm. They knew also that whenever the chief fell quiet or seemed unresponsive it was a good idea to keep quiet as well. Inexperienced officers, even senior ones, had been stiffly rebuked for interrupting the man while he was thinking over a question or situation. Thus Colonel Ed Conway, a senior “brat” who had followed the general through several positions, stood silently waiting for the CDS to speak.

      Finally, after Jim Riley had settled into his chair, General Bishop poured himself a glass of water, finished adjusting his glasses, and got ready to speak.

      “Minister, this evening we are going to put in a larger context our assessment of the raids we experienced on Sunday night. I want you to think in terms of vulnerabilities, not threats. The native people, if they’re well organized – and we’ll speak to this point during this briefing – are situated in bands and on reserves that sit astride the east-west lines of communications and transportation on which Canada’s national economy depends. They sit next door to most of the major sources for our resource industries and on the north-south lines that take them to the industrial bases in Ontario, Quebec, and B.C. They also sit astride СКАЧАТЬ