The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast

by William Wresch

Chapter 4 –

  A wiser me

  I lost some sleep that night as I thought back over the last several days and how the Canadian authorities had been viewing me. In retrospect it would have been odd had they not wondered about me. Starr had been as publicly secret as he could have been. The envelope with “Confidential” all over it. Why not be even less subtle and label it “Hey, this is top secret, be sure to investigate the recipient”? Although I suppose all of that would not have fit on the envelope in block letters. The car that had to be noticed, the cash that had to be counted where anyone with good eyesight could see. He wanted me to be compromised. That conclusion took microseconds. What kept me awake was the more difficult question – why?

  What is attractive about history research is you get to feel like an expert. You read what national leaders did, and find background information on why they did it. You begin to feel like you understand the big picture. If you are really arrogant, you even begin to feel like you can second-guess the leader. Oops, he would still be running the show if he had only done X. It feels so good.

  But I was living in the middle of history, and I didn’t have a clue. I thought I had a general idea of how the north-south break was going in Canada, but both sides were doing far more than was available to me through newspapers and casual conversations. Did I have a sense for the general strategy? Probably, but I knew almost nothing about how each side would implement their strategy. And then there was America. My own country was playing a role in this, or at least some people in the country were playing a role. Which side were they on? It looked like Louisiana, although I had no way to confirm that. What would they do to help their side? I had no idea. I was just a pawn, and I had just gotten smacked. Why?

  The next morning I woke up to find Elise still in bed. She had been rising at five and rushing to work each morning. For her to still be in bed meant two things were true. She was really tired, and – more importantly – she wanted to be with me. She stayed with me until almost eight, so we had lots of time to do lots of things, including breakfast. That was a great morning. We both left the house with a smile.

  I headed to the university, the car driving mostly on auto-pilot (not really. I always kept both hands on the wheel in case one of the wheels fell off). But I was thinking not about the book and the Jolliets, but about Starr. Payback would be sweet. But how?

  Back in the office I did the usual searches. There was a biography of him on the consulate website, but who knew if any of that was true. He popped up on other sites, being a member of various boards, or getting awards for mundane things – good citizen, esteemed donor, the usual Chamber of Commerce stuff. He had been completely sanitized. Other than sending a note home to his mother asking her to spank him for bad behavior, no clear action presented itself. I made myself a cup of coffee (I import it from the U.S. Don’t ever bother with Canadian coffee) and tried to think of a new approach. What could I do to get even?

  Somehow, Foster came to mind. Here was another guy I owed a punch in the mouth. He kept doing nasty things and getting away with it. There was a link between them. Well, I couldn’t be sure of that, but it seemed likely. They seemed to have the same agenda, and maybe they were working from the same play book, maybe they were working independently, but they were both annoying. What might I do about him?

  Research on Foster turned up the stuff I had already seen. He was an officer in the family foundation, but didn’t seem to have a regular job. There was information about his yachting expertise (which didn’t mention his burning up a classic sailing ship in the Gulf), articles about his historical efforts in New Orleans, little that I didn’t already know. Where was he vulnerable? I went back to the family foundation to see if it said more about his business. Apparently there were two companies in the family, each headed by one of Foster’s brothers. I went to their websites to see if Foster was an officer in either, and it turned out he sat on the boards of both. How cozy.

  I spend the next several hours reading press releases from the company websites. Is there a special level of hell waiting for PR people? Reading these things was agony, but in hour three it paid off. Both companies were in the midst of a permitting process to open a huge mine in northern Canada. Press releases made it clear there would be absolutely no environmental problems from open pit mines that would tear the tops off three mountains and pour the unused earth into local streams. What could possibly go wrong? Local tribes were opposed, but company spokesmen were meeting with them to “educate” them about the benefits of the mine. Permit approvals were expected within the month. Shareholders were already being told of projected profits in the billions. Share prices had been rising for months and were expected to double within two years.

  Hmm. Who did I know at the Interior Ministry that might be able to slow down the approvals?

  “Elise, do you have time for lunch?” It was already past one, but she had not eaten yet, and more importantly, she was willing to skip a meeting to spend a half hour with me. Take that, David Starr. My lady loves me. I printed out half a dozen press releases and the board of director membership lists for the Foster companies, and headed to lunch with the prettiest woman in Green Bay.

  There are dozens of open-air restaurants along the Fox River, and while you cannot sit outside in the evening because of the mosquitoes, and you cannot sit along the river in August because of the smell from the green algae that blooms, in June these restaurants are available and popular. So we met at one. Did I ever tell you how beautiful Elise is? I got to the restaurant before her and was sitting at a table near the river when she arrived, so I got to see her walk across the restaurant. Every head turned to watch. And why not? She was wearing a yellow suit with a skirt that came just above her knees, and a jacket with sleeves just down to the elbows. In a word, it was professional, but professional in the sense that the designer hoped for and every woman dreamed they would look when they bought it. The skirt moved with every step, and every step was magic. Best of all, while the whole room was looking at her, she was looking at me. I am a lucky man.

  “You look like a happy man,” she said as she sat down next to me. She took my hand and my smile got bigger.

  “I am having lunch with the most beautiful woman in Green Bay. I have lots to be happy about.”

  “For that, you get a kiss.” Wow, my day was going well. We kissed, and I assumed half the men in the place were wondering how to toss me in the river and take my place.

  “I have an idea, although I have to admit, being with you is giving me lots of new ideas.” She squeezed my hand and I lost track of what I was saying.

  “Easy, Shawn. I have to get back to work in half an hour.” She smiled while she said that, and all I could think of is how good she looked in the sunlight.

  “I spent the morning plotting revenge. Now I wish I had spent it with you.”

  “I have already told the minister I need to leave the office by five today – family emergency. Can you wait until then?”

  “Not easily. In fact, once I tell you about my plot, you might need to work late.”

  “You have a plot?”

  “Yes. I wanted to have some revenge on David Starr for what he did, but instead I came up with something on Tilden Foster. Want to hear it?” I went on to explain the mining project, the companies involved, Foster’s membership on the boards, the profits that had already been promised, the share price elevation.

  “You understand there are also some local jobs involved.” Elise saw the potential downside immediately.

  “Yes. I don’t know how many locals would actually be employed – if any. I do know the local tribe is opposing the mine. But there may be some loss of employment.”

  “I can do some checking, and I do like the idea of hitting back at Foster. I hold him responsible for those deaths in Dakota. Let me talk about it with some people in the ministry.” And that was all we said ab
out that for a while. After all, it was a sunny day in June, we were outside having lunch together, and there were far more pleasant things to talk about than giant bad guys like Foster. We ordered lunch, rubbed knees under the table, held hands, and generally acted like fifteen year olds. I loved it.

  As we wrapped up lunch, though, Elise circled back to Foster. “There might be another way to send a message to these people. Assuming the rest of the family is just about making money, and Tilden is the politico in the group, it might be worth letting the big brothers know that they are out billions because of little brother. They might get the guy under control better than we could.”

  “So we create a family feud. Agreed, that might give Tilden something else to think about and less time for mischief.”

  “It wouldn’t be too hard. Just a quiet word from one of our negotiators. Tilden might get a slap on his wrists and a cut to his travel budget.” I liked the idea, although it sounded odd coming from Elise. Turns out she can be hard when she needs to, and if there was ever a time to be a little tough, we seemed to be in it.

  We left the restaurant with long hugs. It felt great to be together and to be on the same side. I walked along the Fox back to my car enjoying the sunshine, happy that I would see Elise again in a few hours. Life was pretty good.