In half an hour, things were really happening. The final touches were calls to a couple of local taverns, a restaurant in the village, and a community college radio station less than fifty kilometers away.
"If that doesn't get the traffic going on this lake, nothing will,” Peggy told Jeff and Charlie.
"Let's get a head start,” Jeff suggested. “We'd better leave immediately."
"We?” Peggy was suddenly shaken by what she thought she'd heard. “You mean, you want me to—"
"What's my other option? If I leave you here—"
"I won't tell anyone where you've gone. I wouldn't do that."
"Just the same,” Jeff replied, “I want you with me."
"You still don't trust me, do you?"
Jeff answered, “I've got a limited number of choices, Peggy."
Charlie said to her, “Quit while you're ahead, woman."
"I want to hear it.” Peggy steeled herself for a great pain, lifting her chin and marshaling her expression. “Do you trust me or not, Jeff?"
"I don't,” Jeff answered frankly. “How can I? You're an exploding bomb, Peggy. I can't even try to guess what you'll do next.” He hesitated. “But I do believe your heart's in the right place."
A wretched shot of sudden pain pierced Peggy's heart. But she got her self-control. “I've made some stupid mistakes. And I might make a few more again—"
"You might.” Jeff touched her cheek, scanning her face with a frightening intensity in his dark brown eyes. “But I'm counting on you."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I won't let you down, Jeff."
He nodded. “Come on, then. Take your things. We'll use my boat."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 9
Jenna was a lovely, red-haired, topless waitress at the airport sports bar and grill, just two kilometers outside of Duluth. In her years of serving plates and pouring drinks there, she had never seen a crowd the likes of which started piling into the place that next morning. And both genders in more equal numbers, rather than the usual mostly-male clientele.
"Good God!” She panted as she rested against the now-empty beer keg. “What's going on, Melvin? Are the militia units putting on another victory parade or something?"
Melvin was another veteran of the latest war in the Middle East, and now the cook. He always worked with his pipe held tightly between his teeth, rendering him incapable of any speech. To answer Jenna's question, he just shook his head and pointed his big soup spoon toward the FM radio system. But all she could hear was an old Jonny O'Dawg song playing on the speakers.
The National Public Radio was responding to the public's sudden surge in requests for anything by Jonny O'Dawg. And most of his earlier traditional folk songs were still permitted to be heard. Though, of course, none of his later political, anti-government protesting ones.
Jenna gave an exasperated look at the back of Melvin's bald head. She kissed him there, and then grabbed a couple of fish meals off the counter to carry over to a table by the big picture window. Her tightly wrapped, transparent skirt moved with her as she swayed out into the packed and noisy bar. She was just reaching to set one of the plates down in front of the ogling male customer, when she overheard a bit of fascinating conversation at the next table.
"I can't believe it, can't believe it, can't believe it...” an attractive blond girl gushed.
She had on a see-through blouse, no bra, and skintight shorts. Her breasts were full and shapely, even though they were not as spectacular as Jenna and the other waitresses had.
Jenna always noticed things like that; a young woman with a pretty face ought to have enough sense not to dress like some kind of a slut. And especially not there where all the male attention was supposed to be focused only on the near-nude waitresses. That silly blue-eyed girl was leaning across the table to her companion, a long-haired, young guy who looked equally unkempt.
"I just can't believe it,” she said again. “He's really alive! Hey, why don't we go and look for him, eh? You and me! Why, it's the best chance we'll ever get to meet the great Jonny O'Dawg!"
Jenna dropped the second fishmeal. The plate crashed on the wooden floor of the bar and grill. Vegetables scattered in all directions, and the fish landed upside down on her bare feet. But she didn't notice he growing scorches.
"Jonny O'Dawg!” Jenna screamed. “Wow! He's alive?!"
* * * *
At an auto service station four kilometers north of town, a mechanic by the name of Al wiped his hands on an almost-clean rag, and decided to quit his job.
"I'm sorry, Bob,” he said to his tired and stressed co-worker. “I have to go and see if I can find that Jonny O'Dawg dude."
