by Dave Butler
“Thanks for seeing me, Mike. Can we go somewhere to talk?”
Willson followed Berland to a small boardroom off the lobby, where they sat in hard plastic chairs at the corner of a wooden table. Berland’s long legs took up much of the small space.
“So,” he said, “what have you got for me, Jenny?”
“Does the name Stafford Austin mean anything to you?” she asked, studying the man’s face carefully. It was a blank canvas devoid of expression. His brown eyes showed nothing. Either he didn’t remember or he was a skilled actor. His silence was encouraging her to disclose what she knew, to keep talking. This guy was good.
“It doesn’t …” he said. “Remind me.”
“Sawtooth Development Corporation?” asked Willson. “Wire fraud charges?”
“Ah, now I remember. That was a strange case. There were more questions than answers. Why are you asking about Austin?”
“In short, he’s formed a company in B.C. and has approached the provincial and federal governments for approval to build a ski resort on the boundary of one of our national parks. They’re calling it the Top of the World Resort.”
“A ski area? Now that is interesting.… But why did you come to me?”
“I saw your stories in the newspaper about the case he was involved in here.”
“I appreciate that. But why are you talking to me?”
Willson was nearing a point of no return. Frank Speer had asked her to keep the investigation quiet, but finding out about Austin’s background was contingent on building trust with this investigative reporter — a guy she’d met only moments ago. She decided to push Berland a little further.
“My mother and I are down here for a ski holiday,” she said. “It’s as simple as that. We live close to where the ski area might go. Austin is the talk of our town, and I’d heard he was from Boise. I found your name while reading the Statesman online and thought I’d ask if you knew anything more about the guy. I’m just curious.”
“You don’t really have new information for me, despite what you said to our receptionist?” He paused, tapping his pencil on the desktop, and stared at Willson, his brown eyes unblinking. “You’re not being completely honest with me, are you?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at. I wanted to tell you that Austin’s proposing a business in our area … and to ask what you know about him. That’s it.”
“Let me summarize. You came all the way down from Golden, B.C., a town surrounded by some of the best ski areas around, to ski here, in Boise? At a time when the Canadian dollar is at seventy-eight cents against the American dollar? And then you just happened to find me?”
“That’s right,” said Willson. “You make it sound implausible, like you don’t believe me.” She stared back at Berland, hoping her expression masked what was going on in her mind. Why is he pushing so hard? What does this guy know?
Berland smiled. “Are you still a national park warden, Jenny?”
“How did you …” Willson watched as Berland opened the file folder on the table.
“You might recognize this from the Calgary Herald,” he said, sliding a picture across to her. “I believe it’s you and your colleagues receiving commendations after your poaching investigation took down Luis Castillo. Excellent work on that, by the way. I wrote an article on one of his businesses a few years ago.” His smile grew larger, an obvious reaction to Willson’s astonishment. “You forget that I’m an investigator, too. It’s what I do. While you were waiting for me, I did some digging to find out who Jenny Willson really is.”
Berland shifted forward in his seat, his right arm resting on the table, his gaze direct and challenging. “Now … let’s start again, shall we?”
CHAPTER 12
FEBRUARY 1
The darkened ballroom of Red Deer’s Black Knight Inn was quiet as Stafford Austin clicked to his final PowerPoint slide. It was a colour image of Mont des Poilus with the Yoho Glacier in the background and the rising sun washing the snow in a deep orange: a classic you should be here piece of destination marketing. He’d been invited by the Red Deer Chamber of Commerce to speak at this meeting. Although he couldn’t see much beyond the front row of tables below him, Austin knew he was speaking to the best, brightest, and most engaged of the business community in central Alberta. Red Deer, an attractive community of 100,000, was tucked along the Red Deer River at the midpoint of the busy travel corridor between Calgary and Edmonton. It was also the largest city close to Howse Pass and to his proposed ski resort.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Austin said, his voice booming through the PA system, “that is why I believe that a new ski area in Collie Creek, the Top of the World Resort, will not only benefit people and businesses on the B.C. side of the border, but in your region of Alberta as well. I’m excited about this new venture, and I sincerely hope I can count on your support to make it a reality. Thank you very much.”
The Chamber’s president rose to join Austin on the podium. He was a young pharmacist whose independent drugstore outperformed all of the chain stores in town — Austin had done his homework before coming out.
“On behalf of our members,” the president said, leaning over to the microphone, “I’d like to express our thanks to you, Mr. Austin, for your informative and inspiring presentation. Many of us have heard about your project, so it’s been great to get more details from you.” He handed Austin a cellophane-wrapped basket of local products as a token of appreciation. “Thanks again. I understand you’ve agreed to answer a few questions, so let’s take a few moments for that.”
As the lights in the large room came up, the president pointed to a woman in the audience with her hand raised. “Our local hardware store owner,” he said to Austin by way of introduction.
She was a stocky blonde, and the name scrawled across the tag pinned to her chest was illegible. “You said you hope to invest about five hundred million in this project,” she said. “Over what period of time will that happen?”
