Free The High Road by Terry Fallis Page A

much news there after we ran his news conference story this morning.”
    “I think it’ll be worth your while to be there. And I’d have your camera with you if I were you. The meeting is in the community centre but I think you’re going to want to be outside, on the shore beneath the meeting room window. And don’t be late or you’ll miss it.”
    “I hear you. Is any other journo getting this message?” André asked.
    “Nope. It’s all yours,” I confirmed. “And André?”
    “Yo.”
    “Thanks for not splashing my abominable snowman shots from the news conference all over the front page. I’m sure you got some great photos that I’ll gladly take off your hands.”
    “Well, I don’t make the photo calls, the editor does. But, you know, she can only choose from the shots I provide. You’re welcome. It looked like you’d had quite a morning. But I think I’ll hold onto the pics just the same, in case Angus wants them for his next newsletter.”
    ——
    On Wednesday afternoon we all gathered in the Panorama Room of the Cumberland Community Centre. Like most Cumberland buildings on the shore of the Ottawa River, the Panorama Room had a wall of windows overlooking the ice. The clear sky let the sun stream in, warming the room. In the previous two days, the membership of the Cumberland-Prescott Liberal Association had swelled from five to nearly sixty. Most of them showed up for the meeting. Forty-five of the new members lived next door with Muriel in the Riverfront Seniors’ Residence. We’d chosen the community centre for the nomination meeting to make it easier for our elderly contingent of staunch McLintock supporters to be there. By the time of the meeting, no other candidates had filed nomination papers so the path was clear for a McLintock coronation.
    I armed Muriel up to the microphone and retreated to the back of the room.
    “Friends, we have a historic opportunity in this campaign to end, once and for all, the Conservative stranglehold on Cumberland-Prescott. Many have argued that it was a fluke, an aberration, a violation of the natural order that our Angus McLintock won this seat last time around. If we’re honest with ourselves, perhaps it was a twist of fate. But this time, let’s make it real. Let’s stop the Tory juggernaut in its tracks and send honest Angus McLintock back to the House of Commons.”
    At this point, Muriel gave me a subtle nod before continuing to whip up the crowd. I slipped out the back door and dialled Angus’s cellphone as the prearranged signal. Angus briefly answered and then ended the call. I stepped back into the room, and seconds later, through the window, I could hear an engine turning over.
    “Back where he belongs. Angus McLintock brought down a deceitful and duplicitous government when against all odds, he made a courageous journey up the frozen river to cast his vote – the very vote that broke the deadlock and brought theTories to their knees. Friends, out on that same river, I give you Angus McLintock, the Member of Parliament for Cumberland-Prescott.”
    Muriel stepped aside and cast a trembling hand towards the window. All eyes turned towards the river. But all we saw was ice. All ears, even the many with hearing aids, could now hear an engine struggling to start. It would sputter to life, idle briefly, and then die out. After a pause, the engine sprang to life again and revved at what sounded to me like full throttle. Uh-oh. Even I knew that full throttle probably wasn’t the way to go.
    An instant later
Baddeck 1
shot along the ice from behind a point of land to the east. The crowd creaked to its feet and cheered. I couldn’t see Angus in the cockpit where he normally resided when driving the hovercraft. Then I saw why. He was being dragged across the ice by the hovercraft as he clung for dear life to the stern rope. He managed to look our way and raise a hand in a feeble greeting as he hurtled out of sight beyond an outcropping of rock to the