The High Road (29 page)

A Montreal area banker and sophomore M P, Emile Coulombe, was named Finance Minister. Now that was somewhat unexpected – and not in a good way. I’d watched him for the previous few years and still hadn’t divined why he even considered himself a Liberal. Fiscally, he was about as progressive as Milton Friedman. Politically, he reminded me of General Franco after he’d passed through his kinder, gentler phase. The joke around Ottawa was that Coulombe was so right wing, he’d been known to drive the long way home around the block just to avoid ever having to turn left.

“Well, the PM must feel he owes Quebec big time to give Coulombe Finance,” Lindsay observed.

“All this repaying of supposed favours is a damnable way to run a country,” snapped Angus. “Is merit such an outdated concept?”

“Angus, merit is a very important driver in many fields of endeavour. Unfortunately, politics isn’t one of them and never has been. Paying off political debts with plum appointments is as old as democracy itself. How do you think Brutus landed the gig that got him close enough to Caesar to run him through?” I replied.

“Well, from what I’ve read about Coulombe, he’s a more ardent proponent of tax cuts than any of the previous four Tory finance ministers,” Angus continued. “That’s all we need when we’re trying restore infrastructure spending. What’s he like as a person?”

“He’s tough, partisan, and as ambitious as they come. And he has the sense of humour of a cadaver, but without as much warmth.”

“So what’s next, now that the Cabinet is set?” Lindsay asked.

“The PM should announce dates for the Throne Speech and Budget in the next day or so,” I explained.

“Which doesnae leave us much time to pull Mr. Coulombe’s head from his hindquarters so he can earmark some money in the Budget for infrastructure renewal,” added Angus.

“Yep. And I’m sure Emile Coulombe will be only too thrilled to meet with us. I figure I may have to call in air cover from the PMO to make it happen.”

The next morning, the PM announced the Throne Speech for Monday, February 24 with the Budget to come three days later on Thursday the 27th. He had the foresight to note that given the very tight timelines, there would be no glossy printed versions of either document, just simple and clean word-processed printouts. This would allow us to make changes right up to the last minute, flexibility that the new government wanted and needed. I liked this approach. I was not a fan of the trend in recent years towards producing something so glossy and over-designed that it was more like a coffee-table book than a federal Budget. It seemed as much time and money were spent designing and laying out the document as were committed to creating the content. This routinely led to ridiculous exchanges in the corridors of power like “I have no idea what the Canadian Pension Plan claw-back provisions for the wealthy are all about, but did you see that amazing cover? It was stunning!”

Angus and I had been sequestered in our Centre Block office finalizing the outline for what had come to be known as the McLintock Report, when news of the Throne Speech and Budget dates broke.

“That’s in just over a fortnight,” Angus noted. “And the Throne Speech will be read even before we’re to submit our findings on the 26th. We can’t expect our report to influence the blasted Budget if the Finance Minister only sees our report the day before.”

“Realistically, the Budget will be put to bed at least two or three days before it’s read in the House on the 27th,” I replied. “So we have even less time to influence the Throne Speech and Budget. We have to move now.”

“We need a meetin’ with Emile Whoozits right now, today,” said Angus. “We’ve got to get our infrastructure oar churning in his waters before he types up his Budget. I say we wander over there right now and camp out in his office till he agrees to meet with us.”

“You’ve never met Emile Coulombe, have you? He’s prickly enough already, so ambushing him in his own office won’t help our cause,” I counselled. “Let’s at least start by trying to set something up with his office for today in the more conventional way.”

I reached for the phone.

“Jean-Guy Duguay,
s’il vous plaît
,” I said in my best high school French accent, and waited.

“Jean-Guy Duguay,” said a voice after a moment.

“
C’est
Daniel Addison,” I opened. “Congratulations, J-G.”

“Tank you, Daniel,” he replied. “What is it that you need? We are in the soup over here.”

