Pleasant Harbor

by Thomas Bloom

  Dusty, Tim and Andy were watching from a distance. “That does it,” Dusty said. “He’s running. That boat can do 35 miles an hour. He’ll be in international waters in twenty minutes. They may try to catch him but unless they have a good boat very close they will not get close to him. Did you turn on the GPS?”

  “Sure did. As soon as he started moving. It’s got about twenty-four hours of battery life. After that he’s off the radar, as they say.”

  “Okay, let’s get back to my room. I want you guys to start tracking him. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

  While Tim and Andy booted up their computer, Dusty got on the phone. He called the special number Tamourini had given him. It rang twice then a male voice answered.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Dusty Donovan calling. I’m Sheriff of Potawatomie County in Michigan. I’ve been working with FBI agent Tamourini on a case involving six murders in Michigan, including two FBI agents. She gave me this number to call in case I ever had actionable information, which I now have. I am calling from Samoa, in the Pacific, and time is of the essence. Can you connect me to her?”

  “Wait.” The voice said.

  Dusty suddenly realized that it was the middle of the night in the states. He held on for a good five minutes when suddenly Tamourini came on the line.

  “This better be good. I’m in Alabama working a kidnapping and I’m very tired. Do you know what time it is here?”

  “I’ll give you the details later. I am in Samoa with some hired help. We’ve found Croft and have spooked him into leaving the island. We have a planted GPS on his boat and can track him for about twenty-four hours. I don’t know if we have any naval ships in the area but I would love to pick him up before he disappears again.”

  “Okay, I’m awake. Give me a number and I’ll be back with you.”

  A half hour later his phone rang. “I’ve woken up my boss. He woke up his boss. He woke up the head of the FBI. He woke up the President of the United States. He woke up someone in the Naval Department. The answer is we have no surface ships in the area but there is one submarine on routine patrol in the area. Do you have any idea yet where he’s headed?”

  “We’ve tracked him north by northwest. The closest country to here that does not have an extradition treaty with the U.S. is the Marshall Islands. My guess is that’s where he’s headed. It’s about five hundred miles but he has just enough gas for that if he slows down.”

  “I’ll be back to you when I know something. Do you have a cell, just in case?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t work here.”

  “We work through a satellite, not the phone towers. We can reach any live phone anywhere.”

  Dusty gave her his cell number and said “call when you have something.”

  “You know,” Dusty said. “I’m surprised he didn’t try anything against me. His history is that he strikes out at threats. Usually, effectively.”

  Andy got a funny look on his face. “Actually, he did. We decided not to tell you right away.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Night before last. Some guy comes up the stairwell about three in the morning carrying a pistol with a silencer. He had a master key because the doors are locked from the inside of the stairwell. Anyway, he’s at your door about to use the master key again when Tim hits him with a Taser. We didn’t want to start a fire fight in the hallway. Tim threw him in the dumpster in back of the hotel and it will be a couple of months before he can use his right arm. His weapon’s in the harbor. He must have planned on letting himself in, offing you in your bed and then sneaking back down the stairwell.”

  “Jeez, where was Tim and why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He was on the landing one flight above your floor. We didn’t have a master key but we’re pretty good at picking locks. We were afraid that if we told you about it you might be tempted to get rough with him on the boat.”

  “Well thank you. That’s why I hired you but that was close. If you guys had both decided to get a good night’s sleep I’d be dead. Thank you.”

  “Part of the training, see how many days you can go with no sleep at all.”

  “By the way, where in the hell did you get a Taser?”

  “We’ve been working these islands for years. We have connections.”

  “Right.”

  Just then the phone rang. It was Tamourini. Dusty put it on speaker.

  “Okay, the President has approved the Navy attempting an intercept. I need coordinates, now. Not just his current position but the last four or five spots so we can get a track and then we need an update every fifteen minutes.”

  “Just a minute.” Dusty passed the phone to Andy who started to read off a string of coordinates.

  When Andy was done Dusty got back on. “I’m going to give you two other numbers. You have mine and the other two are my associates.”

  “Tell me about your associates.”

  “Sorry, they crave anonymity but believe me they know what they are doing.”

  “You keep impressing me Dusty.”

  “Likewise. I don’t think the President would have picked up if I had called direct.”

  “I’ll be back to you.”

  For the next twenty hours they tracked Croft’s position. He had slowed down to about 18 miles per hour which, presumably, was the speed at which he could most effectively conserve fuel. Dusty napped on and off on the couch and Tim and Andy took turns feeding coordinates to the FBI and napping in the bedroom.

