Jolyon Hallows - The Collapse

Jerry nodded. “We’ll need to set up a system to prepare communiques and figure out how to get them to the resistance and how to make sure they become public. Maybe even set up pirate broadcasting stations. I used to work in PR. I figure I can handle that.”

Sangster had been quiet up to now, her face reflecting the anger that persisted. She took a deep breath. “Don’t tell me we’re reaching agreement?”

Jerry said, “Ellen, I’m on board here. I always have been. So has Alan. Yeah, we’ve argued, but that’s because we both care so much about what happens. And I have to hand it to what’s-his-name. He’s come up with an approach I think we can both work with.”

Alan said, “Yeah, I agree.” He looked at Jerry. “I think I can convince my people to go along with this. You?”

Jerry nodded. “It’s not ideal, and there are a lot of unknowns, but I suspect they’ll be eager to help.”

Sangster said, “So we can get together tonight and vote on this?”

Jerry and Alan nodded. Jerry said, “There’s a lot to discuss. Let’s get going.”

Sangster said, “Before you go, there is one more thing we need to set up and where we will need a lot of help. It has nothing to do with supporting the resistance, it’s preparing for the day they succeed. At some point, there will be a revolution in this country that will overthrow the government and destroy the Peaks. But with every revolution, there’s the possibility that whatever replaces a tyranny will be worse. Our fourth, and I suggest our biggest, job is to get ready for that day.”

“How?”

“In business terms, we need a transition plan. Once we overthrow the government, what do we replace it with? Who leads it? How do we move from just another dictatorship back to a democracy? How do we restore our economy? Most important, how do we develop institutions that will prevent the country from falling into this situation again?”

Candale said, “That last one is crucial. We need to develop a constitution and judicial and legislative structures. Ones that will protect all Canadians against a government that loses its way or is hijacked by radicals.”

Alan and Jerry nodded. “A big job.”

Todd Baxter keyed in a text, pressed send, and showed it to Alice. “That’s how I do it.”

She looked up from the display on his phone. “There will be four attacks?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Casualties?”

“My prediction? At least twenty dead.”

“Well, that’s a start, but it’s a long way from decisive.”

“I know, but the resistance is more like a water torture than a flood. Our goal is to demoralize the Peaks. To make them afraid of everyone they meet.”

“I get it. But if I had my way, I’d choose the nuclear option. Wipe out all the bastards at once. Like they did to my family.”

“Believe me, if that were possible, I’d be right beside you. But for now, we’re stuck with the slow drip technique.” He paused. “This is the end of your training. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Now I’m guessing I have to go to work.”

“Right. You understand our procedures and you have access to the data from my systems. You also have contact information for the people coordinating the Atlantic region, so the region is now yours. You’ll be responsible for gathering intelligence and sending notifications to the coordinators.”

She studied him. “I wish I had met you in another life. Hell, I wish I knew your name. All I can say is thank you. To have the opportunity to be such an important part of the resistance is an honour. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now unless there are unusual circumstances, we won’t be in contact with one another again unless either of us triggers the code I taught you.” He touched her arm. “Stay well.”

“And you.” She kissed his cheek and left the room.

Baxter sat, emptiness suffusing him. Alice was the last of the regional directors he’d trained. William and Terry were already in place. He needed to recruit them because he couldn’t do this job alone. Staying on top of the torrent of information his systems were generating was getting to be too much for him.

But that was the minor part of his problem. More critical was that he was the driver of the resistance. Everything radiated from him. If the NPF discovered him and what he was doing, the resistance would fragment, its head severed. Having sole responsibility for the resistance in one person’s hands was not a structure that could lead to success. Now, he had finished setting up the operations he hoped would persist until the downfall of the government. But he was unable to relax, his well-earned satisfaction conflicting with fear and the ache of loss.

His satisfaction came from the recruitment and training of his three regional directors. This was a decision he had been loath to make. One he had tried to avoid. Finding such avid and committed people had been hard. Learning to trust them had been harder. Training them, revealing his secrets, handing over life and death information on the resistance groups had been hardest of all. But it was done. The work of the resistance was now in their hands.

His fear arose from the risk. No matter how careful he was at selecting his three recruits, just one of them could destroy much of what he had built. He’d always thought of himself as trusting, but he’d never had to risk his life, never mind other people’s, on someone else’s discretion.

His loss was the most poignant. He rebelled at the thought of giving up even part of his participation and the gratification that he was responsible for the mounting Peak body count. But while his gut screamed at him that it was too risky to entrust this struggle to others, his mind whispered that it was too important to depend on just one person.

So he came to accept the reality that he needed to involve other people. How many? The more there were, the less likely the NPF would find them all, especially since they didn’t know one another. On the other hand, they knew of him. The risk that one of them would betray him grew with each new person. He’d decided on three directors. He’d chosen well. He hoped he’d chosen well.

He poured himself a drink and willed himself to relax. He’d done all he could. He would continue to handle the western provinces where his heart was, but the rest of the country was in the hands of Alice, William, and Terry. He feared for their lives as he feared for his and for those of his friends in Wishbone and the thousands of resistance fighters he’d never meet. But fear was part of his life now. It was a motivator prodding him to think of everything that might go wrong, and it was a judge, ensuring he’d done all he could to prevent it.

This was a long-term battle. Was he becoming confident they would win? No, but he knew it was one they couldn’t bear losing.

Ross Candale and Ellen Sangster, their hair graying, their faces showing the lines of age, the weight of responsibility, sat across from Darius Abbott. His eyes were moist. “I’m honoured. I don’t know what to say.”

Sangster said, “How about yes?”

“It’s a big job.”

“It’s massive, but I can’t think of anyone more qualified than you to take it on.”

Darius said, “I can. I owe my life to him. The lives of my family, Ilona, Helena, and Jacob.”

“That’s true of everyone here in Wishbone and in the other communities we’ve established. But I think Todd would have endorsed you as the person we want running the transition. The work you’ve done here on constitutional law and parliamentary structure is astonishing. You’re the natural choice.”