Author's note: An updated edition of this book has been republished in three books UNDERCOVER - DARK FIRE DATA, CURIOUSERS and STEAM POWER.
It's Christmas and the school's time machine malfunctions, sending us to 1778 CE where we are press-gan...
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Author's note: An updated edition of this book has been republished in three books UNDERCOVER - DARK FIRE DATA, UNDERCOVER - CURIOUSERS and UNDERCOVER - STEAM POWER.
It was the week before Christmas and all through the bus nothing was stirring . . . except for a click-click-clicking as Beryl assembled her Uzi automatic pistol.
Beryl was one of Grandma's weird friends, a small, wrinkled woman with orange hair. She had overheard me asking Grandma if I could go see the Christmas decorations on Parliament Hill with Licia and Miguel and she had invited herself along as a body guard. Grandma had thought that funny but she didn't know Beryl really was riding shotgun, with a 9 mm machine gun in her shopping bag. She had used it the week before, trying to protected me from an assailant, but she also needed to check her beaver traps and was worried about the beavers counter attacking.
Luckily, we were the only passengers on the OC Transpo bus heading to Parliament Hill. Everyone else was sensibly shopping or at home wrapping Christmas presents.
Licia, Miguel and I had shared some weird adventures recently although we were unlikely friends. Licia was of Chinese descent with dark eyes, glasses and shoulder length black hair. Miguel claimed Scottish, Spanish, Amerindian and African ancestors, which explained his dark skin and frizzy black hair. My northern European ancestry was evident from my pink, freckled skin, blue eyes and curly blond hair.
We were dressed like typical Canadian teenagers, blue jeans, sweaters and running shoes. Our only concessions, to the light snowfall and minus ten Celsius temperature, were our hooded parkas. Beryl wore an unfashionable orange leather coat and a head scarf tied over a Ottawa Senators ball cap. She sat at the back of the bus and we pretended she was not with us.
It was almost dark when the bus stopped at Bank and Wellington. I had never seen Canada's parliament buildings before, so Licia had decided it was the right time.
We got off the bus opposite an imposing stone gateway with a large, ornate cast-iron gate. On the steep slope behind it, a grey stone edifice loomed up against a gloomy sky, the West Block. Elaborate spires, topped with a cobweb of cast iron tracery, stabbed into the low scudding clouds.
The federal government parking lot was covered in fresh snow unmarked by tire tracks. It was deserted except for a snow covered Royal Canadian Mounted Police cruiser and a red van with ladders on top. Lettering on the side advertised Broad Band Bundles - digital TV - home telephone - Internet - wireless - 15% off.
'Typical,' Beryl huffed, 'the Mounties are all down at Tim Horton's scarfing Christmas donuts and the Broad Band bundlers are standing in for them instead of fixing cables. Oh, Canada, who's standing on guard for thee! Those Global Economy biker gangs could invade at any moment.'
