The 53rd Parallel

by Carl Nordgren

  “Just the same, there's those who think you two weren't just acting as sweethearts.”

  “We were close. I was recruited myself by her father. But there were never any passions or dalliances, and no one will ever say so in my earshot.”

  “But you can't deny you cared for her.”

  “It was my role to care for her.”

  One man had stayed silent until now, one of the new bloods. “An' so I have to say it, I know others are thinkin' it, why doesn't it surprise that you are the one who found her? And as you say, all in good time. Almost like, I don't know, you knew where she was.”

  Kevin looked from him to the others.

  “I'm not sure I like that very much.”

  “He's not speakin' for me, but we are in one mind in bein' concerned that your closeness could tend to limit your… imagination about what we might want to do, or have to do, once you get to Canada, to get our 50,000 pounds back.”

  Kevin knew who his closest ally was in the room and directed his comment to him.

  “And we still want to recruit her in again, because she wasn't just the lovely decoy some of you want to think. She starts smart and gets smarter under pressure. And she cares about the Cause.”

  “That's what we mean, that your care for her could cloud your judgment.”

  “I respect her. An' you need do is remind yourself of what they did to her da if you have doubts about how deeply she believes in the Cause. And I'll say it again if I need to—it was Russell himself who picked her.”

  New blood barked, “Russell's dead. He's no help to her now.”

  “If you can bring her back in, Kevin, all's the better, every one of us here is in favor of that. But what if she says no? What if she's grown soft out there away from the struggles? Then I'm with you to point out other options.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like statin' plainly we need our money back and we want it right now.”

  “As far as any evidence I've seen, it's still not conclusive she ever had the money. The rumor I've been hearing is that when Russell died, he had the money with him and the Germans kept it.”

  “So I want to be there when she answers the question, where did they get the money to build the camp?”

  “What if it was the money she got from Russell they used to build their camp? Are you going to make them sell it?”

  “No, we've decided we want to own it.”

  “The IRA is going to own a fishing camp in Canada?”

  “Of course. First, the profits are ours. And then, name a better business to cover us buying guns and ammunition? And an occasional purchase of dynamite as well, I would imagine.”

  “An' picture us bringin' in wealthy Irish businessmen from Chicago for a little holiday, so they enjoy themselves while we're telling 'em all about our needs to support the boyos back home.”

  “So I'll be comin' with you to make sure all these options are placed before her with sufficient vigor and import.”

  Kevin saw the logic to all of it.

  “If you have it all figured out, how do you figure to play Brian? We've never strong-armed anyone across the Atlantic. That's a bit of legacy can't be changed.”

  “Seems she wouldn't want her husband to know.”

  “They're not married, just engaged.”

  “Our luck just keeps gettin' better and better on this one, Mac. If they're not married yet, won't she be all-the-more interested in keepin' our story away from himself.”

  “Guaranteed compliance… seems smugglin' guns might be the exact place to start with her as we decide if we want to keep it hid from Brian or demand he accept it.”

  “We won't know 'til we get there, so Kevin'll finish makin' the arrangements for our huntin' trip.”

  “I'm workin' on it. But let me hear you say it clear, we're going to start with the idea we've come to invite her back in.”

  “Sure. That's where we'll start.”

  The meeting ended. Kevin hung back to be the last to leave, then left through the back door, walked two blocks quickly to force anyone following to have to match his speed, and when he was confident he wasn't being followed, he hailed a taxi.

  “Take the next left.”

  A two block drive down the side streets assured him no one was following, so he told the driver to head to the airport.

  Kevin had a cup of tea in a shop off the Dublin airport lobby, waiting to be certain he wasn't being followed, then lined up at the Pan Am ticket counter.

  “How much for a ticket to New York on tomorrow morning's flight?”

  “Sorry, sir. We're fully booked on that flight. Thursday mornin' we'd be lookin' at now, I'm afraid.”

  “Let's do that then. One way.”

  Over the next two days Kevin mentioned in passing to agents and associates that he was planning on doing a bit of travel, including a trip to Cong to recruit a new field agent to replace that unfortunate hurling lad.

  It was early afternoon the day Brian proposed. Dutch was flying into camp with four new guests. Brian and Maureen were lying in bed together when they heard the engine's roar and set themselves right to head out together down the path between the cabins and past the sandy beach to the dock.

  “Lady Girl, I've forgotten to mention another notable occurrence of the trip. Guess whose comin' huntin'?”

  “We hadn't yet decided we were takin' hunters.”

  “It was too good to pass on. You see, your Kevin's arrivin' two days after we figured to close for fishin', so we'll stay open another week at the healthiest of profit at what I quoted him.”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend, Kevin Coogan.”

  “Kevin… you visited with Kevin?”

  “He was in Cong.”

  “What was Kevin doin' in Cong?”

  “He came to town to see the Hollywood circus. A great part of Ireland has traveled to Cong to join the circus. That's what they were callin' themselves, the national amusement. He arrived just before I got there, an' when he heard I was visitin' he tracked me down. Innish Cove was gettin' our share of the pub talk every night.”

