The first section of the document was titled History of DPS Incursions into B.C./A.N. Land. Included were the para-troop attack, the baby-rescue attempt, and the Mount Robson tourists. Other illegal entries went further back. Each incident was identified by dates and times, and photographic evidence proved conclusively that such incursions had occurred.
Rick could hear Zzyk breathing Pffft if he dared to mention these to him.
The second section was longer and just as detailed in its substantiation. It held a list of prison towers that the IOF had built on Aboriginal Nation land. Rick knew that in its days of military superiority over its neighbours, the DPS had erected its wall wherever it was most convenient for them to do so.
Titled Plans for Use of Excess Steel, the third section described how the Aboriginal Nation forces were planning to dismantle each prison tower that was placed even partially on their land and to appropriate the steel for their own use or to sell to interested parties. For example, The WZBN wanted to build a second transmission tower and had chosen Mount Assiniboine as the site. By treaty, both Alberta and the Aboriginal Nation shared the mountain. A WZBN transmission tower on the mountain would blanket all of southern Alberta at the very least. B.C. would help A.N. forces dismantle the illegal towers in exchange for a portion of the steel that they would then sell to the Wilizy. The Aboriginal Nation would do the same.
Rick turned back to the previous section. Some of the alleged illegal towers in Aboriginal Nation land spanned distances from one hundred meters to five kilometers long. De-constructing these towers would open up huge gaps in Zzyk's western prison wall. It could take years to re-establish a new wall.
The report's fourth section of the report added to the threat. Titled Plans to Increase Social Interactions between Citizens of British Columbia and Alberta, Franklin was planning on building a series of reception halls on A.N. land close to where some of the de-constructed prison towers had used to sit. With nothing lethal keeping them imprisoned, Albertans would be free to leave without fear of being caught. B.C. was willing to help them find and visit long lost relatives, tour B.C. attractions, and even relocate and find work in a province that didn't control its citizens with brain-bands. Government officials in these buildings would assist Albertans use these new portals to freedom, even to the point of finding safe paths for them through the IOF mine fields and helping them remove their brain-bands. Descriptions of the locations of these B.C. border entry points would be spread to Albertans through the WZBN.
The fifth part of the report, De-constructions, stated simply that more de-construction crews would be deployed in the coming weeks but no schedule of where and when they would work would be released in advance.
# # # # # # # #
Rick was escorted back to his copter and was advised that his safe conduct back to Alberta would extend only to 1 p.m. An army copter would escort him to the Alberta border. Rick took a direct route towards Calgary. When the B.C. pilot became bored and turned back prematurely, Rick landed as soon as he could do so unseen. He waited for nightfall before following a ground-hugging flight path through the United States territory and then into B.C. air space.
# # # # # # # #
Mac MacAndrew served as Stu's program manager but her desk was in the front half of the office. By geographical location therefore, she was also the receptionist although it must be said that they received little foot traffic. All signs identifying Stu's former business had been stripped away. The heavy office door with its wide-angle peephole was always securely locked. In response to a persistent rapping, Mac, don't call me Barbara, saw the gray hair of an elderly brown woman through the peephole, unbuttoned her jacket, unlocked the door, and opened it.
The elderly visitor froze when she saw the business end of the pistol pointed directly at her head. "Shuffle slowly into the office, keep your hands out of your purse, and don't make any sudden moves," Mac ordered.
"Is this how you treat all your prospective clients, Dearie?" the granny figure asked querulously.
"No, but it is how we greet any unwanted visitors from Alberta," she replied. "Take the wig off. Stand up straight. Let the cane fall."
"I'm here in peace. I want to send a message to Izzy without my boss knowing."
"Rick!" Mac said. Then, realizing the reputation of the man facing her, she added, "Face down on the ground. Don't twitch." She fiddled with another inside pocket and withdrew a Taser pistol – the better for controlling the second most dangerous man in Alberta. "Boss," she called. "We have a situation here."
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Chapter 11
From Izzy's journals: Tuesday, September 13.
A stinging smell blasted me awake. Yolanda was sitting on the side of my bed – a small glass jar of something in her hand. She held it under my nose and I recoiled against the head board, hands out to keep the foul smell away. Yolanda pulled the jar back.
"What is that stuff?" I asked.
"Do you know where you are?" she replied.
"My bed in the ship," I said, watching Yolanda as she put a lid on the glass jar and fastened it tightly.
"Look again."
I did. Not my hammock in the ship; looked like Yollie's room in the compound; saw some clothes hanging in the closet. "Yollie's bedroom," I said.
"Good. Do you remember coming here?"
I thought. Nothing. Shook my head. Shook my head to the question of any memories of eating recently. Same response to what day it was.
"It's Tuesday," she said. "You went back to the ship on Sunday. You've been sleeping ever since. Do you remember why?"
That question I could answer. "I killed Janey," I said.
"No, you didn't. Zzyk killed her. He did it to hurt you. You are not to blame for what the evil gnome did."
I guess I didn't look too convinced; thought it was a crock. If it hadn't been for me, Janey would be alive.
"Do you remember me telling you this already?"
