CHAPTER
5: Beaver Island, Singing the Blues
"Ok
you lazy bums, time to get up" Shirley yelled into the bunk room of her
cabin where Jack and Geno had crashed. Annie had laid up a fire in the wood
stove and slept next to it on a couple fur rugs. She and Shirley had let the
boys sleep for a couple hours after they had gotten up. They sat in the kitchen
and drank coffee ate bacon, and some biscuits with Shirley's homemade honey.
They talked about what had been going on lately and shared their own
perspectives on how life had changed dramatically in the last sixteen years.
Shirley allowed as how she had not really been affected by all the new
technology that much one way or the other. Most folks on Garden Peninsula had
precious little use for high technology unless it involved a better way to
distill booze, poach a deer, or maybe build a better meth lab. She did however
recall a kid that got thrown off his four wheeler and was paralyzed from the
waist down over near Garden. His family took him to U of M medical center for a
stem cell transplant and had his own DNA marked nerve/ stem cell precursors
injected. The procedure was a sucess and now the kid is back riding his four
wheeler in a drunken stupor every night......such were the social achievements
in the modern Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Drinking and driving- whether cars,
ORVs, dirt bikes, or snowmobiles- was regarded as proper sport, in the U.P. so
was drinking and shooting. Shirley considered it as humorous that riding around
on a quad runner shooting holes in abandoned refrigerators was held in such
high regard by most of her costumes. She had once tried using an old discarded
walk-in freezer as a smoke house. She made good money selling smoked fish,
beef, and venison jerky until it was too full of bullet holes to hold the
smoke. None of the locals actually intended any financial harm to Shirley, it's
just that they all understood that any appliance placed out of doors for a week
or more was simply intended to have holes shot into it. In a matter of weeks
Shirley had realized the folly of her action and built a cement block smoke
house instead. She also dragged the bullet hole ridden freezer out into the
field next door for further pot shots until it was more bullet hole air than
metal. One of the unintended consequences of owning a bar in Garden Peninsula
was amassing a huge collection of firearms. As Shirley explained to Annie G as
they stepped into her gun room. "Ya see dar sweetie, da only thing most of
dees boy got dats worth a darn is dar guns, and da only thing day likes more
den dar guns is dar booze". "So.....if they got no money
left......" Annie said...."dats right sweetie I gets da only ting
dats worth a shit......dar guns". "Holy shit, and you do have some
guns don't you" Annie G announced as she stepped in the room. "So, I
just start to collecting dem, now let's see here, you'll be needin one a dees,
and one a dees.........".... By the time Jack and Geno had poured their
first cup of coffee Annie G had a duffel with a 5" Glock 9mm with two, 17
shot quick change clips (Glocks were a favorite in the U.P. due to the fact
they could shoot in sub zero temps, and underwater) a Colt model 1911 .45 ACP
(45s were another favorite due to the fact that they left the biggest holes in
refrigerators and road signs) two Savage sawed off 12 gauge shotguns, a
Browning BAR .308 Win. With 14x Nikon scope, and a U.S. Marine issue M4 full
auto with 8x night scope and grenade launcher. "Jesus fucking Christ, Shirley,
we're not going to invade North Korea ya know". North Korea had been a
running joke for the past twenty years. Former NBA star Dennis Rodman had made
several visits to North Korea during the early rule of Kim jun Un. People in
the U.S. thought he was just a nut case- which he was- and figured he was just
going for weird publicity, but as it turned out he was nuttier that anyone
thought. On his final visit he had somehow smuggled in a bunch of weapons and
explosives. He had also found accomplices and managed to assassinate Kim and at
least two dozen of his closest Generals. Of course, this spelled the end of the
Rod, but the ultimate result was a total breakdown of the totalitarian
government and reunification of the Korean Peninsula under the democratic
government of the south.
