Gregory Rejean Gault, one of Winnipeg’s most eligible and handsome bachelors, had a well-deserved reputation for being elusive, guarded, and committed to one thing—his career as an investigative journalist. On the rare occasions when he wasn’t chasing down a story, he could either be found at the Canada Life Centre watching hockey or in the company of a series of beautiful women. That night in April, he had enjoyed both pastimes.
He and his latest girlfriend celebrated the Jets’ playoff win with a late-night dinner—lingering over drinks and conversation. When he pulled up to her apartment, they sat in the car for a long moment, sharing a lingering kiss in the glow of the streetlights. Their kisses were deep, filled with unspoken promises, but when she invited him up to her apartment, he hesitated.
“I’m definitely tempted, but I better not tonight,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She gave him a knowing smile. “You sure?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes. But I need to take my time with this.”
She nodded, running her fingers along his jawline. “I appreciate that.”
He walked her to the lobby of her building, watching as she disappeared into the elevator. As the doors closed, he let out a satisfied breath, then climbed back into his sleek black sedan, heading toward his high-rise bachelor apartment overlooking downtown Winnipeg. His place was everything a man like him needed—modern, stylish, and just messy enough to feel lived in. The kind of place that impressed dates but never felt too personal.
Before turning in for the night, he poured himself a drink and sat at his desk to check his email one last time. That’s when he saw it—the message from an anonymous sender with the subject line: Please Investigate This Story.
The email read:
From: Anonymous <Icareaboutthearctic@protonmail.com>
To: Gregory Gault <ggault@winnipegindependent.ca>
Subject: Please Investigate This Story
Attachments: [Encrypted] Power_Play.zip
Gregory,
We’ve never met, but I know you’re one of the few journalists who still follows the truth wherever it leads. I need your help. What I’m about to share with you is dangerous—people have already disappeared over this. I don’t know how much time I have before they find me, so read this carefully.
There is an operation underway to break Canada apart, piece by piece. Wealthy American and Russian interests, working through corporate fronts and government insiders, are orchestrating an economic collapse designed to force Canada into selling its western and northern territories. The goal? Control over Arctic trade routes, oil reserves, and rare earth minerals.
This is not a conspiracy theory. The documents in the Power_Play.zip file contain proof: financial transactions, internal memos, and intelligence briefings outlining their plans. Do not unzip the file until I send you the password via text. For your safety, do not share this with anyone outside of the Cree community—many in power are already compromised.
I need to meet you in person. If you’re serious about this, be at The Black Fox Tavern near Lake Athapapuskow in three days. Midnight. Come alone. I will find you.
Once you see the evidence for yourself, you’ll understand how deep this goes. But be warned—this isn’t just a story. It’s a war for the future of the North.
Stay sharp. Trust no one.
– A Friend
His first instinct was to dismiss it as just another paranoid email—every reporter received their fair share of conspiracy theories and political nonsense. But as his finger hovered over the delete button, he hesitated. The email’s warning about American and Russian interests dismantling Canada seemed too outlandish—except, with the chaos surrounding the upcoming U.S. elections, anything was possible.
He closed his laptop, deciding it was probably nothing. But something gnawed at him.
The next morning, just as he was finishing his coffee, his phone buzzed with a text.
Anonymous: Password: Gr1t!C4ll_R1dT1l
Gregory stared at the screen for a moment before opening his laptop again. He unzipped the Power_Play.zip file and began scanning the documents. As he read, his skepticism turned into uneasy realization. The files detailed a chilling conspiracy—financial reports, intelligence briefings, and emails between powerful figures confirming efforts to economically sabotage Canada’s northern territories.
His jaw tightened. It was insane—but what seemed to be proof was staring him in the face. Of course, the documents could be fake. But it might be interesting to check out. He just wouldn’t waste too much time.
Three nights later, he pulled up to The Black Fox Tavern, the neon sign flickering against the cold Manitoba night. The bar was a quiet, old-fashioned kind of place, nestled near Lake Athapapuskow, where locals came to drink and trade stories. Gregory took a seat in the corner, nursing a whiskey, eyes scanning the room. But no one approached him.
After waiting nearly an hour, he started asking a few discreet questions at the bar. That’s when he heard about Daniel LaChance, a Métis environmentalist who had been found drowned in the lake two days earlier. The police ruled it an accident. But locals weren’t so sure. Something was very wrong.
Determined to dig deeper, Gregory reached out to his mother’s relatives. His Cree heritage wasn’t something he often discussed, but he knew the community held knowledge outsiders couldn’t access. If there was any truth to these files—and any reason to suspect that LaChance’s death wasn’t an accident—he needed to know.
Through his mother’s relatives, Gregory learned that whispers about new roads and sudden construction in Nunavut had been spreading through the community. Outsiders were making deals, promising investments, but the locals weren’t convinced. Something was happening beneath the surface—something connected to the files he had received. And if Daniel LaChance had died trying to expose it, then Gregory had no choice but to continue the fight.
The next step was clear. He needed to find someone in the Cree community who could shed light on what was really happening in the North.
And he needed to find them before it was too late.
A Visit from Grace
Gregory had spent the entire summer unraveling the threads of a story that only seemed to grow darker with every discovery. The deeper he dug, the more he realized how far-reaching the conspiracy was—politicians, billionaires, energy moguls, and shadowy foreign interests, all working toward a singular goal: the slow, calculated dismantling of Canada’s sovereignty over its northern and western territories.
By the time September 29th rolled around, he was exhausted, running on caffeine and determination. The last thing he wanted was to pull his sister into this mess, but when Grace called to say she’d be in town for two days before heading to Thompson, he couldn’t say no.
When her little brother Reje Rabbit (Wapos), Grace’s nickname for her baby brother, picked her up at the train station, she immediately sensed something was off. Gregory had always been intense, but now there was a new weight in his eyes, a tension in his movements that hadn’t been there before.
They spent the next two days catching up—morning coffee at his favorite café, wandering through The Forks Market, and enjoying long walks along the Red River. Gregory cherished the time with his big sister, grateful for the rare reprieve from his work. It reminded them of when she used to visit him in Montreal, back when he was a student at Concordia.
At dinner one evening, Gregory finally spoke up. “I’m happy you’re going to Thompson to write, Grace. You need this. A fresh start, a new project—something that’s yours.”
Grace smiled, sipping her wine. “Yeah. It feels right. I feel like I need to be up north, closer to the land.”
“I’m glad,” Gregory said sincerely. “You deserve to be somewhere that isn’t tangled up with bad memories.”
Grace looked at him, unsurprised at his directness. She knew he was talking about Craig—the man who had tormented her, humiliated her, tried to destroy her self-esteem. She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Gregory clenched his jaw at the thought of Craig. That son of a bitch had terrorized her—threatening to release revenge porn, posting her home address in chatrooms, stalking her. The verbal abuse had been bad enough, but he had been after her inheritance, too. If Gregory had known everything that Craig had done to her during their marriage, he and his friends might have killed Craig. But she didn’t tell anyone, not him, her mother, or her closest friends. He only knew now because it all came pouring out after her mother’s funeral. Gregory wouldn’t let anyone ever put his sister through anything like that again.
As they sat on his balcony that night, Grace glanced over at him. “Just… be careful, Reje Rabbit,” she said. “I know how you get when you’re chasing a lead.”
He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Always.”
But deep down, he knew he was already in too deep.
What neither of them realized was that Grace had already been noticed.
By the time she boarded the train for Thompson, someone had already taken note of her departure.
She was on “the list” now.
She was in danger. And neither of them knew it yet.
The contents of Power_play.zip
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