"No."
"Do you believe me?"
"No."
"In time you will. Right now, you need to get up."
"No."
"Yes! Or I'll hold your head over this jar until you barf your guts out on the bed. Then, you'll clean up your own mess." She started to unscrew the jar.
I knew she'd do it. I tried to push the bedding off but my feet became stuck in a sheet. She whipped the bedding off and helped me sit up. Then she helped me dress. Then she helped me stand up.
"You're extremely weak because you've refused to eat for three days. You've rolled around in the bed some, but other than that, you haven't used your muscles. You and I are going for a short walk, but first the bathroom."
Yolanda had to threaten to come in with the jar before I managed to lift myself off the seat. I tottered off with my right arm draped over Yolanda's shoulder, her left arm under my left arm pit and holding me up. I had to lean against a wall when we reached the front door. She wouldn't let me sit down, so I just closed my eyes.
"Outside," she directed. "Fresh air. Sun. I have a water bottle if you need it."
Yolanda didn't have to hold me up, but we did walk back and forth through the grass in the meadow with her arm locked inside mine for balance. I felt her elbow rubbing against my ribs and looked down; remembered something about that elbow in the RCMP incident report that FF had left for me read.
# # # # # # # #
The report was dated Saturday, June 13, 2059. The Kelowna crime scene team had been called to The Sink Hole, a bar in West Kelowna, to investigate reports of shots being fired the previous evening. They found the bar deserted. Detectives were able to track down a few patrons who had been at the bar that night; some were willing to talk. Meanwhile other detectives found ample evidence in the bar itself to reveal what had happened.
Witnesses at the bar reported that five bikers had come through a back door that evening. Two had confronted a young working girl, new to the bar, and began tearing at her clothes. Their inte
ntions were abundantly clear. The other three formed a barrier to keep the patrons away. All patrons were fleeing through the front door at that point.
Detectives found two men near that back entrance to the bar. Both were in typical biker garb, both were Caucasian, both were very burly, and both were very dead. One man had died after his nose had been driven back into his skull by a significant blow – probably from an elbow. The second biker had blood on his knuckles and hands. He had died from a killing blow at his temple. This had probably been administered by a small, spring-loaded weapon that could release tremendous force when its button was pressed. This weapon, commonly referred to as a baton, was favoured by women, as it was small enough to be hidden inside a purse or a pocket. The RCMP had used such batons when female members were still on the force.
The bodies of the other three bikers were found at the far end of the bar. All three had superficial knife wounds to their faces, arms and hands. The three men had weapons on them but had not drawn them. The detectives believed that someone had tried to come to the defense of the young girl while she was being attacked. The three bikers had probably been intent on keeping that person from interfering.
That was apparently a mistake. Two of them were almost cut in half by shotgun blasts. From the angle of the blasts, and from the narrow spread of the pellets, detective concluded that the girl must have killed her two assailants, found the shotgun behind the bar, climbed on top of it, and had used that lethal weapon on the two closest bikers. Biker #5 was beaten to death. From the force of the blows, investigators concluded that the girl's defender had been a powerful male. No weapon other than his fists had been used.
The man and young girl were not finished. All five bikers each received what would have been another mortal blow had they still been alive – this time from arrows that passed through their throats and lodged so deep into the bar's wooden floor that they could not be extracted. The five dead bikers had to be delivered to the morgue still fastened to the bar's flooring. Detectives concluded that only a large bow and a strong body could have administered that kind of statement.
A message to the patrons of the bar was left on the bar's long mirror. The aboriginal nation protects its own. We fight to the death. We don't run away. It was written in the blood of the victims. The detectives presumed that the fingerprints found in that bloody message belonged to the male, but no blood work on the fingerprints was ever completed.
Detectives determined that the two outsiders had been staying at a local guest house of dubious reputation. The clerk reported that a young hoodlum and a young working girl had checked into the room late the previous afternoon and were gone by the morning. Towels in the room had numerous blood stains, as did the bedding.
At this point, the investigating team returned to their station, reported the incident as Death by persons unknown, sealed the file, and classified it as confidential. Two RCMP detachment heads provided written authorization for this unusual behaviour. One of them was named Franklin Franklin.
# # # # # # # #
"You've done well," said the woman who had killed a biker with a lethal elbow. I looked up. I was standing up by myself in front of Yollie's new home.
"You walked by yourself for the last stretch," said the woman who had killed another assailant with a baton strike. "If you can find a way to not focus on your own problems but to think of other people who need you, it's possible to get out of bed in the morning. Once you've done that on your own, you'll be on the road to recovery. Yollie needs your help. Ask her what you can do to help her." Then the woman who, at fifteen years of age, had cut two bikers in half with a shotgun turned and walked away.
# # # # # # # #
Yollie didn't want much. Just for me to babysit Liset for half an hour. I read Liset's books out loud to myself. Liset listened to me read and peered at the pictures, but never said anything and never came close enough for me to touch her. One time I looked at her and she ran away and hid. I didn't look up from my reading after that. She snuck back to listen.
