COLD FRONT by GIC
Chapter 3: THE HEART OF CORRUPTION
Chapter 1: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM | Chapter 2: RISING TENSIONS IN VANCOUVER
The high-speed train to Ottawa felt like a slow-motion descent into a nightmare. As the rain-soaked countryside blurred past, Alex couldn’t stop replaying David’s cryptic warning, “The wolves are coming.”
Beside him, Aisha was quiet, scanning her phone for updates on Vancouver. The damage from the riot was worse than expected—several immigrant-owned businesses had been burned to the ground, and rumours swirled of more coordinated attacks in the coming days.
“We have to stop this,” she said finally, breaking the silence.
Alex nodded, gripping his bag tighter. “If what we have isn’t enough to blow this open, maybe Mark will.”
Mark Doucette was an old university friend who’d joined the Canadian Security Intelligence Service straight out of school. They’d lost touch over the years, but when Alex reached out, desperate for help, Mark responded immediately. His cryptic reply—“Come to Ottawa. There’s more at play than you realize.”—was enough to convince Alex that the capital held the answers he needed.
Mark’s apartment was in a nondescript high-rise overlooking the Rideau Canal. Inside, blinds were drawn, and the faint hum of a white noise machine filled the room.
Mark himself looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His dishevelled hair and dark circles gave him the appearance of someone constantly looking over their shoulder.
“Alex. Aisha,” he greeted, motioning them inside. “You’re both insane for coming here, you know that?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Alex said, dropping his bag. “What do you have?”
Mark handed him a USB drive. “Everything I’ve been able to dig up. True North Front isn’t just some fringe group. They’ve got Members of Parliament, CEOs, and media executives in their pockets. These people aren’t just complicit—they’re orchestrating this.”
Aisha frowned. “To what end? What’s the point of all this chaos?”
Mark’s voice was grim. “Destabilization. They want the government to declare martial law, which would give TNF-backed politicians and military leaders sweeping powers. Once the dust settles, they’ll reshape the country in their image—white, authoritarian, and corporate-controlled.
Alex plugged the drive into his laptop. The files were damning: encrypted emails between TNF leaders and Conservative MPs, financial records tracing donations from major corporations to TNF-affiliated donors, and internal memos outlining Operation Northern Dawn.
“This is enough to bury them,” Alex said, his hands trembling.
Mark shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The media’s compromised, and half the government won’t touch this. If you go public, TNF will discredit you—or worse.”
“They’ve killed one source,” Alex said, thinking of Peter Huang.
Mark’s expression darkened. “Then you know how far they’ll go.”
As night fell, Aisha sat cross-legged on the floor, poring over the files. Alex joined her, a knot of tension tightening in his chest.
“Look at this,” Aisha said, pointing to a dossier labelled “Key Operatives.” Frost’s name was at the top, along with his photo—a sharp-jawed man with piercing eyes and a practiced smile.
“What’s this symbol?” Alex asked, gesturing to a watermark in the corner of the page.
Mark leaned over his face grave. “That’s the insignia of Iron Maple Holdings. It’s a shell company used to funnel money to TNF. And guess who runs it?”
“Politicians?” Aisha guessed.
“Partly. But the real power is with the corporate elite—media moguls, tech billionaires, energy tycoons. They’re the ones bankrolling Frost and keeping his image polished.”
Alex’s stomach churned. “David’s working under Frost now,” he murmured.
Aisha’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”
Alex nodded, showing them a recent forum post signed by NorthernWolf88. It was an update on Operation Northern Dawn, but the closing words struck like a hammer: “Heading east to prep with Frost. Time to make history.”
Mark sighed. “If David’s that close to Frost, there’s no saving him.”
“No,” Alex said firmly. “He’s my brother. I have to try.”
Mark’s plan was risky: infiltrate a TNF gala scheduled for the following evening, where Frost and his corporate backers would gather. The event would be crawling with security, but it was their best chance to get a firsthand recording of Frost discussing Operation Northern Dawn.
The next evening, Alex and Aisha stood outside the Château Laurier, dressed to blend in. Alex wore a rented suit, while Aisha’s flowing black dress concealed a compact recording device in its seams.
“You ready?” Aisha asked.
Alex swallowed hard. “Not really.”
They entered the grand ballroom, where TNF’s elite mingled over champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Frost stood near the stage, shaking hands and smiling as if he were a statesman rather than the architect of chaos.
Aisha whispered, “I’ll get close to Frost. You stay near the exits in case things go sideways.”
Alex nodded, his heart hammering in his chest.
Aisha maneuvered through the crowd, weaving her way toward Frost. She engaged him in conversation, feigning interest in his rhetoric while the recording device captured every word.
Meanwhile, Alex lingered by the bar, his eyes scanning the room. He spotted David near the stage, talking to a group of young men. His brother looked different—harder, colder.
Alex couldn’t resist. He approached, his voice low. “David.”
David froze, then turned, his face a mask of shock and anger. “Alex? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to stop you,” Alex said. “This isn’t who you are.”
David’s jaw tightened. “You don’t understand. Frost is building something bigger than any of us. Something real.”
“He’s building a nightmare,” Alex snapped. “And you’re helping him.”
Before David could respond, a commotion erupted near the stage. Frost’s voice boomed over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a rat among us.”
Alex’s blood ran cold. He turned to see Aisha being dragged toward the stage by two security guards. Frost’s piercing gaze locked onto Alex.
“Ah, and here’s another,” Frost said with a smile.
The room erupted in chaos as Alex bolted for the nearest exit. David shouted something behind him, but Alex couldn’t make the words over the roar of the crowd.
He burst into the hallway, heart pounding, and ducked into a service stairwell. Footsteps echoed behind him as Frost’s men gave chase.
By the time Alex reached the alley behind the hotel, Aisha was waiting in a car, the engine running.
“Get in!” she yelled.
Alex dove into the passenger seat, and they sped off into the night.
Surprised, he asked, “How did you escape?”
“Later,” Aisha said, focusing on running away from TNF.
Back at Mark’s apartment, Alex paced furiously. “We failed. They’ll know everything now.”
Aisha held up the recording device. “Not everything. I got enough to prove Frost’s connection to Northern Dawn.”
Mark plugged the device into his computer, his face grim as Frost’s voice filled the room: “Northern Dawn will be the spark that cleanses this nation. When the smoke clears, Canada will be ours.”
Mark turned to Alex. “This is big, but they’ll deny it. And now, they know you’re here. You need to leave the city.
Alex slumped into a chair, exhaustion crashing over him. “Not without David.”
Mark’s expression darkened. “You can’t save him, Alex. You’ll die trying.”
Outside, the distant howl of sirens mingled with the soft patter of rain. In the heart of Ottawa, the wolves were circling.