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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Recourse - 10. Chapter 10

Will awoke when the radio kicked in with something peppy meant to start his morning off right. At least it wasn't loud and obnoxious DJ's going on about their wild antics trying to see what outrageous thing they could get away with that morning. He cracked a tired eye open and rolled over to hit the snooze button, shutting them up effectively before they could get started on annoying him.

He rolled over and glanced at where his fiancé Marc was sleeping. The younger man was sprawled out and hadn't even heard the alarm. The typical life of a student, sleeping till noon, and when they did awake deciding if they felt like going to class.

Will stopped a moment, laying in bed to reach down and trace a finger lightly along Marc's arm, causing the young man to roll over, snuggling close, pressing his nose into Will's arm pit; he sniffed once and opened a sleepy eye and made a face before falling asleep again, not bothering to move.

Will shook his head as he got up, going through the motions of getting ready to go to work, selecting a fresh shirt and a matching tie; even though he expected to be wrestling his way through airports, he knew that there would be plenty of press about--they always hounded politicians after a death like the one the night before. He contemplated taking a travel bag, but several months of trucking to and from Toronto had taught him to leave some things at the house he kept there. And anything he lacked would be just another excuse to go shopping.

Showered, shaved and dressed he walked back into the bedroom, glancing again at Marc who had tugged the covers up to block out the evil that was morning. And Will stared down at him as he tied his tie. When had his life become so domesticated that he couldn't sleep in to all hours of the day like that?

He barely got to see Marc between their different schedules, Will working all hours and spending most weekends in Toronto and Marc's student life that meant he was up late and stayed out even later.

"Hey," he called, tapping the bed frame with his foot.

Marc stirred and rolled over, sweeping more of the covers around him.

"Hey!" Will repeated a little more forcefully laughing at Marc's ardent refusal to get up. "Come on, where'd you leave the keys to my Jeep?"

Marc murmured something sleepily and was gone again. Leaving Will to shake his head glancing at his watch; he didn't have time for this that morning. Peter hadn't come home the night before, and still had Will's car which meant he would have to use the old Jeep to go in to the office; he didn't have time to try raising the dead.

He reached down and found where Marc had kicked off his trousers after getting home late; digging through the pockets he pulled out a set of keys and checked them. They were the ones he was looking for.

He set the jeans back down and took a moment again to sit on the bed, he didn't have time, he knew it, but... he reached out to brush a finger along Marc's cheek, tracing down to those lips.

Marc playfully bit his finger, groaning as he sat up. "There, I'm awake," he mumbled, reaching out to slap a hand to his face and try to force his eyes to stay awake, his hair sticking up at odd angles as he focused blearily on Will. "Morning," he said with a sudden bright smile, before he fell back to the bed.

Will rolled his eyes, getting up to walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. It was the simplest of moments that meant the most to him.

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Andrew standing there talking to Lisa, and he took another heavy breath steeling himself as he walked into the kitchen, suppressing a need to yawn.

"Morning," he said, knowing full well his voice sounded tired.

Andrew exchanged a concerned glance with Lisa as he stepped out of Will's way, letting the politician reach the coffee pot and pour himself a large mug. It was obvious that something was distracting him as he stared thoughtfully up at the window that overlooked the front lawn, but neither of his friends made mention of it. They both simply assumed he was disturbed by the events of the night before.

"Has Peter called?" he asked after a moment's silence staring at the vacant spot in his driveway where his new BMW was supposed to be.

Lisa shook her head. "Not a peep," she said softly.

Will shrugged, "He probably stayed over someone's house last night to avoid driving home." It made his life a little more difficult; he would have to take the Jeep that was steadily becoming more and more unreliable as the months ground on. At least he was flying to Toronto instead of driving.

The phone rang, and Will scooped up the receiver, glad to hear Thorpe's voice.

"Carter," his friend and long time political ally's voice was equally as tired as Will's, "it's my turn to return the favour, you need to see the news."

Will blinked as he gestured to the small TV on the end of the breakfast bar. He stared in surprise as the reporter was speaking, a picture of the foreign minister on the screen.

"...the minister refused to comment on the allegations of embezzlement this morning, but evidence uncovered by the Ottawa Citizen's own Paul Schofield indicate that a substantial amount of money has been siphoned from international benevolent funds into private accounts under the minister's name..."

Will felt his heart sinking as he swallowed. "They can't be serious," he murmured into the phone.

"I'm afraid they are," Thorpe replied. "The shit really hit the fan this time if it's true."

Will shook his head, "What are they going to do?"

