by Murray Segal
“Impressive,” exclaim I. “It reminds me of a small factory, way out in the open.”
“It is just like that and seems to get more involved as we grow the business into what we hope will be a full-time endeavor for us.”
We walk around the farm for an hour while they show us everything. I take a few pictures even though pictures of trees won’t be very exciting. I make sure I have one of the Kings examining some of the collection system.
“I’m going to prepare a draft of the article and let you review it before it’s published. I’d like to have your comments, so don’t be bashful.”
“We won’t and we will be looking forward to seeing it. Thanks so much for coming out here. I hope you will come back next year when we are fully operational to see how all this stuff works.”
“We would be delighted. Thanks for letting us look around the place. Bye now.”
“Bye.”
As we leave I suggest a diversion to Silvia.
“I think we need some more shooting practice, so why don’t we drive up to Big Al’s and get in some time?”
“Why not? I could use a different environment for a few hours.”
“Guns and shooting are certainly different. Are you getting to like them?”
“Maybe a little. One day I may have to protect myself from a jealous husband.”
“Really?”
“Just kidding dope. I love you dearly and always will. “
“We head back to Presque Isle and then north toward AL’s place without stopping at the apartment.”
We are greeted by AL inside the shop where he is waiting on a customer.
“Be with you folks in just a few minutes.”
“How you doing? Just take your time, we are not in a rush.”
He finishes up with the customer in another 10 minutes. He makes a sale, deposits a check in the cash register and wishes his customer well and turns to us.
“How are my newest sharp shooters?”
“We’re good Al. We wanted to get in a few hours of practice. Ok?”
“There’s nobody out on the range and I don’t expect anyone. Go ahead, load up with ammo and go shoot as much as you want. Is anything wrong? Have the bad guys made any progress in finding you?”
“Not as far as we know. We just finished up an assignment for a feature story on a major maple syrup producer over in Easton. Neither of us wanted to go back to our offices on such a lovely day. So here we are. We’ll try to sharpen up a bit and then maybe take a short hike in the woods if there is enough daylight left.”
“Hey, if there isn’t enough light left for the hike this afternoon, you could stay overnight at my cabin out in the woods and do it in the morning before you go back.”
“Really. Silvia?”
“Sounds like fun. I’m on board.”
“Good. Come on outside and I will show you how to get there.”
Outside he points out a narrow path that goes into the woods.
“It’s out thataway about a mile or so. It’s a log cabin and the only one there at the end of the path. Make yourselves at home. You’ll find it stocked with beds and blanket and pantry with all kinds of canned goods. I think I left some eggs in the fridge. Unfortunately, there is no woman’s underwear anywhere near the place.”
“I see you have a powerline strung out that way. Does it go all the way to the cabin?”
“Yes. It does. You guys let me know when you are finished shooting.”
“We will. For sure.”
By the time we are finished, daylight is waning.
“I’m glad we aren’t going to drive back to PI tonight. A night in a log cabin off in the woods sounds very romantic to me.”
“It does to this wimp as well. Let’s pay Al for the shooting and get over to the cabin before it gets dark.”
After I’d paid our bill, I thank Al and ask him if I can’t pay him for the use of the cabin.
“After all, if we couldn’t stay here we’d be looking for a motel.”
“Not a chance. Get out there to the cabin and have a relaxing and refreshing night in the Aroostook wilderness”.
“Complete with electricity. Thanks, and see you in the morning. Oh, by the way, could I pull the car around back of the shop so no one can see it and be tempted to steal it?”
“No problem. Leave me the keys and rest assured it will be safe. I’ll be here and up early so don’t worry about waking me. Take care.”
“Actually,” I tell Sylvia, “I wasn’t worried about the car but the MDTW in the back seat.”
The trail out to the cabin turns out to be on a gentle incline most of the way.
“You know if it were not for the power line I might get lost out here. How are you doing? Ok?”
“I’m fine. Keep going.”
As we approach it, the cabin presents itself exactly as you might expect. Rustic probably describes it as well as any word. The door is unlocked and the interior is one large room with a kitchen in the far-left corner, a sleeping area (just a bed) in the far right and a living/dining area across the front.
“Look at that huge stone fireplace. I wish it were colder so we could start a fire.”
“Somehow, I think you wouldn’t like being in this place if it were cold, sweet wonderful woman.”
“Right. Climbing that trail in the snow probably wouldn’t be a lot of fun, either.”
After checking out the fridge and the canned goods on several shelves, we decide on a meal of canned clam chowder followed by baked beans and hot dogs. No TV here, so after we eat we sit outside on the porch and listen to the quiet sounds of the forest. Quiet that is until there’s a loud thrashing around in the brush off to our left.
“What the hell is that?”
“Silvia. I think that might just be a bear. What do you say we get our butts inside?”
“I saw a bear once in a zoo, so I’d rather not see one here,” she says as we quickly go inside and close the door. “Do you think he could break down the door?”
