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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 - 9. Chapter 9

He'd received the call minutes after he had dropped Will off. He had raced as best he could through the congested traffic, his Mustang weaving between cars, as he shifted through the gears, his eyes scanning for gaps in the flow of traffic. There was a detour being set up around an entire section of the highway that had been shut down due to the accident. And Andrew had swept the Mustang onto the emergency lane, ignoring the irritated honks of motorists as he swept past them.

The police officers in their high visibility jackets and bright light batons waving traffic onto the off ramps took one look at his identification and allowed him through the cordon. And Andrew got his first sight of the accident. It was a mess; that was his first thought as he got out of his car, leaving it parked off to one side of the road and walking the rest of the way to where the mangled wreckage of what had once been the Deputy Prime Minister's car now rested.

It was scattered all over the place, scattered glass and twisted metal, and he bent down to pick up the red government license plate that had been thrown free, turning it over in his hands as he squinted back up the road towards the shattered section of crash barrier where the car had jumped into oncoming traffic.

"Highmore!" the Director-General called out to him, beckoning him over. The grim old man was inspecting the underside of the transport truck that had done much of the damage, his lined face dark as he stared suspiciously over the scene, his trench coat stirring in the light evening breeze.

Andrew walked carefully around the carnage, blinking at the floodlights illuminating the devastation. There were forensic units combing over it, trying to collect information as to what had caused the crash.

"What the hell happened?" Andrew asked, staring at the wreckage as a couple of firemen pried back the mangled roof of the car.

"We're not sure," the older man replied mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "God, it's a mess, but it's going to take time to work out exactly what happened here."

Andrew nodded. "Is there anything you need me to do?" he asked, squinting as the paramedics pulled something that had once been human from the ruins. Andrew swallowed at it wondering which it was, the driver or the minister. There really wasn't enough left for a visible identification. And he closed his eyes having no choice but to turn away.

The director didn't turn, but stared grimly at the scene, studying it. "I need you to get back to that MP of yours and make sure he remains safe," he said, both of them knowing all too well that the Deputy Prime Minister had been one of the names on that list.

There was a momentary look of panic in Andrew's eyes as his head turned in the direction of Will's house.

"Don't worry, I have one of our officers watching the house," the director reassured. "But I don't want to alarm anyone yet," he nodded to the carnage. "For all we know this could be an accident, but I don't believe in coincidences."

Andrew took a tight breath. "I talked to Carter and there's nothing major on the table aside from the usual debates and bills. Nothing I can work out would warrant that," Andrew glanced back at the shattered car.

The director nodded, "Look, I know you and the... I know you and Mister Carter were involved, it's listed in your security file. If you would rather I get another intelligence officer on this..." The old man's hard brown eyes searched Andrew's face for any sign of hesitance.

Andrew shook his head, "You're right, no one else can get close to him without tipping him off that something's wrong. Not just that, he trusts me."

"Good," the director said dispassionately. "Your job is to keep him safe and get to the bottom of his connection to all of this," he nodded to the wreck. "I'll have the lab reports sent to you tomorrow morning--they might give you some leads."

"Thank you," Andrew stated, meaning it.

The Director-General looked over at the young intelligence officer, "Don't thank me, I'm using you and your connection to Mister Carter to ensure I have someone close to him; don't think I am doing this out of some misguided understanding of your feelings. Get the job done, Mister Highmore."

"Yes sir," Andrew nodded, heading back to his car.

The director followed the young man with his gaze. "And you're welcome," he said under his breath as he turned his attention back to the accident scene.

* * *

Will yawned tiredly as he crossed his living room, scooping up the remote and loosening his tie, flipping on the news. It was fast becoming a bad habit of his--becoming addicted to the news to the point where he couldn't get to bed until he had checked the news reports.

It was a matter of political survival. He had to remain on top of situations, remain informed, educated. There was nothing worse than being embarrassed in Parliament because a politician hadn't checked all of the facts.

He stopped unbuttoning his shirt as he stared in surprise at the reporter standing just on the edge of what looked like a major car crash talking about a car jumping the median into oncoming traffic. From the looks of the damage it had been a bad accident.

He nearly dropped the remote when they explained 'whose' car it had been.

He was on the phone a few minutes later calling an old friend, the Minister of Canadian Heritage, "Thorpe, Carter, did you catch the news?"

Thorpe's crisp voice on the other end sounded surprised, "No, why?"

"Just check it out," Will pressed, sitting down on the edge of his couch waiting for the Minister to get caught up on what had happened.

"Oh my god," the Minister murmured on the line. "They can't be serious."

