"I think we might wish to see a simultaneous Pacific response. It will be easier to handle, in the sense of disengagement."
"We are having problems with U.S. vessels in our Pacific salmon fisheries."
"We are having problems with every flag and vessel, including our own," the prime minister said tightly.
"I have matters under control."
"I know you do, Houghton." The prime minister was very quiet as his curled lips gradually resumed their normal contours. "Do you suppose Quebec could have acquired a submarine?"
"You would know more about that than I, Mr. Prime Minister."
"I would. But I do not. I imagine that I shall have to make inquiries. I would not excuse the French from poaching again. Your predecessor had difficulties with their fishing fleets, as I recall."
"Actually, that was my predecessor's predecessor."
"Of course." The prime minister's voice grew reflective. "Strange, is it not, that we live in times where the minister of fisheries and oceans should control such a potent portfolio?"
"I am equal to the task," said Fisheries Minister Houghton.
"Get right on it, Gil. I look forward to the coming news reports."
"Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister..."
IN HIS OFFICE overlooking Parliament Hill, Canadian Fisheries Minister Gilbert Houghton dropped the receiver into its hard plastic cradle and dry-washed his haggard face with both hands ....
The word from the PM was like a blow to the pit of his stomach. The Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles lay at the bottom of the North Atlantic. If true, it was a grave setback. That left only the Hareng Saur to conduct Maritime operations.
He went to the bank of windows that looked out over the Ottawa River and Quebec, soon to be an enemy province, if the infernal secessionists got their damn way.
Well, they would not get their damn way if Gil Houghton had anything to say about it. While the appeasers gave and gave and conceded all but sovereignty to a bunch of mumble-mouthed cultural rebels, true Canadians like himself would do what they could to hold the dominion together.
When the previous fisheries minister had resigned to become premier of Newfoundland, some said his successor Gilbert Houghton would-if he so chose-follow in his footsteps and ascend to the premiership of his native Nova Scotia. But that wasn't the plan. Gilbert Houghton had accepted the portfolio with a more important agenda in mind.
The immediate problem had been that of the Pacific salmon fisheries. In a bold stroke that garnered him international headlines, Gil Houghton did what his predecessor hadn't dared. He cut back severely on the British Columbia fishing industry. There were howls of protest, of course. But with so many cod men in the Atlantic provinces out of work, what could the salmon fishermen say? It was simply their time.
The reaction had been more strident than calculated, however. The bloody fools in Vancouver-Hongcouver, they were calling it now that all the Asians had swarmed in-were flinging secession talk about as if it were a casual thing. And the talk kept growing.
Gilbert Houghton realized he had a problem.
He found the solution on the Net, of all places. One day he received an invitation for a thirty-day free trial of a cybertalk forum with the tantalizing name of Mistress Kali's School for Corrective Action.
How someone had learned of his peculiar but well-concealed tastes, he didn't know. But the service was anonymous. No one would know, especially his wife. It was a godsend. Since attaining ministerial office, he had had to dispense with Mistress Fury's services.
Mistress Kali had accepted him into her cyberschool without hesitation. Soon he was growing hard at his desk and keeping a spare set of trousers in case of accidental emissions. Which happened often.
Before long he was begging for private sessions. These were granted ...eventually. She seemed to delight in denying him, and he delighted in the denial. It made the eventual fulfilment all that more exquisite.
He poured out his heart and secret soul to her.
"I want to be prime minister. That is my goal," he said one day while licking her yellow-painted toenails as she toyed with his testicles with the other foot.
"First you must take full control of the crisis on both coasts," she said.
"Those out-of-work fishermen will be my ruin."
"Give them work."
"I dare not reopen the fisheries," he said, switching feet. "I will be pilloried."
"They are sailors. Put them to work on your behalf. Are you not minister of oceans, as well as fisheries?"
"Yes."
"A minister of oceans should control his dominion. If there was a way to replenish the Grand Banks, would that not advance your career?"
"It would," he agreed.
Tucking the handle of her black whip under his chin, she said, "There is..."
And he listened. The technology existed. A phantom fleet could be assembled cheaply and secretly. And best of all, a scapegoat was ready-made, so the glare of blame would not fall upon Gilbert Houghton, minister of fisheries and oceans and secret supplicant of Mistress Kali, the most brilliant and ruthless tactician he had ever known.
But now, only months into the operation, the fleet had been cut exactly in half, with the loss of all hands.
Houghton knew that communicating this dire setback to his mistress must be the first order of business. And she was not going to be pleased.
Perversely he looked forward to her displeasure ....
THE OFFICE DESKTOP SYSTEM was always running. He would not want to miss her summons, should it come.
Bringing up his e-mail folder, Gil Houghton executed a quick communication.
To: Mistress Kali@yug.net
From: Commodore@net.org
Subject: Grave development
The PM has just called me. The Americans are claiming to have sunk a Canadian submarine, the Frog. The PM has asked me to initiate a stiff response in the Pacific. The loss of the Frog aside, this throws my plan into a cocked hat. How can we lay proper blame on Montreal through a Pacific action? No one would believe that. Not even the Yanks in Washington.
Adoringly yours, Gil.
After checking the spelling, he sent it. Mistress Kali detested poor spelling and denied her supplicants corrective punishment for such minor infractions.
An answer came very soon. Somehow Fisheries Minister Houghton was not surprised. It was as if the woman possessed multiple eyes that saw unerringly in all directions at once.
To: Commodore@net.org