“Nah. Not a chance,” say I in what I hope is a strong and certain voice. My conviction hides the reality that I am hardly knowledgeable about bears. It works. I can feel Silvia stop trembling as we cuddle in bed. We’ve had a long busy day so we drop quickly to sleep. We sleep until seven the next morning. That is to say, I sleep to seven. I am awakened by the smell of coffee and follow my nose to the source. Silvia is in the kitchen corner fixing breakfast.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. I thought I was going to have to shake you awake. I see your stomach got the best of you. Go wash up and we’ll eat.”
“You know we’ve been out of touch with the world now for what seems like ages. I’m going to get back on board if that radio over there works.”
It does work and we get a few minutes of music before the station switches to the morning news.
“Good morning folks. It seven am on a bright sunny day here in Presque Isle, Maine. Temperatures in the mid-seventies today with no chance of rain to spoil your day. We will get back to music in 5 minutes but first a short roundup of the news around New England. On the weather front we continue to suffer from a severe drought with many local cities and towns instituting controls over unnecessary use of water for such things as watering the lawn. On the crime scene, we have news of some arrests for drunk driving and possession charges in the region. From down south in our neighboring state of New Hampshire we have a breaking story of a vicious murder in Exeter, New Hampshire Details are sketchy at this hour but apparently, the victim was the operator of a printing shop. Police officials aren’t releasing much information at this point. Neighbors, however say that the man was tortured before he was murdered. They say that there was blood everywhere. The District Attorney says the cops also found a hidden room where the printer supposedly prepared false documents. Police are thought to believe that he was murdered by a disgruntled customer or someone who he was partnering with in other criminal activities. Stay tuned for more details.”
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�Silvia. Oh, my God. They must be talking about Joe Fletcher!”
“And that probably means it was the Nazis who were responsible and they probably know our assumed names.”
“And not very long before they find our address in Presque Isle.”
“I’m really scared now. Time to call the police,” she says as she gets her cellphone out of here fanny pack.
“No, no. Wait. Let’s think this through. As clever as these bastards are and with all their resources, they may be able to track our cells . Don’t turn it on. We need to call the FBI in Boston or Washington but we can’t use our own phones. Let’s use Al’s landline for protection.”
“Good idea. God. I can’t stop shaking.”
I put my arms around her and pull her close.
“Hang on. We’ll be ok once we talk to them.”
I wished that I believed that myself. We quickly do the dishes and straighten out the cabin and trek back downhill to AL’s store.
We catch Al just as he is opening the shop. Fortunately, there is no one in the shop.
“Hi Al. How are you today?”
“I’m fine. You guys are up early. Is everything alright?”
“No, it isn’t. We have a serious problem and I don’t want to get you involved in it.”
“Hey. Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Al. The bad guys who we have been running from are really, really bad and they have unlimited resources. They are modern day Nazis from Argentina who have a humongous cache of artwork plundered from Germany at the end of WWII. We have recently discovered where it is and that is why they are trying to find us. We are a loose end they need to get rid of. I’d like to call The FBI for protection. I must assume they will be able to track us if we use our cell. So, I must find another phone.”
“That’s easy use my landline.”
“Al, I don’t want to risk disclosing your location and putting you in great danger. It’s best that we just get out of here and look for some new cellphones and then call the Feds.”
“Good luck finding a store that sells cellphones anywhere near here. Nope, use my landline and then I will round up a bunch of friends and neighbors. We will set up a perimeter around the place just in case your friends show up. Here. Call,” says he as he leads me to his landline.
I take it and call information for the number of the Boston office of the FBI. After I’ve dialed the number and get the switchboard, I ask to speak to the Agent in Charge.
“Good morning. This is Maria. May I ask who is calling please?”
“My name is Harry Stein—I mean Murray Segal. This is a life and death emergency for me and my wife. I have information on the murder of Joe Fletcher in Exeter, New Hampshire, but I need protection as quick as I can get it.”
“Hold on. I’m sure he will he will want to talk to you.”
“Good morning, Mr. Segal. My name is Joe Johnson. I am the agent in charge of the Boston office. I know who you are and I’m glad you called. The murder of Joe Fletcher was an especially gruesome one. I’m glad you called in. I can tell you that there has been another development in the case.”
“What’s that?”
“A shady private investigator by the name of Herman Biggs has been taken into custody after trying to bribe a border guard at the Hamlin border crossing. He wanted the guard to let him know if a couple of U.S. citizens crossed into Canada. He was carrying photographs of you and your wife.”
“Did he confess?”
“No. He has refused to say anything and would not even call a lawyer or anyone else. So, we don’t know who hired him but he appears to fear them more than he does us or a long term in prison.”
“Agent Johnson, my wife and I have been travelling under false ID information that was supplied by Fletcher. We were travelling with the false documents because we have some knowledge of a vast horde of plundered artworks that were smuggled out of Germany at the end of WWII. I could tell you the entire story, but I’d rather do that in person.”
“OK. We wondered why you were running. Just sit tight for a few moments and I will call you back on a secure phone.”
With that he hangs up. About 5 suspenseful minutes later the phone rings.
“Hi Murray. Now you can tell me where you are?”
“My wife and I are at a place called Al’s Gun Shop in Caribou, Maine.”
“Is anyone there with you?”
“Al, the owner is here. We have been learning how to shoot on his practice range. We are relatively safe here. He knows about our problem. He has promised that he and some of his friends will protect us. We feel relatively safe here. It is way out in the boondocks.”
“Ok. Here’s what I want you to do. First, get rid of your cell phones. The Nazis may be able to track them and you can’t take that chance. Leave them on and drop them in the back of a truck that is southbound. If they are able to track the phones, they will think you are coming back to Presque Isle. If they can’t track them, no harm done.
“Second, stay where you are. On no account should you attempt to travel by yourself. Al should be able to protect you well enough. We have just checked on his background and he appears to be a solid citizen. I gather he is very familiar with the area. You are far safer with him then venturing out by yourself. We think that Biggs knows what kind of a vehicle you are driving and he may have let his clients know. Third, stay by the phone. We will call you back as soon as we work out a safe plan to get you out of there.”
“One more question agent Johnson and I’ll let you get back to work. Have a husband and wife team by the name of Smith who supposedly live in Houlton, Maine shown up on your radar screen?”
“No, they have not.”
“Thanks. We will sit tight and wait for your call. Wait, one, more question. Is it possible to put my 3 kids, Karen, Lisa and Paul under guard in case the bad guys attempt to use them to barter for our location?”
“We’ve already covered that and you can rest assured they are perfectly safe, as are their children. Are there any other loved ones we should worry about?”
“Just my sister Fran and her husband Mort. But they live in San Francisco and should be safe, since they are so far away. But to set my mind at ease could you put a watch on them, too?”
We spend a nervous hour waiting for Johnson to call back. When the phone rings I answer in a shaky voice.
“Hi, this is Johnson. Here’s the plan. We are sending a small crew up to the Northern Aroostook Regional Airport. It’s located in Frenchville. That’s close to the Canadian Border.”
“That’s way up near Madawaska, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. You drive up there now and our crew will meet you. We will either hide out with you there of fly you out to safety.”
“Hold on Agent Johnson. We are not safe so long as these guys are free to roam. Let me suggest an alternative to your plan. We go to Frenchville but not to hide. You use us to lure the Nazis up there. In other words, you arrange some way for them to locate us. It can’t be obvious or they will be suspicious.”
“Are you absolutely sure you and your wife want to be used as bait for a group like this?”
Before I answer, I whisper the plan to Janice with a questioning look.
“You’re in, I’m in. No questions.”
“We’re both onboard.”
“Alright. This is the tricky part. I need some time to think it out. Call you right back.”
Ten minutes later I get the call.
“Forget what I said about getting rid of your cell. Keep it turned off until you get to Frenchville. When you are with my field crew, turn it on and make one call to the Exeter Police Department. They will be expecting your call. Simply give them your name and let them know you have information about Fletcher’s murder but you can’t give it out over the phone. Tell them where you are and ask them to send a car up there to get you. If they are tracking your phone, that’s all we need. If not, I feel sure they are watching the local P.D. an
d will follow any cruiser that leaves town. Any questions?”
“Nope.”
Janice has heard only my half of the conversation so I bring her up to date on the FBI’s plan. I can feel her do a slow intake of breath and begin to relax.
“It feels good to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“It does. Let’s get our stuff together and head on out until we are just a few steps from Canada and one step from freedom and home.”
“Al, I’m sure you heard that the FBI is on the case. We are off to Frenchville to meet a field crew. Thank you for all you have done for us. I expect to write a feature story or maybe a whole series on our travels. Do you mind if I give you some plugs in it?”
“Absolutely not. Lots of people know about my shop and practice range, but not everybody. I may get some new business out of the publicity. But even if I don’t, I’d like to thank you two for your patronage. More importantly for letting me help keep you safe. I will remember this for a long time. Now let’s pack your car and get you on your way.”
We pack our few belongings including the MDTW and are on our way a few minutes later. We both have mixed feelings as we head east on Route 89. Happy that the end of the ordeal is in sight but a bit sad to be leaving the places and people who hosted us through it.
“You know Janice, when this is all over I want to drive back home through Presque Isle so we can thank all the people who have helped us.”
“That might take a while. But I’m for it.”
We head east to pick up U.S. Route 1 which will take a few minutes more than the alternate Route 161 that goes directly north. I figure Route 1 will be a better road and more populated. It takes us about an hour and a quarter to reach the airfield in Frenchville. We are met there by the FBI crew. One of the agents named Erickson seems to be in charge as they hustle us into their jet.
“Mr. Segal. Good to see that you made it safely here.”
“Thanks Agent Erickson. This is my wife Janice Wayne. No one is happier to be here than we are.”
I am surprised that there are only four agents, including the two pilots on board so I ask, “The folks chasing us have huge resources and people and I frankly expected a larger group of agents. Do you have enough manpower here?”