Bob, also his boss, was not pleased. “God damn it all, Al. We still have six more cars to check over before lunch, and I'm short-staffed already!"
"I'm sorry,” Al said stubbornly. “But I have to go."
"Al, don't you know a hoax when you hear one? How can this guy be alive?
Al just shook his head. “I don't know about that, Bob. All I know is my wife is his biggest fan. She's even had his picture hanging over the bathtub, so she could soak in there and look up at his eyes watching her. And then there's that big poster of him she had on the bedroom ceiling..."
His boss looked pained and uncomfortable. “But, Al, your wife ran off with that lottery winner, Darrel what's-his-name. She's hardly even yours to worry about anymore."
"I know that. But I still love her. And if I can talk to Jonny O'Dawg, maybe she'll come back to me,” Al replied. “I just know she will! My mind's made up, dude. I'm going right now. It's my only chance to save my marriage. See you later ... maybe."
Bob sighed mournfully and thought about six sets of auto repair parts that needed attention. And the six irate customers who were going to complain endlessly about the further delays. The one thing in the entire world that Bob hated the most was irate customers. He always broke out in rashes whenever any customers started yelling at him. He pulled off his dirty work shirt and put on his cleaner one.
"Hey, Al!” Bob shouted. “Wait for me!"
* * * *
In the coastal town of Ashland, chaos reigned. The town's residents never imagined their small community might become the focal point of one of the biggest hunts in the world.
The main street was clogged with vehicles. Frantic fans thronged the beach, launched boats, and listened to the Jonny O'Dawg songs playing on their radios. They set off across large Lake Superior toward the Apostle Islands, where they believed their hero was hiding.
Bayfield's Jemeny twins set up a fruit beverage stand and sold out in forty-five minutes. A grouchy old widow who hadn't left her house in four years, except for the time the ambulance took her to the hospital to treat a burn on her hand, came out onto her porch. She was immediately offered two thousand dollars for the old, rotting boat that had been learning against her place for at least a decade.
Her husband had been killed in the Vietnam War. And she might have been old, but she was certainly not stupid. She took a look at the traffic roaring past her place, and she immediately bargained them up to four thousand dollars before she let the nearly-worthless boat go.
* * * *
And the three brothers who owned the marina in Bayfield also knew an incredible opportunity when they saw one. They began to rent out their boats at triple the normal rate. They sat in their comfortable chairs, outside of the boathouse and supply shop, and drank specially imported draft beers while watching the show.
But before long, three identical big vehicles with federal government markings arrived. Each was towing a metal boat with a powerful engine.
"What do you bet?” the oldest brother asked.
They were watching while an entire section of tall, uniformed males got out of the monster vehicles, and set about launching their well equipped metallic boats into the water.
"Ten thousand bucks says those nasty guys are from Homeland Security."
"What would
Homeland Security want with a rock singer?” his youngest brother demanded.
"Illegal drugs, maybe,” the one suggested. “All those famous people are doing drugs."
"Not all of them,” the middle brother corrected. He was still suffering a terrible infatuation for Laurie Lonner. She was the beautiful singer and actress who had sometimes performed with Jonny O'Dawg, before he had been arrested and imprisoned. The youngest brother got up and wandered away to find out more about the activities on the crowded main street.
He was soon accosted by three wild-eyed and scantily-clad young ladies. They each offered a hundred dollars, and even the more intimate pleasures of their shapely bodies, if he would act as a guide and take them to Jonny O'Dawg.
"Wait until someone offers you five hundred,” his oldest brother advised when he came back to announce the deal.
But the youngest one didn't wait, especially as the three shapely ones had guaranteed to deliver their most attractive parts of the bargain ... and, indeed, definitely did so.
Soon after, someone else did come by and offered a full five hundred dollars. He was a burly looking hombre, in a military outfit that had more pockets and epaulets than ever seen before. He wore an old style cap with a bristle of stiff little feathers sticking out of the side brim. And he had a belt and leather holster with a huge combination automatic and pump action gun snapped into it.