"We'll
ya never know when ya gonna need a friend...dats what I always say. Jump in da
land Cruiser and I'll give ya a lift to da boat". They all climbed into
Shirley's Toyota Land Cruiser and Shirley drove them down to where their dingy
was tied. "You boys take care of dat lady now" and sent them on their
way with a duffel full of fire arms and a couple bottles of Shirley's best
whiskey. "Excellent combination" thought Jack "welcome to the
U.P." . As they climbed on board, Jack pulled the Colt out of the duffel
and tucked it in his belt, then pulled the cork from one of the bottles and
took a long swig. He handed it to Geno who followed with a healthy swig of his
own and proceeded to tuck the Glock in his belt. "You guys think you're
Butch fucking Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or something"? Asked Annie G as
she grabbed the bottle, not to be outdone by Jack or Geno, and took her five
second gulp. "More like the three Musketeers I guess.... And what piece do
I get"? "Here you take the Glock, it's more of a chick gun anyway,
I'm more of a sawed off savage kind of guy" said Geno as he handed her the
9mm and took the sawed off twelve gauge out of the duffel, popped a couple 00
buck, three and a half inch nitro shells in the chamber. He thought to himself
about how hard a double aught, three and a half inch load had kicked in his
Benellie Super Back Label when Goose hunting and shuttered at the thought of
what would happen if he had to pull the trigger on this gun with the same load
but with the barrel and stock sawed off. "Holy shit, I hope I don't have
to shoot anybody with this thing" he said out loud. "And you got one
for each hand" Annie laughed. Geno had dropped greater Canadian geese from
fifty yards with the same load and a modified choke and was sure about one
thing; anyone within a twenty yard circumference even in the general vicinity
of a shot from this thing was toast.
"So
now that we are equipped like seal team six, where the heck do you guys wanna
go"? "Beaver Island" Jack and Annie said together. "So,
what the heck are we still doing here, let's get the main up and pull this anchor".
"On it boss" they both yelled as Jack went forward to the windless
and Annie started to hoist the mainsail. Geno went to the helm and turned to
port as the half raised main filled and Jack quickly took in the anchor road.
As soon as the boat had passed over the anchor, it broke free and Jack yelled
"FREE" as he brought up the anchor and secured it on the anchor
roller. Geno swung the helm to starboard into the wind and Annie G hoisted the
mainsail the rest of the way. Geno turned back off the wind, sheeted in the
main, and unfurled the jib as Jack arrived back in the cockpit to put some
wraps on the primary winch and grind in the jib sheet till it was trimmed out
perfectly. "Next stop...Saint James Harbor..... Now, lets have some beer
on deck please".
Saint
James was named after King James Jesse Strang, the self professed Mormon king
of Beaver Island from 1848 till his assignation in 1856. Strang had been party
to the struggle for power in the Mormon Church after the assignation of its
founder Joseph Smith, between him, Bringham Young and Sidney Rigdon in Nauvoo
Illinois. King James had twelve thousand followers and over the course of the
next three years had found his way to Beaver Island where he founded his Mormon
Kingdom and reigned for eight years. To say that Strang was a nut case would be
an understatement, however he seemed to possess the kind of charisma and
eloquent oratory skills that allowed him to not only act as king of his own
island but actually get elected to and serve for a term and a half in the
Michigan State House of Representatives. As it turns out, he probably should
have counted his blessings and enjoyed his success, rather than helping himself
to the wives of his followers, which turned out to be a very bad idea. His
kingdom came to an abrupt end when two of his disgruntled followers shot him
down in broad daylight on the pier in Saint James Harbor. Since the villages on
the mainland had suffered pilfering at the hands of the Mormons for eight
years, after the word of King James’s death, they mounted an assault on the
island and routed all the remaining Mormon "subjects". Since then,
the population has consisted of a mixture of Irish, and Scandinavian,
immigrants and Ottawa and Chippewa Indians. Beaver has been the only island with
a full time population in the Great Lakes since 1856, and it's history has been
sorted to say the least.
To
say that Beaver Island was an island of misfits would be an understatement and
Geeze fit in perfectly. He had sailed to Saint James many times with Geno and
Jack. The Island had a large population of what we now call “little
people" but Geeze called midgets. They sailed miniature twelve meter
sailboats in competition around Saint James harbor and often Geeze had sailed
through the fleet when coming into Saint James. He was always amazed at their
sailing skill and loved it when they brought the Leading Lady in while a race
was going on. The Shamrock was Geeze's favorite watering hole and the boys had
seen their fair share of drunks and bar fights between inebriated Native
Americans and the hot blooded Irish immigrant descendants. One hundred years of
inbreeding did produce a few character traits like eyes being a bit too close
together and a somewhat nasty disposition. Jack seemed to think it could be a
perfect place to hide out, at the very least it would be entertaining.
