Read The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast Page 15

Chapter 15 –

  I get to see barges

  We were in no hurry to get moving the next morning. After all, it was our vacation, or at least it was some version of a vacation. But when we got down stairs, it appeared rolling out of bed around eight created some anxiety for Jean and Gabrielle. She had apparently been up since five and had been keeping various things warm since six. There was a bit of discomfort all around, but Elise managed to resolve it with minimal angst. She invited all five of us to share the table (Gustav had been hanging around drinking coffee), while we worked out a schedule. First, breakfast would be light – mostly fruit and cereal. If it were available by eight or so, that would be great.

  Then it was my turn. “Will we be entertaining again tonight?” Leave it to me to ask the more discomforting question. Both Jean and Gabrielle were immediately apologetic about springing last night’s dinner on us. Leave it to Elise to calm the waters. She said she was grateful for the opportunity to meet people, and we would like to do it again, could we jointly work on a plan? This is to say, she said exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment. Gabrielle was so relieved she just kept nodding her head and smiling while Elise spoke, and then she pulled a pad of paper from her apron pocket. She had been taking calls for two days, and yet more already this morning. She already had thirty names of people who would like some time with us while we were in town, either to host us, or to visit us. She was used to helping with the social calendar of family members when they were in town, but it had been a while, and the number of calls was a bit overwhelming.

  At this point it was actually Gustav who took charge. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see the list and do a simple check. I am sure these are all loyal Canadians, but it never hurts to check. If I could have a day?” He asked Elise. She nodded. I practically jumped for joy. A day with no social obligations. Would we be safer if he took two or three days to check? I didn’t say that, of course. “And Minister, it would be easier on me and others if you did the hosting here rather than going to other locations. And lastly, while the house could accommodate a very large event, again it would simplify matters if you held events to eight or ten people.” I could only guess at what “matters” would be simplified, but I was all for the idea of smaller parties, and I could see Gabrielle and Jean were not going to object. So, at least from my perspective, the day was off to a great start.

  Having put some structure into our visit (and who doesn’t want more of that?), we had some breakfast and then got ready for the first event of the day. Elise had arranged a visit to the port authority. This made me wonder about our agreement to stay together all day. The port authority? I had no idea what Elise got paid at the Ministry, but it had to be serious money if it caused her to take perfectly good vacation days and spend them with a building full of bureaucrats. But an agreement is an agreement, so I went along.

  Gustav drove us back over the river to the Illinois side. The port authority was a huge brick building along the river, four stories of unadorned regularity, punctuated by a glass tower that rose up several additional stories. Several officials were waiting for us at the door. Elise was treated like royalty, and I even got respectful handshakes. Maybe these weren’t such bad folks after all. What followed was a tour of various offices for introductions, and then a large conference room presentation with death-by-PowerPoint descriptions of what tonnage came down the river, what was loaded here, and really cool bar graphs showing that sometimes there was more shipping and sometimes there was less. Luckily, there seemed to be an endless supply of coffee, which I appreciated greatly.

  Hours passed. Long hours passed. Long hours passed slowly. Eventually the computer ran out of slides and the eager bureaucrats ran out of words. Life could begin again. Elise thanked everyone for their hard work and diligence and for their contributions to their country. I waved and said thanks as I looked for another cup of coffee.

  And then we finally got what Elise had come for. The director offered to take us up the tower to watch the barge traffic. We said yes, after all, who could miss watching a barge? We took an elevator up the glass tower, and then stepped out onto a balcony, just the three of us.

  Louis, the port director, waited about two seconds, and then began the real report. Security had been tightened in all three locations, but as we could see, the port was huge and was actually three ports, one on each side of the river and a third, smaller port on the island. They had lengthy perimeters that were fenced, but they would be little protection in an armed incursion. Then there were the miles and miles of warehouses and grain elevators. Each had local, private, security, but break ins still happened. In a chaotic situation, they would be essentially unprotected.

