Covert Crossings

by Frank Lazorishak

  At six o’clock, I go below to report that to Saif. He looks satisfied. Qasim wants to go up to the salon. Saif says, “No.”

  When I get back up to the salon, I find that Kate is in the cockpit talking to Katya. When she sees me, she looks relieved, and a little, well, panicky. “Cap’n, Katya and Barron are going up to the Blind Perch for dinner. They want to know if we want to join them.”

  My turn to be a little panicky. “Uh. I don’t think so. I’m tired and grumpy; I won’t be good company. Let’s just gather up our stuff and grab some subs to take home.”

  Katya hops into the cockpit and bounces into the salon. She’s being Katya. She gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Come on Cap’n. A drink and a hamburger will work wonders. Then you can go home and be grumpy. I’ll even help you gather up your stuff.”

  She heads for the companionway. Now I do panic. “No!” Katya stops dead and just looks at me, a little stunned at my tone. I look back at her; I try to look at her like I’m sorry. “I didn’t mean to tick you off, Cap’n. We really like you guys. Kate looks up tight and upset. You, too, maybe? I just thought we could help unwind you.”

  “I’m sorry, Katya. We’ve had some issues this trip, and we are a little uptight and upset. Tonight is just not a good night. Sorry…”

  She looks a little hurt -- and a little perplexed. She says nothing. She trudges back through the salon to the cockpit and jumps up on the dock. She stops and looks at Kate. Hard. And then me. Hard. “Next time. You know we love you guys. We’re here for you. Always.” She hops onto Bella Fortuna and disappears below.

  * * *

  We go back into the salon, and sit in our two helm seats. In a few minutes, Saif appears in the companionway. “All is well?”

  “All is well. Katya is our dock partner. I think they are leaving soon.”

  * * *

  In a few minutes, Barron leans over the gunwale and knocks on the salon window. I move from my helm seat to the port side settee and slide open the window. He looks concerned. Katya must have said something to him. “Hi, Pete. We’re leaving soon and I just wanted to make sure you guys are okay.”

  He insists on calling me Pete instead of Peter. “We’re okay. We just had some boat issues during the crossing, and we just need to decompress. Alone. Thanks for the invite to the Blind Perch, but we just need to go home.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say. See you next weekend?”

  “Probably. And thanks… For your concern...”

  He looks puzzled. We’ve known each other for a long time. He knows we’re not acting normally. Thankfully, he doesn’t push it. “Okay. Bye, guys.” He returns to Bella Fortuna.

  Five minutes later, they leave Bella Fortuna carrying armloads of stuff, dump it into their BMW. And leave. He honks the horn one time, and Katya waves goodbye.

  We’re almost alone.

  CHAPTER 15

  I step up onto our dock and walk up to the wharf. The sun is setting as I look around. Rick and his Corvette are gone. Norman’s Jeep is not here; he’s still out somewhere. Only the car down at the end of the lagoon is still here. I have seen no signs of life down there, but it bears investigating. A couple of houses on the other side of the street have lights on, but I have seen nobody about.

  I go back on board. “Hi, Cutie. I’m going down to tell Saif that all looks quiet, but that I want to walk the wharf and make sure. Want to go for a walk?”

  “Absolutely, my Cap-i-tan.”

  * * *

  Saif is in agreement; Qasim is not. But Saif is very obviously the boss.

  So, we’re off. We walk the wharf west past the clubhouse to the river. Quiet. We follow the river past the clubhouse to Erie Lagoon. Quiet. Back to Anchorage Way. Quiet. Down the road to the lone car at the end of Ontario Lagoon. Quiet. There is an empty slip in front of the car. I can’t remember whose dock it is, but they are obviously cruising somewhere. We head back to Morning Star. It’s only been a twenty-minute walk, but it’s been twenty minutes of freedom. Relative freedom anyway.

  We’re about halfway back to the boat when I see lights on Anchorage Way. A car is coming. I turn and look. It’s Norman. Our Dockmaster drives a vintage Jeep CJ-5. Older Jeeps have a very distinctive headlight pattern. They’re unmistakable. To make his Jeep even more unmistakable, it’s painted to look like a Korean War era military Jeep, complete with a big white star on the hood.

