Conclusion

by Peter Robertson

  The very first thing Ruby Tugdale did when she got to the cottage for the season was to run from the car to the water and throw herself headfirst into the lake. It was in the late spring when her breathless first plunge took place, initiating what would be her daily ritual. Ruby swam first thing in the morning and at sunset every day at the cottage, rain or shine, mostly alone in the morning, usually accompanied by Colin at dusk, as the season progressed.

  The end of the drive north usually came at exactly the right time in the day for her ritual to commence.

  On the morning of the last day, she staged the final immersion, in the cooling lake water, as fall threatened, and the Tugdales reluctantly dragged themselves back to the city.

  Her last plunge was carefully orchestrated. Her clothes and her shoes and her towel were all placed in the car beforehand, a plastic bag for her swimsuit lay ready. She would run from the water to the car. Then they would drive, and, by the time they stopped for coffee and gas an hour later, she would be dry and changed and sad as they bid farewell to the lake and the cottage.

  Colin recalled the particulars of the last mile of the drive up north at the start of the season. Ruby would be excited; getting her keys and her wallet out of her pockets, putting them in the glove compartment, pulling off her shoes and socks. She wore her swimsuit under her clothes, and this would be revealed as the car came to a stop, the tires coming to rest deep inside the expanse of wild clover flourishing outside the beach house.

  For the first few weeks, Ruby’s two daily immersions were taken alone, the lake water proving too cold for Colin and, in his considered opinion, for anyone else possessed of warm blood and an aversion to hypothermia.

  When Colin spoke again, he changed the subject. “That’s a very old laptop.”

  She shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”

  Colin persisted, “It looks old.”

  Angie smiled at him. “It’s supposed to look old. It’s got the newest and fastest processor you can buy. The memory is probably twenty times greater than the machine originally had. There are all kinds of passwords and encryption software loaded. It uses a lot of disk space because most of the data on it isn’t something I want stored on any cloud. The graphics are terrible, but I can live with that. I’m not doing any gaming on this thing. This is my real computer.”

  “What do you play games on?”

  “My shiny, brand-new computer.”

  “Did you bring your brand-new computer?”

  She shook her head. “That would be difficult.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone broke into my house and stole it.”

  He had a feeling he knew the answer to his next question before he asked it. But he asked it anyway.

  “What else was taken?”

  “Nothing else was taken.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Except for my diamond tiara and my collection of sketches by Picasso.”

  As Colin continued to drive north, Angie Rennie explained her system. She told him that she painstakingly updated the hardware innards of her old computer every year. She changed the passwords twice weekly. She also bought herself a new model every year.

  He wondered aloud what she kept on the new models.

  “An elaborate puzzle of outright lies. A collection of bogus information. Files filled with fake passwords and spreadsheets filled with financial information on companies that don’t exist. Foreign bank accounts in mythical places with invented currencies. I even have money in an offshore account in the Bank of Galma.”

  “Where’s that?” he asked.

  “It’s an island in Narnia,” she laughed. “All this fake stuff is fake protected. It’s a balance between being not too easy to decipher and not too hard to decipher. A challenge. But a solvable challenge.

  “There are two types of thief: the thief who wants a computer and anything else he can get his hands on, and the thief who wants my computer. The first type of thief will scrub the hard drive and sell the new machine, and that’s fine because scrubbing the drive and giving the new machine to a charity shop is all I ever do with it anyway. The second type of thief will be able to access all the fake information, and that’s fine, too. They’ll just find a bunch of stuff I want them to find.”

  He asked who she thought took it. Which kind of thief?

  “That’s a good question. I’m going to go with the second thief. Nothing else was taken. I don’t have a whole lot, but I have an antique German camera that’s about the most valuable thing I own. It was on the shelf, in clear view. Right beside the computer. It’s still sitting there. I’ve bought some expensive jewelry over the years that I don’t often wear. It was sitting in an open box near the computer. It also wasn’t touched. The camera and the jewelry are my tests. So, I don’t really know. Nothing much was messed up. They were only in the house for a short time. I walked to the flower shop that afternoon. I was gone an hour. They must have been watching the house.”

  He remembered something. “When I called you about Linda Jackson …”

  She nodded her head. “I’d just got back home.”

  “You sounded a little distracted.”

  “I’m sure I was. The front door was skillfully picked. I always lock it and it’s a decent bolt. No one seemed to have looked very hard for anything else. So, it was the second thief. They wanted my computer. They got the wrong one.”

  “So, you keep the new computer near the camera and the jewelry on purpose?”

  She nodded.

  “Where was the old computer?”

  “In an old cardboard box in a closet. Beside a BlackBerry and an abandoned answering machine.”

  “That’s very clever,” he admitted.

  “Thank you.” She was growing distracted.

  “What are you thinking now?”

  “I’m thinking that there’s a third kind of thief.”

  “What kind is that?”

  “That’s the kind of thief who would have spent less than five minutes with the new computer then torn the house apart till they found the older one.”