  “The very same Kevin I was with the night we met?”

  “Lookin' much older. Seems the war years were rough on him. There will be two or three joinin' him. He's still got to give me the final count, but we have dates nailed down. He's goin' to wire half the fee in the next few days.”

  “Kevin's comin' here with a huntin' party?”

  “He sent his good wishes, an' he's lookin forward to seein' you, yeah.”

  At the dock they met Joe Loon and Albert, distracting Brian so he didn't notice when Maureen turned to walk back to her cabin.

  As the Norseman taxied across the lake, he asked Albert to tell Joe Loon about the hunting party and his need for rifles, and then told them what he knew about the guests on this plane. It was not until the guests stepped out of the plane and into Brian's introductions that he realized Maureen was gone.

  The newly arrived guests were settling into their cabins so Brian returned to his to check on Maureen. She wasn't there, but he found her buried in the pillows and covers in bed in her own cabin.

  “How 'bout that for a total transformation. I looked for you in my bed first.”

  “It came on me all of a sudden, a sickness of some sort. I needed to sit down, then I needed a lie down…”

  “I turned an' you were gone.”

  “I was just fadin' to sleep when you stepped in. I think the best is a good rest. I'm quite tired. Why don't we just assume I'll sleep the night an' hope I'm feeling better come mornin'.”

  “I'll check in on you?”

  “That'd be nice.”

  Brian said good-night to his guests after sharing a drink with them in their cabin, and before he returned to his own he checked on Maureen. She feigned sleep as he entered.

  Brian tucked the covers around her, and she awakened enough for a kiss and a good-night, then Brian left.

  As he approached his cabin he saw Joe L
oon holding a lantern, waiting at his door. Simon and Albert were captured in the illumination.

  “Simon has something to show Big Brian.”

  “Well, come on in.”

  Inside Simon told Brian about the strange visitors he had followed, what they said and what they did, and then handed him the map. Brian spread it open on his bed, noticed the Abitibi Lumber Company's Crown Corporation seal on the corner, and discovered his fishing camp on the map, “Irish Cove F C” written in small, neat blue-inked letters next to an X that marked the spot. When he tried to determine the key that identified the other markings the code was confusing, the patterns beyond his recognition, and he wasn't aware of what was located in any of those places to begin with. Most of the markings, nearly all of them, were to the south, well above the rapids, and quite a distance from Innish Cove. Brian was happy to note that, and the anger that was growing since he saw the inaccurate identification of Innish Cove relaxed a bit.

  Albert translated for Brian as Joe Loon explained the map, pointing to the sacred places as he described them. Two of them were marked in the same small, blue-ink letters, I. B. G., and VSITE and Brian learned about the centuries-old burial ground and the place where Simon had been on a vision quest.

  Then Joe Loon unfolded the full map and spoke of the whole expanse captured by its boundary markings.

  “This is the white man's picture of the River and the forests of the Keewatin clans. The white man's treaties left this land for our people so we can live like our ancestors taught us. Because we have been happy to live the true life of the River, it took us a long time to learn what the white man means with these treaties. Our ancestors did not know. When our grandfathers signed the treaties, we were told the treaty words meant our People would allow the white man to live in these forests with us in peace. Later, we found these treaty words meant we must surrender these forests to the white man whenever they decide to take them. This is the forest we have not surrendered. This is where the Keewatin clans trap. There are many other clans north of this lake we call Gaawaandag. Here there are Métis families living in the bush. None of these people have surrendered to move to Grassy Narrows or White Dog. We will not surrender. Now we come to ask for your help.”

  “I can tell you this—when someone's tryin' to hide somethin' from us, that's never a sign of good intention. Dutch flew 'em in a few days before I left for Ireland, an' they said they were scientists, men who study animals, from some university. I don't remember if Dutch said which one. They said they were lookin' for a good site to observe wolves an' moose.”

  “For many years we have worked as lumberjacks for the lumber companies. There are many times they say cruel things to us there. Some of the men treat us like dogs. But we ignore these things for these are jobs many of our young men enjoy doing. The ancestors smile at this work.”

  “This time it looks as if the plan is to cut a loggin' road that connects this paved road with the River here, and then build a pulp mill on that site… You imagine we'd ever want to fish that far south of the rapids?”

  Albert and Joe Loon concluded they would not, that they saw no reason to fish the other side of the rapids at all. Albert translated Joe Loon's direction. “There are days we will take the White Man who Fish to the River below the Mamangashkaa. There are many bass feeding among the rocks there. And they will see the great beauty in the spirits that gather all around Mamangashkaa and it will fill their hearts with a great happiness. But there is no reason to fish above the rapids.”

  “I was thinkin' the same. Say again what you call those rapids?”

  “Mamangashkaa.”

  “It looks like they're plannin' on buildin' their mill about ten or so kilometers south of Maman gashkaa, an' that's over twenty kilometers from Innish Cove. I'd rather they were downstream of us, but nearly twenty-five kilometers upstream with the nearly-insurmountable Mamang ashkaa between, they shouldn't be a problem for us… So what's to hide?”