Will shook his head pulling the phone's extension cord a little so he had the slack to stand and pace again. "It doesn't look good, they were saying," Will summarized, staring at the television as it panned across the scene from a distance. "Judging from that wreckage..." he gestured to the screen with the phone, knowing full well Thorpe couldn't see the gesture.

"This is one hell of a mess, Carter." The Minister Heritage stated what was on both their minds, "That's our majority gone."

Will nodded, he had met the Deputy Prime Minister, an amazing woman, full of life and strength; she had given him some good advice and had even come to his defense a few times in Parliament. But there was a time for mourning, as the impact of exactly what had happened sunk in on both men.

"They'll have to call a by-election, we have plenty of time," Will responded cautiously. "There are no major votes, and besides they can't defeat us at the moment anyway, it's an even split, our party and the NDP against a conservative bloc coalition. Even if they did all vote the same way it's not going to get them anything as long as that seat remains unfilled, we still have the speaker of the houses vote to break ties."

Will breathed a sigh; he'd been through exactly that when he had run for his seat to replace his former friend and mentor Robert Avery. It would mean a lot of pressure all around, but so long as the party stayed together and focused they would be fine.

"I bet the conservatives are dancing with joy," Thorpe said darkly. "Damn vultures. Look Carter, I'm going to make a few calls, see what the strategists want us to do, and I'll call you back."

Will smiled tightly turning with the phone, "Thanks, keep me informed."

"No problem." Thorpe replied as he hung up.

Will took a deep breath setting down the phone and collapsing onto his sofa staring at the screen. The conservatives would be on the attack now, pressing for every chance they could get to destabilize the liberal New Democrat majority; the two parties that formed the government were in a tenuous alliance at best. And if it was to their advantage, the NDP would back a motion of non-confidence and force an election.

* * *

Andrew walked up to the black unmarked car that was sitting in the parking lot backing onto Will's house. Slipping into the passenger seat he smiled at Jane handing her a cup of Tim Horton's coffee he had brought on his way back to the house.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, wrapping her long fingers around the cup and smiling at her partner.

"No problem," Andrew replied staring up at the house where they could clearly see Will in his living room talking into his phone. "I take it he just found out."

Jane nodded blowing to cool the hot coffee as she motioned, "He made the call, so he probably caught it on the news first and called someone to learn more."

"It's going to be a long night, then," Andrew said, settling into his seat and draping his jacket over himself.

Jane turned to him; she knew the story between him and the young politician, working as close as she had with Highmore there were little secrets between them. She knew all too well how close Andrew was to the situation. "You can go home and get some sleep, I'll watch him for you," she offered warmly.

Andrew shook his head, "I won't be able to sleep tonight anyway." He nodded to the figure standing on the phone, "This one's important to me."

"I know," Jane glanced at Andrew and shrugged. "I'll take good care of him, then." She smiled, "And if you snore in my car I'll kick your ass out."

* * *

It was pushing some ridiculous hour of the morning and Andrew started awake realizing he had nodded off. He sat up and looked around getting his bearings and blinking at Jane sitting beside him.

She smiled at him as she pointed to the house, "He finally went to bed a few hours ago; there's been no activity around the house that I can see."

Andrew nodded mutely trying to get the moisture back into his mouth as he shook his head to clear the sleep from it. He hated falling asleep in awkward positions; his body was stiff and complaining about the abuse, and his head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton wool.

"You okay?" Jane asked him, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You look wrecked."

Andrew grunted at her, trying to stretch. It wasn't his first night spent sleeping in a car, and probably wouldn't be his last, especially not with that job. He squinted up at the lightening sky--dawn was coming, in an hour or so it would officially be time to get up. He fought a yawn as he rested his head against the seat rest.

"I'm fine," he said allowing his head to roll a bit to look at her, "though I could use a strong cup of coffee."

"Didn't know you drank the stuff," Jane said sparing him a concerned look.

"I don't, normally," he replied. "I hate it. I used to date someone who drank way too much of the stuff." He grinned lolling his head to look at her, "I used to deliberately get up five minutes before he did just so I could make it to the coffee pot first, and then make the vilest concoction I could think of."

"Oh, you've got a mean streak," Jane said knowingly. "Did it stop them?"

Andrew chuckled, "Nope, drank it anyway, pretending to love it just to make me happy."

"That's just cruel." Jane smirked, "I love it. I'll have to try that on my boyfriend. So what's the plan for this morning?"

Andrew sighed, thinking, "We need to start taking this in shifts. You need some sleep, I can watch him during the day if you want to take the overnights. He's on his way to Toronto tonight, I'll get you the address." He scrawled it down on a piece of note paper and handed it over to her, "Contact the Toronto office and let them now we may need some support."

Jane nodded, "It's your detail, I'm just along for the ride."

