Covert Crossings

by Frank Lazorishak

  “That would be good.”

  “One last thing. We also want to make you look like a very poor choice for them to use in the future. We want them to leave you alone. Forever.”

  “That would be very good.”

  “Dad, I can’t go into details, but you’re not the first people to be used like this. Both governments want to put a stop to this. You will play a big part in stopping it.”

  “Again, that would be very good. Can I tell Kate all of this?”

  “Absolutely. She needs to know what’s going on.”

  “One last thing, Dad. I’ll be calling you on your regular phone tomorrow. Act like we haven’t talked in a while.”

  “Okay…”

  “Gotta go. Love you, Dad.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Mike called on Wednesday. He called my regular Verizon iPhone. He had warned me to act surprised to hear from him; to act like we hadn’t talked in a while. I didn’t need the warning; his news did surprise me. And reassure me. And frighten me.

  He said that he and his wife Lauri were in Europe. That they were going to stop to visit us on their way home. He said that their exact schedule was still a little iffy, but they expected to be in Cleveland in about a week. I told him we were cruising with friends this weekend, but we’d be home by then.

  He had asked where we were going. “Just a short cruise with a few friends: Pelee Island, Leamington, and Put-in-Bay.”

  “Sounds like you’re putting lots of miles on your new boat.”

  “We’re still learning the many differences between sail and power. Any excuse to log a few miles. Somehow fifty miles offshore in Key Largo feels a lot more isolated than fifty miles offshore here in Lake Erie. At least here, I know the Coast Guard is never too far away.”

  “I heard that they have upped their presence on the Great Lakes.”

  “Yeah. They’re more visible; the Canadians, too.”

  “This is an expensive call, Dad. I’d better go. See you next week. Can I still say ‘fair winds’ even though you have a power boat now?”

  “You can. Goodbye, son. Keep us informed of your schedule.”

  “Will do, Dad.”

  The unspoken message was that he won’t be here until after this weekend. That I’m supposed to do whatever Saif says. I don’t like it. I have no choice.

  * * *

  It’s noon Friday. Time to head to VYC, and then to Pelee Island.

  We park in front of Morning Star, and walk up to the clubhouse to file a float plan. Float plans are not mandatory, but they are a good idea. They tell all concerned where you’re going, and when you’ll be back. Norman keeps an eye on them. If a member doesn’t come back on schedule, he starts to worry, and starts to track you down. Bottom line: if you deviate from your float plan, you’d better tell Norman. Or else…

  I fill out the simple form and drop it in Norman’s mail box.

  I turn around to go find Kate and – find myself looking at Barron. “Where to now?”

  “Just another short trip: Pelee, Leamington, P-i-B, and home.”

  Barron is just chatting. I think. “Weren’t you just in all of those places? Why again?”

  “We’re still learning about this power boat thing.”

  “You’re doing a lot of solo stuff. You used to go with other boats…”

  I shrug. “Like I said, we’re still learning. I don’t want to reveal to others how little I know. We’ll get back to the way we were again. Soon. I hope.”

  Barron buys my story. He switched from sail to power a few years ago. He went through the same learning experience. “I hope so, too. We miss you.”

  “Us too. Have you seen Kate?”

  “She’s on the riverside deck talking to Katya. When are you leaving?”

  “Right now.”

  * * *

  The trip to Scudder Marina on Pelee Island is uneventful. The wind is calm, and the lake is flat.

  Scudder is a very small marina on the north end of the island. It’s almost within sight of Leamington. They only have a couple dozen slips, and most are thirty foot, but they can accommodate two big boats, and we’re one of them.

  After we dock and make everything secure, we walk up to the marina office, pay our dockage, and then use the payphone there to check in with the Canadian Border Service. As usual, they make it painless.

  It’s a quiet little harbor, and it gives us a chance to be alone together before we go to Leamington. We don’t want to do this. We don’t want to go to Leamington. Kate’s “Now what” question keeps forcing its way into my thoughts. I simply don’t know. I keep asking myself, when will this be over? Will this be over?

