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The Conspiracy

Alex

Kingdom of Greece
Apr 16, 2019
4,954
e011197508-v8_0_0.jpg

24 Sussex Drive, Ottawa, Ontario

Point-of-View: Peter MacKay, Leader of the Conservative Party of Canada

Ottawa wasn’t as it was before, devoid of the warmth that made it worthy of being the capital of his country. Now it was just a collection of buildings, roads laid like a carpet for a people that would never come. Flags flew from flagpoles and atop buildings, to be seen only by the cold wind. The only sound was a black bird that cried above him as if it beaconed for what was to come. If Wright had any sense to her, however, that beaconing future would never come to be.

Parliament Hill was unusually quiet considering the situation of the country. There were a handful of people walking across the yard, fewer still on the large street before them. But the five men that stood at the entrance of the main building were the ones who stood out the most: Peter MacKay and Stephen Harper, co-leaders of the Conservative Party of Canada; Lucien Bouchard, Premier of Quebec; Emanuelle Lajeunesse, a stout communist; and Gervais Carpentier, commander of the Second Division. Somehow, someway, they had all put aside their differences and found what they all had in common: love for their people and their nation. MacKay hoped that together, they would be able to convince Wright to step down from power. If not… then a coup would be their only option.

The convoy arrived and they stepped into their respective vehicles. Harper and MacKay in the first truck and Lajeunesse, Bouchard, and Carpentier in the second. Then they were on their way, from Parliament Hill to 24 Sussex Drive, where Wright had invited them for a meeting.

Though the streets hadn’t heard chatter for many days, there was still the rain, stubborn and unending. Softly splashing droplets hit the car windows as they drove onwards. The sky was overhung with a blanket of grey, so much so that he couldn’t tell the difference between the sky and the clouds. Despite the meaning of their meeting and the situation of the city around them, the rain commonly calmed him and he watched the drops race down the windows.

After roughly half an hour of driving, the convoy arrived at 24 Sussex Drive, the gate at the front of the driveway opened mechanically and they began driving up to the front door, the road hidden away by trees, fences, and hedges. The building itself was large and made of limestone, a mid-century modern design on Norman Revival architecture. Various flora surrounded the house on the outside: evergreen shrugs, short trees that rose to the second-floor windows, and even various flowers had the coldness of the Canadian spring allowed for them to flourish.

As the men exited from the vehicles, various members of the Maroon Shirts approached to greet them, umbrella in-hand. “Sirs, welcome to 24 Sussex Drive.” One of them said. “Her Right Honorable Wright is waiting for you all in the backyard.”

Around the house and into the back, the rain poured down onto them, most of his suit became wet. But they reached Wright soon enough and were protected from the rain by the gazebo’s roof. Wright stood there, her hair wet and a black maxi coat around her. She was staring out into the Ottawa River, the heavy rain creating a mist over the water. “Sit down.” She told them and, in the hopes that this meeting would go well, they sat at the small table between them. “Two conservatives, a communist, a soldier, and a separatist… quite the unusual group.”

“Unusual times call for unusual alliances.” Peter told her.

“So that’s what this is.” She turned to face them, taking her place at the table. “An alliance. I wonder what it is that would make this ‘alliance’ possible.”

“Our mutual want for you and your government to resign.” Bouchard revealed.

“My resignation?” A small smile grew on her lips. “How would you expect to make me do that?”

“Look before you.” Bouchard answered again.

“A communist, whose support has been destroyed by the terrorists of Toronto. Two low members of parliament of a new party barely anyone knows about. A separatist whose moment of fame dwindled in ‘95… and a soldier whom I could have discharged from service. Quite the leverage.”

“We wouldn’t be here without leverage, Wright.” Peter told her. “And you wouldn’t have accepted to host us here if you didn’t believe we had this leverage. Quebec and the Maritimes are prepared to secede from Canada with the support of three divisions if you and your government refuse to resign and call a snap-election. I’m certain that once these provinces secede, so will the West.”

“We have differing views.” Harper added. “But I know, regardless of our views, that we all want the same thing - that being, a better life for all Canadians. If you refuse, it would mean war and not only would it tear the nation apart but foreign powers would simply love to stick their fingers in the pie while Canadians are murdering each other.”

There was a long pause, Wright refusing to make eye contact with any of them. But finally, she spoke. “What are your demands?”

Peter MacKay brought up his suitcase, opening it and revealing a piece of paper. He slid it to her and he spoke as she read. “We demand the dissolution of the Nationalist Party of Canada, the assignment of former Prime Minister John Turner as the Governor-General, the dissolution of the current Parliament with the calling of a snap-election and your resignation as Prime Minister of Canada, and lastly - you and Maverick Smith are to be banned from participating in any form of politics whether federal or municipal.”

She finished reading before speaking again. “I will not be banned from being a politician.” Wright told them coldly. “Here is my counter-offer: I will dissolve the NPC, I will make John Turner Governor-General, and I will call for a snap-election with the help of Turner before resigning from my post. However, the next Prime Minister, whomever they may be - will make me a Senator until I choose to retire and for the possible events that this does not happen I am to be given thirty million dollars as collateral. As for Smith… I don’t care much for the man, do as you will with him.”

It was a big order, but if Wright would be willing to fold so easily… the men looked at each other, they did not speak but all gave their slight nods to MacKay. “We can agree to that. But only fifteen million, not thirty and a Senatorial tenure of ten years.”

“Until I choose to retire.” She replied.

“...Agreed.” They all stood and shook hands. “We’ll meet later today at the Hill. If we fail to see you there… well, we’ll assume you choose to go the hard way.”

“Have some faith, Mr. MacKay.”

Wright remained at the Gazebo, turning back to stare down at the river once more and the men left 24 Sussex Drive with their convoy. The path to a better Canada had, hopefully, begun.
 

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