  Norman bears left off of Anchorage Way and into the wharf-side parking area. He stops next to us. “Hi guys. How goes it?”

  “We’re just taking a quick walk before we head home.”

  He decides to be sociable. “Nice trip to Leamington?”

  I try to get rid of him – without being obvious. “Nice trip over; nice visit; boat issues on the way back that kind of spoiled things.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No. Just more electronics issues. I’m sure South Shore Marine will take care of it.”

  “Okay. I was just in Huron. Should I expect to see South Shore on your boat this week?”

  “Probably. We’re out of here in a little while. Have a good evening.” I turn back toward the wharf where Kate is waiting.

  Norman pulls out and heads for the clubhouse where he lives in a small apartment. He’s a combination Dockmaster, grounds keeper, and night watchman. The combination works well for the club. But not so much for us right now.

  * * *

  Kate goes back to her aft settee. I go below. There are six terrorists in the galley. “Saif. What is happening?”

  “They have been, I think you say ‘cooped up’ for a very long time. I deemed it safe for them to be here.”

  “You’re right. The club is dead quiet. There are lights on in some of the homes across the street and across the lagoon, but I have seen nobody about.”

  “I will call for our transport. It will be full dark by the time he gets here.”

  “Our Dockmaster just returned. He lives in the clubhouse. He should remain there for a while. He normally walks the docks about midnight, but it should be quiet until then.”

  He nods. I continue. “Tell your driver to park to the left of the yellow Camaro. That will offer you the best cover.”

  “Very good.”

  He pauses and looks me in the eyes. Then: “You have dealt with this situation admirably. I know it has not been easy. Thank you.”

  I say nothing. I go back up topsides, and sit next to Kate. “Saif is calling his transport.” She says nothing, but she grabs my hand.

  CHAPTER 16

  Fifteen minutes later, an unmarked white commercial van pulls in to Anchorage Way, parks next to the Camaro, and shuts down. There is no movement. The driver stays put.

  I go to the companionway. Qasim looks up. “Tell Saif that a white van has pulled up. The driver is sitting in the van.”

  “You are to go up to the van and say to the driver, ‘Saif is here.’ Return with his response.”

  Kate is still on the aft settee. “Did you hear?”

  “No…”

  “I’m to go tell the driver that Saif is here.”

  “Please be careful, Captain.”

  I go ashore and approach the van driver’s door. The window rolls down. The dome light is off. I can barely see the driver. “Saif is here.”

  He says something that sounds like “inah aman.” I look at him questioningly. He smiles. “It is safe. Tell Saif that.”

  I nod and go back to the boat. I smile at Kate. “He said to tell Saif that it is safe.” I go to the companionway. Saif is there. “He said to tell you that it is safe.”

  Saif looks relieved. “You and Kate are to sit in your seats by the steering wheel. Do not move from there until the van is out of sight.”

  “It’s called the helm.” I go get Kate and Daisy. We sit. Kate holds Daisy.

  Saif comes up carrying his gear. He’s got a rather large backpack and a long slim duffel bag. My guess is that the duffel bag contains his Kalashnikov. He stops at the helm station
. “I go to keep watch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I will go ashore and sit on the white box at the end of the dock. “When I flash my cigarette lighter, tell Qasim. He will send two men ashore.”

  “That’s a bad idea. You will be exposed to anyone who comes by. What are you going to do if Norman decides to walk the docks early?”

  “I will say that I am your friend, and that I’m smoking a cigarette.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  Saif says nothing. He goes ashore. He takes his stuff to the van. Its dome light comes on when he opens the side door. It is quickly extinguished. He stows his stuff and walks across the ten feet of grass to the wharf. He sits on my dock box and lights a cigarette.

  The wharf is not brightly lit, but I can see Saif clearly. I watch him look around very thoroughly and then hold up his lighter. He lights it, keeps it lit for about fifteen seconds, and then puts it out.