“The timing will largely depend on the approvals I get from the two governments, when and how they release land to us for base developments, and, of course, investor buy-in to the project. As an aside, did I mention that we welcome new investors in the project?” he said with a smile. “You can see me after if you’ve brought your chequebook with you.” This prompted chuckles from the audience. “At this point, we’re planning for investments to occur over a ten- to fifteen-year time horizon, perhaps slightly longer, depending on economic conditions.”
The next question came from Jim Weslowsky, the Chamber’s executive director. “Mr. Austin,” he said, “I’m sure you’re aware that this Chamber is on record as encouraging a more detailed analysis of a possible new highway through Howse Pass. From what we’ve seen to date, we believe that the highway would encourage economic growth in our area, reduce travel times from this region of Alberta to the B.C. coast by about an hour, and provide a low-elevation pass through the Rockies that would be a practical alternative to the Trans-Canada and Yellowhead highways. If we support your ski area, will you support the new highway?”
Austin smiled because Weslowsky had given him a heads-up that he was going to ask this question. “Thanks for the question, Jim. I understand that the idea of a highway through Howse Pass has come up a few times over the years.” The crowd laughed again. “I’ve done my reading and I understand the history of the route. It’s a history that leads back to explorer David Thompson and the year 1807. And before that, to the indigenous peoples who used it as a trade route for generations. I have also read your 2005 economic pre-feasibility study. As many of you know, it estimated the net benefit of the Howse Pass route to be approximately two hundred and ten million dollars, with an internal rate of return of 21.2 percent. How many of us would like to see that return on investments in our own businesses? I know I would. Do I see the economic benefits a new highway would have on this area? And do I also see the value of a new highway to the Top of the World Resort project? Absol
utely! And will you have my support if this Chamber raises the idea to the federal and provincial governments? Absolutely.” As he finished his answer, Austin scanned the room to see if the two people he was about to meet with next were in the room.
“Mr. Austin,” said a male voice. The president had pointed this man out to Austin beforehand, so Austin knew him to be a local newspaper reporter who was infamous for his allergy to facts and his resemblance to TV detective Columbo. “One more question,” said the rumpled man. “Have you held any discussions with the B.C., Alberta, or federal governments about the Howse Pass route? Obviously, it would save you millions of dollars if taxpayers built a paved highway right past the front door of your project.”
Austin again glanced around the room before answering. “As I said earlier, I recognize the value of a new highway to our project. But in response to your question, we have preliminary cost estimates in our proposal for a paved road that would connect the resort with the Trans-Canada Highway near Golden. Anyone can see those online, and they show our intentions. But no, as of yet, I haven’t had any formal discussions with any level of government specifically about a route through Howse Pass.”
With that, the young Chamber president once again thanked Austin for his presentation. As Austin stepped down from the podium to take his seat at the head table, he heard the president adjourning the meeting. But Austin’s thoughts were fixed firmly on that reporter’s last question and on the two people he was about to meet.
Austin moved his bulk in an awkward trot across the street toward Moxie’s Bar and Grill, dodging four lanes of traffic rather than walk the extra block to a pedestrian crosswalk. When he opened the door of the restaurant, the sudden transition from the bright light of a blue prairie sky to the dark interior left him nearly blinded. He waited for his vision to return before responding to the sleek young woman at the front counter.
“Table for one, sir?” she said. “Or are you waiting for the rest of your party?”
“Thanks,” he said, “I think my colleagues are already here.”
“Feel free to look around, sir. If they’re not here yet, please come back and see me and I’ll set you up with a table.” Her gaze, efficient and professional, shifted to a group waiting behind him. Austin turned to his left and began a circuit of the restaurant.
In a darkened corner, Austin found the people he was looking for. They were sitting on the same side of a massive booth, so he slid in across from them, the leather bench creaking as he moved his bulk into the narrow space. Isolated from the other patrons by the high seatbacks, dim lighting, and background music, the three of them had the privacy they required. It was an ideal spot for a clandestine meeting.
The woman spoke first. Austin had first met Wendy Thomas at an Invest Alberta event in Calgary six months earlier. On telling her about his resort project, he’d seen her eyes widen with what appeared to be excitement. She’d immediately pulled him by his elbow, like a misbehaving child, to a quiet hallway to tell him about the possibility of a highway through Howse Pass. Just from that quick, surreptitious conversation, they’d both immediately understood the potential for economic synergy between the two projects.
Broad and stern with her helmet-shaped white-blond hair, wire-frame eyeglasses, and brain hard-wired for politics, Thomas was the member of Parliament for the Yellowhead riding, a massive area of west-central Alberta wedged between the Rockies to the west and the agriculture, oil, and natural gas–dominated prairies to the east and north, with Red Deer at its centre. But most importantly, she was a key Alberta member of the federal government’s right-wing caucus. That gave her access to the people who made the decisions that made things happen. Meeting Thomas had been a stroke of luck. Very good luck.
“Thanks for coming over, Stafford,” she said. “I’d like to introduce you to Brian Cummings. Brian is a senior adviser in the Prime Minister’s Office. Brian suggested we meet after I told him about what we discussed earlier.”