They
had sailed out from Poverty Island Passage around noon and set a course for the
south end of Beaver, rounding the south end by seventeen hundred hours. The
wind was gusting to twenty knots out of the southwest so they popped the kite
when they turned north at the south end of the Island. It only took a couple
hours to sail the length of the island and turn back west into St. James
Harbor. They gibed to port and flew the spinnaker to within thirty feet of the
township dock. They doused the kite, Annie and Jack ran forward to collect it
on deck and Geno guided the Lady into a slip with the main sheeted out and
dropped it just before turning to enter the slip. Geno tossed a line on the
spring pile as they coasted by and Jack jumped to the dock and caught lines as
Annie tossed them to him. Within a minute they were fast and safe at the dock.
"The Eagle Has Landed" Jack shouted! "Cocktails anyone"?
"Thought you'd never ask" was the reply in perfect unison.
After
a few drinks and finishing all the required tidying up they all found
themselves in the cockpit sipping their Rum "pain killers" and
chatting with each other and several friends that had passed by to welcome them
back. "So Jack, aren’t you a bit freaked about Shirley spotting some
strange dudes in the neighborhood"? "Yea does seem a bit strange,
doesn't it"? "You actually think there is a connection"?
"Shit....I don't know....I mean, one the one hand it's kind of farfetched
to think there is actually someone tailing me, but on the other hand, strangers
in Fayette that would get Shirley's attention......I don't know. Anyway it
really doesn't matter since we bolted and even if they were keeping an eye on
me...they're not any more..right"? "Right"! "So, I say we
go to the Shamrock, get a fat greasy burger, see if Denny and Beans are
playing, and get totally baked again.... What da ya say"? "I'm
in" said Geno "I think the last time I was here with the Geeze and
Denny and Beans were playing at the Shamrock was the most bakedest I have ever
been". "Is that even a word, or did you just make that up" Annie
G said as she came out of the companion way, catching the tail end of the
conversation". Geno did have a propensity for making up his own words.
"Hey...it's a word...look it up... You got baked...them more
bakeder...than most bakedest". "Easy for you to say, he who speaks
fluent Beaver Islandish" Annie retorted in her best smart assed
inflection.
Sure enough,
as if time had stood still, when they approached The Shamrock, they heard the
familiar sound of Denny Kline on the Drums and singing "Shot Gun" by
Jr. Walker and The All Stars. "Dam, it's as if nothing ever changes round here"
Jack said as they reached the door. Beans was playing guitar and singing,
Johnny Bag-a-doughnuts on keyboards, brother Dick Rutherford on the bass, and
of course Denny on drums. This had been the same weekend line up at the
Shamrock for the last twenty years more or less. There had been a few changes
in the line up over the years and of course lots of different guys “sitting
in" on various occasions but these four guys had been the mainstay and
they were one tight, hard rockin, badass band. They had gone by several band
names over the years; the Shiners, The Drunks, Phil Dirt and the Dozers, but
most folks just knew them as the shamrock band. They did gigs over on the
mainland on occasion in various towns in the northern lower peninsula. Every so
often they would take a three day gig down state, ether in Annarbor or East
Lansing at one of the collage clubs. It was real good money and they always
packed the house. In the summer though, they preferred to stay on Beaver and
play weekends at the Shamrock. Shawn Conner who owned the Shamrock had vast
empirical data that he could bring in three times as many people with good
music and more importantly that everybody regardless of sex, age, race, or
color.... drank three times more booze when they were dancing and listening to
rock and roll.
"Well
you going to get your ass up here and play some music or what" Denny said
through the PA just as they ordered drinks. "Good to see you boys"
said Shawn as he served up three shots of Patron and Dos Equis beers. "So
geno you up for a few tunes, sounds like the gang's not going to let you off
the hook". Geno was a top notch guitar player and a darn good singer who
had played for a living on and off since middle school. He had also been in a
band with Denny four three years and sat in with the shamrock band many times.
"What do ya say Annie G , should I play some music with these
losers"? "That all depends on what you intend to sing for us"
she replied. "A little Wilson Picket perhaps"....."Stones
maybe" she said. He replied with
a rather
snide " ah yes, the Stones, I can't believe their still doing it after all
these years, wow, you know........Fred...Barney...Wilma... Dino. "HEY
Denny, how bout we start with a little Gimmie Shelter, boys". "You
got it man, then let's break into some Midnight Hour" Denny said as he
handed Geno a Fender Telecaster. Geno toasted jack and Annie, slammed his
patron, took a swig of his Dos Eques and jumped on stage. One, two, three,
four.........
"What
you been up to anyway" Shawn asked Jack. "Oh, just sailing, fishing,
drinking, eating, and ummmmm........". "Fucking?? Is that what you
were going to say" interrupted Annie G. "Yea, that's it, that's the
ticket" Geno finished. "Well alrighty then, same shit you always been
doing". "Actually Shawn, I've been in D.C for six years now and doing
an environmental lobbyist gig. Seemed pretty cool till just a few days ago. We
are kind of on the lamb, so to speak, and tiring to hide out from these guys
who I figure are out to get me". "Shit man, who are they? Want me to
put the Gillespie boy on um". "I would pity the fuckers then, that's
for sure, but I'm not so sure that'll be necessary just yet". "Thanks
though, I might have to take you up on that one"
"Going
to wait till the midnight hour"... "He hasn't lost a thing has
he"? Shawn said to Annie G as Geno broke into his second song. "Oh,
he's still got it going on that's for sure". "Jackie boy, better take
me to that dance floor". "Let's do da boogaloo baby".
The bar was
full, as was the the dance floor. By the end of the night the Shamrock dance
floor resembled something more along the lines of a demolition derby or at
least bumper cars than a dance floor. Twelve years before, Geno was driving a
van to the back door with Denny and Beans when it broke through a sink hole and
dropped right to the rear axle. A dozen drunks came out of the bar and lifted
it right out of the hole and carried the van right to the back door. Later that
same night, as Geno was ripping an incredible solo he heard the applause and looked
up to see an inebriated Native American dancing on a table top with his pants
down. By one thirty the place was so wild that Shawn had o pull the power cord
and shut the bar own early. After he had packed up his gear, Geno had gone
outside where at least twenty five people were sitting around drinking and
getting stoned; the local Cop had pulled up and gotten out of his car. He had
suggested that the party break up and everyone head home. Geno who had learned
that it was best to do what a police man asks, was standing up to move along
when a girl in the crowd yelled "fuck you Fred". The next thing he
knew he was at Bean's house at a party that lasted till dawn, drinking and
eating hash brownies.
Beans' great
grandfather had invented the locking ratchet wrench and held the patient. His
original company had become Snap-on-tools which went public back in the mid
seventies and made his whole family billionaires. Beans had inherited a bundle
when he turned eighteen, and after half a dozen years of school and various
adventures he wound up on Beaver Island. He purchased a large portion of
property along the west shore, built a very cool house on the beach, built a
state of the art recording studio, and a couple of green houses in which he
grew all the vegetables he and all his friends could possibly consume and
several varieties of the most potent, high grade, dube in the world. His
recording studio was equipped with state of the art digital ability as well as
an original Ampex ART-124 twenty four track, two inch tape recorder, built in
1977, a year before it's commercial production. He had purchased the Ampex from
a private collector who had bought the machine from Don Henley of the Eagles.
It had been built as a proto-type to replace the sixteen track machines being
used in most L.A. Studies at the time. The Eagles were the first band to record
on this new machine and the result was the album Hotel California. Henley had
bought the machine from the Record Plant Studios in L.A. In 1995 when they went
belly up and had it completely and meticulously restored. A billionaire private
collector had bought the machine when Henley died to use in his private studio
and had kept it in prefect working order. When it was installed in Beans'
studio it was as if it was brand spanking new. Over the years several top notch
bands had recorded at “Saint James Sound Studio" as it was known including
Glen Frye who was originally a Detroit boy before moving to L.A. and forming
The Eagles. Also Bob Segar who was a sailer and had visited Beaver Island for
years. Ted Nugent had wanted to record a solo album in November of 2015 and do
some deer hunting with his bow, but Beans told him to stick it because everyone
on Beaver thought Ted was a dick head. Not that folks on Beaver were opposed to
taking a few deer whether in season or not, because they did it all the time,
it was just that Ted was such a blow hard about it. Geno had jammed at Beans
studio numerous times; he cut two CDs of his own material, playing all the
instruments himself except drums and some background vocals. He had also joined
in on a couple CDs of the Shamrock Band and played guitar and mandolin on a
dozen or so other projects by bands from all over the world that came to Saint
James to record. Before his untimely death Geeze had even sat in with the boys
and laid down a few tracks. Geeze was a hell of a harmonica player. He
preferred the country and folk stuff but could blow a mean blues harp and was
usually amenable to rocking out if plied with a few bourbons.