But he also had a death-head skulled medallion around his neck. And what looked like human ears attached to his collar. The two remaining brothers just stood there blinking at the man like he had accidentally landed from another dimension. The look in his eyes was one of abstract detachment. But also of indestructible determination.
"My name's Panzer,” the uniformed one stated importantly. “I've got urgent government business to attend to. And I need an expert local guide immediately. Like, right now."
"Well, I'm not such,” drawled the middle brother, “but the older one of us here—he knows his way all around the lake and islands. What's so urgent, Section Group Leader?"
"It's battle group leader to you,” Panzer snapped. “And you can mind your own business. Have we got a deal or not? Let's get going right away. Where's the boat?"
The elder brother was a little dubious about his passenger, who insisted on standing in the bow of the boat as if he were a part of it. However, a near capsize finally convinced Panzer to sit down properly, and in the middle of the seat, for even ballast.
"I'm looking for a man by the name of Jeff Redmond,” Panzer explained to the brother as they cruised toward the deep-water bay of the lake. “You know him?"
"N-no, sir."
"He might be going by Brent Barnard these days."
"Oh!” the brother replied. “Brent. Yeah, I know where he is."
"Yes, he's sure been busy lately!"
"Yeah, I just took a young woman over there the other day."
"I see,” said Panzer. “Well, you can tell me about her while we make the trip."
"I thought, maybe, you were looking for Jonny O'Dawg, the outlawed rock star, eh?"
"The Pentagon has absolutely no interest in that unimportant matter."
"Well, it's the biggest thing to ever hit this town,” the brother said eagerly. “Why, my brothers and me have made over four thousand dollars already today."
"Make your wealth today, son, while you can. Tomorrow, the whole thing will blow over."
The brother was startled. “Why?"
"It's all just a diversion, pure and simple. The military knows a diversion when it sees one, boy. Does this wooden wreck go any faster? I fully intend to close this little matter before nightfall."
* * * *
Jeff and Peggy met their first plans in the midafternoon. Their boat rounded the point of the islet east of Kelvin Island, and they nearly cut a wobbly smaller boat into two pieces. Only Jeff's quick reactions saved the passengers from a dunking.
"Hey!” the young man shouted who was struggling ineptly with a paddle. He had two digital cameras slung around his neck, and they crashed against the paddle with every stroke he took. “Have you spotted Jonny O'Dawg yet?"
"Not yet,” Peggy bellowed back through cupped hands. “How about you?"
"Not yet! But I've got a job with a magazine for pictures. So, if you see Jonny O'Dawg, tell him that I can negotiate a good deal for him. My name is Mike."
"If we see him, we'll tell him,” Peggy promised.
Jeff steered his boat around the smaller one, and soon they were safely out of range.
He said to Peggy, “It's working!"
"Of course it's working.” She flashed him a confident grin. “I know what I'm doing, you see."
But later in the day, she wasn't so sure. She had noticed that the traffic on the lake had picked up dramatically. And there were as many as three military aircraft in sight at any given moment. The dull roar of boat engines ended the peaceful silence of the area.
But it was the deep, rumbling engine of one particular boat that sounded most businesslike. At the sight of them, she reached for Jeff's knapsack. In it, he had hidden the vials of toxic chemicals tucked under a rolled-up sleeping bag.
Two handsome and impressive-looking males wearing black uniforms and in a low metal boat flagged down Jeff. He obediently cut his engine, and the two crafts bobbed within a few meters of each other. The males sat in the middle of their craft, right behind the bow.
But directly behind them they had the dead carcass of what looked like a bear. Almost certainly the same one that had swam over and terrorized Peggy once before. It had been shot, several times, at point blank range. And all of the blood had been drained out of it.
"Afternoon, citizens,” the man in the bow said in a completely accent-free voice. “Can I ask you for some identification?"
"Why?” Peggy asked. “Are you the Coast Guard or something?"
The man obligingly flashed a Federal Government issued badge. “Homeland Security."
"Wow! What have we done wrong, Officer?"