Yollie came out of the bathroom half an hour later, as promised. Her hair was wrapped in a towel; said that she had spent the whole time soaking. She still looked terrible though; looked like I felt.
"I haven't had a half hour to myself in a week," she said. "I can't bathe before bed because I'd fall asleep and drown. Did Liset behave herself?"
"She listened to me read," I said. "She got scared when I looked at her and ran away. Did I do something wrong?"
"No. If I do something sudden, like turn to look at her, or even raise my hand to stroke her hair, she runs and hides. She doesn't do it with TG. She hates me."
I felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. "Can I sleep on your couch?"
"Sorry. That's against the law right now. The sleep police are now on their way. Double sorry."
Yolanda arrived at that point, bundled me into an erect position, and we staggered out the door. Remembered something; called back to Yollie. "If the problem is because Liset hates you, why did she run and hide from me?"
I don't remember much of Tuesday after that. I did eat something. I wasn't allowed to sleep in Yollie's soft bed; had to bunk down on the floor in Winnie's room; couldn't even sleep in my hammock. I woke once to find Winnie sleeping with me. Fell asleep again. Horrible nightmares. I saw Janey being murdered. Again and again.
# # # # # # # #
I heard Yolanda come into the bedroom. Figured it was morning. Wednesday. Winnie was already up and gone. Looked up; saw the glass jar in her hand. "OK," I said.
Ate something, don't remember what; sat in kitchen; visitors came to see me; one at a time, regular as clockwork; figured a schedule was posted somewhere. I didn't mind. I couldn't have handled more than one at a time.
Will was first; he has a defensive invention ready to be produced; asked if he should go ahead with it. I think I nodded.
TG had found a link to a computer outside of the DPS network; it had the schedule for when the brain-bands would be manufactured and shipped. We had almost half a year to plan. I asked if he knew where they were being made. Said he only knew the Internet address of the computer. The plant could be anywhere. "Can you find?" I asked. Saw him thinking. When I looked up, he wasn't there. Don't know how long I had been gone.
Remembered lunch. Soup. No chewing. Good – didn't have the energy to chew; didn't really want to. Doc came; did his doctor stuff; gave me a kiss on top of my head; heard him talking with Yolanda; couldn't make out the words; didn't care.
Hank was next. Said that he thought that we should bring Stu into the compound for safety purposes. Said Stu was far too exposed in Surrey. They would convert the big pioneer house into a WZBN office with bedrooms. Both Stu and his assistant would be housed here. She needed protection too. OK with me?
I don't remember Hank leaving. I do remember Yolanda bundling me up for a nap, but this time I had to lie on the floor on a bunch of books and sharp edged kiddie toys. Didn't care; woke to find Winnie kneeling beside me, her hands on my forehead.
I was sent back to Yollie's. No bath for her this time; walk in the woods instead. Liset liked the woods; played hide and seek with Winnie. Patella there too. Liset not frightened of the dog. Asked about TG; Yollie said he was busy looking at foreign language dictionaries. Asked Yollie to find out if he really meant the brain-bands would be shipped.
Supper with the entire family. Will sat next to me. Stu on the other side. Introduced his assistant to everyone as Mac. She looked different without her business suit. Surprised that Hank had moved so quickly. Will cuddled with me in a hammock. Felt good. Don't remember anything after that.
# # # # # # # #
Heard Winnie getting up. If yesterday was Wednesday, today must be Thursday. Found myself back on her floor; floor felt uncomfortable; so did the thought of somebody dressing and undressing me. Found some of my clothes in Winnie's closet; felt grungy; took a Yollie bath; got dressed all by myself. Ha!
Yolanda in the
kitchen; cleaning up after breakfast; asked if I knew where everything was; nodded. Made my own breakfast. Double Ha!
Chewed some things; drank some things; wasn't paying attention. Did think some though. Asked a question. "Why are all your neighbours gone, Yolanda?"
"The Nation has relocated them to other posts because sooner or later the compound is going to be attacked. They'd be innocent victims. Plus, we'd always be trying to keep our secrets from them if they were around – the boys in their slings for example. Best for only members of the Wilizy family to be here now."
"What happened at Stu's office?"
"I'll find Hank," she said.
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Chapter 12
Sunday, September 18 – the deadline for the Wilizy to respond to Rick's request for a meeting with Izzy. Rick had said that it didn't have to be a face-to-face meeting and the Wilizy could take all the defensive precautions they wanted. But he had to be able to communicate with Izzy. He would be at a certain place in B.C. at a certain time and he would be alone. He would deliberately put himself into a vulnerable situation where the Wilizy could easily assassinate him if they wanted to. The meeting had to take place before Tuesday, the 20th.
Communications about setting up that meeting were kept simple. The Wilizy would respond to Rick's meeting request by asking a question on a certain WZBN message board. The word Yes or No had to be included in the question. The message was to be signed Chocolate Lover. Rick would respond with the geographical coordinates of the meeting location and the meeting time buried inside a question of his own. That message would be signed Flower Lover. Other than indicating her willingness to be at the meeting, Izzy was not involved at this stage of the negotiations. Mac took care of the messaging since Izzy was still having difficulty staying awake.