  I go to the companion way. “Saif has lit his lighter. I think that’s your signal.”

  Qasim says nothing to me, but turns and says something in Arabic to the terrorists.

  The first two terrorists come up from below. The second one hands me two Diet Pepsis. “Tawdie.” I’m shocked. They go ashore. I can just see them as they climb into the van. No dome light this time.

  I hand Kate a Diet Pepsi. I open mine. “Prosit.”

  Saif flashes his lighter again. I tell Qasim. Two more come up. The second one stops for a moment. He nods. “Wadaeaan.” And they go ashore.

  A pause.

  Another flash. Qasim comes up into the salon. He stops. “We go now. Do not move until the van is gone.”

  Qasim looks at Kate. “Remember the pictures on Saif’s phone. If you say nothing, we will do nothing.” Kate nods. Qasim leaves.

  In about two minutes, Saif gets up and goes to the van. Then he turns and comes back to the boat. He stands on the dock and looks at us. We both go back to the cockpit. There is a moment of silence. Then Saif speaks. He looks sad. “God be with you. Goodbye.”

  And he is gone. We sit. The van starts. We sit. The van disappears down Anchorage Way. We sit.

  Eventually, we hug. And we both cry.

  CHAPTER 17

  The van has been gone for ten minutes. We’re still sitting in the helm seats. Daisy has moved to her settee. I look at Kate. She looks back. “Now what?”

  “It’s over. Let’s just go home.”

  * * *

  It’s only a ten-minute drive. We unpack quickly. We’re both quiet. We both have a thousand questions. And no answers. This is beyond our experience. I know that Kate is still thinking what she asked me before: “Now what?” And I simply don’t know.

  After I throw my dirty clothes in the hamper; I go out onto the deck. Our deck looks north across the beach and out over the lake. Our beautiful Lake Erie. I see an iron ore carrier -- a laker -- on the horizon. She’s all lit up and heading west, probably bound for the Mesabi Iron Range. And I see a small yacht heading southeast. It looks like she might be bound for Cleveland. I wonder. Are they heading home? Do they have a load of terrorists? I don’t know if I’ll ever not ask myself that question. What have they done to us?

  * * *

  Kate and Daisy join me on the deck. Kate has a glass of wine for her and a San Pellegrino for me. And two small Milk Bones for Daisy. She sits on our wood glider facing east toward the lights of Lorain. I sit next to her and rest my hand on her leg. We just sit for a while.

  Then she asks the question again. “Now what?”

  “Honey, I don’t know. I simply don’t know.”

  She looks at the lights for a while. “Have they spoiled Lake Erie for us?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever look at the lake and not think of Saif and Qasim and the rest of them. I pray that this will pass.”

  We finish our drinks in silence. After a while, I look at Kate. “Let’s go to bed, Cutie.”

  * * *

  Tuesday’s dawn is bright and cloudless. I never wake this early. But I do this morning. Kate is already up. I go out to the kitchen. Kate pours me a cup of coffee. She looks tired. “Did you sleep?”

  “Some.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I know I keep asking you this. But I keep asking it to myself, too. Now what?”

  “I know. Me, too. And I think the answer is simply: nothing. We do nothing. We don’t tell Mike. We don’t tell anyone. We have to just get on with life.”

  “We pretend it didn’t happen?”

  “No. It did. But it’s finished. Somebody once said you don’t get over things like this, you get through them.”

  “I hope.”

  “We… I don’t know… Ask me again tomorrow…”

  “I love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  * * *

  And we move on. The week passes. Saturday, we return to the boat. There is very little evidence that anybody but Kate and I have been aboard. The berths are made, the cabins are neat. Even their trash is gone.

  Kate strips the berths. I know she’ll busy herself cleaning everything she can.

  In the afternoon, we move the boat to the fuel dock to fill the diesel tanks and empty the holding tank. Norman is there as always. “I haven’t seen South Shore here this week.”

  “No. Randy called and said they’re backed up. He said he’s pretty sure he knows what caused my problem with the electronics, and he’ll be here this week.” I’ve got to call Randy. I have to invent something for him to check.