"Nothing, ma'am. We're just keeping an eye on the area today to make sure no one gets hurt. You two fishing today?"
"Oh, no,” Peggy gushed. “We're looking for Jonny O'Dawg! Do you know where he's staying? We'd love to meet him! We're his biggest fans, aren't we, honey?"
"Umm,” stammered Jeff.
Peggy gulped. She hadn't expected that Jeff might be a poor actor, and realized she was on her own. She turned to them excitedly. “And I'm just dying to get Jonny O'Dawg's autograph! Why, he's just about the best singer in the whole world, don't you think?"
"Absolutely,” the Homeland Security agent said. “Now, how about that identification?"
"Good God, I'm really sorry,” Peggy babbled. “But we did a dumb thing this morning. We're just a couple of land lubbers and we—well, we—"
"Capsized the boat,” Jeff chimed in. “Turned it right over!"
"Yes, we lost just about everything,” Peggy added. “Our wallets, our money, and all that important stuff! Why, all we've got left is this picnic basket, and would you two nice gentlemen like a taste of my homemade muffins? They're my specialty, and I just know Jonny O'Dawg will love them. He's a vegetarian, you know, and I just crumbled up some fruit into a mixture of—"
"You both lost your wallets?"
"That's right."
"Then, how come you're not wet?"
"Well ... we've been sitting in the sunshine all day,” Jeff said. “I'm still a little damp underneath."
"Me, too.” Peggy pulled off her top to reveal her two magnificent orbs, and then stood up and began to remove her shorts. As they dropped down her legs, she smiled at both of the gawking agents. “If you don't believe me, you can just feel my panties. They're thong style, you know. That's the kind we like to wear in the Big Apple. As you can both tell, I'm definitely just a large-breasted East Coast girl. And look, you can plainly see right here in front of my undies that I'm still—"
"Darling,” Jeff interrupted, “please keep yo
ur clothes on! When are you going to get it through your empty New Yorker head that not everyone here is interested in seeing you naked?"
Peggy had her shorts off and was just beginning to reveal the thick brown triangle of her pubic hair. And she switched to the local custom, and sputtered convincingly.
"I never thought any such thing! Why, you're mean to say that to me! I have a mind to leave you flat! These nice gentlemen would be delighted to take me home, I'm sure, wouldn't you, sir? I won't be any trouble. Can I come with you?"
"Uh, we've got official business to take care of.” The other equally self-disciplined member of Homeland Security spoke in a heavy accent, and looked quite appalled by the suggestion. Then, he switched to the local dialect. “You citizens just have a pleasant day, eh?"
When the metallic boat was out of sight, Peggy realized she was as tense as a wound spring. She slowly pulled her tight shorts up and put her top back on. Then, she felt Jeff's hand on hers, and she turned to see a look of admiration on his face.
He exclaimed, “You can be a real pain in the ass when you put your mind to it. But those official guys couldn't get out of here fast enough! I think they were even a little bit embarrassed."
"It worked, didn't it? Maybe?"
Jeff couldn't help himself, and he smiled. “Yes, it did. Their kind is that conservative and repressed. You're a remarkable lady, my pretty Peggy."
He pulled her against him then, and Peggy sat with her back braced against his muscular chest. Jeff steered the boat out onto open water, and the fresh breeze blew in their faces.
But it wasn't the air that caused Peggy to feel renewed. She nestled against Jeff's powerful frame and wondered if they could just stay in the boat forever. They went on northward, past Isle Royale into the Nipigon region, and arrived at the campsite in the late afternoon.
The islet was even smaller than the one that had been Jeff's home for the past several years, but it looked lovely. Jeff knew where to beach the boat, and Peggy helped him conceal it under some low-hanging boughs of a large pine tree.
"We'll stay under cover in that grove up there.” He pointed to a grassy knoll covered with tall spruce trees. “It's sheltered, and we'll be invisible from the air. Let's set up camp. We'll have some cover that way, in case Charlie can't get here by nightfall."
Isle of Intrigue Page 15