"So, you
guys want the guest house" beans asked? "That would be awesome"
answered Annie G. "How long are you hanging out"? "Not exactly
sure yet, we are kind of in limbo for the moment". "Lets jump in the
jeep, we can go get your stuff at the boat tomorrow. Is everything all battened
down"? "Yup, let's go". "Hey, you drunk bags, I scored us a
pad, you ready to go?" "Shawn just set us up with a patron and a Dos
Equies". "Oh, so two minutes then". "That will just about
do it". They all hopped in Beans' Jeep and headed south down the King's
Highway. About eight miles down they took a right heading west down Beans' six
mile long drive. Beans' was a bit on the eccentric side and did enjoy his
privacy so he had a bunch of surveillance and security installed. A bunch of
residential grade security probably couldn't do squat to stop any real
professional spook from unfettered and unnoticed access to whatever he might
want, however Beans' four Great Danes would probably draw attention to anything
that moved.......and like everyone on the Island....Beans has firearms.....lots
of firearms.
Upon
arriving at the compound Beans called home Annie G climbed out of the jeep and
declared "I'm pretty darn beat, this has been a crazy couple of days. I'm
hitting the hay" she turned to jack "going to join me, or are you
boys going to drink till dawn"? "Hey baby, I love my friends and I
love to drink but I just love you more". "Your sincerity is wanting
Jackie boy, but I'll take you anyway". "Night guys" Beans said,
than turned to Geno “nightcap"? " Whatdaya got" Geno answered.
"Whatdaya want". "How's about a snifter of 1959 Sandmen Tauney
Port". "Coming up, meet you on the back deck". "You are my
hero". Geno headed to the deck and had a seat in one of the Adirondack
rockers. There was a slight warm breeze out of the west with six inch waves
lapping on the beach which was only about thirty feet from the back deck. The
sky was spectacular with a crescent new moon, super bright stars and the Milky
Way running diagonal across the sky. The combination of warn summer breeze
smell, the sound of waves lapping the shore and the visual splendor overhead
created a sense of total serenity. " "Dude, I completely get why you
live here. This is almost perfection". "Ok buddy boy maybe this will
take out the almost" Beans said as he handed Geno his glass of Port.
“Umm…that is delicious man. I am sorry I am so buzzed already, because the
warm, fuzzy glow that only a fine Port or a find brandy gives is one of life’s
true pleasures, and I am totally wasting it by pouring it on top of this
tequila, rum and beer buzz”. “Stop with the negative vibes man. Just enjoy the
moment, oh and fill me in on what’s going on.” “Well……..I don’t even see Jack
for two years, I mean we talk and email or skype every couple weeks or so but
he had been super busy for the last six years in D.C. and hasn’t been back to
Michigan for the whole time. The only reason I saw him two years ago was that I
was in D.C. delivering a boat up from Key West to Willington Delaware and
stopped to see him for a couple days. Annie G, I had not even talked to for a
year or so since her last stint on that NOAA research vessel. Anyway a few days
ago, I am logging a few hours of work and I get a call from Jack; he and Annie
G are in Omena having lunch and say “let’s go sailing”. How of course, I am not
surprised because we are all rather spontaneous nut cases…..and we know it…. So
I don’t miss a beat and say “sure, meet me there in an hour”. Next thing you
know we are heading for Fayette”. “Did you go see Shirley” Beans asked. “Oh
yea, that’s why we are armed to the teeth. We get to Fayette, catch up on some
sleep, which Jack claims he has not been able to do for years learning the
Potomac two step, as he puts it, and catch a few trout for dinner. Well, we get
to talking and Jack is starting to expound on his sudden return. It seems that
he stumbled on to some information that somebody doesn’t appreciate him
knowing. Funny thing is that he has no idea what it is. Let me rephrase, I
think he knows the general idea of what might be going on, but doesn’t know
exactly what it is he is supposed to knows……. if that make sense”. Oh
Yea….clear as mud…..what the fuck are you talking about man”? Beans yelled “You
sound like Donald fucking Rumsfeld”. “I know, right..doesnt make a lot of
sense. So anyway, it has to do with the Global Climate Treaty which has to go
through the dick brains in the House and Senate before going to the UN. The money
is on President Kelly getting her way and the legislation getting the thumbs up
and landing on her desk which she will readily sign. The smart money is on the
treaty getting enacted in short order if the U.S. is backing it and having the
enforcement element up and running in six months”. “So what’s the problem? This
all sounds like great stuff” Beans questioned. “I guess that there are certain
interests that are not excited about actually outlawing the reconversion and/or
burning of fossil fuels on a global basis with actual accountable enforcement