  We’re docked about fifty yards from the ferry dock. The ferry goes from Leamington to Pelee Island and back a couple of times a day. This side of the ferry dock is some sort of government dock. We have been here for about four hours, and there has always been at least one Canadian Coast Guard vessel at the dock. I wonder…

  We walk up to the Scudder Beach Bar and Grill. All I can think of to say about it is, “It’s close.” Pelee Island is not the place to come for fine dining. It has a population of 235, zero grocery stores, and four – count them – four bar/restaurants. The Scudder Beach Bar and Grill is rated number three restaurant out of four restaurants by Travelocity. Like I said, it’s close. But Kate says her frozen daiquiri is great, and our fresh-caught perch sandwiches are very good. Perch is my favorite Lake Erie fish. I eat perch here and dolphin (the fish, not Flipper) in the Keys.

  After dinner, it’s back to the boat – and to try to sleep. We watch a couple of old Last Man Standing videos that we have stored on the DVR. And a Tenth Kingdom DVD. Kate crashes. I don’t. I carefully get out of bed and go up to the helm station. The harbor is quiet. The Canadian Coast Guard boat is still here.

  I stretch out on the salon settee.

  And it’s morning. The sun is just coming up over the horizon. I’m stiff. And cold. But I slept.

  CHAPTER 24

  Kate is still sleeping. I carefully close the owner’s cabin door and turn on the Keurig. While it’s warming up, I go up to the helm station to check the weather. Feels like a breeze has kicked up. We’re well protected here, but I can see small rollers out on the open lake.

  I power up the electronics. The Canadian Coast Guard boat is still at the dock across the harbor. It’s a very large inflatable with triple outboards and a small aluminum cabin. I pick up my binoculars and slide open the starboard helm door to check it out. I scan the boat until I get to the cockpit. Sitting on the gunwale is a crewmember – with binoculars – looking at me. I don’t know what to do. So, I wave. He waves back.

  I stow my binoculars and go below. The Keurig is ready so I make a cup of coffee. Kate slides open the owner’s cabin door. “Me, too.”

  She goes into the head and I start her coffee.

  * * *

  We take our coffees up and sit at the table in the salon. I point to the Canadian Coast Guard inflatable. I tell her about her about my binocular experience. “So, we’re not alone.”

  “That’s reassuring. I think.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  We’re in no hurry to get to Leamington, but the wind seems to be building, so we leave Scudder about two p.m. The wind is about fifteen knots out of the east, but Morning Star displaces twenty tons and she handles the beam wind and waves easily. In five miles we’ll be in the lee of Pelee Point, and it will be easy going from there on in to Leamington.

  * * *

  As we approach the entrance to the marina, Kate calls the Dockmaster on VHF channel 68. The Dockmaster is a she. Kate identifies our boat and tells her that we have a reservation. She welcomes us back, and says we should tie up on the D dock, the same place we were the last time.

  With the help of the dock boy – actually, a dock girl this time -- we are secure in just a few minutes.

  Just like last time, Natalie is working the desk. “Back so soon?”

  �
��What can I say? We love it here.”

  “Always glad to have you. Your boat adds class to the place.”

  “Thank you, Natalie.”

  She smiles. “It’s true. The Sabre is a classy looking boat. I love the blue hull. Don’t forget to call in.”

  “We’re coming from Pelee, so we’re good.”

  “How was the lake?”

  “Getting lumpy between the island and the point.

  “It’s supposed to build a little over night. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans.”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “Have a nice stay”

  I say “Thanks” as I turn away.

  CHAPTER 25

  We’re not really hungry, but we’ll need something. It’s going to be a long night. I suggest pizza on the boat. Kate is not excited, but she has no better alternative. I call Rena’s Pizza, our favorite here, and order a large with lots of meat on my half and lots of veggies on Kate’s half. They can deliver to the marina in a half hour. I tell them I’ll be waiting at the turn around in front of the marina building.