  Croft had gone full speed until he was well outside Samoan territorial waters. Then he slowed to 18 miles an hour which the marina master had told him was the most economical speed. He did some computations on the back of a shopping bag. The closest port in the Marshalls was about 450 miles away and of which he knew nothing but he assumed he could at least buy gas there. He had $20,000 cash stashed on the boat and assumed that would see him through until he could get into the country and find a bank. It was the closest country with no extradition treaty with the United States. He should just be able to make it on his present gas supply He set a course on the autopilot and retired to the fantail with a beer. When darkness fell he considered slowing down but after checking his charts he decided there was nothing in his way for the next two hundred miles but open water. Best that he conserve his fuel to the maximum.

  At dawn he awoke a little befuddled but quickly checked the heading and the GPS. He was on course. He suddenly realized that he had not eaten since breakfast the previous day. Just as he was about to descend into the cabin the water started to boil off his starboard bow. What the hell, he thought, a whale breeching?

  Then the conning tower of a submarine broke the surface. As soon as the body of the submarine was free of the surface a half dozen men appeared on the tower and descended to the deck. Each was in full body armor and held a weapon. One man had an RPG. Another man on the conning tower appeared with a bull horn. “Heave to now. This is an American warship. We have authority to take you into custody. Heave to now or we will fire on you.”

  Shit, shit, shit, Croft thought. So close yet so far. And all that money in the bank. He debated just leaping overboard but decided there might still be some chance of getting out of this. He was in international waters. They had no jurisdiction here. He walked to the console and killed the engines. Immediately a small life raft was launched with two men in it. When they boarded one stood back with his weapon at the ready and the other approached Croft with a pair of handcuffs. Croft didn’t resist. He turned and put his hands behind his back. He’d done this hundreds of times to others.

  “You guys have no jurisdiction here. This is not legal.”

  “We have our orders. Tell it to the judge.”

  Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll know when you get there.”

  “What about my boat?”

  “We can’t tow it so we’ll sink it. Otherwise it’s a navigation hazard.”

  “Let’s go. As soon as w
e reach the U.S. I want a lawyer.”

  Dusty got a call about mid-morning from Tamourini. “It’s over. He’s in custody. We’ll transfer him to American Samoa then fly him to the U.S. He will plead that we had no jurisdiction to take him into custody but he will lose that. He will go to trial on the federal charges. If you want him after that you can have him but this guy will not ever see daylight again.”

  “That’s all I need to know,” Dusty said. “You’ve been a great friend and a super associate. Let me know if I can ever do anything for you.”

  “Likewise,” Tamourini said. “Good luck and take care of Amanda and the kids.”

  Dusty made one more call. “It’s over Amanda. Croft is in custody and I’m coming home.” He gave her a review of the events on the Island.

  “Good work, and smart. The two Aussies were a godsend. How did you manage the last scenario? The raid on the dock.”

  “We called in three different anonymous tips that there were drug deals going down on the dock. Croft was both selling and buying. The Samoans are paranoid on this. They’ve kept drugs out of the islands and they want to keep it that way. Croft was a logical suspect—American with a lot of money and no apparent reason to be on the island. They jumped right on it. Worked like a charm. If we ever see Tamourini again we owe her one. I can’t believe we got the President of the United States out of bed but I guess that’s what he gets paid for. I’ll be on the next plane. I’ll call you when I know my arrival time. I love you. Kiss the kids for me.”

  “Love you too. Be safe. When you get home we’re just going to do normal forever.”

  “Promise?”

  Afterword

  All the characters in this work are fictional. The town of Pleasant Harbor and Potawatomie County do not exist but many towns and Counties like them along Michigan’s western coast do. All other geographical references are accurate.

  The description of the introduction of salmon into the Great Lakes is historically accurate. Many who do not live in the Great Lakes area are unaware of this phenomenon. The sports fishing industry centered around the salmon is a major contributor to Michigan’s economy. If the pollution issue can be resolved this may also become a significant commercial venture in the future.

  There is a national park on Michigan’s west coast known as Sleeping Bear Dunes which is exactly the same as the description of Michigan Dunes State Park.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank my daughter, Cynthia Martin, a published author herself, for her help in editing and improving this work. In particular, her background in police methodology helped me avoid many errors regarding procedural issues.

  I am not a trained police officer and certainly not an FBI agent. There may be other issues contained herein which do not exactly match established procedure. I would ask the reader to grant me a little fictional license.