to back up the treaty. Even though no one has been able to reconvert oil back
to a combustible state so far, Jack is pretty sure some groups are ether real
close or already there”. “But I don’t get it; why does somebody want to use fossil
fuel when we have so many other alternatives around that are better in like
most every way? Seems stupid to me”. Beans interjected. “Ya well it seems
stupid to me as well but you got to understand, there is an awfully large
amount of left over macheriney for every imaginable purpose lying around that
could be obtained for a penny on the dollar that could suddenly be worth a
dollar again if we suddenly had Gasoline again. This possible economic
incentive is probably enough for some greedy unscrupulous bastards to act on
alone but the real clincher is that there is even more currently useless
military hardware that could be worth gazillions in the world of developing and
under developed nations. Now if we suppose, as Jack does, that some entity has
already been working on a reconversion formula, and has been buying or
otherwise obtaining masses of machinery and military hardware secretly for
years, it is easy to imagine that whoever that might be would be a very well
connected, powerful, well financed and far reaching organization. It’s also easy
to imagine that certain elements within the U.S. and even the U.S. Government
could be involved. It is no secret that the Trad’s and the PPPEPs along with
half a dozen other left over super neo-conservative type organizations and the
war hawks all would love nothing more that to relight the fires, so to speak,
in more ways than one. Add to that the religious zealots that still refuse to
believe that the eggheads actually created life on earth even though they have
certainly provided mountains of proof, which is ninety nine point nine percent more
proof than any religion ever provided. Anyway these guys would rather cling to
a verity of thousand year old books and if reconverting oil into a combustible
substance again even though we don’t need it can somehow help them believe more
strongly in their silly superstitions, that they probably don’t give a shit
about the consequences……or the means”. “Ok, I get that there are still a lot of
twisted fuckers out there who would screw the rest of us to serve their own
interests, but what has that got to do with Jack”? Beans was starting to see
the big picture but was asking questions now as more of a drunken brain
storming session. Hey, it worked when it came to recording cool spontaneous
Jams he thought. “Jack was working closely with all the proponents of the
climate treaty. After all, he is an environmental lobbyist. Our guess is that
he just accidently discovered some shit that someone within this supposed
organization took the wrong way. That or Jack hasn’t figured it out yet. So you
know Jacks ability to do his mind-read thing. He told me that some guys came to
see him that were supposedly with the PPPEP and Jack got a weird vibe from them
but he said it was like they knew how to block his telepathy. Anyway, that threw
him for a loop and he figured it might be better for him to step out of the
picture and assess the situation. He says his boss Ron is probably freaking
because Jack was taking the lead on this and Ron had made some promises and
assumptions, which were pretty safe under normal conditions, but quite another
thing now that things were getting weird. The icing on the cake came night
before last when we were at Shirley’s and she told us about a truck with two
guys that looked totally out of place and were asking questions. Now we all
know the propensity for suspicion in Garden, but Shirley didn’t think anything
about it till we started talking about how somebody might be after Jack. We
spent the night at her cabin and she set us up with some firearms just in
case”. “whatdaya got” Beans asked. “Glock 9, Colt 1911, Browning 308 win., M4
auto w/ GL and two sawed offs”. “Wow, I guess she didn’t want anybody to mess
with you”. “YOU THINK???” So we pulled anchor ASAP because we figured it best
not to take chances with whoever those strangers were even if they were
dentists on vacation from Madison or whatever…Twelve hours later we find
ourselves in St James. Six hours after that we are sitting here drinking your
really expensive port and enjoying this night, which is an example of Mother
Nature at her finest by the way". "You know, before we knew about the
eggheads I always thought of our supreme being, or god if you will as a
woman....you know Mother Nature" Beans added. "Maybe you're right Beans,
I mean the eggheads could be female, we don't know....I kind of always liked
the Mother Nature idea myself".
"So
just to recap the situation" started Beans "we would all be naive not
to realize that some nefarious types could make a humongous bundle of money,
and gain the accompanying power through the afore mentioned activities, and it
is most likely happening as we speak......right"? "Right" Geno
answered. Geno was well aware of Beans' propensity for conspiracy theories.