Thorpe sounded tense, "The PM called me this morning, he wants to meet with a few of his top Cabinet members at 24 Sussex Drive around nine."

"Right," Will said staring at the clock. "This is a hell of a time."

"Yes; look, after I get back from the Prime Minister's residence I'll swing by your office and fill you in on the details." Thorpe paused, "Remember what I said last night? Well, I take it back, now we are in trouble."

"You have my number," Will said firmly, looking over at Lisa who was scribbling notes as she watched the news report; she exchanged a look with her boss and the pair of them nodded. "I'll keep the cell close."

Will hung up the phone staring at the television and trying to clear his head. There was an old saying, bad news always came in three's. He wondered what else was going to descend on them that day.

* * *

The back of the transport truck was loud, and Peter felt himself jostled around on the hard, slippery steel of the floor. The roar of the engine and the constant din meant they could scream themselves hoarse and still not be heard over the sound of the engine taking them to god knows where.

Peter shivered, the shock of what had happened was wearing off; he was afraid, and he was blindfolded and bound tightly. One moment he was enjoying an evening out, and the next... He didn't know what they wanted, but what could he do? They had been armed.

He reached out, fumbling as best he could with the ropes chafing his wrists as he moved, Becky had to be close, and she was probably as scared as he was. He needed to find her, maybe together they could... his fingers brushed warm skin, and his hands closed over her hands. She flinched away from him, but he was able to clasp them tightly.

"It's me..." he bellowed, hoping she could hear him over the roar.

He felt her squeeze his hands in return. She had heard him; at least they both knew they weren't alone. And Peter felt emboldened. At least they were together, and if they could stay that way then they had a chance. He had to keep her safe, whatever they wanted.

He fumbled with his fingers feeling up to the zip ties that bound her hands behind her back, as the truck bounced them apart again, and he had to scoop himself back to find her again, standing up gingerly, his fingers guiding up her dress and bare shoulder to find the sack that had been set over her head. He pulled on it as the truck hit a pothole and sent him sprawling, still gripping the coarse material.

He rolled over as he felt her hands on his jacket, and she tugged his sack free, turning around to stare at him with tear-filled eyes wide with fear.

He did the only thing he could think of doing to calm her down, he smiled at her as he struggled to sit up again, his back up against the side of the truck. "Are you okay?" he bellowed.

She frowned, trying to read his lips as he bellowed it again. Catching it this time, she nodded, and Peter smiled leaning down to get a closer look at her bonds, realizing short of a knife there was no way they were getting free.

He collapsed back dejectedly, as she lay down beside him, drawing close, her head on his shoulder as the truck continued to rattle and bounce them away from anyone who could find them.

* * *

Will marched through Parliament, his shoes ringing on the flagstone floor as he walked, a worried expression on his face. The throng of reporters clustered outside of his office building had made it nearly impossible to get through and Lisa had wisely advised he abandon the attempt.

He now paced the halls of the Parliament building waiting for his cell phone to ring with news from Thorpe about what was happening at the Prime Minister's residence. However, frustratingly, his phone remained quiet and he was left to stew on his own thoughts and worries.

It was in the moment he found himself looking for strong leadership; he had found several other members of the liberal party seeking refuge and direction in the quiet halls of the buildings, but none of them could offer him any kind of wisdom. In fact, for the most part they knew less about the situation than Will did.

He was aggravated, offering only a hard stare and a demanding arch of his eyebrow each time someone looked at him. He knew he was expecting result and answers and until he got them everyone knew enough to steer clear.

Lisa was sitting on one of the steps of a short flight of stairs, Andrew leaning on the heavy stone banister beside her, both of them watching him as he paced. They both knew him better than to try and disturb him while he paced. His mind was working through possibilities and trying to find a way out of the situation that was so far beyond his control. He was as helpless as everyone else; fate had dealt them a severe hand, and he was left debating if he should gamble or fold.

Yet Will never seemed to just accept being helpless or lost, his bearing and mannerisms said he was in control, and the other MP's that had taken shelter in the parliament building had deferred to his leadership remaining close by, their own small staffs coordinating their efforts. Luckily one of them had a laptop with wireless Internet, and Lisa was able to read some of the in-depth news articles as they came in. The scandal was huge, touching the upper levels of the Liberal party, and the implications were very bad for all of them.

Will turned in his strides, returning the way he had come, hands locked behind his back as he stared at the floor, keeping time with his footfalls. Each time he stepped his mind flew through plans, dismissing them as soon as they began to form. He needed something, he didn't have enough information, he didn't have a firm grasp on the bigger picture and he lacked the prominence in the party to do anything about it even if he did.

