Convergence at Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Zaim and his crew of would-be fishermen returned to the Knife River Marina. Jimmy met them at the dock.

  “Hi, fellas, any luck?” Jimmy always seemed to be upbeat and was known for his banter with fishermen when they return to his dock. The information he gathered usually was passed on to others, and he was known for his knowledge of what was happening on the lake.

  “No, nothing,” Zaim snapped back. “Will you please help us unload? We are very much in a hurry.”

  Jimmy jumped to help them. It was evident they were not in the mood to talk, but he thought perhaps he could give them some pointers that might create a return customer.

  “Say, I happened to notice your fishing rigs. They seem to be a little light for the kind of fishing we do here. And your lures, nothing is going to strike on the surface in these waters. Most people use spoons or sinking lures. Trout are deep-water fish. You know, there are several experienced fishing guides who live nearby. I could line one of them up for you, if you’d want.”

  Zaim glared at Jimmy. “We’ll remember that the next time. Help us load our gear in the car, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Jimmy wasn’t one to be easily dissuaded.

  “Where you off to, anyway? Staying around here?”

  Zaim looked at him, annoyed by the man’s persistence. “No, we are from a way off. We’ll not be here much longer.” He turned to the others. “Hurry, we want to be home by dark.”

  The five men hurriedly climbed into the SUV and sped away, leaving Jimmy waving the dust from in front of his face.

  Away from the marina, Zaim became progressively more agitated.

  “Everywhere, questions. What is it with these people that they can’t mind their own business? The time can’t come soon enough when we can return to our land and our people.”

  On the way home from the marina, Zaim was quieter than usual. His perpetual scowl deepened and he was lost in thought. The others caught the clue that this would not be the time to complain about the backwoods, the mosquitoes, or the lack of decent food. They rode in silence.

  Zaim was deeply troubled by what had occurred in the harbor. Had this captain forgotten about the men he had ferried out of the country? What if seeing Jabril had brought back the memory of that night? What if he had found the lost flash drive and not reported it? Surely, if he had their operation would have been shut down by now. What if the captain had opened the drive and now realized its significance? What if he was getting ready to report the whole affaire to the authorities?

  These and what seemed like a hundred other scenarios ran through Zaim’s mind as he slid the SUV around the loose gravel-coated corners of the dirt road in Brimson. By the time he reached the hunting shack, he had made a decision.

  The men trooped into the confines of the building and threw their odd array of fishing gear in a corner. The lines were completely entangled and some of the hooks hung loose, swaying from side to side like pendulums ticking off time. It would take hours for an experienced angler to untangle the mess, but it didn’t matter. Zaim and his men would not go fishing again.

  “Sit down,” he ordered. “We must talk about an action now. I don’t think we can ignore this captain any longer. Although we don’t know exactly how much he knows about us, I think we have to take him out, just as we did that man, Herminio. It shouldn’t be too difficult. There are five of us and only one of him. When we saw him he was alone.”

  “We don’t know his name, Zaim, let alone where he lives. Do you have information we don’t know about?” Jabril asked, a serious look on his face.

  “No, but Two Harbors is a small community. Jabril, do you remember the name of the boat on which you were taken out of this country?”

  Jabril looked at Zaim, and his eyes narrowed.

  “How could I forget. It was Crusader, Too. They name even their boats to honor those who slaughtered out ancestors.”

  “I’m going back to the marina tomorrow morning and see if I can get the information we need from its operator. He seemed anxious to talk when we left. Perhaps he will still be in a talkative mood, and I’ll be able to find out something about this captain. Murad, get supper ready. I’ve got to have some time to think this out.”

  Zaim spent a sleepless night. They were so close to completing their mission, and now, this captain could upset all of their plans if he went to the authorities with what he knew. Zaim was quite sure he hadn’t already done that, because no one had yet confronted them.

  He drifted off to sleep sometime before sunrise, and the sun was already high in the sky when he awoke. After a quick cup of traditional thick, black coffee and a biscuit, Zaim climbed into his Ford SUV and headed back to Knife River.

  It was about a forty-minute drive to the marina from their camp, and Zaim drove the speed limit. He saw no reason to speed and risk being stopped by a zealous deputy. He pulled into the marina parking lot at 11:00 a.m. as if he had all the time in the world. Jimmy came out of his office.

  “Did you forget something yesterday?” Jimmy asked Zaim, not quite sure how his question would be answered.

  Zaim was all charm. “No, but I have been thinking about your offer yesterday to help us learn to fish. It must have been obvious to you that we know nothing about that subject,” and he smiled a broad smile.

  “Hey, great! The first thing I’d recommend is hiring a charter captain to take you out on the lake. There are a few out of this harbor who would be happy to teach you the ropes.”

  Just then Zaim noticed a boat near where they stood. It was moored in one of the berths, pointing toward the lake as if it were ready to sail at a moment’s notice. Across its stern was its name, Crusader, Too.