Beans had actually held a conspiracy theory that former Vice President Michelle
Bachmann was actually an alien from a different universe that were the ancient
adversaries of the eggheads and were bent on destruction of the human race.
Geno could still envision his rants; "just fucking look at her man......just
fucking listen to that shit she says....she simply can't be a human
being". While Jack and Geno granted Beans and his theory total
plausibility, they both considered Ms Bachmann as just a highly misguided woman
with an incredibly uncanny ability to look you in the eye and say stuff that
totally ignored reality without the slightest hesitation. Jack had spoken with
her before and with his intuition and telepathic abilities, was simply blown
away. "I have experienced people who take deception and lying to the
highest level imaginable, but she actually BELIEVES all of the outlandish shit
she says. It's fucking phenomenal, I have never met anybody else quite like
that". "And therefore" Beans continued "not only would
there be gazillions involved in machinery, there would also be mega-gazillions
involved in sales and distribution of gasoline and other petroleum distillates.
Right"? "Right". "And therefore, if someone or some group
were to have spent the last ten or fifteen years accumulating distillates for nothing
or even get paid to take it (there were hundreds of operations that charged for
the collection and safe disposal of petroleum products) and suddenly the stuff could burn
again......well, suffice to say, they would be in an advantageous position right"?
"Right". And therefor, if the GECA goes into effect, whoever might be
in said position would suddenly be in a significantly LESS advantageous
position. Right"? "Right you are again Beans". "We'll there
you go then, that is plenty of reason to lie, cheat, break laws and murder
people. Shit man, many a group has done much worse for much less than what we
are talking about here. I know you guys always think I'm a nut case conspiracy
theory type at times, but you have to realize that if the treaty doesn't pass,
and a formula to reconvert oil could be developed and someone had actually
taken even some of the steps we just talked about and did not have benevolent
intentions....... Well, they could stand to gain an incredible amount of power.
They might not be in the world domination league but they would sure as hell be
a pretty big fish in the developing nations pond if you know what I mean".
"Know what I mean Geno"? Beans realized that Geno was snoring fast
asleep in his chair. At that same moment Beans noticed the lights of an
aircraft off to the west southwest flying very low. "Hey Geno wake up and
check this out". "Hun....what". "Check this out, looks like
a chopper coming in hot, right on the deck". By this point the heard the
hydrogen battery powered jet turbine, Bell A Star Plus helicopter approaching
at close to top speed and only about twenty five feet off the lake. "Holy shit, that's a forty million dollar machine
man!! Not a lot of folks around here could afford one of those. Hell, not a lot
of folks anywhere that can afford one of those". "You ever seen that
before"? Asked Geno. "No, afraid not" answered Beans as he
bolted into the house to grab his Bushnell 2.5x42 night vision binoculars. He
focused them on the incoming craft. "Yea, it's a fucking hi tech machine.
Three hundred knots top speed, twelve hundred knot range, they don't hand those
fuckers out in a Cracker Jack box.....what the hell are they doing here"?
As they watched, the chopper made the south west corner of the Island, increased
altitude slightly to just above treetop level, slowed to about sixty five knots
and descended from their line of sight. They listened, as the engines
maintained the same level for another thirty seconds or so and then backed off
in power in what sounded like a landing with engines idling and ready. After
exactly two minutes the engines increased in volume and they could tell it was
taking off again. Within another thirty seconds the chopper came back into view
and increased speed heading due west and staying less than fifty feet off the
lake again. Beans disappeared inside and Geno kept his eye glued to that
chopper till it had completely disappeared to the west and the engines could no
longer be heard. Beans was coming back out as he was talking to somone on the
phone, "yup, that's right, yup, right by Rodger's old place, yea go check
it out." "Who's that"? Asked Geno. "That was Danny
Gillespie, he and his brothers are going out to the place that chopper set down
and check it out". "Why". "Because numb nuts, that was a
pretty strange thing having a forty million dollar chopper fly into Beaver
Island at breakneck speed and ground level in the middle of the night and land
for two minutes just to take off again. Considering that Jack seems to be
warped up in some clandestine shit and you said somebody might be after you
guys don't you think we might just want to take a peek up there and see what
the heck is going on"? "Yea, good idea. I am just too tired and
waisted to think clearly right now". "You go get some sleep. The
Gillespie boys will check things out and I'll wake you guys up if anythings
up". "Cool man thanks".
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