Chapter 10 –
I get yet another Citroen
The next few days were an effort to return to normalcy. Portage had been a beautiful break, a chance to remember that attractive cities still existed, and people still had fun. By the next day we were willing to go back to Green Bay and at least try to put in an appearance at work. I got to my office at the university some time after lunch and browsed through my research notes, trying to make some connection back to the book I was writing. Several folks just “happened” by the office to talk about this or that, but they really wanted to know more about the attack. I gave an abbreviated version of events and they seemed satisfied. Elise told me she was doing something pretty similar. People generally did not try to dig too deeply for details, and we were grateful.
I had to use a cab that first day. I wasn’t ready to confront my rental company yet. I could just imagine the question – you left your car where? The second day a nice young man came to my door with a set of car keys. Parked in my driveway was a brand new black Citroen. If I had felt silly driving a stupid French car before, I knew I would be really uncomfortable in this quasi-limo, that would have all the pretenses of luxury and all the performance of a lawn mower. But he was a nice guy. He didn’t even ask me to sign a form or give him a check for damages for the last car. He just gave me the keys and said he had been instructed to tell me “Thank you.” After that, what could I say? I took the keys and reconciled myself to driving yet another Citroen. Maybe this one would rattle less.
Gustav was less happy with the car. When he got home with Elise that night he put her car in the garage, and then he put mine in there and shut the doors. About two hours later he got the two of us. Both trunks were open and a canvas bag lay in each. It appeared we were going to get a lecture on guns.
“Shawn, I have called and complained about your car, but they have told me to make the best of it. The company was just trying to please.”
“I think they only stock Citroens.”
“It’s not the make, it’s the color. We are trying to move all government cars to white. That is the most popular car color in Canada, so white government cars would blend in and be less noticeable. Your car is not strictly a government car, but since you drive with the minister, we thought it would be helpful if your car also was white – and less distinctive.” While he was obvious displeased, I have to admit, as bad as driving a Citroen would be, it would be far worse to drive a white Citroen. Leave it to the Canadians to want a car that matches snow, and so is invisible eight months out of the year. But of course, I was not going to say that.
“But it has been determined you will keep this car,” he continued. I have to admit at this point I was getting a little annoyed. Since when does some government guy determine whether I can keep my car? And why would I have to fight to keep a stupid Citroen? And why am I standing in my garage looking at car trunks? Gustav was fast falling off my Christmas card list.
“In any case,” Gustav went on, “I wanted to show you where we will keep the weapons.” He grabbed a small fabric tab and pulled a section of fabric away from the spare tire well. Inside there was no spare tire. “We have installed run-flat tires on both cars, so there is no need for a spare. It turns out to be the perfect size for the weapon case.” To demonstrate, he put the canvas bag in the wheel well, and then pushed the covering back in place. Then he walked over to Elise’ car and did the same thing. “So now you know where the weapons are in both cars. I just hope you never have to use them again.” And that ended the demonstration. I had a number of questions – and objections – but I decided they would wait until I could talk with Elise – alone.
Gustav seemed to be in a mood to lecture, so he led us out of the garage and walked through the security measures that were planned for the house. Lights seemed to be a big deal. They would go up on our eaves, set to be activated by motion sensors that would be placed around the yard. The next level of protection would be better locks in the doors, and replacement of several windows with shatterproof glass. I hoped that all the equipment would be made in the US and installed by American workers, but I was culturally sensitive enough to keep my mouth shut. Assuming French workers ever actually showed up and got some things installed between coffee breaks, I would have time to review and replace what was necessary.
Having walked us through the plan, Gustav took a walk around the block to check for suspicious vehicles, and Elise and I got to work in the kitchen. It was there that we finally had some time to talk.
“I wish you had told me months ago that there were guns in my car.”
“I am sorry. They told me about it at a meeting, but it was among a million other memos and such. I had completely forgotten about it until we saw the missing security detail the other night. Suddenly it came to me as clear as day – there were guns in the trunk.”
“And you knew how to use them.” It was my night to cook, and I was making New England clam chowder, maybe my subliminal way of reasserting some control over my life. No French cooking tonight. I stopped stirring the pot so I could look at Elise while she answered.
“They have been training us.” She had been sipping some wine, but she put the glass down as she answered. She looked me directly in the eye. She was revealing something, and she wanted me to know the importance of the revelation. “Several times, when I have been away for a few days, they have taken us on retreats. We go north into the woods, and they show us how to defend ourselves. Guns, fists, even knives. Everyone above a certain level has been put through the training. It doesn’t matter how old they are, or whether the person is a man or a woman. The ministry has decided we should all be able to defend ourselves. The alternative is to hire lots of body guards – lots of Gustavs. But even if we had them, they couldn’t protect us all the time, and more importantly, it would look bad. It would seem we were at war, and we are making every effort to assure people we are not at war.”
“It was my car. They should have said something.”
“No, I should have said something.” She looked at me. I looked at her.
“Okay.” And that ended it. I would have guns in my car, and motion sensors in my yard. It was part of the package that came with Elise. I would live with it. I went back to stirring the chowder. Elise moved closer to me, and I put an arm around her as I stirred. I can’t say I was happy about the situation, but I would adjust. I would adjust.
The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast Page 10