Austin shook hands with Cummings, whom he guessed was in his mid to late thirties. He had curly brown hair and a face that was young and unlined, yet wise and discerning. Next they exchanged business cards.
“We thought about sneaking into the Chamber meeting to hear your talk and the Q and A,” said Thomas, “but couldn’t take the chance of the media seeing us and starting to ask questions. I wanted us to have a quiet talk. I’ve asked our server to leave us alone for a bit.”
“No problem,” said Austin. “It all went well. Just as we talked about.”
“Good,” said Thomas. “I’m sure you handled it well.”
Austin shifted his gaze to Cummings. The young man had not said a word. “Mr. Cummings, I’m intrigued about what you want to discuss today.”
“First,” said Cummings, “call me Brian.”
“What’s on your mind, Brian?”
“I think you know my cousin, John Theroux.”
“Yes, I do. John is the president of our Golden ski society and a great supporter of our project. He’s been very helpful.”
Cummings leaned forward, his eyes direct, his expression earnest. “You need to understand that I’m not officially here on behalf of the prime minister. But he is aware that we might be talking today and, very generally, of what we might talk about.”
“And that would be?”
“The PMO has been briefed on your proposal in Collie Creek and on the overlap with Yoho National Park. We’re watching that file closely. The concept of a highway through Howse Pass has been discussed, in some form or another, since the early 1800s. There’s no doubt that a project like that would come with a massive price tag, and yet preliminary estimates do show a net economic benefit to this area of Alberta. But at the same time, we know it would face all kinds of social, economic, and environmental hurdles. Communities and businesses on the Trans-Canada to the south and on the Yellowhead to the north would likely oppose a new route through the Rockies, as it might draw traffic and economic development away from them. And proposing a new highway through thirty-four kilometres of Banff National Park would certainly stir up a hornet’s nest of opposition from environmental groups.”
Austin wondered where this was leading. “Seems like the highway is a pipe dream, to say the least.”
“Funny you should mention pipe dreams,” said Thomas with a sly smile, her eyes crinkling behind her glasses.
“An interesting and perhaps prophetic choice of words, Mr. Austin,” Cummings continued. “The Canadian government, and some of the business interests who support it, are increasingly challenged in finding routes for pipelines to ocean ports — for both oil and natural gas. We’re stymied by interprovincial bickering, delayed by environmental assessments, and blocked by some First Nations bands that seem intent on standing in the way of progress. In short, we’re on the verge of what we view as a national crisis. Canada’s competitive advantage and a key component of our national economy with the greatest chance for growth are at risk if we can’t get our products to American and overseas markets.”
Suddenly, as if he’d stepped back out into the brilliant prairie sunshine, Austin began to understand where this conversation was going. The implications for his project were overwhelming, he realized, his mind reeling. His eyes widened and so did Thomas’s smile, as if to say, See, I told you this would be worth your while.
“Yes,” said Cummings, noting Austin’s reaction, “we’ve begun to talk about the Howse Pass route as a viable alternative. There’s already a road in place through all but those thirty-four kilometres in the park. If we can find a way to build a highway from the current end of Highway 11 at Saskatchewan Crossing west to the Trans-Canada north of Golden, it could conceivably become a new corridor through the Rockies — not only for vehicle traffic, but also for a pipeline … or two.”
“Huh,” said Austin. “This is not what I expected to talk about today.”
“I’ll bet,” said Cummings. “But I can’t overstate the confidential nature of what I’ve d
escribed to you. If either the media or the opposition catch wind of the fact that our government is talking about this, even thinking about it, it would be catastrophic for everyone involved. And it would likely mean the death of three potential projects — your resort, the highway, and a pipeline corridor — with absolutely no chance for resuscitation. Am I clear?”
“You can count on me to be discreet,” Austin said. He looked at Cummings, at Thomas, then back at Cummings again. “But why, then, are you talking to me about this, here, now? What do you need from me?”
“Fair question,” said Cummings. “I’d ask the same if I were in your shoes.”
“Perhaps I can take a crack at Stafford’s question,” said Thomas, leaning forward to cross her hands on the table, looking fully engaged. “My riding is in a funny position, situated as we are halfway between Edmonton and Calgary. When one or both of those communities sneezes, we get pneumonia. If we can develop this new Howse Pass corridor for vehicles and one or more pipelines, our area would see all sorts of benefits in the short and long term. We could become a new economic engine in this part of the province, one that relies much less on the two big cities.”
“That makes sense,” said Austin. “Where do I and my resort project fit in?”
Thomas exchanged a look with Cummings before continuing. “In 2005, the highway was projected to cost two hundred and ten million dollars. It’ll be a hell of a lot more now, at least double, I’m sure. Even though we’re talking in the media about spending more on public infrastructure, there’s no way that taxpayers will support the federal government spending that kind of money, not at a time when energy prices are so low.”
“So …?” said Austin.
“So, we believe that now is the time to invest in a project like this so we’ll be in a better position when markets rebound. And they will. As a businessman, you’ll understand that better than most. We also believe that the only way this idea can succeed is if we bring major investors to the table in a public-private partnership, if not a fully funded private-sector project. To do that, we need someone to bring those investors to the table. Someone like you.”
