“Me neither,” Jack admitted. “But the idea encouraged me tostop in at the Bennet Municipal Water Department and chat with the director.”
“Good idea,” Bob said. “Was he helpful? I’ve always thought of Lachlan Harper as a good man.”
“Quite helpful,” Jack said with a nod. “I hadn’t really thought out any specific questions to ask as the visit was more of a fishing trip than anything else. To be honest, I knew so little about the process of municipal water treatment that I didn’t know where to begin. Although I didn’t come to any conclusions about the possibility of this current dementia series being waterborne, what I did gather is that the concept of infectious prions isn’t yet a concern in the water treatment field. That’s a mistake. My sense is that they are going to need to catch up because chlorination will have zero effect on any prion contamination. The other thing I came away with was that anybody and everybody can walk in there and have access to a huge tank of potable water.”
“That’s probably not a good idea in this day and age,” Bob said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Jack said.
“Oh shit!” Bob said as he glanced at his watch. “What am I doing jawboning with you? I’ve got at least another hour of patients to see.” He stood up and slipped his white doctor’s coat back on that had been draped over the back of his desk chair.
“My apologies for distracting you,” Jack said. He stood up as well and followed Bob as he hurried out of the office.
“See you later at Ted’s,” Bob said over his shoulder before ducking into the procedure room. Jack could hear him greet the waiting mother and young boy and apologize for keeping them waiting. To Jack, Bob seemed to be the epitome of the small town, totally committed family physician, which was unfortunately becoming a lost art.
Jack passed through Bob’s waiting room, waving to Melanie, and retrieved his bike. Outside he straddled the Trek but then hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to do. There was to be no basketball, Laurie was engaged on her hike probably for a number of more hours, and Warren and Jada were off on their excursion. For the moment, Jack felt mildly cast adrift as he couldn’t think of any more sleuthing to do. Although he knew he could always follow another one of the many bike loops Bob had suggested, he’d had enough biking.
Instead, Jack found himself fantasizing about the gorgeous crystal-clear lake the Hiram House overlooked and the canoe, both of which beckoned thanks to the perfect weather. He guesstimated the temperature was in the low eighties, and with a nearly cloudless sky, he was confident it would remain so for the next hour or two, making the idea of late afternoon water sports enticing. After all, he could bike ride any old day in the city. Besides, what if Alexei just happened to appear and begin using the Bennet diving board while Jack just happened to be paddling in the not-too-distant neighborhood. If that was the case he knew he wouldn’t think twice about paddling over and asking to join in.
With that entertaining thought in mind, Jack pushed off, quickly rode the length of Main Street, and then upped his speed to what he liked to fantasize was close to that of the Tour de France peloton. With the wind whipping by his face and even rustling his hair inside his helmet, he pushed himself to greater effort, progressively eager to get back to Hiram House, don his bathing suit, put the canoe in the water, and get out on the lake. As a strong swimmer and former lifeguard during his college years, he didn’t think for a second about any potential danger he might be courting. On the contrary, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of the idea earlier.
Chapter 25
Friday, July 25, 4:54p.m.
Hiram House
Hamilton County, New York
Riding with great energy all the way up to the back stairs of the Hiram House, Jack hefted his bike onto his shoulder and quickly carried it up onto the porch. He’d been leaving the Trek in the mudroom along with his biking gear since their arrival Wednesday. Without wasting any time, he charged upstairs to change into his bathing suit, which he’d been hanging to dry in the sizable shower. He was eager to get out in the canoe as quickly as possible. Pulling on a sweatshirt—more for sun protection than warmth despite the late afternoon hour—and grabbing a clean towel, he was ready.
When he was passing through the kitchen, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave a note for Laurie so if she came home earlier than expected, she’d know he was out on the lake. But then he decided against taking the time. He was confidentshe’d see his bathing suit was gone from the shower and the canoe was gone from the dock and quickly put two and two together.
Once out at the end of the dock, he stood for a moment, facing up at the sun with his eyes closed to appreciate its power and warmth. Then after taking off the sweatshirt and putting it and the towel on one of the Adirondack chairs along with his phone, he did exactly what he’d done that morning, first standing with his toes over the edge and gazing out over the expanse of the lake. Focusing on the distant view of the Bennet Estate, he could see that at the moment the diving board was not being used, but with the fabulous weather, he thought there was a good chance that could change. Then taking in a deep breath, he dove into the water, and with another burst of high energy like he’d expended that morning, he swam out fifty feet or so until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer.
Flipping over onto his back, he floated for a few minutes while gazing up into the infinite blue of the sky. Even that simple activity reminded him with great nostalgia of his teenage summers. But soon the canoe’s allure was too much to resist, and he returned to the dock. After drying off and redonning his sweatshirt, he set about launching the canoe. Once he had, he tossed in his towel and a paddle and then climbed in himself.
Jack was adept at canoeing since his family had one at their Indiana summer cottage. He’d even participated as a teenager in canoe competitions, in which he’d been reasonably successful. What he liked about a canoe was the ability to propel it almost soundlessly the way he was currently doing. And as he did so, he particularly appreciated that the lake was private and consequently full of wildlife. As for the weather, it couldn’t have been any betterwith just occasional slight breezes, a few puffy white clouds, and a deliciously warm temperature.
Without having given the idea much thought, he’d decided to circumnavigate the lake. Thanks to the water’s striking clarity he could see down fifteen to twenty feet easily, where there were lots of fish and fish nests. Since the water got deep as quickly as it did, he kept close to the shoreline, and as he glided by he disturbed and consequently heard lots of frogs croaking and splashing into the water. He was also close enough to the shoreline and the forest that surrounded the lake to hear and see a remarkable variety of colorful songbirds. As far as he was concerned, the scene and the conditions couldn’t have been any better, especially considering how accustomed he was to the cement canyons of New York City.
About twenty-five pleasurable minutes later, Jack found himself approaching the Bennet Estate dock. During the entire paddle he’d occasionally glanced over in its direction, particularly at the diving board, hoping to see activity, but there had been none. And now as he approached, he wondered what he should do. On his current trajectory, he’d need to paddle out into the lake to round the end of the dock.
Holding up on his paddling, Jack debated getting his mobile phone out and calling Bob to have him call JD to phone Alexei since JD presumably had Alexei’s number for basketball so that JD could tell Alexei that at that very moment Jack was in a canoe at the Bennet Estate and would love to chat if convenient. But almost the second this complicated scenario entered Jack’s mind, he laughed at himself because he had responsibly left his phone on the Adirondack chair on the Hiram dock. Besides, he dismissed the whole idea as far too involved and ultimately too presumptuous. It just wasn’t his style. If a meeting were merely to have happened, it wasone thing, which was what Jack had been hoping, but making a big effort to cause it to happen was something else entirely.
Instead, Jack began paddling out into the lake to round the Bennet dock by a wide margin, but then on a whim, he changed his mind and instead guided the canoe’s bow over in its direction. This new course required him to duck briefly as the canoe glided under the protruding diving board and then to grab onto one of the dock’s cleats as he came alongside its lakeside end. For a few moments he just hung on, trying to decide what to do, if anything.
From where he was, Jack had an unobstructed view of the property, including the main house, and he could now appreciate just how remarkably similar it was to the Hiram House although definitely larger and in that sense more impressive. Off to the left closer to the lake was a good-sized barn, or in Jack’s mind, a stable for horses since it had lots of first floor windows, which barns didn’t have at least in Indiana, and there was a riding trail in front that disappeared off into the lakeside forest. To the right and a bit closer to the house was a third building, the function of which Jack had no clue, as it was literally built into the hillside. Most of it except for its façade was underground. Beyond these three structures was a parking area with a single black pickup truck along with what looked to Jack like a formal garden. There were no signs of its militiamen residents whatsoever. Except for the truck, the place didn’t even look occupied.
Recognizing that he was totally exposed, especially being in a bright red canoe, Jack stayed where he was. His hope was that Alexei would spot him and come out to say hello. As seconds turned into minutes and no one appeared, Jack began to believe that the Netherlanders must have been out despite the black truck’s presence suggesting otherwise.
After about five minutes, he felt reasonably confident he was alone at the property, and he turned his attention to the diving board. There it was, beckoning, less than ten feet away. After another brief and silent exchange, he came to the self-serving conclusion that since he and the Netherlanders were, after all, sharing the lake, it didn’t seem all that presumptuous to share what was just a way to get into the lake, or so he justified.
Balancing himself with his hands on the canoe’s gunwales, he got to his feet and stepped out onto the dock. He then pulled the canoe up out of the water as well, letting it rest on its keel but tilted slightly onto its side. There it would sit in full view, announcing his presence like a huge red calling-card. At least he wasn’t doing anything underhanded, or so he continued to rationalize. He peeled off his sweatshirt, tossed it into the boat, and happily mounted the diving board and prepared himself for his first dive. But then he hesitated as he looked back at the barn and found himself wondering anew about the so-called brewery. From the first moment he’d heard about it and even after discussing it with Alexei, he couldn’t help but feel feel there was something distinctly fishy about it. The idea of a militia commander coming thousands of miles from an attractive but entirely flat country barely above sea-level to a gorgeous mountainous Arcadia in midsummer and choosing to closet himself indoors making beer seemed dubious at best.
Making yet another sudden decision, Jack retreated off the diving board, walked the length of the dock, and stepped out onto the lawn. For him the proximity of the long line of stable windows offering a quick interior glimpse was far too tempting an opportunity to ignore. Jack was at the building in seconds, and as he guessed, the windows were right at a convenient shoulder height.
Choosing a window halfway down the side of the building andcupping his hands along the sides of his head, Jack leaned his face against the glass and waited for his eyes to adjust. As they did so a large stainless-steel cylinder emerged out of the shadows not that far away, which Jack assumed was a fermenter. But then the more his eyes adjusted to the interior gloom, more equipment began to materialize, much more.