I assumed that being “in the soup” meant that they were busy, but I chose not to seek confirmation.

“I figured your guy would be up to his eyeballs giving interviews and buying a new pair of shoes to wear when he reads his Budget.”

No reaction beyond heavy breathing so I just continued.

“You know I’m with Angus McLintock and that we’re doing this bridge investigation thing. Well, we desperately need half an hour of your minister’s time, preferably today. It’s related to his upcoming Budget.”

“Daniel, Emile hasn’t even met his Deputy Minister yet and he’s with the PM right now to talk about the Trone Speech and Budget. We’ve got no time to meet with backbenchers. I’m sorry,” Jean-Guy replied.

“No problem. Another time. Gotta go, Jean-Guy. Nice talking to you,” I said as I hung up.

“Angus, let’s go,” I urged even before the phone was back in its cradle. “Coulombe is at the PMO right now. So we’re back to your ambush strategy.”

We headed out the door.

“If Coulombe gets his way, his first Budget won’t take long to write,” I said as we headed for the PM’s Centre Block office at a pace just shy of a jog. “With his near-libertarian outlook, he’ll want to cut taxes and cut spending.”

“Aye, that’s what I fear,” Angus replied. “Emile Coulombe, eh. I wonder if he’s related to Charles-Augustin de Coulomb?”

“Friend of yours?”

“Ah, no. I’d like to have spoken to him, but he died in 1806. He defined the electrostatic force of attraction and repulsion, in the 1770s.”

“Gee Angus, I can’t understand why I haven’t heard of him.”

“You know, sarcasm really doesnae become you,” he observed. “Anyway, politics is all about attraction and repulsion.”

We burst into the PM’s office and nearly collided with Bradley Stanton.

“Whoa, Danny boy. Where’s the fire?”

“Hey, Bradley. Well, the fire we’re looking for is probably crackling away in the PM’s office right now,” I replied. “Have you got Coulombe in there?”

“Yep. I just came out. He’s just wrapping up with the PM. Why?”

“Bradley, we need ten minutes with the PM and Coulombe. It’s not just urgent, it’s important,” I implored.

“Aye, young Mr. Stanton,” Angus added. “If they’re yammerin’ about the Throne Speech and the Budget, we need in on that chinwag. It’s about the wee bridge trouble.”

Bradley looked at us for a moment as if trying to decide whether to take the red pill or the blue one. Eventually, he slapped on a look of resignation.

“You’d better not make me regret this, ’cause if this comes back to bite my ass, I’m coming after yours,” he intoned with his
index finger on my sternum.

He turned to the ornate wooden door, knocked softly, and went in, closing it behind him. Angus and I looked at each other. I quickly brushed sawdust off his shoulder and pointed to what I thought might be just a piece of whitish fluff in the lower left quadrant of his beard. Angus wrestled with it for a moment before wrenching it free.

“I wondered where that had gone,” Angus said as he wrapped it in a piece of scrap paper from his pocket and tossed it in a wastepaper basket. “’Twas just yesterday’s gum.”

“You know, as far as I can tell, most people toss their gum in the garbage after chewing it,” I chided. “I hope your new beard-based storage technique doesn’t catch on.”

“You’re just a perpetual laughter machine, you are,” he replied as Bradley cracked the door open again and waved us in. “Remind me to give you a good thrashing on the board tonight,” Angus whispered as we entered the PM’s office.

I heard Angus inhale sharply as we both marvelled at the beautiful wood-panelled office. If Chief Engineer Scott in the Transporter Room beamed you there without your knowledge, you might well guess you’d arrived in the Prime Minister’s office. It just looked like it was designed with a head of state in mind. Wood and windows dominated the room. There was a fireplace, but no fire. The desk was really more of a large wooden table with an ornately carved base. There were hardwood floors underfoot. I wondered whether the PM met with the lumber lobby in that office. It would make sense. Building the PM’s office alone would have kept the nation’s loggers in plaid flannel shirts for months.

“I know. It’s stunning, isn’t it?” said a smiling PM. “Gentlemen, welcome. Angus, let me introduce the Honourable Emile Coulombe. Daniel, you already know the Finance Minister, I trust.”

I nodded as Angus stepped forward and extended his hand to the newly minted minister. Coulombe didn’t even stand up and
looked as if he were fighting the act of offering his hand in return. His short and shiny brown hair was plastered flat to his head, making it look painted on. Although he wore round gold-rimmed glasses from the John Denver collection, there was certainly no “Sunshine on My Shoulder” happening, let alone “Rocky Mountain High.” Instead, he looked like he’d rather Angus and I were “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” He looked peeved and well on the way to pissed.

“Prime Minister, we have only a short time together. Is this interruption necessary?” Coulombe asked with only a slight French-Canadian accent.

“Emile, we’re all on the same team here,” soothed the PM. “Angus is undertaking a very important task on behalf of the government, and there may well be implications for the Throne Speech and Budget.”

“I doubt it, Prime Minister. The formulation of the Budget is already well underway, as we have previously discussed,” Coulombe replied, shaking his head.

“I’m heartened you have such an open mind about our work,” Angus said through a forced smile. “Will you be good enough to hear me out?”

Coulombe looked past Angus and waved his hand in surrender.

“Please proceed, Angus. What have you to report?” asked the PM.

“I’ll be brief, Prime Minister,” Angus started. “When we submit our report on or before the 26th, it will present in considerable detail four simple and inescapable conclusions. First, the Alexandra Bridge collapsed because Infrastructure Canada did not and could not honour the recommended inspection and maintenance schedule. Second, we have evidence that virtually all of our national infrastructure has been similarly neglected. Third, two decades of underfunding in the name of deficit reduction have left our roads, bridges, and ports cracked and crumbling from coast to coast to coast. And finally,
only steady and systematic investment in our national infrastructure over the next decade will ensure that the collapse of the Alexandra Bridge was a solitary calamity and not the first in a series of dangerous failures. I cannae make it any clearer than that.”

“You’re not telling us that we started all of this twenty years ago when a Liberal last occupied this office?” Bradley Stanton was leaning forward intently.

“Aye, that’s exactly what we’re saying,” replied Angus. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, we’ll just see when we decide to start the clock on all of this. I have a feeling all of this started about sixteen years ago.”

“I don’t think so, laddie, the evidence is incontrovertible.”

“So what does it all mean, Angus?” the PM asked. “What do you need?”

“Well, I’m new to all of this, but in discussion with Daniel here, it seems to us that we need a commitment to rebuild Canada’s infrastructure in the Throne Speech and then enough funding in the Budget to honour the promise credibly and legitimately,” Angus proposed.

“And don’t forget the significant economic stimulus that a major public infrastructure investment will yield,” I added.

The PM and even Bradley seemed to be listening. The Finance Minister clearly was not.

“
Impossible!
” Coulombe said in French before switching. “It simply cannot happen. What little money we have is spoken for already. We will be spurring the economy through tax relief to businesses and individuals. We will not be spending precious tax dollars on bridges and ports that already exist. There is no short-term political benefit in tightening a few bolts and repainting bridges that are decades old. May I remind you that we are a minority government? We simply cannot afford to waste our resources on something as boring as concrete and steel. Now if you’ll excuse me, Prime Minister, I have another Budget briefing to attend.”

With that, Canada’s Finance Minister rose without even acknowledging our presence and left the room.

“Warm and friendly lad, he is,” said Angus after the door closed.

“He is somewhat set in his ways and rather driven by ideology,” the PM observed.

“Aye, but I’d have thought it might at least be a more liberal ideology driving him,” Angus concluded.

“I’ll see about adding something to the speech,” the PM said. “Perhaps Daniel might craft something and send it to Bradley. I don’t know how precise we can be, but we must say something about the damn bridge.”