  “Did I see a van parked by your Camaro late last Sunday night?”

  I’m stunned. I say nothing. I busy myself with the diesel hose. Kate is on the foredeck. She heard. She says nothing. She looks at me. I recover. “Oh. Yeah. A friend stopped to see us. It was kind of late for a visit, but he was in Toledo and stopped on his way home to Cleveland.”

  “You guys were all gone by the time I did my dock walk, but I did see the van and wonder.”

  I finish up our business and we move the boat back to our dock.

  We decide not to sleep on the boat Saturday night. We head home early.

  * * *

  We go back to VYC Sunday afternoon. It’s the weekend before the weekend before Independence Day, and fairly quiet. I’m thankful. No sign on Katya and Barron. I’m thankful. I really don’t feel like talking to them. They know us well, and I know that they sensed something was not right last weekend.

  * * *

  It’s been two weeks. Two completely uneventful weeks. Saif and his cohorts are fading into the past. And that is good. I have not called Mike to tell him about our adventure. For now, at least, I don’t think I will.

  Next weekend is Independence Day weekend. We have to go somewhere. We always do. I think I’ll see if I can get a mooring ball at Put-in-Bay. They’ll have fireworks and such. We have got to start “boating” again.

  SECOND CROSSING

  CHAPTER 18

  It’s late afternoon on the Fourth of July. We’re hanging on a mooring ball between Put-in-Bay and Gibraltar Island. There are several other boats from VYC near us. It’s a great place to watch the fireworks at the Perry Monument.

  We just got here today. It’s our first little cruise since… I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know what to call the weekend when we were forced to ferry terrorists into the U.S. No words seem to work for that horror. Anyway, this weekend -- so far, so good.

  We’ll take the water taxi ashore after the fireworks, and walk up to The Keys for something to eat. Funny. We travel from the Keys in Florida to The Keys in Ohio. Guess we just can’t get enough of “The Keys.” We head home to Vermilion tomorrow.

  * * *

  The fireworks were great! I have always loved fireworks. When I was a kid, we lived in western Pennsylvania where they were illegal. But we went to Canada, where they were legal, every summer. My brother and I saved our allowances, and my dad knew that we would harass him into stopping for fireworks as soon as we crossed th
e Peace Bridge into Canada.

  Ohio currently has a rather strange law. Private citizens are allowed to buy fireworks, but not possess or ignite them. There are lots of retail fireworks stores, and when you buy fireworks, the store requires that you sign a statement saying that you intend to export them within forty-eight hours. There have been many times when I bought fireworks, and then “exported” them from our beach out over Lake Erie.

  The water taxi provides free transportation ashore for boaters on Put-in-Bay’s mooring balls. I use the VHF radio to summon the taxi. It goes from boat to boat collecting people, and then drops us all off at The Boardwalk. It’s only a quarter mile from there to The Keys, and it’s a pleasant night for a walk. A “clump” of ten of us from VYC make the trip along the docks, chattering among ourselves. Kate and I are quiet – quieter than usual. When we get to The Keys, we realize that we should have made a reservation. Several other clumps of people have had the same idea as us – dinner and drinks after the fireworks. We have about a forty-five-minute wait, but it’s not a major hardship because there is room for our clump at their very nice outside bar.

  Dinner consists of hamburgers and more to drink. By the time our clump is ready to walk back to The Boardwalk, it’s becoming a rather noisy clump. But this is Put-in-Bay. Our clump is no noisier than any other clump.

  By the time we get back to Morning Star, we’re ready for some quiet time. We sit in the cockpit, and enjoy the night. The breeze keeps the mosquitos at bay, and there is a bit of a chill in the air. A nice way to end our first little cruise after… I still don’t know how to finish that sentence. I’ve got to come up with a word.

  * * *

  It’s after midnight when we decide to go below and get ready for bed. The bay is quiet. Still lots of people out and about on shore, but the boats on mooring balls are quieting down for the night. This is why we like the mooring balls better than the docks. We can enjoy Put-in-Bay, but escape the party crowd when we want.