Chapter 26 –
More breaks in the wall
The next morning I could barely move. If I was leaving, I would be leaving slowly. I took some antibiotics and some aspirin, showered carefully, redressed my wounds, and got mostly dressed. I thought maybe I could dodge the fashion police for a day or two and go without socks. They just didn’t seem to be worth the pain.
The stairs were the usual problem. No, somehow the stairs were worse. But I made it. The TV was in the same place in the dining room and the newscasters were in the same place along the highway. Traffic was still rolling along the highway, and the TV people were still there to tell us – yes, traffic was still rolling along the highway. I asked the waiter to bring me a small breakfast and a newspaper. Maybe it was the excitement of the chance to go home, but I found I wasn’t very hungry.
The local newspaper was interesting. You can never tell how political the editorial boards are on a newspaper. They try to stay objective, but they aren’t stupid. They can feel a wind blow like anyone else. So I was interested in what they had to say about events. I found three articles that helped explain the situation.
Article one explained the obvious. Highway 3 was open. Traffic in and out of Arkansas was proceeding the way it had for centuries. There were some obligatory comments about how the LNA was still guarding the border to ensure no terrorists used this opportunity to get into the country, but it was hard to imagine how you spotted terrorists going by at one hundred kilometers an hour.
Article two was a detailed explanation of what Louisiana was going to do. Highway 1 would be opened at noon, but it would be restricted. Only those cars with Louisiana plates would be allowed south. All vehicles going north and all trucks coming south would be stopped and checked, and would pay a “customs fee” to cover the cost of the ongoing security operation. Nothing was said about why any idiot would stand in line and pay a fee to use Highway 1 when Highway 3 was open for free.
Article three was several pages back in the paper. Back in the business pages there was a small story about a meeting that had been scheduled between the Huguenot Business League and various Louisiana officials. Nothing was said about the agenda, but I could guess what would be said – having stopped all traffic for days, now a fee would be put on all commerce moving from one area to another. Either the fee would be absorbed by the businesses doing the shipping – nothing they would be happy about – or the fee would be built into higher consumer prices – nothing the general public would appreciate. The HBL would school the politicos about basic economics. I wished them the best. Politicos aren’t always the brightest students.
I had a headache for some reason, and felt chilled, so maybe that is why I was so slow. There was a fourth article that should have been screaming at me. On the back page, under a heading of “Meeting Announcements” was a single paragraph explaining that the constitutional convention would not resume next week as originally scheduled. Arkansas had asked for additional time to select its delegates - an announcement would be made soon about the exact schedule of the meetings. How deeply did you have to read between the lines to see what was going on? Arkansas was having second thoughts about joining up with these pirates. It would delay selecting delegates until it felt better about its new partners. In the meantime, you could expect they were also burning up the phone lines to Green Bay, looking for any advantage they could gain there. I could imagine Elise signing more research grants.
At this point the doorman approached my table. Following him was Andre Guillard, the director of the Provincial Library. The doorman stopped a few feet away to give me an opportunity to accept or reject this visitor. The last time I had seen Guillard he had yelled at me on the front steps of his library, but I didn’t think that was going to happen again today. I stood and welcomed Guillard to my table.
“Please join me more breakfast,” I said. He took a chair opposite me.
“I would enjoy a cup of coffee, but first I must apologize for my behavior the other evening. I was being watched. It was important to say what I said, but I must tell you it pained me deeply to be so rude. You have never done anything to warrant such discourtesy.”
“Your behavior was so unexpected, I was fairly certain you were not yourself.”
“It pained me to be such a person, even for a few days.”
“But now?”
“As you can imagine, now things are changing rapidly. In fact I have come to invite you to witness an event that will part of that change.”
“Oh?”
“It is better if you see for yourself. This evening there is to be a rally for the Heritage Party in South Square. I wonder if you would be my guest. I think you will be glad you are in attendance.”
“Okay.” I had little desire to return to the square, and it meant delaying my return to Green Bay for a day, but I trusted Giullard, and besides, with my headache, driving all day would be awful.
”By the way, I loved your blog last night. I am glad Margaret was able to get you those diaries. It is clear you appreciated them.”
“Speaking of diaries, do you know what happened to the second Thiere diary? Margaret said volume two had gone missing.” I didn’t want to come out and accuse Guillard of taking it, but I did want to know where it was.
“I took it from the library for safekeeping. In the second diary Joseph Thiere says a number of things I thought best forgotten. I had some fear for how his ideas might be used. “
“I see.” I said, but of course I really didn’t.
“I thought it best to hide the diary from everyone – including my own staff.” Here he looked at me with great intensity, as if he expected to somehow communicate telepathically. His staff? Margaret?
“I have put on a copy of the diary on this drive. I hope you will use discretion with what you find here.” He handed me a flash drive. “Now, I will leave you. I will return around seven. Would that be satisfactory?”
“That would be fine.” And off he went. I finished a little more of my breakfast, but I was more tired than hungry, so I went back up stairs. I was tempted to read the Thiere diary, but I just didn’t have the energy. Maybe after a short nap.
The Canadian Civil War: Volume 5 - Carbines and Calumets Page 26