  “But that wasn’t the thief who broke in.”

  “No,” she admitted with a tight smile. “I’m happy to say that this time it wasn’t.” There was a long pause. “What time were you in the rewards lounge?”

  “Which time?”

  “The first time. Which night was that?”

  He thought for a moment, then told her.

  He noticed that she typed very quickly as he continued to drive.

  “There were three more flights that night to Duluth,” she told him.

  “I’m guessing Elliot Devine wasn’t on any of them.”

  “Oh, he was,” she said. “He just wasn’t calling himself Elliot Devine.”

  The typing resumed. Then it stopped again.

  “A total of nine rewards customers flew on these three flights. I’m guessing that Devine flew on the first flight, right after he left the lounge.” She stopped talking. She kept typing. “Four rewards customers were on that first flight. Damn.” She looked annoyed.

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t get the names of the people on these flights. But I can check hotel reservations. And I can check car rentals.”

  He was curious. “How many hotels are in Duluth?”

  “Fifty.”

  “Car rentals?”

  “Ten.”

  “We don’t know his name.”

  She could only nod her head in agreement.

  “Do you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that the timing of all this is very interesting. I’m having my credit checked for no good reason by a credit company I’ve never heard of. I’m being robbed. I don’t generally get robbed. The outside of my house discourages people interested in getting their hands on fancy stuff.”

  “And you’re worried?”

  “No,” she allowed at last. “I’d have to say I’m really more curious than worried. They took nothing but my computer. They didn�
��t take the interesting computer. They took nothing else. So, I should assume they wanted my computer. But they weren’t clever enough to find the right one. Or even to look for the right one. Or perhaps not.” She looked thoughtful.

  “What else are you thinking?”

  “I think I’m being given a warning. Or two warnings. And I’m thinking it’s a good time for me to leave town. I think my warnings are only moderate ones. They could have given me a more serious one.”

  “Moderate warnings?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m annoying someone.”

  “No, I mean, why is it a moderate one?”

  She stopped typing and held up her laptop. “Because if they’d taken this computer I would have been really worried.”

  “Who is doing this?’

  She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. But it’s clearly your fault.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because it’s all happened since I threw myself at you.”

  “Possibly just a coincidence.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.”

  “I must be bad luck.”

  “You must be.”

  Colin changed the subject. “You made me change direction back there. Are we being followed?” He sounded like a little kid.

  “I’ve no idea,” she said. “We might be.”

  “An evasive maneuver just in case?”

  Angie shook her head in a display of mock sadness. “A neighborhood street festival in honor of beer and bratwurst.”

  “I see.” He was momentarily deflated.

  “Now it’s your turn to look thoughtful.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe these things are connected. I mean, connected with you meeting me. I’m causing you trouble.”

  “Perhaps you are.”

  “Why is it you and not me?”

  “Why is there no credit check for you? Why is there no one breaking into your house? It’s possible that you did get a check, and you just don’t know it, yet. But I’m guessing you didn’t. And no one broke into your house. I think you would have noticed that. Think for a moment about what we’ve done. And try to focus on the traceable stuff. Your wife is dead. You buy a fancy plane ticket. You like it so much you sign up for more fancy tickets. You go to a fancy place and drink coffee. You visit a website for a nature group.”

  He interrupted her there. “I made a donation.”

  She laughed. “Good. That’s a perfect reason. There’s a connection between the fancy club and the website. And that connection is Devine. But I defy anyone to spot it based solely on what you were doing. You asked some strange questions at the fancy place. You visited a woman who works there. Unless someone is following you, none of this stuff shows up as a paper trail. Or a digital one. Or an internet one. And now you’re driving up north to visit a house you own.”

  “Have I made any mistakes so far?”

  She was quick to burst his bubble. “Two.”

  “The first one?”

  “You searched for Devine on the internet.”

  “And the second?”

  “You’re hanging around with me.”

  “You’re a mistake?”

  “I am. And I’ve made a few of my own. I ran a credit check on Natural Boundary. I’ve looked for Devine on the internet in a much more sustained way than you did. And then there’s the fact that I am who I am.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her smile was empty. “What do I mean? I’m a career computer criminal and I’m annoying someone. You’re a retired old man grieving for his lost wife. You’re going to die soon. So how much harm can you cause? I’ve got plenty more years of making trouble left.”

  He should have been offended, but he wasn’t.

  “So, what are you doing that’s causing all the trouble?”

  “My first guess is annoying the NBF. The credit check woke them up. Then they saw me look for Elliot Devine. They credit checked me back. I’m sure of it.”

  “And the theft?’

  “I think that was them, too. Another form of warning. And there’s other stuff. The NBF website. I went there. And even now. I just ran a bunch of airline passenger searches for Devine on the night you saw him. I just ran a search of planes to Duluth that same night. The only address we have for the foundation is one in Duluth. I’m making it worse as we speak.”

  She took a deep breath before she continued.