  In about twenty minutes, I get some Canadian money out of my stash at the nav station. Kate says she’ll wait on board.

  It’s a five-minute walk. I sit on a bench by the entrance to the building. I’m tired. It seems like I’ve been tired forever. Will this ever end?

  A Prius pulls in to the turn around and slows. I assume it’s our pizza even though there are no markings on the car. The Prius stops next to my bench. I stand. The passenger door opens. And Qasim gets out.

  I’m stunned. I say nothing.

  “Hello again. I knew you would be here waiting for your pizza.”

  I still say nothing.

  “After dark, I will come to your boat with Hamza, the leader for this trip.”

  I just look at him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an iPhone. He pushes it into my hand.

  “From now on, you will use this phone when communicating with us. Keep it charged and with you at all times”

  I’m silent. He stands up.

  “Enjoy your pizza.”

  He gets back in the Prius. It drives off.

  * * *

  About five minutes later a Kia Soul pulls up. It’s painted all over with pizzas and the name Rena’s. The driver hops out with a pizza box. “Captain Peter?”

  “I am…”

  “Here’s your pizza. It’ll be twenty dollars with tax and delivery.”

  I hand him a Canadian twenty-dollar bill. He looks a little unhappy. “Wait a minute.”

  I take back the Canadian twenty, and replace it with an American twenty. He smiles broadly. “Thank you, Captain. Have a great evening.”

  I pick up the pizza and head for the boat. What do I tell Kate? Nothing, I think. There will be time enough when Qasim comes back with Hamza.

  * * *

  We eat our pizza in almost complete silence. It’s a good pizza. We normally enjoy Rena’s, but tonight it’s just sustenance.

  When we finish, Kate starts to clean up. “I’ll put the rest of this in the ‘fridge.”

  She stops. “You know the question.”

  I have to tell her. “When I went up for the pizza, Qasim was there.”

  “What? How? He’s here? In Canada?”

  “I know. I mean I don’t know. I don’t know what I mean.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Only that he’d return after dark with Hamza, the new leader.”

  “That’s all?”

  “He gave me this phone. He said I’m to use it to communicate with them.”

  “You’ve got to get that number to Mike.”

  * * *

  I go up into the salon and pull the curtains closed. Something I’d usually do for the night. I use my burner to call Mike’s work phone. “Mike, we’re in Leamington. I’ve been contacted by the terrorists. I think I told you that I took a guy named Qasim to Vermilion on the first crossing. I don’t know how, but he’s back in Canada. He just appeared a half hour ago at the marina while I was waiting for a delivery pizza. He said he knew I was waiting for a pizza. I ordered using my Verizon phone so they must be monitoring it. Is that even possible?”

  “Qasim gave me an iPhone, and said that I was to keep it charged and with me at all times. It’s to be my line to them. The phone number is 519-555-4704.”

  “Qasim also said that he’d be back after dark with Hamza, the leader for this crossing. I don’t know what to do. Please call when you get this.”

  I hang up. Is he in transit? Is he in Europe? Is he…?

  A message pops up on my burner. I read it. “Hi Captain. My name is Frank Simmons. I’m the FBI Agent in Charge. Mike is in transit back to the U.S., and we’re monitoring his phone for him. We’re on top of this. The Canadians have Morning Star under surveillance.”

  “We know Qasim and Hamza. They are bad actors. We are going to let this crossing play out because we want their leaders. Tell Kate that you’re not alone. We’re here. We won’t let anything happen to you.

  “Do whatever Qasim and Hamza tell you to do. Know that we are here. Show this message to Kate, and then erase it.”

  * * *

  I go below. I tell Kate about my call to Mike and the message I left him. I show her Frank’s response. She reads it. She sobs. I hug her.

  I erase the message. We wait.

  CHAPTER 26

  At about ten p.m., I hear a knock topsides. I go up. There are two people standing on the pier. I go back to the cockpit and they step aboard. Qasim speaks first. “This is Hamza. He will be the leader for this journey. I am not going back to America. Yet.”

