Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) by W B Garalt Read Free Book Online Page A

space for the pontoon floats. Max unbuckled, opened the pilot side hatch and exited onto the pontoon steps. He found a mooring line and fastened it.  He was surprised to see that the boathouse doors had closed automatically behind them and the interior of the windowless structure became lighted. A twin-outboard motor launch with an enclosed cabin was docked in an adjoining, forward section.
    Max was mindful that, to the outside world, he, Maggie, and the Beaver floatplane, had disappeared approximately seven minutes after touchdown.
    While helping Maggie out of the co-pilot’s door, Max commented, “Automation can be a wonderful thing when it works,” referencing the high-tech mechanical features of the boathouse.
    “Amen” was Maggie’s response.
    As instructed, Max connected an electronic cable attached to a flight analysis console on the docking platform to a jack in the airplane cockpit. On the illuminated display he entered an X in the Post Flight Analysis box. The computerized analyzer began checking through the various functions of the floatplane and its engine.  Max closed the cover and decided to let it process while he and Maggie made their way to the main office of the marine laboratory, on the opposite side of the river island.

Chapter 9
    Having landed on an inlet off of Halifax Bay, and competed the predetermined taxi to the boat house on a nameless river island, Max and Maggie were ready to follow the pre-planned inspection of the Bickford Marine Laboratory, on behalf of the USAP Partnership.
    After having docked the De Havilland Beaver floatplane inside the boathouse and connected the automated flight systems analyzer, they scanned their environment. A thermometer in the boat house read 59 degrees Fahrenheit and both of the recent arrivals felt the damp chill.  Max, in his thick woolen plaid shirt didn’t feel uncomfortable but Maggie, wearing a short sleeved cotton blouse and slacks, began to shiver. Holding her arms akimbo, she waited as Max retrieved their carry-on bags from the storage compartment of the floatplane.  They both donned jackets and proceeded to a doorway having an entrance sign above it.
    When Max slid his USAP ID card through a card reader mounted to the right of the doorway, the door latch unlocked with a click. The door, when opened, led onto steps which ascended to a veranda-style ante room of the 1930’s Craftsman-style bungalow.
    A mechanical sounding voice from a speaker at the doorway instructed them, as they entered, to use the second floor facilities to freshen-up, if necessary, and to dial to the Bickford Laboratory office for transportation. They noticed a security system panel inside, beside the door frame, and they searched for an enable/disable button. A small split-screen monitor showed various interior views. It went blank when Maggie disabled it.
    “I’ve got to use the facilities,” Maggie said, ‘dancing a jig’, as she did in times of extreme urgency.
    “Okay, I’ll call this number and try to find out what the procedure is for a ride,” Max answered rather peevishly.  With a questionable glance at Max’s unusually brusque manner, Maggie proceeded to the second floor, quickly scanning the interior of the accommodations as she went.
    After entering the call number on a wall phone in the kitchen, a watchman answered Max’s call after four rings.  He recognized the calling number and indicated that the laboratory was closed for business for the weekend.  He had been expecting the call and asked if Max would be coming there directly, or waiting until Monday. Before Max answered, he asked about transportation and was told that the shuttle driver was off duty during closures, but the watchman instructed him on how to locate the keys to a Land Rover SUV which was parked, and filled with fuel, in the attached garage off the kitchen.  A map of the local area describing restaurants, entertainment and recreational facilities was in the glove