AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

Mike walks toward me and jokingly says, “There! Now, you look like a fisherman!”

“I feel like Ken in a Barbie commercial! What’s so important on the bridge?”

“Oh they’re talkin’ ’bout that stupid submarine thing,” says Mike.

I think Mike is kidding, “What stupid submarine thing?”

Mike, “My boss thinks he saw a submarine out here. We’re lucky this boat didn’t sink and the Coast Guard didn’t fine us or take Jack’s boat for fishing where we weren’t supposed to be fishing. Personally, I think my boss is crazy. I’m sure you’ll be ‘briefed’ by your partner.”

Jennifer motions us to come to the bridge.

As I walk inside the bridge I see they’re looking at another map and sarcastically say,

“So, you found a real map?”

Jennifer ignores my sarcasm.

As I walk to the table I see a very detailed, military grade, satellite picture of Kendrick Bay and think: Okay, so she had another map all along and was just toying with me.

Jennifer says, “Ok, we’ll be entering the bay from here. Kendrick islands are here, here and here. We’re going into the West Arm of the bay toward Bokan Mountain. I’ve had a satellite pass over multiple times and there is only one person on this barge at the end of this dock.

This latest picture was taken yesterday afternoon.

“As you can see the barge is sheltered here on the south side of the arm by the dock. Jack will take us here alongside the barge. Any questions?”

“Are you sure they’re no other people on that barge?” I ask.

Jennifer says, “I’ve had this barge watched for days. Only one man gets on and off.”

I’m not convinced as I pull my firearm, “You better be right, ’cause I only got a Glock.”

Jack, opens a drawer and pulls a shotgun saying, “I got your back.”

I sarcastically answer, “Just don’t shoot me in the back.”

I notice Jack has been limping around, favoring one leg.

I think, great backup if we get in trouble: A guy that can barely walk.

I point to the radio above the window saying, “I hope that thing works.”

Jack grabs the microphone, “Just push this and you’ll be talking to Coast Guard Ketchikan on VHF.”

Mike now disgustedly stands to leave,

“Ya, they all know who he is. Captain Jack and The Black Pearl.”

As we draw near to Kendrick Bay my phone vibrates.

I check.

It’s a text from FBI Portland that Mohammad Al Aqsa (MAA) is flying to Ketchikan!

I can’t believe this, so I jokingly think:

Maybe MAA is now tailing me.

Another text arrives from Robert Stone, Police Chief, Ketchikan:

FBI, Portland just notified us of MAA.

I can pick up your suspect and hold him for you. What charge?

I type a text back saying, No charge. You must tail him until I return tonight. This is already against the FBI’s new six-month rule but I’ll just create a new file.

The police chief answers: This isn’t Portland. NO resources.

So I text, where is he now?

He texts: His plane lands in one hour.

I text back: I’ll call you as soon as I get back. In Kendrick Bay. No service.

Thank you, he responds.

I guess I was very lucky to get any texts as my iPhone 7 suddenly shows: No Service.

Kendrick Bay, Alaska

As we enter Kendrick Bay silence runs across the boat.

Actually there are two things running: The low hum of a Detroit Diesel and our adrenaline. The sun has actually broken free and the weather, although a brisk thirty-four degrees, it’s actually pretty nice.

Snow is covering Bokan Mountain in the distance and a fresh blanket of snow is on the trees and the ground.

We pass a large buoy in the water that shows the international radiation symbol in red with bold red words:

DANGER RADIATION

Jennifer says, “That’s weird. I was told by research geologists that there is no dangerous radiation anywhere here.

I look at Jennifer saying, “What is this place?”

“Bokan Mountain used to be an old uranium mine but it was closed down in the 1970s after the price of uranium was deregulated by the federal government and the price crashed.”

I notice the huge sign again and say, “That sign looks brand new.”

Jennifer looks at the brightly red painted buoy and now looks through binoculars and sees there are several more of these signs leading to the old barge by the dock on the far shoreline.

“This place is supposed to be a historic site. That means no one can move anything in or out.”

Much later Jennifer told me she thought right then and there, “I should’ve called for backup but what good would it have done except get more people killed.

Jennifer said, what bothered me at this point was: These rugged guys are going to think I’m a wuss. It’s one old man on a barge. I can handle this.

Jennifer was so wrong!

The barge is really a piece of junk. Paint is peeling and the plywood frame looks ready to fall apart.

I started scanning the shoreline and entire area with binoculars looking for any sign of life. There is none. It fact, it’s unbelievably quiet as we quietly glide toward our own deaths.

As we near, Jennifer is at the rear of the boat trying to look like a fisherman.

I see Mike nearby trying to help. “Here’s a bucket.”