  “That would be so very helpful,” Zaim answered Jimmy with enthusiasm. Then he added, “I would like to go on a large boat, like that one over there sometime. Does its captain take fishing trips?”

  “Oh, you mean the captain of Crusader, Too. No, that would be David Crane. He doesn’t fish, just runs around the lakes in his boat. He stops here and there, loves the water and mostly lives on his boat all season long. Going on two weeks ago, he ran his boat aground, and I finished the repair work this morning,” Jimmy volunteered.

  “Does he ever take passengers?” Zaim pressed.

  “Only close friends once in a while. Mostly, he stays to himself. David isn’t what you’d call a loner, but he likes to be alone on his boat most of the time. Actually, he likes being alone a lot, I guess. He stays in a small apartment above Dunnigan’s bar in Two Harbors when he can’t be on the water.”

  “This David Craine must be an interesting man. Pity he doesn’t take on charters. I’d like to have experienced his love for the water,” Zaim lied. “His boat is here now. That must mean he is at his home. Do you think he could be persuaded?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “The only reason his boat is here now is that I just finished repairing it. He’s coming for it first thing in the morning. I know he won’t be talked into taking on a charter.”

  “Then do you have a listing of other captains I might contact?”

  Jimmy pulled a folded flyer from his back pocket and thrust it at Zaim. “Here, take this with you. It lists all of the charter captains who use this harbor, along with their phone numbers. Any one of them would be great.”

  “Perhaps in a few days I and my friends will come back. Thank you for your advice. You have been very kind and helpful.”

  Zaim extended his hand to Jimmy, then climbed into his SUV and left Jimmy standing on the beach, confused at the abrupt change in the man’s attitude.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The day after his surprise sighting of Jabril, the same day that Zaim paid his visit to Jimmy, David sat on the far side of the point of land jutting out into Lake Superior, the side away from the ore docks, and rested his face in his hands. The concrete bench placed in memory of some forgotten person was cold beneath his butt, and he shivered a little. The sun breaking above the lake’
s distant horizon always fascinated him. He relished that moment before the sun actually became visible when the lake and the sky were separated by a faint line that, if he used his imagination, appeared to reveal the slight curvature of the earth’s surface. Then, as if by the stroke of an artist’s brush, the sky first turned pink, a rose-colored fire ball rose, its rays warming everything upon which they fell. David never tired of this magnificent display of nature, and he wondered why amid this beauty so much hatred and pain filled the world.

  He rested at that spot for as long as it took the sun to rise several degrees above the horizon. Slowly, he stood, feeling old for the first time he could remember. Too much had happened to him, he thought. It seemed as if his life had been filled with peaks of unbounded joy, only to have had that joy shattered every time.

  During that quiet time, when peace was so close he thought he could reach out and touch it, he was acutely aware that peace always had seemed to elude him. Even as a child he saw the glass as half empty rather than half full. He wondered how his childhood played into that, the poverty in which he had been raised, the fact that he had grown up in a wilderness setting with no playmates. He was aware that throughout his whole life he had seen the dark side of life rather than the sunny side.

  David replayed the happiness of having graduated from college with a teaching degree, then the disappointment of discovering he couldn’t save the world. He remembered how discouraged he was to first discover that too many members of society held his profession in such low esteem. This, of course, spilled over into their children’s, his students’, respect for education, and he remembered wondering at the end of every school year if he had made any difference at all in their lives.

  He replayed the joy of meeting Alicia, of falling in love, of their wedding, and he remembered the anguish of mourning her death. He still hadn’t shed the pain of the day the highway patrol officer came to his home to inform him of her accident and death. And David wondered how different his life would have been if life’s circumstances had been different.

  He remembered the freedom of sailing the Great Lakes, the joy of having the wind blow through his thinning hair, the freedom of moving from place to place, the peace of being rocked to sleep by the gentle rocking of his boat at its mooring.

  He wondered where all of this mess he was embroiled in was going to end.

  He had been so deep in thought, David suddenly realized he had followed the rocky trail completely around the point and was now standing near the parking lot opposite the ore docks. He abruptly changed direction and headed for his apartment. There, he poured a cup of stale coffee and looked out the window at Main Street. Businesses, what few there were remaining in his depressed town, were being prepared to open, and people were beginning to follow their routines.

  He took his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.

  “Hello, Jimmy? This is David.”

  “Well, hello,” he heard Jimmy’s cheerful voice. “I was getting ready to call you. Worked late last night on Crusader, Too. She’s set to go. Why don’t you come down this morning, say 9:30. We’ll set her in the slip and see how she floats. The two of us can take her for a spin on the lake, see how she handles. Okay?”

  “Hey, Jim. This is the best news I’ve had in a long while. See you then.”

  David pulled into the Knife River Marina’s parking lot. There sat his beloved boat on wooden blocking, ready to have the slings placed under her belly, ready to be lifted and then set into the water.

  “David, you’re early! But then I guess this has been a long wait for you. I’ve got to help those guys over there back down and unload their fishing boat. Then we can get at Crusader, Too.”

