While the dogs dashed back and forth along the fence, the guard suspiciously eyed the woods. He saw the branch lying on the trip wire. In an unintelligible language, he mumbled into a hand radio, then he moved on. The dogs may have sensed the two human beings in the woods. They growled and stood stiff-legged, staring at the trees that hid the Trouts. The guard yelled at them, and they jumped back into the SUV. Then he drove off.

“Not bad time,” Paul said, checking his watch. “Ninety seconds.” “Maybe it's time we got out of here,” Gamay said. “They'll be sending someone to clear away that branch.”

The Trouts melted back into the woods. Walking and trotting, they returned to their rental car. Minutes later, they were on the main road.

Gamay shook her head in wonderment. “That guard, did he look like an Eskimo to you?”

“Yeah, kinda, I guess. Never ran into many Eskimos back on old Cape Cod.”

“What's an Eskimo doing this far south, selling Eskimo Pies?”

“The only thing that guy and his puppy dogs were selling was a quick trip to the morgue. Let's see what's going on in the big city.”

Gamay nodded, and a few minutes later she was taking the turnoff that led to town. The village was hardly quaint, and she could see why it was only a footnote in the travel guide. The houses were pro- tected against the weather by asphalt shingles of drab green and faded maroon, and the roofs were covered with aluminum to allow the snow to slide off. There were few people or cars around. Some of the shops in the minuscule business section posted signs that said they were closed until further notice, and the town had an abandoned look. The harbor was picturesque, as the tour book said, but it was empty of boats, adding to the town's forlorn aspect.

The fish pier was deserted except for a ragged flock of sleeping gulls. Gamay spotted a restaurant/bar neon sign in a small square building overlooking the harbor. Paul suggested that she grab a table and order him fish and chips while he meandered around and tried to find someone who could tell him about the Oceanus plant.

Gamay stepped into the yeasty atmosphere of the restaurant and saw that the place was vacant except for a heavyset bartender and one customer. She took a table with a view of the harbor. The bartender came over for her order. Like the people she'd met in the general store, he proved to be a friendly type. He apologized for not having fish and chips, but said the grilled ham and cheese sandwich was pretty good. Gamay said that would be fine and ordered two sand- wiches along with a Molson. She liked the Canadian beer because it was stronger than the American brew.