TWO HOURS LATER, Daniel and Claire sat silently, sipping their coffees at the Tim Hortons that was crammed into one corner near the hospital’s main entrance. The doctors told Daniel to wait a bit to see if he suffered any other symptoms of a concussion before leaving. In his mind, he replayed the last seconds before the explosion. He tried visualizing the explosive device. It was tucked into a small bag in a garbage can. Hidden from view. No one noticed it there. Probably a bag with some cute logo, people walking right beside it. Until someone opened the lid and glanced in before tossing their trash into the can. Claire had spotted it with only minutes to spare.
The other three customers at the café didn’t talk. They watched the television over the lunch counter where a news presenter sat in Victoria Park, surrounded by an image of the carnage. A large CBC headline read “Terror Attack in Halifax.” Daniel and Claire moved to a table close to the TV so they could hear. He ordered a ham and cheese sandwich, two chocolate dip doughnuts, and another large coffee. The server at the cash noticed their rapt attention and turned up the volume on the television.
… RCMP and Halifax Emergency Response Teams have isolated the scene that, around noon today, tragically turned from a protest march into mayhem and death. Police confirm four p eople were pronounced dead at the scene. The army has been asked to guard critical infrastructure. The Halifax Infirmary has treated thirty-three casualties. They warn that they have implemented their mass casualty protocol and will not accept any Emergency patients for the time being.
Daniel noticed in the video many more police in the background, including several holding automatic weapons. Some soldiers in battle gear milled about. It must have been taken not long after he and Claire had left for the hospital.
“We have political commentator Phil Robertson from Ottawa on the line. Mr. Robertson, how do you respond to today’s event in Halifax?”
A bald, middle-aged man with a bushy moustache protruding from an otherwise unremarkable face stared into the camera. His eyebrows strained to show how serious he was. “It’s a real tragedy. These were people assembled to march in support of the Alberta vote on Monday. We don’t know how many were killed or injured.”
“We just heard that there were four people killed. Are you saying they were deliberately targeted?”
“Clearly, yes. Only a few days earlier there was a counterdemonstration at the exact same place.”
“Are you suggesting there was a connection between the two demonstrations besides one supporting and one against the vote?”
“It seems like the most likely conclusion.”
“A deliberate attack from one group on the other?”
“It was murder. Worse, terrorism. This was a terrorist attack on Canada. They don’t want the referendum to happen. They’re scared about a Yes victory.”
“But why attack Halifax? It’s pretty much the farthest place from Alberta. The march was small, less than a hundred or so. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to stage such an attack in Toronto or even Edmonton, where more people would notice?”
“The target seems obvious. Last night, as you know, the Yes side announced a series of speeches across the country to explain their message to Canadians. The first speech will be delivered tonight at the Scotiabank Centre. There is a lot of media attention. Whoever targeted them knew exactly when to strike. Everyone would be watching.”
“What are you saying?”
“We have to ask ourselves who’d benefit most from a disrupted pro-independence rally?”
Daniel saw his meal waiting on the counter, and he suddenly felt the instinctive urge to eat. He focused on the food, leaving the interview to dissolve into a background of noise. Whatever happened next, he needed to be well fed. His instructor yelled in his memory: How can you fight if you’re too hungry? Eat when you can. The sandwich was gone in four bites. He ordered another.
Claire got a sandwich and a doughnut, stirred her coffee with her good hand, and stared at the carnage on the screen.
Daniel thought that the reporter posed the right question: Who would benefit from bombing a pro-Yes rally? It was a cowardly act. All they had to do was to put a simple bomb in a bag, leave it at the statue in Victoria Park, and push a button. Garth killed his father. And he suspected that he would kill his own supporters just to discredit the No side. He shuddered in repulsion. Can Garth be so cold and heartless?
There was only one way to be sure. It was time to end this. He needed to talk to MacKinnon.