“Fourth quarter consolidated revenue is up 6.5 percent and annual revenue is up 5.9,” the woman said to the camera from headquarters in Edmonton. “Consolidated comparable sales are up 1 percent in the fourth quarter, and 2.5 percent the full year.”

“The company is in a strong position to continue with plans to open new outlets across the country, and proceed with our global expansion study,” said a man in the Calgary office.

The meeting moved on to other items. Before concluding, Torrie made one request.

“Is Kern there?”

“I’m here, Ms. Tullock.”

The face of a man in his fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair appeared. Kern Garland, a retired police commander and former justice department security advisor, headed corporate security, encompassing Tullock AgriCorp’s business practices, day-to-day operations, network security, human resources and physical security for the company’s seventy outlets.

“Kern, could we talk offline later? Call me at nine thirty, my time?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you, and thanks again everyone.”

Torrie sipped tea as night descended.

Toronto’s sparkling skyline was mirrored on Lake Ontario’s calm.

From her sixtieth floor condo she had a God’s eye view of the lights of the skyscrapers, the CN Tower, the domed stadium, planes landing and lifting off from Billy Bishop Airport in the heart of the city.

Setting her cup down, she returned to her study of confidential reports, photos, videos and sensitive information pulled from restricted databases for an unnamed security project that had been in the works for nearly a year now.

All promising, she thought.

Her phone rang. The time was 9:31 p.m.

“Ms. Tullock, this is Kern Garland.”

“Thank you for calling. What’s the status on the project?”

“I’m sure you can appreciate, this is extremely sensitive work.”

“Yes, I’m aware, Kern. Your point?”

“We’ve had some near compromises, one of them tragic. A subcontractor died in a car accident.”

“My condolences. Was it related to the project?”

“We’re not certain. It could’ve stemmed from personal issues.”

“I see. Where does that leave things?”

“We’re putting more resources on it.”

“Good. I don’t care about the cost. I don’t want the project halted. I want you to continue with the reminders, warnings and torment, as instructed.”

“We are.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the pictures. When we finish with the first target, we’ll move on to the others, one by one.”

“With respect to the others, we are in fact tracking movement that we believe suggests a potential reunion of sorts related to the anniversary.”

“How wonderfully opportune. I want to see this through. Whatever the cost. Whatever it takes. Is that understood?”

“It’s understood.”

“Keep me posted. Thank you, Kern.”

Pleased that the time for action was nearing, Torrie sipped tea and returned to a recent anniversary newspaper editorial, one she agreed with. She particularly liked the headline:

The Eternal Question In Eternity: Was Justice Done?

Torrie reread the item, absorbing the words: