Anderson started to speak, but Arnold broke in: “Oh ya, and there’s something else. Cyndi said something about ‘with what happened to Anita, and now this, I’m not sure I can come back.’ I asked what Anita had to do with this, and she said, like, didn’t we know that she was running a Facebook page – a ‘group’ I think she called it – about birds and wildlife and the sanctuary island and a bunch of environmental stuff including the PSP. Guess she had a bunch of followers, too, from all over, not just here. Like, who knew! That’s not one of the first things I’d have thought Anita was into, although Marion disagreed with me – said Anita had talked about it with her a couple of months ago but asked her to keep it quiet locally because she didn’t want to be teased by the bar crowd, or even her parents.”
“Man, you are just full of good news this morning, ain’t ya! This stuff makes our little baby conspiracy theories seem kind of tame!”
“So, do you guys think Robertson Mines is behind all of this?” asked Marjorie. “If so, this sounds like really heavy-duty and dangerous stuff. I’m not defending that outfit for a moment, but it doesn’t seem logical that they would have staff running around in boats scaring university students counting birds with binoculars, or disappearing some unknown young girl who has a Facebook page.” She paused. “Tell you what – Frank, can I use your desktop to see if I can find that Facebook page?”
“Absolutely – that’s a great idea!”
“ So, Arnold, where the hell do we go from here? Do we talk with the sergeant right away, or let it slide for now and do some other digging, or what?”
Arnold paused for a long moment. “I think we have a pretty good under-the-radar thing going with John. Maybe we should talk to him, without forcing his hand. We can probably look into some stuff that he can’t, at least not without raising some hell at headquarters.”
“I agree. I think there is a connection between all this stuff – Anita, the interns being scared off, and even the Horowitz thing and what LaChance said at Starbucks in Gatineau. And my gut tells me the connection, somehow, is at the Robertson Swamp.”
“Robertson Swamp?”
“Well, yeah, that’s my pet name for it. You know, that land around the old provincial park. Here, give me your coffee cup.”
Anderson went into the house to refill the coffees. Marjorie looked up from the computer: “Hey, that was easy. Pretty sure I’ve found it. There’s a public group on Facebook called ‘Save Awan Lake’ and it’s run by someone who calls herself “Foggy Swamp Girl”. Lots of people post on it – it has several hundred followers – but the Swamp Girl herself hasn’t posted on it for almost two weeks.”
“Wow, that was quick – tell Arnold and I’ll bring another cup.” He filled their cups, put on another pot, grabbed his smokes and went back outside to hear Arnold asking Marjorie what people have been posting about.
“It’s probably worth spending more time on the page, looking for topics, patterns and names and connections of people who post. I’ll go back in and check it out a little more. And I think Wendy – who is really good at watching social media – might help us too. Any way, I need to call her and say hello this morning... she’s probably wondering where I am.”
“I somehow doubt she’s that naive that she doesn’t know where you are,” Arnold chuckled.
Marjorie blushed and grinned. “Hush up, dirty old man!” and headed back to the computer and her cellphone.
Arnold dialled his phone: “Sergeant – it’s Arnold in Spirit River. Are you anywhere close? We need to talk to you down at the Anderson conference centre – a lot of heavy shit this morning. Twenty minutes? We’ll be here.”
“Anderson Conference Centre... has a nice ring to it! Feels like it anyway, Anderson chuckled. “Say, I know Fred has hunted and trapped all around Awan Lake. I wonder what he knows about Robertson Swamp?
“Right on, hadn’t thought much of it but now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure he even used to have a registered trapline over that way. We should talk to him, although I hate to bug him and Georgina with more stuff to worry about.”
“Well, it so happens that I could use him to weld some aluminum for me today sometime. I’ve got to put a radar antenna bracket on my navigation mast... the radar unit just came in this morning. So, while he’s welding I can just drift questions into the conversation without tipping him off to the latest bad news.”
“That’d be perfect”
“Okay, I’ll call him now, and try to set it up for maybe two o’clock this afternoon. I’ll have to look at the instructions and installation drawings before he gets here.”
Anderson found Fred and Georgina’s number on his phone, and called: “Fred, it’s Anderson. I hate to bother you, but could I get you to come over and weld some aluminum for me? It’s not a very big job, but I sure as hell can’t do it as well as you can. Bring it over? Well, no, I’d have to tow the boat over – it’s already kind of attached to the boat. Cool. I’m tied up for the morning, but how about two o’clock? No, don’t worry about chasing down acetylene – I have my torch here, but you’ll need some rods, or whatever you call what you use for aluminum. And if you have some medium heavy two-inch angle, even scrap, that would be useful too, maybe four to six feet. See you then. Thanks!”
Anderson was just hanging up when Marjorie came out, took a cigarette and lit it. “Okay, guys, we’re on a roll here. There are a significant number of comments about Robertson Mines, and a whole whack of related stuff. I phoned Wendy and told her what we had found, and she said she has a program she uses with algorithms that allow here to search keywords in Facebook and other social media, without letting them know who’s looking. She’ll dredge the site and tell us what she finds.”
“’Algorithms’ – what the heck is an algorithm anyway,” asked Arnold. “Sounds like an alligator doing a line dance.”
“A series of linked math equations that do what you want them to do, as far as I know,” Anderson replied. “Marjorie, I expect you can do better than that?”
“Dancing alligators may be closer than you think. Computer scientists and mathematicians could probably spend an hour giving you a better answer than that, but for what we’re talking about, Frank’s answer is close.”
***
The sergeant was ten minutes late, didn’t have any donuts, and was begging for a cup of coffee. “Hi Arnold. I had told you I sent a patrol unit out to Robertson Mines to look for Hassan? Well, Marie and her partner just arrived there a few minutes ago. I expect we’ll know pretty soon what kind of reception they get.”
“Your coffee, sir. Fresh pot. We’ve been sucking it back pretty good this morning.”
“Thanks Frank, and hi, Marjorie. So... what’s up this morning? I’m starting to dread coming near any of you folks... as you mentioned before, more questions than answers!”
Arnold began with the interns’ run-in with the motorboat. The sergeant’s notepad appeared when Arnold was halfway through. When Arnold was done, the sergeant turned to Anderson and asked, “you’re the marine expert, any charges there that I could lay without witnesses other than the interns themselves?”
“Getting charges against recreational boaters to stick is damn near impossible. If the interns are correct, there were no registration numbers on the boat, so that charge would stick if you can find the boat. If the kids will testify, you might get dangerous operation of a motor vessel to stick. I say ‘might’ for good reason. Usually that only sticks if there is a witnessed collision. To me, it’s attempted murder, but I don’t think you’ll ever find a judge who thinks it’s more than a prank.”
“Okay. Thank-you. We all know this is a serious occurrence, not the least because of the harassment of workers on the federal dime, if not directly on payroll. The biggest thing to consider at the moment is the ‘understory’ - the extreme intimidation, and why.” He looked up from his notepad: “And you had more?”
Arnold described what he had learned from one of the interns about the Facebook
page that Anita was running, and Marjorie filled in with what she observed once she found the page on the internet.
“So again, it’s who and why. I get the pattern... it all appears to be connected with Robertson Mines. But of course at the moment it’s all conjecture and circumstantial.”
He closed his notebook and stood up: “Marjorie, I really appreciate you and Wendy continuing the research on that Facebook page. That may add some direct information about local goings-on.” Stepping off the porch, he said, “Thank you all. I have to go back to The Falls... we’re two folks short today because I’ve got them scheduled for the weekend evenings, of course, and oddly they don’t like working 24-7. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from Marie out at Robertson Mines.” He got into his cruiser and disappeared up the road.
Arnold, too, got up to leave, but Anderson stopped him: “Arnold, I’d like to know more about that old provincial park location south of Robertson Swamp. Do you happen to remember if it was sold or shut down, because it doesn’t seem to be open, or even maintained.”
“No, I have no idea except that nobody – locals or tourists – ever seem to mention it anymore – not for years. I haven’t seen any conservation officers around either, except in hunting season of course, or out on the highway checking fishing boats on trailers with too many fish onboard. And they shut down the provincial office in The Falls years ago, so there’s nobody to ask except by phoning Toronto.”
“Well, it just so happens that I have to be in the city for a couple of days next week,” said Marjorie, “and instead of being bored out of my head, I could trot down to the main provincial offices and poke around. Would that help?”
Both men turned and stared at her. “Would you be willing to do that, Marjorie? It could be a huge help,” said Anderson.
“Sure, like I say, it’ll keep me from being bored silly.”
“Thanks very much, Marj,” Arnold said as he walked to his truck. “That would be great!”
After he was gone, Anderson and Marjorie sat finishing their coffee for a few minutes, going over the morning’s discussions together. “Damn, I forgot to tell John – and Arnold too, I think – about the reporter’s call. I guess it’s not all that exciting anyway.”
“Not yet,” was Marjorie’s response. “Depends on what she writes!”
“Yeah, good point. I don’t hold out much hope!”
“Frank, if I wandered down to the marina and picked up our outboard, could I take it over to your dock and have you look at the gearshift? It seems to sort of work – well, that’s silly, it does work, but not as smoothly as it used to. It sticks, and sometimes jams when you try to get it into neutral.”
“Absolutely. I’ll head down there in a few minutes and meet you. Bring it around inside the dock, opposite the launch.”
“Doesn’t your boat have a name?”
Anderson chuckled. “Never has, which is strange I guess because every other boat I ever had, no matter how small, I gave a name.”
“Where did it come from? I don’t suppose it was built here.”
“East coast. Bought her already partially converted from a real fishing boat – lobsters - into a tourist boat. Did some of the basic work down there – replaced the engine, transmission and drive, fixed up the decks, all that stuff because they had good boat builders there who gave me advice and sometimes a hand. When I found this place at Awan Lake, I got her lifted onto a big transport truck and moved her out here to finish her off. I’m still finishing her, but that’s okay... I enjoy it.”
“To you, the boat is a “she’?”
“Traditionally, boats all used to be referred to as feminine, even ugly big tug boats. To me, they – like women – are all attractive, especially when they do what they promise to do if you treat them – and the wind and waves – with respect.”
“Hmm. We’ll talk more about this, I think, but if you’re going to help me with my little outboard... which we call Polly... and then you have to get ready to talk to Anita’s father, we’d better get going. Don’t forget to take your radar thingy.”
“Right, and also load my acetylene torch onto my truck, which I almost forgot.” He walked to her and kissed her, first on the forehead, and then – ever so timidly – on the lips. “See you in a few minutes!”
Marjorie looked into his eyes for fifteen seconds, reached out her right hand and tapped his nose with her finger, smiled at him thoughtfully, and turned and walked down the road toward the marina.
***
As Anderson had suspected, the shift lever mechanism on the Webster sisters’ runabout simply needed taking apart, cleaning, and applying some graphite grease. He took the little boat for a quick spin out of the harbour and back and pronounced Polly “healed”. Together they took the welding equipment off his truck and put it on the dock beside the wheelhouse, and then took the box with the radar unit into the wheelhouse and unpacked it so the antenna would be ready for Fred to install.
“It’s just after noon,” Marjorie said. “If you’ll drive, I’ll buy you a quiche at the Zoo, then I think I’ll head back to the island. Wendy and I need to spend some time getting ready to take off Sunday morning.”
“Lunch would be great; still lots of time ‘til Fred gets here, so if we’re back in an hour or so that’ll be perfect.” Anderson paused. “Not sure how great your ‘taking off’ feels... it’s an awful lot of fun having you around.”
“I know. Of course, there’s all this mystery stuff that’s sort of fun to be part of, but you’re a big part of why I’ve had a pretty special week.”
14:45 JULY 21
Fred Antoine had already spent half an hour measuring, cutting and fitting a heavy extension to accommodate the radar antenna onto the navigation mast on Anderson’s launch.
“Anderson, got a smoke? I’m about ready to do the last welds but you’d better take one last look to make sure I’ve got it where you want.”
Anderson brought him a cigarette and a mug of coffee he had heated in the boat’s microwave. After taking a quick look at the work Fred had been doing, he nodded and sat down on the edge of wheelhouse roof.
“Looks just fine to me, Fred. Your welds always hold and you’ve thought out the strut placement just right, I think. All you need to do is finish it up, we’ll drill some holes and bolt the antenna on, then I can spend a bunch of time sorting out the wiring.”
Anderson paused, then changed the subject: “Say, Fred, you’ve trapped and hunted all around the lake – and away beyond – do you know whatever came of that provincial park south of MacLean Point? Arnold and I took a drive out to Robertson Mines the other day, and it looks like the province totally gave up on that.”
“Oh hell yeah, that campsite – it never really was a park – has been abandoned by the province for years. They used to hire old Giordano to take care of it since he had the property just south along the lake to the mine. I guess he sold that to the mine, but seems like he still lives there.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re too fond of old Gerald?”
“Hell no. He’s even more of an asshole than his father was, who had owned the place long before I was even born. I have a trapline around MacLean Point, north of there, but it never included the provincial campsite land, and I have always stayed well away from all of that mess. I think there have always been squatters camped out there, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Giordano still collects money from them. That’d be just like the old jerk. Anita told me she went partying up there a couple of times, and I told her to stay clear, but she was never one to take any advice from her old man. Probably too much like me to pay attention.”
“How long ago was that?
“Couple of summers ago, I think. Maybe even last year.” Antoine paused a moment and stared off onto the lake. “This is rough, Frank. Rough on Georgina of course but rough on me too. I hope to hell Anita turns up soon, but I’m beginning to lose hope. I know she’s been pretty wild, but she was never out of touch with her mum for this lo
ng.”
“Can’t imagine what you’re going through. As you know, there was a scare a couple of days ago when they found her jacket and we went looking for her down the river, but Sergeant MacLeod seems to think that the jacket was left deliberately to make people think she was in the river, so I guess that’s the good news, as far as it goes.”
“Yes, MacLeod has told me all that you and Arnold have been doing to help, and believe me we are very grateful. I guess there’s even a couple of cottage women who have been helping out too.”
“Yes, the Webster sisters from that little island off MacLean Point. They have been a big help.”
“Thank them for us, please. Well, I’d better get this thing attached. Can you hold it for me until I get it tacked in a couple of places?”
“Yup.” Anderson did just that, then his phone rang just as he was getting down from the wheelhouse roof. He stepped off onto the dock and went to his truck before picking up: “Hey, Arnold, I’ve just been helping Fred finish off the welding for my fancy new radar antenna. Stuff to talk about. What’s up?”
“Lots,” Arnold told him. “First, the two cops that the sergeant sent up to Robertson Mines had no trouble getting access, and they did talk to Hassan as well as the company’s human resources people. I guess they hired the guy without checking his paperwork very closely, so after a few radio-calls, it turns out he is classified as an international student but does not have permission to work in Canada. Hassan says he does have papers and that they are at his apartment in The Falls. The company was not fond of the idea of having the police take him away mid-shift, so the cops agreed they would meet him at his apartment after work tonight and he would produce his papers.”
“That sounds a little weird,” Anderson said into the phone. “I guess even Canadian cops are friendly, but that seems extra-special friendly.”
Arnold continued: “I guess the officers have all been told to avoid any immigration incidents unless a crime is being committed. Anyway, I guess they’ll have a chance to interview him about Anita this evening, too. It doesn’t stop there, though; on their way back, just a couple miles north of Robertson Mines, they stopped an old beater of a car with two guys in it – and a pocketful each of oxycodone. The cops seized the drugs, parked the car off the road, arrested the guys and they’re now headed back to The Falls – should almost be there by now.”
Sunset at [20 47] Page 17