  Had there been an increase in break ins or evidence of perimeter probes, Elsie wanted to know? No, was the response. At this point Louis stopped, and I respected that. I had been waiting to hear a request for more security funds or more national police, but he just stood and waited for Elise.

  “I can see why you were named director of our most important port. You have done well. In the months ahead I fear we will ask even more of you. We need to protect this facility. It is crucial to our country. But we need to do so in ways that are less visible. We have to get up each morning hoping that the people of Louisiana will recall their love of country. As part of that hope, we cannot be seen to put up defenses that show we are preparing for war. Preparations for war can lead to war, and that would be a disaster for all of us. I am grateful for all you have done, and I will communicate your report to the Minister, but we will be asking for tempered diligence from you and your people.”

  “Thank you.” I watched him to see if he would object to what he was hearing, but everything I could see indicated he got the message, and he would accept the role he was being asked to play. Maybe he was the right man for this job.

  While this conversation was taking place, I saw something that made me change my thinking about barges. Coming down river was a string of four barges being pushed by a boat. The Mississippi at this point is about two hundred yards wide. Buoys along each side mark the main channel so boats stay out of the shallows. That leaves maybe a hundred yards for the main channel. How wide were these barges? Thirty yards? Forty? They looked huge as they approached us, locked together in a chain, with that small boat at the back pushing them. I noticed pleasure craft on the river gave them a wide berth, passing well off to the right, while staying just inside the marker buoys. In truth, had I been on the river in a boat looking at that string of barges coming at me, I think I would have bailed out into the shallows.

  Somehow that boat at the back was turning these massive barges through a bend in the river as it came around the island. It appeared it was not headed into port, but was passing on, headed down to New Orleans. The turn in the river was not very sharp, but it was a turn, one the barges had to manage. I pointed down at the barges and asked the director, “How is that possible? The boat in the rear is so small, and the barges must weigh many tons.”

  “The turn? There is one a hundred kilometers up river that is even tighter. We constrain the barge chains to four barges, but it is still a pretty tight fit. Each barge has rudders that are under control of the pusher, and the boat itself has massive engines, but each turn does seem a bit of a miracle. The boat captains are probably the best physicists on the planet. They master the river current, the incredible inertia of the barges, and the engine forces at the rear. The licensing process is the toughest there is. No one with a master’s license gets it in under twenty years.” As we talked, we could see the barge chain swing a degree or two into the turn. Watching that slow turn, I thought twenty years might be on the low side, but he made it.

  I felt a tug on my sleeve and realized Elise wanted to leave. I had gone into tourist mode and probably would have stood on that balcony the rest of the day, my mouth open in amazement as each barge made the turn. Wh
at can I say? I had been on a boat or two in my life and appreciated seamanship.

  We spent another half hour or so in exit rituals. Down the elevator and down one hallway or another poking our heads into offices and acknowledging the hard work people were doing – whatever work that might have been. I heard dozens of job titles and department names, none of which I could recall minutes later. There were offices, there were people in each, we made pleasant comments and moved on.

  Outside, Gustav was waiting for us and walked us to the car. Elise had him drive around the perimeter of the port, and then drive through the warehouse district. On a whim I had him stop when I saw a sign for Murphy Manufacturing. Why not stop and take a look? I had him stop in a visitor spot in the small parking lot, and I led the way into the offices. I had no idea what to expect. Frankly, I was unaware we had a warehouse here, although we did enough business in Canada I should not have been surprised. What I found was a neat area with a half dozen desks, occupied by people staring at computers and talking on phones. You know, an office. A desk nearest the door was clearly set up to receive visitors, so that is where we stopped.

  “Hi. I’m Shawn Murphy. Could I speak with your manager?” The woman behind the desk was middle aged, her hair just beginning to go to gray. She looked at the three of us like she wanted to respond, but her eyes had that deer in the headlights look. Murphy? “I apologize for just dropping in, but we are visiting Kaskaskia and since we were in the neighborhood…” I thought if I talked long enough, she would make the connection, and of course she did, recovering pretty nicely.

