by Les W Kuzyk
Chapter 33
Harry strolled around his desk, edging up to the window. As he stared down at early Sunday morning taillights journeying along Kent Street, he mentally reviewed the day ahead. ‘Call home’ he voiced his jPad. This COP trip would be his fifth—the first back when Jase and Sten slapped a foam puck around the kitchen with plastic sticks. His travel bags rested beside his chair.
“Hey Angie. Thanks for pressing my shirt last minute.”
“Oohh Harry,” his wife said. “Why don’t we give you a ride in the Lexus.”
“Just like last time, honey. We grab a cab from the office here straight to the Ottawa international airport.” He watched the foot traffic move as the lights switched to walk.” We meet Minister Kendall and his team at Hanger 11 for our pep talk, and like I said, they never let personal vehicles though there. Security, sorry.” He turned back from the window.
“We’ll miss you Harry.”
“Listen Angie, if you can get the boys to their hockey practices that would be so cool.” He stooped to grab the handles of his two bags and made a quick visual check around his office. “All their gear is sitting in the Lexus and all you have to do is drive.” He sauntered out his office door. “Think about St Lucia after Christmas. I’ll give you a call when we’re in the air babe.”
“I love you.”
Harry voiced ‘Sign off’ as he walked the aisle and into André’s office. “Ready to go my man.” The taxi would be out front in ten minutes. They followed each other out the entrance door and down the hall into the elevator. The conversation today, intermingled with a final review of their policy positions had been dancing around André’s latest research. The bottle had been broken and construction was underway in Edmonton, Alberta. The oilfield industry had jointly agreed to finance the installation of a new carbon capture research facility. All effort driven by market forces with no added taxes, a moving forward initiative.
They tossed their luggage into the taxi trunk at the corner on Kent and escaped the cold into the back seat. A left onto Laurier merged them into traffic. The rat-a-tat of snow pellets on the glass ebbed with the wind gusts. The red-yellow-green traffic lights sequenced as they left downtown, and at Queensway underpass they sped as congestion spread out. The Airport Parkway appeared just over the river bridge.
Harry gazed out the window as André read a paper printout. This part of the job he could kinda do without. So much time away from his wife and boys. He’d be missing the live Sens game tonight, but oh well, thank God for NHL net. The game action would be coming in via hologram. Harry turned his look back inside and let André know about his sons’ hockey games. How they were playing this year so far. André’ had no children yet, Harry knew, but he talked of his NHL team Montreal. Talking kept up team spirit.
The driver turned onto Tracker, the private road leading to the Canada Reception Centre in Hanger 11. Harry waved his coded Government of Canada card over the scan bar and the security access gate opened for their taxi. Once parked, they pulled their bags from the trunk and hustled through the snow into the VIP Reception Building.
In the strategic pep talk room Harry and André shook hands with Paul and Sophie, two ministerial assistants they knew. Sophie pointed out their home contact team member when he entered with the Minister.
Climate Minister Kendall called all attention to outline what he wanted on policy strategy. Brazil and Mexico were to be engaged with on the side towards a Latin American free trade agreement. Indonesia’s rising voice would be recognized similarly. Articulate the same position with China, with India. The global economy would certainly solve any problem. He ended briefly mentioning the HICCC walk out from the HI/EC meeting two days ago. That was to be kept as a minor issue. One old negotiating rule Harry knew—economically developing countries, like those in that high impact consortium, held little sway at the bargaining table. Downplay any rumour anything significant was up, the Minister told them. The Prime Minister had few concerns—there would be no media release. Sore losers, Harry quipped, and he got laughs and a smile from Minister Kendall. That self-proclaimed consortium initiated the talks, had they not? The OECD had nothing to lose.
With the Minister having voiced his spiel, chatter shifted to previous COP meetings. Historical Copenhagen and that supposed pivotal meeting in Paris all those years back. Harry could feel his engagement energy rise. He learned a guy he met from the Italian negotiating team would be at the bargaining table. Italians were not hockey players, but the guy did talk up la vita.
When Minister Kendall raised his phone hand they all fell silent; the pilot was ready to go. Harry recognized the Minister’s let’s-do-it look for his negotiating team. They filed out after each other through the boarding gate ramp onto the plane, picking up on the chatter again.