Disclaimer: Everything Due South belongs to Alliance, but the story itself is mine.
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Fraser woke early. The sun was rising and the day was already promising to be another in a long line during the hot Chicago summer. Fraser once again found himself missing the cold, refreshing air of the Yukon, but he forced his thoughts away from the snow, knowing thoughts of that only brought back the last time he was at the cabin. He hadn't been back since she had left, unable to face the onslaught of memories that would undoubtedly await him upon crossing the threshold.
Dressing in his brown uniform, Fraser prepared for the day ahead. There was a consular event occurring at the weekend and Superintendent Nicholls had assigned the final arrangements to the constable. Fraser was glad of his friendship with Ray, not only for the companionship, but for the opportunity to do real police work as well. Though he loved the RCMP, he had to admit that he found the seemingly endless paperwork generated by the Consulate somewhat tiresome. It was a relief to be able to go out onto the streets of Chicago and feel like he was actually making a difference in somebody's life. To remember why he joined the Force in the first place.
Leaving his apartment, Benton Fraser walked the short distance to the Consulate, enjoying the relative quietness that the early morning brought to the neighbourhood. He was the first to arrive, as was usual, and had just finished disabling the alarm when the morning courier arrived.
"Good Morning, Jimmy," smiled the Mountie. "You're here early this morning."
"Yeah, it's my kid's birthday so I'm trying to finish early today, get home in time for the party. I didn't think you'd mind being the first call."
Fraser smiled again. "Not at all," he said, signing the required documents. "There you go. I hope the party goes well."
"Thanks man, see you soon."
"Goodbye Jimmy." Fraser watched the courier depart before turning his attention back to the just-delivered envelopes. They contained the normal batch of documents from Ottawa, though there was one addressed to him specifically. Puzzled, Fraser unwound the string holding the envelope closed. Drawing out the documents, he saw that it was an invitation to a conference in Toronto on an outreach programme aimed at youths. This only served to increase his puzzlement. Why would Ottawa suggest a member of the Chicago Consular staff attend a conference aimed at those based in Canada? Frowning, Fraser made a mental note to ask the superintendent when he arrived.
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As Ray arrived at lunchtime, Fraser was overseeing the final addition of decorations to the ballroom.
"Hello Ray."
"Hey Benny, how's it going?" Ray asked, inspecting the array of flowers and ornaments that had transformed the normally plain room into an indoor summer scene.
"Good Ray. The decorations are almost complete and the catering company are not due for another couple of hours."
"Cool, so you got time for lunch?"
"Certainly, although I should not be gone too long, in case the caterers are early." Fraser took one last look around the hall, deciding everything was up to inspection, before following Ray out of the Consulate.
During dinner, Fraser mentioned the invitation he had received.
"Apparently someone in Ottawa had heard of the scheme I helped set up at St. Augusta's Church and thought I might be interested in seeing how the Canadian counterparts are being run. It looks very interesting, Ray."
"I'm sure," Ray's voice held a hint of sarcasm. "Can't see why you wouldn't want to sit in on a load on windbags prattling on about how to change the lives of all those wayward Canucks. Who wouldn't?"
"Ray." Fraser's tone was reproachful. "These programmes really do make a difference."
"I know, I know." Ray held up his hand in mock defence. "I just don't understand why people feel the need to spend hours and hours lecturing others on the details, when they could just be getting on with it themselves."
"It's a mutual sharing of ideas and information, Ray, to stop everyone making the same mistakes and to find out what really makes a scheme like this work."
"OK, Benny, you enjoy you conference, I'm just glad it you and not me."
"Yes Ray." Fraser understood Ray's aversion to sitting and learning, the Italian in him made him more of a get-out-and-do-it kind of person. Fraser, however, was looking forward to it.
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As the days passed, Fraser had been unable to discover any more about Maxwell Developments. He knew that there were no Government buildings at the sites listed, but he didn't understand why the payments had gone through, or what would be gained from paying a contractor for work which was never completed.
He needed more details on who exactly was part of the deal. Jenna's father's name was definitely on more than one document, but who else would have reason to associate with the developers? The Government files were not something he was going to be able to access without a very good reason, something that, right now, he did not have. Maxwell Developments however, was different. They were a company and, as such, he should be able to trace their ownership and business dealings through channels that would cause no suspicion.
Research brought about a list of names for men that sat of the directors' board. Skimming the list, one name caught Fraser's eye. He was sure he recognised the name, but he couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was from one of the meetings Richards had scheduled. Searching through his file, Fraser could find no mention of an 'Edward Simmons' in anything relating to Maxwell Developments.
His brow creased in frustration. He knew he had seen that name somewhere, now if he could only figure out where. Sighing, he began to aimlessly skim through the file again, looking for something to tie Simmons to Richards. Suddenly he saw it. The name jumped out at him from the page he had been thumbing past. Stopping, moving back to the page, Fraser saw the reason he had not found the name immediately. The page he was on had nothing to do with Maxwell Developments. It was a copy of Governmental funeral attendees. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Edward Simmons was a Government official, but he was also on the board for Maxwell.
If the project was never actually carried out, then there would have been no workers to pay and no plant to hire, and if the company had been paid regardless of that, then there was a 100 profit on the investment – a profit that would have gone straight into the pockets of the various board members.
Fraser grabbed the list, comparing the names of the directors with those of any Government officials he could find. He found two other matches. That meant at least three people were in on the scam, if not more. The only question now was what to do with this information. Did he really have enough evidence to go to Ottawa with? Or would he simply be risking jeopardising the cover Meg had so carefully constructed?
Fraser sighed, leaning back in his chair. What was he going to do? He had worked so hard to solve this case for her, to bring her home, but when it came to it, he knew that these were powerful people. He risked losing everything if he moved too fast, but by the same token, if he moved too slowly and they got wind of his investigation, then he had no doubt that any evidence would be swiftly destroyed, leaving him in a worse position than he had started in, with no hope of ever ending this.
Closing his eyes, he thought again about her; her eyes, her lips, her passion, everything that made her who she was, and found himself missing her more than ever, knowing he was so close and yet so far.
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The days passed quickly and yet Fraser found no further evidence of the corruption that had destroyed the lives of so many. The conference in Toronto was upon him, and Fraser had made up his mind to use the resources there in an attempt to get further into the Government dealings. It would be harder to trace back to him, coming from Toronto as opposed to Chicago.
Stepping off the plane, Fraser hailed a taxi to take him from the airport to the hotel in which the conference was being held. The RCMP was putting up all of the attendees in suites within the hotel and had booked the seminar room for the two days the conference was scheduled for.
As he signed in and collected his key, Fraser relished the feeling of being home. It wasn't that he disliked Chicago, it was just nice to be back in Canada, with his own people.
Entering the hotel room, Fraser placed his pack on the bed, taking in his surroundings. The room was standard for a hotel, with a balcony that looked out across the city. Fraser picked up the itinerary for the conference, noting that the first speaker was on in a little under two hours. Deciding to take a walk before the conference started, Fraser left his room and headed out into the sunshine of the Toronto summer.
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