"Thanks, Jane," Andrew said sincerely, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I should get in there. You go home, sleep for a couple of hours and I'll call you before we leave for Toronto."

Jane nodded as she reached down to start the car, "Take care, and if you need anything..."

Andrew patted his cell phone as he slipped out of the car.

He enjoyed the crisp morning air, looking about him at the neighbourhood. He had grown up in that small town just outside of Ottawa, gone to school there. Lived and laughed. But that morning it didn't feel like home. The shadows were more ominous, and he found himself feeling nervous about them. Worry was making his mind play tricks on him; even so he still reached under his jacket to ease his service automatic in its holster.

It was unnerving to realize how used to carrying one he had become. All part of the service, and even though he hadn't had to resort to it yet, he knew that often other Intelligence officers had.

He walked around the fence, taking the short footpath into Will's cul-de-sac, walking up the short path to the front porch. Years ago he had waited on the doorstep nervously for his first real date, relaxed in that garden with friends on Labour day weekend. Now there was a menace in the air, the quiet piece of suburbia with its manicured lawns and chirping birds seemed almost threatening.

He shook his head and opened the door, letting himself into the quiet house. Typical Will, he always kept the front door unlocked. His house--well, it was Brody's house but it seemed Will spent more time living there than his roommate, the enigmatic traveling one-man-show that was Brody Levesque.

Andrew walked into the kitchen checking the time; Will would be getting up for work shortly. And he started to make coffee, stopping himself from making the pot badly; Will would appreciate a proper pot. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over the back of a stool, tsking at the pile of unwashed dishes sitting by the sink. Not that bad, but since Will had eaten out the night before, they were probably Marc's.

He instinctually loaded the dishwasher, turning when the coffee pot was done its burbling and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He felt at home in that house--well, they all did; Will's home was like a second home to everyone. Little Peter was usually tapping away on the game console at about this time, Lisa would be by in about twenty minutes for her car pool to work with Will. When Brody was in town he was usually up as well making snide comments about Will's culinary skills. So it wasn't unusual for Andrew to be there, just he'd made a habit of staying away--it was easier that way.

He glanced up at the door as it cracked open, Lisa letting herself in quietly so as not to wake anyone up. She was running earlier than expected, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she noticed Andrew standing in the kitchen.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling with relief as she recognized who it was. "You scared me."

Andrew smiled as he poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across the breakfast island to her, "I have that effect lately."

Lisa accepted the mug and added some sugar from the pot, glancing up at Andrew again, and frowning as her eyes travelled to the gun sitting snugly under his arm. She looked up at him her eyebrows sliding up into an unasked question.

He glanced down and winced, he wasn't usually that careless, he was too tired and hadn't been thinking. He looked over at her and swallowed, wondering how he was going to explain it.

"Difficulties with the boss?" she asked lightly.

"Nothing like that," Andrew said simply, wondering how much he could trust Lisa. But then he had known her most of his life. She was Will's spin-doctor and damn good at her job. She had a mother's protective instinct and was smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut about certain things.

He sighed reluctantly and drew out his ID, tossing it down on the breakfast bar. Lisa picked it up, opening it and looking it over before she gazed up at Andrew, nodding. "I understand," she said simply, handing it back to him.

"Thanks," Andrew said slipping the weapon off and tucking it into the folds of his jacket. He glanced up to the ceiling, "I'd just rather others don't find out."

Lisa nodded as she wrapped her hands round her coffee mug. "Sure thing," she said, and Andrew smiled at her warmly. She was smart enough to know when she didn't have to say anything. And Andrew was a good friend, and he'd been good to Will back when they had been together.

"This has something to do with the crash last night doesn't it?" she asked, indicating with her cup to the fact that he was standing in the middle of the kitchen. It was her job to put two and two together and work out its meaning.

"I'm just worried about Will," Andrew said, sitting down at the breakfast bar across from her and tried his best to look reassuring.

"Is he in any trouble?" Lisa pressed; she wasn't about to accept a platitude.

"No," Andrew shook his head firmly, "I'm just being cautious, that's all."

"Should I cancel this trip to Toronto?" she asked, sipping her coffee, reading every expression on his face.

"No," Andrew said, "I'm going to stay close though, if that's okay..."

"I can book an extra seat on the flight," Lisa said pulling out her phone, "though if there is something going on and I find out that I should have known..." Her voice held an edge of warning.

"I promise," Andrew said, "you'll be the first to know if this is anything more than my paranoia."

She hesitated holding the phone, chewing on her lip. "If you were anyone else, I wouldn't buy that for a second. But I know you wouldn't intentionally put him," she glanced upwards, "in any danger."

"Never," Andrew reassured.

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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