<br><br><center>*Was this a betrayal, or an act of courage? Perhaps both. Neither involves forethought but take place in an instant, in an eyeblink. This can only be because they've been rehearsed over and over, in silence and darkness; in such silence and darkness, we're ignorant of them ourselves.*
― Margaret Atwood
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![Campus 4.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmeFtAPzQiRvNK6WtSBfiapkWnejy3Djmv5MR5eKi4ceVi/Campus%204.png)
*Risky Return to Campus*</center>

<br><br>It seemed overnight the fall colours arrived. The incessant rain had brought cooler temperatures and leaves were falling. It looked like autumn.

I was driving into the city to meet with Breton and his ‘friend’ whom I supposed was a high-ranking government official with authority to make decisions. I had with me Tom Faraday’s dossier proving a direct connection between the cabal and the climate emergency.

My only hope was that this official could take the information I gave him and persuade our allies of far-reaching implications of this global conspiracy.

<br><br>The roads were slick, plastered with Maple stars and gold and brown remnants of leaves. Normally I covet solitude and storms…and rain, with its geography of dark silence and distance, but these were far from normal times.

As I turned into the tree-lined streets near the university I watched students headed to lectures, kicking through waves of ankle -deep leaves. A feeling of nostalgia swept over me. I used to think a rainy walk through leaves would cure almost anything—now, I wasn’t so certain I would ever regain that lost innocence.

I hated what the cabal had done to us—and if the devil were involved, I hated him too and would gladly dismantle his kingdom brick by brick if I had the opportunity. If I prayed for anything, it was for this—a chance to go back—not to paradise regained, but a reasonable facsimile of normality.

<br><br>I parked my car just down the street from Breton’s office and reprised a familiar trek that reminded me of when I was a student. I was lost in the reverie and barely noticed the black limousine that silently glided up to the curb beside me.

The windows were blacked out but I noticed the car license plates. I saw they were government of Canada plates but unique—they weren't blue on white but white on red and the lettering read 001-CDA. Only ambassadors or heads of diplomatic missions had such plates.

The rear window rolled down and an older, white-haired man addressed me.

“Zach Shepherd, I'm Tszi Bieler. Father Breton sent me. We should talk."

The driver came round the vehicle and opened the door. I hesitated a moment and then thought, *What the hell*,  and  caved and climbed in beside the man.

<br><br>The white haired man spoke to his chauffeur, "Let's go the lake,  Ari―it's a misty day."

He was right, it would be foggy and deserted by the bay but a drive to the lake was the last thing on my mind.

“Father Breton felt I was the best one to assess your information, Zach, so I agreed to meet with you, on a confidential basis of course. Is that agreeable with you?"

"I have a lot of questions, Mr. Ambassador."

The older man chuckled. "Ah, so you *are* a very perceptive young man―just as the good Father said. Fine, I'll try my best to satisfy your curiosity.”

<br><br>The older man pointed to the valise I was carrying. ”Is that the dossier that Mr. Faraday compiled?” 

I nodded. “I’ve made copies of everything, so you’re free to take it.”

“I’d like to peruse it as we drive, if you have no objection?” 

I readily demurred and fell into a respectful silence,

<br><br>The ambassador evidently was a speed reader. In the half hour it took to drive to a secluded western beach he perused the entire document and then placed it in a diplomatic security safe beneath his seat.

“Excellent research on your friend’s part,” he observed, “ it confirms our own intelligence. Let’s talk.”

The limo rolled to a stop at the water’s edge and the older man rolled down the window and let the damp mist roll in and fill the car.

<br><br>”I love rain,” he murmured, “it reminds me of my childhood, living down here listening to the foghorns.”

As if on cue, somewhere in the distance two bass notes mournfully sounded.

“Will you be able to expose the cabal and their conspiracy —I mean, will this information help?”

The older man's eyes were bright with strange fire —they telegraphed determination... and quiet anger.

<br><br>“Mr. Faraday’s research is thorough and precise with times, dates and names—things that can be factually verified and hold up in a court of law. In a word, yes—these documents are a treasure trove of facts that will damn this conspiracy.”

“Do you anticipate any reluctance on the part of our allies to proceed with charges?”

“None whatsoever—I expect upon the inspection of these receipts for the world body to act expeditiously. But I must warn you, Zach—be careful. Even if we were to discredit the cabal tomorrow there would still be pockets of loyalists who consider themselves patriots. It may take months for local governments to root these dissidents out and round them up.”

<br><br> A half hour later I was dropped off back at my car and within minutes I pointed the SUV north in the direction of the cabin—a safe haven from storms—and home.

There was an emptiness inside me as if part of me was missing and I longed for Brooke and Angelica to be beside me sitting by the fire, talking and drinking coffee and simply being who we are.

Only one thing troubled me when I thought of coming home—I wasn’t sure yet which woman would forever satisfy that gnawing loneliness within me and fulfill all my needs. But the solution to that conundrum didn’t rest with them—it was buried deep inside me.

The ache for home and security burnt within me, along with my need for the small circle of flesh that surrounded and consoled me.
 


<br><br> <center>To be continued…</center>

<br><center>© 2021, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><center>[Photo](https://images.app.goo.gl/bWfQ2wWDw9Nm2nuD6)</center>
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