I say, “Eskimo 2, stop calling Eskimo 1, an Eskimo, you racist Eskimo, you!
Yura, “You guys all sound like racists!”
I say, “How can I be a racist? I married you!”
Yura says, “Very funny. I have a 911 call on hold.”
“Okay, honey, bye,” I say.
The pilot looking at me and says,
“Wow!”
In jest I say to Tony, “I’m thinking of adopting a white kid so our family can be more diverse!”
After he doesn’t laugh I then ask him,
“So what did the pilot say?”
“He was taking two people all cash to Pond Bay on Duke Island,” says Tony.
“I thought they were going to a fishing lodge?”
“The suspects changed their itinerary midair,” says Tony.
“Well, that sounds fishy,” I reply.
I look at the pilot, “What’s at Pond Bay?”
“Nothing,” he says.
I ask, “Did the Pond Bay pilot have IFR?”
IFR is: Instrument Flight Rules that allow flying in any weather conditions, day or night. Most of the floatplanes that fly around here for the cruise ships in summer don’t have IFR. They only have VFR (Visual Flight Rules). VFR is for daylight, good weather conditions, not night and low ceilings (clouds) where you need instruments.
“I seriously doubt it but cash always speaks louder than words,” says Tony.
“True but he could lose his pilot’s license!” I answer.
Jimmy speaks up, “I could lose mine!”
“We don’t have any IFR on this piece of junk?” I ask.
The pilot just stares at me as if,
Didn’t you just answer your own question?
“I should arrest you right now! You can land this thing on Pond Bay, right?”
“In? Yes! On may be another story,” replies Jimmy sarcastically.
I look at Jimmy long and hard, not appreciating the joke. I finally look at my phone again and see “104” text messages saying,
“I wish you guys wouldn’t text me every time you think of something. I do have other things…”
I finally see Denning’s text message and open it.
“Holy shit!”
“Turn this plane around. We’re going to Bokan Mountain!”
“Now!”
The pilot makes a 180-degree sharp turn that would curdle the blood of a fighter pilot.
The old engine struggles to keep up with it’s own wings.
I hang onto the ceiling while trying to call Yura,
“I’m sending you this text now, Yura. Get it to the FBI Strategic Information Operations Center in D.C. and only speak with an HRT supervisor, okay, sweetheart?”
HRT is the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team and has an undisclosed number of Gold, Red, and Blue Teams stationed all over the United States.
But this is Alaska.
I’m thinking it could take a hostage rescue team a day or more to get up here.
And, at this time, I clearly had no idea what I was in for.
“Better call SERT and send them the same text I’m sending you now,” I say, in a panic.
SERT is the Special Emergency Reaction Team and is Alaska’s Special Emergency Response Team.
They are basically the equivalent of a SWAT team.
“Okay,” says Yura.
“My cell won’t work much longer. You’ll have ta call Jimmy on his two-way, Okay?”
Yura can sense the fear in my voice as she says,
“You guys take care.”
I pretend to act tough,
“Hey, we’ve made it this far in this piece of junk. Nothing can hurt us!”
Yura then says, “I love you guys.”
I hang up the phone and looking at the pilot I say,
“You got a gun?”
Jimmy reaches behind us where Tony is sitting and pulls up an old drab, green, army bag and unzips it.
Inside, a cadre of weapons is piled high.
“Hell, ya! This is Alaska!”
I fire off the following message:
FROM: CHIEF OF POLICE
ROBERT S. STONE
KETCHIKAN, ALASKA
FBI AGENTS AMBUSHED
BOKAN MT., ALASKA
AT LEAST ONE INJURED
CONDITION UNKNOWN
TEXT WAS FROM YESTERDAY
I’M FLYING THERE NOW
SEND HOSTAGE RESCUE TEAM ASAP.
DON’T KNOW HOW MANY HOSTILES PRESENT
WILL ADVISE WHEN ON SCENE
THIS IS NOT A DRILL…
REPEAT…
NOT A DRILL!
CONTACT KETCHIKAN EMERGENCY DISPATCH
AT (907) 227-XXXX
FOR FURTHER INFORMATION
Then I made a really, really, dumb move. I texted Denning’s phone:
NOT TO WORRY.
FBI & SERT ON THE WAY!
I hit send.
Only then does it cross my mind:
Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”
Bokan Mountain
Russian Command Center
A GRU officer stands from his monitor and walks to General Victor Zelin, interrupting him with John Denning’s phone in his hand.
The Special Forces team had JD’s phone hooked up to their antennas on top of Bokan Mountain and had signal amplifiers monitoring every frequency in the area.
The GRU officer walks up to General Zelin and says,
“We have a problem sir. Local police and Special Forces are on their way.”
“How much time?”
“Depends on where they’re stationed. We probably have at least a few hours but local police…”
“I don’t care about the local police. Tell Moscow we’re locking up the mountain.”
“Yes, sir.”
General Zelin looks over to another soldier at a nearby monitor.
“Where are the Iranians?”
The GRU radio specialist says, “They’re here.”
“And the American?”
“We’ve searched this entire facility multiple times. Cameras show him leaving.”
General Zelin now looks at, Boris Babkin, who helped design the facility,
“Somehow he got in and somehow he got out? How?”
Babkin quickly answers, “He exploited the ventilation systems in some of the old mining veins. Those are now all locked down.”
“We designed this fortress to withstand a direct nuclear attack.”
“No one is getting in or out now.”
“Good! Let’s keep it that way,” says the general.
On the largest screen in the center of the room appears President Ivan Mironovich and he doesn’t look happy. Viktor Sokolov is standing just behind the president.
General Zelin comes to attention as his president speaks.
“General Zelin, am I to understand two FBI agents are on the loose in my facility?”
General Zelin is a bit nervous. A single bead of sweat rolls down his plump, pasty white cheek as he attempts to hide his high anxiety.
“Everything is under control here Mr. President. There is only one FBI agent still on the loose. We have secured the entire facility. The Americans couldn’t blast their way in here if they wanted to.”
The president forcefully says, “I am taking control of your operation. The suitcase codes have all been changed. Hold out as long as you can. We will attempt to make an exchange and bring you home.”
“We will not let you down, Mr. President. The American will be captured at any time now,” the general says.
President Mironovich doesn’t want any of it, “If you come home, you will be tried for incompetence.”
The president disconnects himself not wanting to hear any more bad news.
General Zelin reacts to this news by staring at the blank screen, frozen in place.
Pond Bay
Duke Island, AK
Two small rubber boats from The Cod-Father fishing trawler with several Iranians aboard sits silently in the waters of Pond Bay. A floatplane appears off the starboard bow and slides into the black waters of a full moonlit night.