12:30, November 11

Wind gusted in from all directions, carrying the rain in beneath the umbrellas. It was a cold, miserable day, but people weren't complaining about the hours they'd already spent standing outside in the rain. The contingent of veterans had been large despite the weather and people's hands still ached from applauding them on their way past the official viewing podium. And although the ceremony at the War Memorial had already concluded, people were waiting to get close enough to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to place their poppies on top of the tomb.

McKenna clutched his umbrella tightly as the wind caught it and threatened to rip it out of his hands. Although he'd placed a wreath at the War Memorial during the ceremony, he wanted to play a part in the impromptu display of respect that had arose the first year after the Tomb's unveiling. He made his way through the crowd, unpinning his poppy with his free hand. A few people recognized McKenna and moved aside, to let him have faster access to the Tomb. Of course, the recognition was aided by the red-suited RCMP officers that were tailing close behind McKenna.

Bending to set his poppy gently on top of the accumulated poppies, he bent his head for a second in another moment of thought. When he lifted his head, he found himself face to face with Brickhill and Cohen. He made a small gesture for the two to meet him off to the side, out of the crowd, and they nodded their agreement.

The three gathered in an open spot, not far from where the veterans had been seated during the ceremony. "It was a good ceremony," Cohen told McKenna. "Nicklason's rabbi was a nice touch."

"It was a Canadian Forces chaplain, not Nicklason's rabbi," McKenna corrected him. "Although the governor general did put in a special request for a Jewish chaplain at this year's ceremony. I didn't see the harm in refusing him. After all, Nicklason is our first Jewish governor general."

The two men nodded, looking at the crowd still around the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. "There's a good turnout this year," Brickhill noted solemnly.

"Have any of you seen Monaghan?" McKenna asked, looking around for his red-headed deputy. The hair made her easy to spot, but her height disguised that distinguishing feature in crowds. "She disappeared as soon as the ceremony finished."

"That's not like her," Cohen commented. He joined the prime minister in searching the crowd for her. They could have enlisted the help of the RCMP officers standing not far from them, but McKenna preferred to completely ignore his security detail, to the point of almost forgetting that they were there. The others followed his lead.

"I see Morceau," Brickhill said, waving the Defence Minister over to join them. "They were together during the ceremony. Maybe he knows where she disappeared to."

Morceau crossed briskly over to them. He was dressed as befitting a former military officer, his medals pinned in a double row across the side of his chest. He nodded briefly to each of the men, and today, the greeting was almost more of a salute than a mere acknowledgement.

"Did you see where Monaghan disappeared to?" Cohen asked after a second. Most days, they could almost forget that Morceau had been a serving officer not long ago. Today, dressed as he was, it was impossible to miss.

"She went with Montiforte to attend the noon Mass at the Cathedral," Morceau informed them crisply. His bearing always carried hints of his military service, but today, it was easy to see why he'd been recognized for distinguished service. He was every bit aware of his uniform as the others were.

"Do you know…"

"They were going back to the Hill after the Mass was over," Morceau broke in. "They weren't sure where you'd all be meeting, but that was their best guess."

"It's probably a pretty good guess, even though none of us have to be there,"

"Since when have any of us let that stop us?" Cohen demanded good-naturedly.

"Never," McKenna laughed. He looked at his watch. "If we order food now, it should be there by the time Monaghan and Montiforte get there."

"You do have a perfectly good chef back at Sussex Drive," Brickhill reminded him.

McKenna shrugged. "I like take-out," he protested. "Especially Chinese."

"I suppose that this is going to be a show of Cabinet solidarity?" Brickhill sighed.

"Damn straight," McKenna declared. "What's the point of having the big job if you don't get to make the important decisions?"