  “Of course, Mr. Murphy. I will go get him.” And she was up and headed for a back office. I noticed a couple other people were now looking our way. I smiled and waved. The receptionist quickly returned with a youngish man who looked like he was born to be an accountant – thin, gray suit, serious demeanor. I guessed he went to parties with one joke stored away just in case it appeared he would be required to tell a joke.

  “Mr. Murphy, I am Jacques LeClerk, manager of this location. Thank you for visiting us.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your work. This is Elise Dupry, of the Interior Ministry, and this Gustav Poirot, also of the Interior Ministry. May we take a little of your time?”

  “Of course. Would you like a tour of the facility?”

  “That would be great.” There followed a walk through the office and introduction to the half dozen people there, followed by a walk through the warehouse. Here things got more interesting. The first thing I noticed was clocks hanging from every wall. Above our heads were conveyor belts moving packages down multiple path ways. They made a bit of a racket, and Jacques had to shout a bit to be heard. He pointed to gateways along the route of the belts, explained how they responded to radio chips in the boxes that flowed over the belts, and the time metrics the facility used. From inbound loading dock to out bound loading dock, every package was to be on the right truck in less than three minutes. Looking at him, I was confident that standard was kept.

  We followed him through the warehouse, staying within the bright yellow lines that separated pedestrians from forklifts, and looked first at the loading docks and the assembly of truckloads, and then at a storage facility. He appeared somewhat apologetic about the need for storage, but explained some products were ordered with such regularity, there was an advantage to keeping some inventory on hand. This inventory was put into a huge shelving unit run by a computer that raised up boxes to particular shelves, this process also monitored so that any package could be located, brought down, and put on the conveyor system in less than 60 seconds. What could I say? The guy was doing a great job. If he had a tattoo under his shirt, I bet it said, “just in time.”

  We let him finish the tour, and then followed him back to his office. I closed the door behind us as we gathered around his desk. By the way, there was a single folder on his desk. Every other inch of it was clear. What kind of person has an office that well organized?

  “Mr. LeClerk, thank you for the tour. It is very impressive. There is a bit of a focus to our visit, however, and I wonder if you could help us with two questions. Feel free to discuss company business openly. Besides being from the Interior Ministry, Dr. Dupry is my fiancée.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. First, given the unstable times, we wonder if there have been efforts to break in to the facility.”

  “No. We keep two guards on duty at night, after all we operate twenty four seven, so the doors are open and people come and go, so we need to exercise caution. In the past, the guards were unarmed. Two months ago we switched to armed patrols. But we have seen no security problems yet.”

  “That is good news. I appreciate your diligence. The second question is a bit more subtle. Within the past two weeks have there been any changes in business that seem unusual – suppliers that don’t deliver, contracts that are voided, shipments that are delayed.”

  “Yes. I thought that might be why you had come. We have several customers who are very angry with us. Two of our suppliers have stopped delivering. They simply stopped. No explanation. They do not respond to our emails and they don’t answer our phone calls. It has really caused a problem for us and hurt our reputation.”

  “How have you responded?”

  “We have identified an alternative supplier for one of the products, and we think we are on track with the other, but you understand supply chains. Inventory is kept thin, so any disruption hurts.”

  “The family back in Philadelphia is working on the problem, but you should know there may be more of this. We are in a bit of a fight with another concern, and the folks we are fighting with are pretty nasty. To the extent you are able, I suggest you check on all your suppliers, monitor performance, and be prepared with alternates.”

  “It would help if I knew who the enemy was.”

  “The Fosters.” The reaction on his face let me know he knew the family.

  “We will do our best.”

  “Thank you.” We shook hands all around and were out the door. I felt sorry for the guy. He had put together a very effective organization, and now he had a new problem to deal with. The best I could do to help was to call dad and explain what I had heard. At least the folks back in Philadelphia could approve some overtime, and maybe help in the search for alternative suppliers.

  Back in the car, Elise tried to reassure me. “He seemed pretty competent.”

  “I liked him. No flash, but he’s not in sales, he is in delivery.”

  “Oh,” Elise was laughing now. “And which are you?”

  “Both of course.”