He liked to confront his problems directly; he had no time for games. It was an attitude that had earned him some enemies, but everyone respected his blunt abruptness in situations like the one they were in now.

Andrew watched him with concerned eyes, the man that had stood beside him through so much, his knight in shining armour. He was a source of so much strength over the years, and yet there were some battles the man could not fight for him. The battle going through Will's mind against the doubts and worries was something Will could only fight alone.

They all jumped as Will's phone rang, the anticipation that had been building in all of them had Will pull the phone out in a single smooth motion and he flipped it open.

"Go!" he demanded turning away, his eyebrows arching in concern as he spoke. "No, Mrs. McCormick, Peter didn't stay at mine last night... No, last I saw of him he was borrowing my car."

He glanced up at Lisa, who mirrored his concern. "No... yes, as soon as I see him I'll get him to call you..." he snapped the phone closed and tapped it a moment against the flat of his palm.

"What's the matter?" Lisa pressed, seeing a look of worry that had flickered for a moment across Will's face.

"Apparently Peter still hasn't come home from wherever he is," Will replied stiffly looking back at her over his shoulder.

"It's probably nothing," Lisa said firmly. "Boys do this all the time, he's probably sleeping off a hangover somewhere..."

Andrew's own brow furrowed but whatever he was about to add was cut off as Will's phone began to ring again.

"Yes?" Will asked as he pressed it to his ear.

"Carter," Thorpe sounded grim, "where are you?"

"In Parliament," Will replied looking around him. "Where are you?"

"Stay there," Thorpe said. "I'll be there shortly."

* * *

They stood in the empty House of Commons, a huge empty chamber that was eerily still. Green carpets and leather accented the cut stone and rich wood around them, echoing their words. Normally it would be packed with arguing politicians throwing insults back and forth across the floor. Instead it stood empty and still except for the two men standing before the officials' table.

Will stood beside where the mace normally sat, the symbol of authority that was brought in at the start of each sitting staring up at his old friend. Thorpe had the look of a defeated man, his face tired and haggard, and it reminded Will of the years that separated them. Thorpe was on the far side of forty while Will was barely pushing thirty. They made strange friends and even stranger political allies.

Will crossed his arms. "So?" he asked, knowing how dire the situation was.

Thorpe took a sharp breath, "I wish I knew where to begin, it's a mess. The Foreign Secretary tendered his resignation this morning at the Prime Minister's request."

"Will that be enough?" Will asked, direct and to the point as ever.

Thorpe shook his head. "The opposition parties are already screaming scandal." He turned a little and looked about the chamber. "The Prime Minister is up to his neck in it. He recommended the Secretary for his post, and created the fund in the first place. It was one of his 'pet projects'."

Will snorted, knowing all too well how risky most of the PM's pet projects had proved in the past. It was only a matter of time until one of them reared its head to bite him. He watched his friend a moment choosing his words, "So what are the options?"

"If he walks into Parliament the opposition will tear him apart," Thorpe said, turning. "They'll hound him looking for an excuse they need to call a vote of no confidence that, if they win, will dissolve government and call a general election."

"And since we're no longer a majority..." Will summed up for them both. Without the majority, the party no longer had the seats to win a vote if all the other parties voted against them; it was a dangerous situation for everyone and the inherent danger of a minority government.

"However, if the Prime Minister resigns, it does buy us a little time..." Thorpe said, turning to Will. "The problem is that we lose another seat we can't afford to lose and might only delay the vote by a week or two at the most. There is no way the opposition will sit and wait until we can run by-elections in the empty ridings."

Will nodded, "We're in trouble, then."

Thorpe nodded, looking at Will, "I know you've been cut a lot of slack by the party on your voting habits in the past, but Will, if you vote against the party now when it needs you, you'll be committing political suicide."

Will shook his head, "No, of course not." He smiled tightly at Thorpe, "You have my word, my friend."

Thorpe nodded, "Look, keep this under your hat for the time being, get out of town for the weekend. Visit your riding, put on a good face. I'll be doing the same. We'll see what the PM decides to do on Monday and figure it out from there."

"I'm going to speak to a couple of reporters," Will said, disagreeing, "let them know we're doing something so they'll stop hounding us." He smiled and clapped Thorpe on the shoulder resolutely. "We'll survive this, old man." he said firmly.

"Oh yeah," Thorpe said with a smile. "We're the good guys, right?"

Copyright © 2011 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I don't know if they are the good guys, but they are probably the least bad :huh:. Oh and that three you were talking about Will, came in the form of Peter's mother calling.

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