  David watched as Jimmy expertly wheeled the twenty-foot boat on its trailer down the ramp and the four fishermen loaded their gear into it. Their motor started without a hitch, and they were off. Soon they were out of sight, and Jimmy began to unroll the straps of the sling. He attached their ends to the hook on a cable swinging from the boom of the crane,

  When all was prepared, Jimmy climbed into its cab and started the engine of the crane. Slowly the cable tightened, and the slings cinched together tightly under the boat’s hull. David saw a small crack of daylight appear between his boat and its blocking, and she was raised high enough that Jimmy could swing her out over the water.

  He concentrated on every move, ignoring David, the sea gulls that looped around, the boat that motored into the harbor, and he rotated the crane on its base. Crusader, Too was perched over the water, ready to be lowered into her element.

  With a gentle splash, she was home.

  David jumped from the edge of the slip onto her deck, moved to the wheelhouse, and turned the keys, first to one engine, then to the other. The sound they made was pure music to his ears.

  By this time Jimmy had climbed down from the cab of the crane and was ready to jump on board. Before Crusader, Too had a chance to rub against the worn tire bumpers of the pier, he leaped and lightly landed on the deck.

  “Let me take the controls for a bit,” he said to David. “I want to see what she feels like, check for any vibration. That was quite the collision you had with the reef off Castle Danger. Bent the shafts pretty bad.”

  David turned the helm over to Jimmy without a word. He was almost jealous because someone else was touching his prize, and Jimmy eased the boat out of the harbor. Out on the big lake, he slowly ratcheted up the throttles until Crusader, Too was spewing a rooster-tail wake behind her.

  “Feels good to me,” he yelled over the roar of the engines and the wind whipping by their ears. “I can’t feel any vibes at all. Smooth as all get out.”

  He throttled back to half speed. “Here, you take it and tell me what you think.” David took the wheel. He, too, opened up the throttles and felt the surge of power. After making several wide turns, one way and then the other, David tightened the radius until he was satisfied that all of the controls were functioning.

  “Jimmy, you’re a genius. I think she handles better than when she was new. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Jimmy smiled a crooked grin. “You haven’t got my bill yet.”

  “Tell you what, whatever it is, it’s worth it. I’ll be back tomorrow to square up with you and to take Crusader back to Silver Bay. I think it’s time for me to take a trip to the other side of the lake, Cornucopia maybe. I’ve got some things to straighten out in my mind, and I need some time away.”

  With that he turned his boat’s prow toward Knife Island and the harbor behind it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Deidre realized there was no worse stress-inducing situation than having immense responsibility and having little control over the circumstances, and the weight of her job was beginning to take its toll. She was caught between too many factions: the FBI, the men holed up in the shack in Brimson, and David Craine. What was causing her to lose sleep was that she didn’t know enough about the men up north, she was close to David, and she didn’t quite know what to make of Special Agent John Erickson.

  That night she sat, trying to relax with a vodka tonic, but it wasn’t working. She felt like a wound-up spring that was about to be released with no restraints. Her phone on the counter rang, and she lunged up from her chair to answer.

  “Deidre Johnson speaking,” she barked into the mouthpiece. She was surprised to hear John on the other end.

  “Hi, Deidre. Just wanted to call to see how things are going for you. I’m wondering if everything is still calm on your end.”

  Deidre felt an unexpected wave of relief flow over her at the sound of John’s voice, and she wasn’t used to feeling that response.

  “John, I don’t know what it is, but I simply can’t let go of this idea that something not good is going to rear its head, and soon. Do you have any inkling of what’s going to happen, and when?”

  “Deidre, I don’t think anyone knows what exactly is going to take place, or when for that matter. All we can do is be rea
dy for it. I’ll say, though, things are getting a little harried here at the office in Duluth. Something is in the wind. I have a meeting labeled urgent with that old goat, Enos Pratt, first thing in the morning. I might have more to share with you by the time it is over. Would you like to do lunch someplace on the shore? We can talk then.”

  The invitation sounded exceptionally welcome to Deidre, and she hoped her acceptance didn’t sound too eager. “I’d love that,” she blurted out. “How about that place that makes beef belly bombs? You seemed to survive the last time,” and she laughed.

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll see you there at 12:30. You’ll recognize me. I’ll be the guy who looks like an FBI agent,” and he laughed too.

  At twenty minutes after twelve, Deidre pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. She recognized John’s car in the lot, and she also recognized the same feeling of mixed relief and anticipation she experienced last night on the phone.

  She entered the dining area and saw John sitting at a table in the far corner. It surprised her that her breath caught slightly in her throat as she crossed the floor toward their table. John stood and pulled out one of the chairs for Deidre. She sat and he helped her pull it up to the table’s edge.

  “John, it’s so nice to see you. I find myself more and more restless and apprehensive these days. It’s like I know something’s going to explode, but I don’t know what or when.”

  John reached under his chair and pulled out a brown manila envelope.