Tom Brand Escapes

21-Escapes the City of M.I.

The drive to the marina took longer than expected. The holes on the back roads were so large that the car was in danger of disappearing into them. Jenn took to scanning the pavement to point out the smallest so they could maneuver around the largest. Once they returned to the main highway going into Saulte Ste Marie they were able to pick up their pace, but it was well over an hour before they arrived there.

Brand drove along the South Canal of the St. Mary's River and pulled over across from a neat red-brick building. There was a small school bus parked in front of it and slung over the railing flapping in the stiff breeze, a plastic banner that read "open" in large red letters.

Brand exited the car and Jenn followed closely on his heels. Despite the information she had, she was painfully aware of her current dependence on him. She was playing it as cool as she could but the shock of Russom's murder and the not so veiled threat on her life from Petras still had her rattled. She would like nothing better than to be snuggled in bed with Peter, feeling his heartbeat beneath her cheek. Once they were in Canada, she could turn the tables a bit and be on more equal footing. There, they needed her. Right now, with every step she furtively glanced around, expecting at any moment to be assaulted by an undetected assailant or inky flying bomb. Which is why, as they walked up to the door of this unassuming brick building, the sound of children's laughter was so gleeful and innocent as to be incongruous.

Brand pushed open the screen door and stepped aside politely to allow her to pass first into the cool dim light of the historic nautical museum. School children huddled around brightly lit displays of ship models and ran past them playing tag. Teachers and adults instructed, admonished and prodded forward simultaneously the two dozen or so kids from station to station. A few older folks, no doubt tourists, stood back from the melee awaiting their turn to view the exhibits, clucking their tongues and shaking their heads at the noisy scene.

Despite her diligence, in the commotion, Jenn did not notice the young man who sidled up next to her until he firmly took her by the elbow and began to direct her and Brand toward a blue door at the back of the room stenciled with the words "Staff Only" in neat gold letters. Alarmed, she pulled back but Brand caught her about the waist in a casual and reassuring way. They were just steps from the door when she realized the young man was speaking.

"...so as generous patrons, your tour begins with our collection under restoration which will not open to the public for another six months," he opened the door and ushered them quickly through.

Once through the door, the man locked it from the inside using a key from a ridiculously large ring that held numerous more of varied shapes and sizes. He noticed her staring at it.

"They say the larger the keys, the greater the power. But in my case, it's compensation – ay, Brand?" he slapped Brand on the back.

"I'd say there are few things you lack, Ripps," Brand said as the two men shook hands.

Ripps extended his hand to Jenn, "MacAvoy Ripps, it's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Slater."

So her name had preceded her, "It's Jenn, please."

"Sure thing. Call me Mac," Ripps said, grinning from ear to ear. He swept them forward with his hand, "I have the maps over here."

A large table inset with an interactive map displayed the entire river system, detailing the bay, locks, and currents as well as boat locations, launches and land geography. Ripps tapped on it and pulled up a weather map.

"Can you hold off twenty-four hours, Brand?"

Brand shook his head, "I'm afraid that's impossible."

"All right," Ripps said, "but I'm afraid we're in for some nasty weather starting within the next eight to twelve hours. That means there aren't going to be many other boats out there and the Coast Guard will be especially diligent."

"Will the Coast Guard buy you being out there?"

"I've been working in this area of St. Mary's River," Ripps made a triangle shape with his finger between Brush Point, East Sand Island, and Pointe Louise, "It's not unusual for me to be out there and my research privileges allow me to cross the border. I've located some objects that may be related to a Lake Superior shipwreck discovered a few years back that I'm rather obsessed with identifying and retrieving. What is unusual is that I'll be out there in a storm though I'm sure I can come up with something."

"The weather's a bit of a wrinkle, but it will have to do."

"It's more than a wrinkle, mate," Ripps swept his finger along the narrow channel of water, "Up to forty knot winds with rain are expected and the drop point is 400 yards offshore. I have scooters for you but in that surf it's going to be rough."

"Scooters?" Jenn asked.

"Sea scooters – personal propulsion devices," Ripps continued, "The drop point is south of this inlet at Pointe Louise," he indicated it with a twirl of his finger. "I can't get in closer with my boat – it's too shallow. The water is frightfully cold so even on a calm day, it's tough. With the waves buffeting you, it's quite a challenge. There's a small lighthouse on the shore peninsula. It's privately owned and maintained by a friend of mine, Charles. He's got a residence on the property, too. The beach faces the river but it's too rocky there. You'll need to go round the tip of the shore and come in here."

Ripps squashed the image with the palm of his hand and leaned against the table, "Are you sure this can't wait? Even though the scooters are easy to use – almost like toys, really – it would be better to have an in-water lesson with them. In this weather, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Jenn met Brand's eyes, "No," she said, "We have to cross today."

Ripps nodded, "What about Petras? He up to this?"

Brand rubbed his knuckles against his chin, "I'll speak with him. He's resting but we've had a rough couple of days. He'll stay over here, at least for now."

"Swell. He can help me load you two up, then."

"Load us up?" Jenn asked.

Ripps walked over to two metal cases. They were stacked atop each other and resembled stripped down, narrow coffins. He flung one open, "I use these for equipment. They are water tight but have small hatches that can remain open for air."

Jenn and Brand each took a look inside.

"Cozy," Brand said.

"How long will we be in these?" Jenn asked.

"Just a little while, till we're a ways out. Thereafter, you'll both stay within the cabin until we are ready to off-load you. Is there a problem?"

"Just claustrophobia. But getting in the water is fine."

After a quick look at one of the sea scooters, which Ripps assured them were as simple as toys to use, he escorted them back through the noisy museum. Before Jenn knew it, she and Brand were sitting in the car, her brain still processing the details of the plan and the task before them.

Jenn looked down at her hands. She still went rock climbing occasionally, but the tough callouses formed during her competitive days had softened. It had been a while since she'd had a tough physical challenge and she wondered how well she would perform. That was when she realized what had been nagging at her, "Her nails."

Brand's eyes narrowed, "Whose nails?"

"The woman at the motel. When she held up her hands – 'ten," Jenn mimicked the motion, "She had a fresh French manicure. Her nails were perfect. Where is there even a nail salon around here?"

Manicured nails. This area was hardscrabble but the woman at the motel was no ditch digger. Still, running a general store, gas station, and motel would leave one little time for self-pampering. There was probably nothing to it, but Brand pressed down on the pedal to pick up the pace back to Petras.