AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

I didn’t have time to hear an answer as my boat is tossed like a toothpick clean out of the water.

When my boat returns to the water it slams into the side of a pitch black wave.

There is such tremendous force that Mike is thrown into the old, oily, engine and knocked unconscious.

I’m in the fully enclosed wheelhouse or, likely, would have been tossed overboard. instead, I hit the ceiling before crashing to the icy cold floor screaming in pain.

My leg has been broken although at this time I’m not even aware of that.

As the ship bobs back and forth in the waves my creaky old crate tries to right itself. I roll across the wet floor before struggling to my feet.

I wonder why it’s so painful to walk.

Duh!

You have a broken leg.

Moron!

To my astonishment, I see what appears to be a massive black object directly next to my ship that prevents me from capsizing.

The noise of my old wooden tug against the side of this slick black ship is ear shattering.

In the confusion of the night I think it must be a container ship.

In disbelief, I check my instruments and see nothing!

I’d been drinking but not this much!

I, totally bewildered, panicked!

The pain is almost unbearable!

I don’t understand!

How is a container ship not showing up on anything?

I must be dreaming.

I’m never drinking again.

I’m able to struggle to get off the bridge to mike.

“Mike, Mike, you okay?”

No answer.

I feel like I have one of my benders on.

Zigzagging across the deck, suddenly feeling really drunk, I finally reach the engine compartment!

I stick my head inside.

I see Mike’s bleeding forehead as he says,

“What the hell was that?”

I yell,

“Get out here!”

“Now!”

I look again and this enormous black ship appears to be submerging!

I don’t know how I was able to get to my halogen work lights on that thing but I did.

To my disbelief, I see a huge, black, submarine!

Antennas all over a huge tower in the middle.

Fifty feet or more in the air!

The thing looks modern.

Slick black whale-like surface.

It slips quietly into the water and disappears into the darkness directly along side of me!

Mike, holding his bleeding head, surfaces from the engine room:

“What was it?”

I just stare at the cold, black water.

Nothing to say, I blankly look at Mike and think:

Who the hell will ever believe this?

Portland State University

Downtown Portland, Oregon

^{Three days ’til Christmas}

Bored out of my mind, I sat there playing with my FBI badge and flashing it to a wall of the FBI surveillance van.

“John, John Denning, FBI.”

That brought up a really painful memory, idiot.

Stop doing that, I said to myself.

I was losing my mind and getting really tired of eating fast food as I sat in a van on SW Broadway in downtown Portland.

Six months of watching Muhammad Al Aqsa, MAA, 24/7 had turned up absolutely nothing.

Nothing, unless you consider MAA’s brother was still missing after going to Syria to fight with ISIS. He was presumed by the Al-Aqsa family to have been killed. Soon after his family had given up hope MAA moved to Portland and started studying engineering at Portland State University and trying to get his private pilot’s license. I considered these both red flags, but studying engineering in Oregon or getting a pilot’s license certainly wasn’t illegal.

Notes in the file from prior surveillance show MAA’s mother begged Ahmed not to go and fight for ISIS.

But as my boss once told me, “People becoming terrorists don’t always understand the fine points of jihadi politics.”

Ahmed was always strong willed, even as a child, and had rarely listened to anyone.

While interesting, we needed much more evidence on MAA than his brother had been radicalized. Phone and email taps, and tails, all done with a federal warrant, came up with zip.

Under our “new and improved” guidelines if you hadn’t seen a surveillance suspect doing anything illegal for six months you “shall stop” all surveillance, period.

We had a court order allowing the surveillance to continue for another year but this would be the last day we’d be allowed to watch MAA.

Too bad because I seriously suspect this guy is planning something.

By the way, let me introduce you to my partner, Tom Watkins.

He actually had been sitting in the van this whole time but you never want to disturb Tom when he’s eating.

And I never disturbed him.

As he always seemed to be eating!

So, as you might have guessed, sitting day and night and doing nothing but eat is not very healthy. Tom is a nice guy but he’s about forty-five-pounds overweight and currently heading for forty-six.

He’s eating a double cheeseburger and watching a video monitor of a parking enforcement officer, outside the van, write a ticket and slap it on our window.

“How much you think she makes an hour,” Tom amusingly inquired.

“Not enough for the abuse she must take!” I said.

I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you seen your brother lately?”

“Which one?” I hesitantly asked.

You have two brothers? You never talk about your family.”