Albertan Apocalypse: The McKinley Chronicles 1 by John Keillor

Author:John Keillor [Keillor, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“There,” Zach said, pointing. “Those paired bridges lead to 9th Avenue. The big road running perpendicular is Macleod Trail. Two blocks west of that is where we’ll land.”

“That’s dangerous!” whined the pilot. A scab had formed on his face, cheek to cheek and across his nose, with tiny tears of blood on it.

“So?” asked Zach. “So am I.” 9th was four lanes wide, with almost no traffic. The landing went fine. There weren’t any cops in sight, though Calgary’s police presence was normally high.

McKinley and Rachel entered the Fairmont, reporting to the concierge that the mayor awaited them. Mehta agreed to meet them immediately. Hotel staff offered to hold on to Zach’s M4 until after, which he accepted.

Business-suited bodyguards escorted them to a conference room where their host arrived a minute later, with another smart-dressed bodyguard and that littler chap who was built like the mayor and took notes.

“Hello Ms. Coe,” said the mayor. “Welcome to Calgary. Stay here for the next few days as we sort things out. Please follow my man, who’ll show you to your suite.” Rachel stood on tip toe, kissing Zach on the cheek, before leaving with the mayor’s burly assistant. “Pretty girl,” remarked Mehta. “Now, Mr. McKinley, what can you tell me?”

He spoke of the cartel, its alleged entry point from Churchill, the Russian desertion, and progs providing intel.

Zubin nodded. “Edmonton’s hot. How soon can we ship you there?”

“I have six gunshot wounds,” said Zach, “three of which are untreated.”

The mayor blinked. He told his smaller assistant, “Send word to Mrs. McKinley that Zach’s on his way. Take him to Chumir Centre for immediate priority treatment, then shuttle him home. Order a driver to bring him here tomorrow morning.” The secretary nodded and left the room.

Now it was just Zach and Zubin, alone.

“Was there any romantic intercourse between you and Miss Coe?” asked the mayor. McKinley said no. “Good. Natives don’t want us manhandling their women.”

“What’s this political thing among the tribes?”

“Infighting, but it’s settled.”

“Heard we lost a citizen there.”

The Mayor looked at Zach sharply. “Ms. Coe tell you that?” McKinley wagged his head up and down. “Prog misinformation is a suspected factor.”

“They must have a base of operations. The assumption is it’s Vancouver.”

“Officially, it’s not. But yes, it is. They helped set BC tribes against ours. But Vancouver City Council has little influence outside the city, so we can’t say for sure yet if they’re in cahoots. Calgary’s the only town with full provincial reach.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oil being all the way up in Fort Mac means we have to control everything from there to here and all points in between.” The mayor paused. “What feelings toward Calgary did Ms. Coe express?”

“None,” Zach said. “My impression is that, in her personal life, we’re not a factor.”

“Good. Friendly coexistence works that way.”

A driver took McKinley to the hospital. Dozens of other men were being treated for gunshot wounds. Chumir Centre was clean and well organized.

“Where y’all been fighting?” he asked a fighter on a bed beside his.

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