D3CONF3D3RATION

(Partial) The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. I could feel the weight of those hidden recordings beneath us, the evidence that could topple governments sitting just metres below the Prime Minister’s feet. Daniel’s grip on my wrist had tightened imperceptibly when she mentioned JD Ruff – a warning to stay quiet. “This is Al, my assistant,” Daniel finally said, his voice carrying that same measured calm he’d used with the Valdorians. “He’s been with me for six…

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My jaw must have hit the floor.  Six years working for Daniel, and I thought I knew every angle he played.  But this? Recording JD Ruff with century-old equipment hidden in plain sight while I stood there like a deer in headlights?  The man wasn’t just ahead of the game – he’d written the rulebook. “You recorded everything?” I managed, still processing the implications. “Every word, every threat, every gold coin that bastard tried to use as leverage.” Daniel’s eyes…

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For my early primary school education, I was fortunate enough to attend a public elementary school in the province of Quebec during the early 1970s, being a student from Kindergarten to Grade 2. With the plasticity that children have with language, I flourished in my imposed French immersion and made lots of friends (mostly girls). I largely have happy memories of those days, and never felt like I was an outsider, even though I was a native Albertan. We returned…

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The drive back to the cabin felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. The Turkish delight sat in the passenger seat, mocking me with its innocent packaging while my mind raced through the catastrophic implications of what had just happened. Sarah Chen knew about JD Ruff. She knew about the meeting. And thanks to my spectacular failure at keeping my mouth shut, she now had confirmation that the Premier of Louise was conducting secret business with Valdorian representatives….

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The gravel road crunched beneath my tires as I drove toward town, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. The image of JD Ruff’s cold eyes and that briefcase full of gold kept replaying in my mind. Six years working with Daniel, and I’d never seen him look so carefully controlled – like he was walking a tightrope over a canyon. Turkish delight. Of all the things to send me for during what was clearly the most important…

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The morning mist clung to the glacial lake like secrets to a politician’s tongue. I watched Premier Daniel Smythe through the cabin’s picture window as he stood on the dock, hands clasped behind his back, staring across the pristine water toward the distant peaks. After six years as his personal aide, I could read his moods like polling data – and this morning, he was calculating. “The helicopter should be here within the hour,” I said, stepping onto the deck…

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