  “I’ve got to admit, I’m surprised that I got anyone’s attention. My searches are well protected. I route them through dummy servers spread out across the world. But someone still managed to notice me.”

  “You think the foundation?”

  She nodded. “They seem both protective and technologically savvy. It’s not a pleasant combination.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, while they both contemplated the ominous ramifications of Angie’s cyber visibility.

  “Which town is your cottage in?”

  Colin looked a little sheepish. “It isn’t—there really isn’t much of a town. There’s an excellent organic food store. Their prices are cheaper than regular supermarkets in the city. There’s a gas station with overpriced premium and bad coffee. And Sal’s Snug Roadhouse, on the next lake over, does a great panfried walleye dinner special on a Friday night in the summer. There are lots of fish in our lake. They keep it well stocked. But not with walleye, for some reason. There’s easy access to canoeing and camping on national forest land, which is close by. A good hiking trail runs all the way down to the big lake.”

  “How’s the internet service up there?”

  “It used to be dismal.”

  “What happened?”

  Colin smiled. “Tony visited and he made it much better.”

  “How far is Duluth from your place?”

  “Maybe a hundred miles west, if you go the fastest way. It’s a little slower, but much prettier, if you follow along the edge of the big lake.”

  “Can you drive any faster?”

  “I certainly can.”

  She raised her eyebrows encouragingly.

  Minutes later they arrived at the on-ramp for the expressway that headed north away from the city. There was a stoplight. He duly stopped on red. But as the light changed to green and Colin turned the corner, he stabbed his foot down on the accelerator. The six-cylinder engine lagged for a split second before two living people, their sparse collection of luggage, and the remaining remains of one dead person catapulted across three lanes of loitering trucks in a heedless rush.

  After a few hours of driving, they stopped, wolfing down formidable sandwich creations at a fake castle dedicated to state-centric tourism and cheese. When the bill arrived, Angie snatched it up and paid quickly with two twenties at the cash register positioned by the door.

  At the ATM outside, Angie suggested that Colin load up on cash, and he did just as he was told.

  Later, they bought their groceries at the aforementioned organic food market, where they had intended to shop lightly, but the surfeit of bargains encouraged indulgence. Colin pulled out his credit card at the checkout, but Angie stepped in with a thick roll of paper currency and forked a great wad of it over before he could articulate a protest.

  Colin found his voice outside in the parking lot. “I would have been happy to pay.”

  She turned on him, “Didn’t I tell you to get cash?”

  “I did.”

  “Good. Then what are you waiting for?” she said. She didn’t wait for his answer. “You need to start using it.”

  “I assumed it was for emergency use.”

  “Well, it isn’t.”

  “I can see that, now,” he huffed.

  “We need to make our movements a little harder to follow up here,” she told him as they walked back to the car with their provisions. “We can’t leave so much of a trail.”

  He got it.

  JUSTIN

  Justin arrived at Lauder Lake Outfitters in
the middle of a Monday morning. He had remembered that Mondays were the turnaround day. Hundreds of campers, novices mostly, young adults and younger kids grumbling and kissing internet service and their phones goodbye. Unattended Duluth packs littering the paths to the waterfront landing, where a bottleneck of canoers waited to enter the waters. Others paddling across the last stretch of Lauder Lake before getting a welcome hot shower, turning in their rental equipment and canoes, and heading into town to blow their refunded deposit money on pizza, craft beer, and gourmet coffee.

  Justin watched the comings and goings of canoes and bags and paddles and people.

  He found an empty restroom inside the outfitters. He washed his hands and face and changed into his swim shorts. He took off his wool socks and packed them away. He kept his new baseball cap on.

  The outfitters carried a range of inexpensive goods, with a decided bias toward the kind of items that people forget to pack. Justin had brought all his toiletries, but he had forgotten the white biodegradable soap that the outfitters stocked and recommended.

  He bought a bar and picked up two new maps.

  Sitting on the outside porch, he packed all three items away.

  A wet nose was suddenly thrust into his lap.

  Ten years ago, there had been a one-eyed golden retriever puppy at the outfitters. It still had one eye, but it was no longer a puppy.

  A dirt road led to the other point of entry, a few miles north, the one on Selkirk Lake, the one his group had accessed by the short and bumpy truck ride, their Kevlar canoes secured to the trailers. This time, Justin planned to put in at Lauder Lake with everyone else.

  As he had expected, at the landing the bags and boats and campers formed a dense unruly blockade of welcoming chaos. Justin soon spotted an orphan Duluth pack propped against a tree trunk. He gave it five minutes to be claimed before he moved in. He grabbed the bag. It was three-quarters full. Perfect. He opened the top, threw his duffle inside, closed it back up, and began to walk purposefully toward the mob at the edge of the water, all the while shouldering his newfound burden like he was born to it.

  Stupidity was on display at the landing that morning. One canoe had tipped over. Someone was trying to climb into a boat while holding an open beer and a guitar. Paddles were misplaced, small children and large pets as well. Maps were hastily, belatedly, being consulted.