  “The answer to that question is in this.”

  Simon handed Brian the report.

  “What do we have here? Yes, this was meant to be kept secret. These big red letters, they spell the word 'Confidential', meanin' they don't want anyone to know what's in here but them who needs to know. An' from now on that includes your people an' mine.”

  “You will learn their big secret?”

  “After the boats go out in the mornin', I'll set down with Maureen to go over it together. She's better 'an me at gleanin' meanin' from things like this, at knowin' what to pay mind to. We should have some idea by the time you get back from guidin'.”

  Albert took Simon by the shoulders and stood him tall in front of Brian.

  “Joe Loon asks that Big Brian give him a special gift. He asks that you make a place in your cabin for Simon. He asked that he stay in the cabin of Big Brian to live with you. He must learn how the white man thinks. Simon will stay with you so you will teach him how to do this. Then we will know if they are the men from Joe Loon's dream who will harm us.”

  “You want him to stay with me?”

  “You will treat him like he is a son to be taught the ways of the world he is to live in.”

  “I am honored you ask this of me. Tell Joe Loon that I obey him as if he were my father.”

  Joe Loon reached out to take Brian by the arm.

  “He calls you his son and says Albert Loon and Big Brian are brothers.”

  “We will always be brothers.”

  Chapter 26

  Secrets Revisited

  The next morning Brian gave Simon a canvas and cloth shoulder bag to carry the map and report. They headed to the lodge to make sure someone had started the fire for the cook stove to prepare guests' breakfasts. Joe Loon and Albert were waiting for them outside their cabin.

  “Naomi and Marie are boiling water to make coffee for Big Brian's guests. They will make Red River cereal and fry the eggs and bacon. We will go with you to see Maureen.”

  “She was not feelin' well last night.”

  “We will go there with you.”

  Maureen and Brian sat at a table in her cabin. The Ojibway stood around them as Maureen had the document open at two places at once, checking from one page to another. Brian looked up and scratched his head as he turned to Albert.

  “Maureen will keep studyin' it. The rest of us need to get down to the dock an' get boats ready. Simon will stay here with Maureen.”

  Brian gave Maureen a pat on her shoulder and led the Ojibway out to work.

  The fishing boats had all departed for the day. Brian and a young Ojibway boy collected the stray floatation cushions and an extra gas can and carried them to the dockside shed. Maureen emerged from the trees, heading down the path to the beach, the report open in her hands.

  Simon was right behind her.

  She stole another glance at what she had just found as she approached Brian at the shed.

  “I've seen this sorta thing before. You say it, but you bury it. Then later, if things go wrong, you can claim you did your duty, you warned of risks to come, the point being whoever wrote this thinks there might be risks to come.”

  “Ya've seen this sorta thing before, you say?”

  Maureen stood in front of Brian and with her finger drew a circle around the middle portion of a page.

  “This here was prepared to be filed as part of two permit requests. One is for loggin' an' another for buildin' a pulp mill on the River.”

  “An' still I see no reason to hide that. I'd rather they were farther south or downstream. But still there's nothin'—”

  She flipped to another page.

  “Well, it's the fact that they're plannin' to build a new sort of pulp mill, with some new process none have used before. It's right here, 'a process that must be seen as fundamentally experimental in its nature, in that it is still bein' 'tested and refined' it says here, but no place else. It's all about tryin' to create a new sort of paper.”

  “Paper is paper.”

  “No
, actually. Feel this last page; it's much smoother and almost shiny. They're sayin' this is the sort of new paper that big businesses will need soon because 'we're beginning to view a great range of new office automation machines that increase organizational efficiency.' That's what this front part says, there's new sorts of machines bein' developed that will make copies of documents for an office, and these machines require smoother paper, without this heavy pulp content, so it will glide more smoothly through these automation devices. A harder paper, so no paper pulp residue is caught up in the office machines. They want to be offerin' it first out of this new mill. Right here it says 'It's the future of the paper business,' this new process makin' this new paper.”

  “So where's our concern in that?”

  She turned to the last page she'd marked.

  “This new process, or some piece of it, it seems there's someone thinks it just might be a threat to the River. They have asked in this application to be permitted to dump 'processed residual by-products' right into the River. That's where they start makin' it hard to decipher what they're up to.”

  She turned the page again when Brian said, “It's a great big River; they're so far away. How could dumpin' wood bits left over from makin' paper into the River be in any way dangerous to us?”

  “I'm thinkin' it's somethin' else they'll be dumpin', but I can't tell 'cause they are hidin' it well. But they have attached this scientific study that concludes this mill will be of little risk to River life in closest proximity, and no risk after that.”

  “So then.”

  “But it's noted here, in a dense page of equations an' footnotes, that a previous study came back with a minority dissent by someone who says that if this waste they'd be dumpin' would somehow become concentrated in fish life, then a diet of contaminated fish might have 'the potential for a range of debilitating impacts on fetal development to a population that consume the River's downstream fish as a regular part of their diet' are the words he uses.”