The trip over had been uneventful. Although it had begun in miserably drizzly rain, as they got out into the lake, they passed the edge of the storm, and the weather changed to a mist. Ryan stood at the helm, solid as a rock. Anthony manned the radio, and kept a close eye on the patrol boat following them. His only word since they’d left the rendezvous off Beaver Island had been “faster,” and then he had fallen silent.