  “My compatriots will be here just before dawn. There will be five. Two will stay in the aft cabin. Three will stay in the forward cabin. I will be on the bridge unless there are other boats nearby. Then I will go below.” Hamza’s English is as good as mine. He actually has a slight southern accent – the Carolinas, maybe.”

  “And what do we do until ‘just before dawn’?”

  “You may do as you wish. You may use your usual cabin. I served in the Navy of my homeland. I will use this time to familiarize myself with your vessel.”

  “Where is your ‘homeland’?”

  “That is not important. Qasim, you may leave. Captain, let’s go below and meet your wife.”

  * * *

  Kate is sitting at the foot of our berth. She looks at me, and then at Hamza.

  Hamza smiles. “I am Hamza, the leader for this journey.”

  Kate says nothing. Hamza continues. “Five of my compatriots will arrive shortly before dawn. The two women will stay in the aft cabin. The three men will stay in the forward cabin.”

  “Women?”

  “Yes, women. They are quite ‘westernized’. As are the men. However, I will be your only point of contact.”

  He turns to me. “Captain, this is your vessel. It is a very beautiful vessel. Please show me its facilities. I would like to learn.”

  It doesn’t take long to do the tour of the two cabins, two heads, and galley. Hamza is fascinated. “And the aft cabin?”

  “You’ve done your homework. Access to the aft cabin and the engine room is from the salon.” I point to the companionway stairs.

  He goes up into the salon; I follow him. I slide the salon seat out of the way and open the hatch to the small aft cabin. Sabre calls this the Crew Cabin, but our grandkids love it: They have their own double berth, TV, and head; their own little private world. And it’s full of kid stuff. Hamza goes down; I do not follow. He looks around for about five minutes, and then comes back up into the salon. “This will do very nicely.”

  I just nod and sit at the helm. Hamza follows me and sits in the seat opposite. “And the engine room?”

  “Why?”

  “Captain, I recognize that this is your vessel. I am only a passenger for a day. But it is a very beautiful vessel, and I would like to see all of it. I was in our Navy and I know ships. People in my home country c
ould never own a boat like this. Maybe the leaders, but not people like me. I am very impressed with your boat, and with the fact that it is your boat. Were you a leader?”

  “No. Kate and I are both engineers. We worked for American companies. We worked very hard for many years. And this is our reward. Maybe you should compare our lives to yours.”

  He says nothing for at least two minutes. Then, he nods. “And the engine room?”

  I go back into the salon, lift the hatch, and go down the ladder. Hamza follows. He does a slow three-sixty. He mutters something in Arabic. I think it’s the equivalent of “Wow!”

  And the engine room is a “wow” kind of place. Morning Star is still very new and the engine room is spotless. It is dominated by the two gleaming white Cummins 550 horsepower diesels. After a while, Hamza smiles at me. “I trained as a Mechanical Engineer. May I look?”

  “Yes. It is an impressive engine room. May I ask where you learned English? It is excellent – and idiomatic.” Most foreign language speakers – me included – never quite sound like natives. Hamza does. He’s comfortable with English.

  “I was raised in Charleston, South Carolina. My father was a Doctor. After high school, I was sent to our homeland to attend college, and then I entered the Navy. My English is starting to get a little rusty.”

  Hamza peeks and pokes for about fifteen minutes. He asks a few questions, but mostly just explores. I can see his admiration. Eventually he goes to the ladder. “I’ve seen enough for now. I’d like to look over the bridge.”

  “On a vessel this size, it’s called the helm station, or just the helm.”

  “To the helm then. I am a Mechanical Engineer, but I love electronics.”

  * * *

  I let Hamza sit in the Captain’s Helm Seat. I stand next to him. He asks me to turn on the electronics. I do. He’s like a little kid at Christmas. He doesn’t know what to play with first. But I’m losing interest in playing nice with a terrorist leader. “It’s getting late.”