Convergence at Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  Deidre looked at him with little emotion. “Ben, you know that we all cover for each other during vacations. We always have, and you never complained before. Who is harassing whom?”

  “All I know is now that you have the authority, I’m not going to allow you to push me around. The other guys recognize that you would like me to leave.”

  Once again Deidre kept her cool. “Ben, do what you have to do, but I doubt if the other guys, as you say, have any gripes. As for scheduling, we’ll all draw night shifts equally. That’s documented, and you’re free to look for any pattern of discrimination.”

  Ben’s complaints didn’t stop there. He claimed he was always given the oldest squad vehicle to drive. He complained about the assigned routes to patrol, and he continued to complain whenever his number was called for two weeks of nightshift. He objected the most strenuously when he drew the assignment of patrolling the entrances to the dock area. He said it was impossible to stay awake just sitting there in the shadows. Anyway, why were they wasting taxpayers’ dollars over that pile of rusting steel? Who would ever be able to do anything to them?

  Ben made the claim that he was being bypassed when overtime assignments were made, and he contended that it was in retribution for his having run a close race with Deidre.

  Eventually, Ben took his grievances to the union. They were obligated to take them to the full County Board of Commissioners who wanted to throw out all allegations but who, themselves, were fearful of a law suit. A state arbiter was appointed, and he promptly threw out all charges, claiming there was no evidence to support Ben’s case. Since then, she and Ben had been living under a fragile, unspoken truce, and the other deputies had come to respect her fairness and her willingness to stand up for them during times of public and county board scrutiny.

  After looking each of the men squarely in the eye, Deidre said, “I have been contacted by the FBI from their Duluth office. Something is going on in the Brimson area, and believe it or not, they’d like our help. They didn’t really ask for it, more like ordered it.”

  This made the deputies sit up straighter in their chairs. Deidre continued. “West of the old Brimson school is a homestead at the end of a quarter-mile-long driveway. It’s changed hands several times in the last fifteen years and most recently has been used as a hunting shack by people from the Cities. Most of the buildings have caved in, and the fields are pretty much grown up in brush, but you can still see what had been the farm house from the county road.”

  One of the deputies spoke up. “I know that place. It used to be the Erholti place back in the nineteen-teens and twenties. Then the Havamakis bought it and farmed it up until the nineteen-fifties or so. I think it stood empty until about twenty years ago when some hunters from the Twin Cities bought it. Waino Jarvinen told me about it one day when we went trout fishing together in the river on the back of the property.”

  “That’s the place all right,” Deidre confirmed her deputy’s information. “I received a call from an FBI Special Agent John Erickson yesterday afternoon. He requested that we set up a routine surveillance of the homestead. He wants us to keep track of anyone using the place, any increased traffic in or out of the driveway, anything out of the ordinary. Needless to say, we’re not to let on what we’re doing. We’ll up our coverage of the area, but only randomly drive by so as not to arouse any suspicion.”

  Standing, she reminded the men, “This isn’t the way the FBI and Homeland Security usually work. They actually said they need our help.” Deidre paused to let those words sink in. “Because this is a small community, strangers stand out like glow-in-the-dark markers, and the agency is afraid their people will be spotted as outsiders. That’s why we are doing the surveillance on what’s going on in Brimson.”

  Before she adjourned the meeting, Deidre cleared her throat, having to make one more announcement. “We’ve also been asked to keep David Craine under surveillance. Agent Erickson made it clear we’re not to allow anything to happen to him until they are ready to make a move.”

  Ben looked up from the doodles he’d been making on his note pad, a startled look in his eyes. “What has he done to deserve this attention? We all know him. He couldn’t be a person of interest in any crime.”

  “I know that as well as any of you, but those are our orders. Erickson couldn’t or wouldn’t go any further with his information.”

  She dismissed the group to their duties.

  Following the usual routine, the staff meeting was held every morning with each deputy going off duty informing those coming on of what was happening in the county. After several weeks of recording the comings and goings at the hunting shack, nothing much had been noted. At their Tuesday meeting, Deidre informed the deputies that the FBI had been in close contact with her.

  “That Agent Erickson is getting to be a real pain in my butt,” she told the group. “He’s on the phone every day, wondering if anything different’s going on up there. All I can tell him is, ‘the same old, same old,’ and that seems to make him all the more edgy.”

  She continued, “You’ve done a good job of not giving any notice that we’re aware of the group in Brimson. Be careful to keep it that way.”

  “John,” Deidre asked of the under-sheriff, “When you drove past the place last evening, did you notice anything different?”

  “You know the driveway’s a long one, and I couldn’t stop to glass the area,” John answered with a shrug. “I could tell that there was a different vehicle parked next to the shack, though. The others have been spotted here in town driving a silver Land Rover, but this one was black, a Ford Explorer, I think. That’s about all I could make out.”

  At this point, Deidre began to bring the deputies up to date. “Like I said, Special Agent Erickson’s called me from the FBI offices in Duluth every day wanting the latest information. They’re certain there have been four men living in that hunting shack in Brimson, and from what I gather they’re involved in some sort of crime. The agency isn’t sharing with me what. But they think the four are only underlings, and the agency doesn’t believe they’ll act alone,” she said, looking over her shoulder out of habit to be sure no one was behind her. “The one we’ve been waiting for arrived last night. The undercover agents who’ve been doing surveillance at the Duluth airport spotted him yesterday afternoon. He rented a black Ford Explorer and was followed into Two Harbors where he turned up the State Road, heading for Brimson. You were right on with what you reported, John,” and Deidre gave her deputy a nod of approval.

  “The FBI surveillants in Duluth identified its driver as Zaim Hassan Zayed. He’s the missing leader,” Deidre said, upping the ante. “Now that he’s arrived, we think things will begin happening and soon. You and I just don’t know what.”

  One of the other deputies interrupted. “How does this change our mission? Will we get a crack at this bunch, or are we going to sit back until they do something?”

  Deidre stared at him for a moment and then said, “The most important thing we must do is not to let on that we’re in the know in the least. We continue acting like small-town hicks with nothing more to do that cruise the dirt back roads. If they suspect for a minute that we’re on to them, they’ll evaporate, and no one will have a thing for all the effort and man hours that have gone into this operation—so be careful.”

  She reminded her deputies, “If you meet them on the road, just give a nod and a smile. Show them we are not into profiling. Show them how accepting we are. Do not, and I repeat—do not—do anything to put them on guard.”

  Deidre dismissed the crew. “Meet here tomorrow, same time. Oh, by the way, Bill and Cass, keep your eyes out for David Craine. His boat was spotted heading into the Knife River Marina. I’m sure he’ll go to his apartment above Dunnigan’s so watch for him.”

  Bill questioned, “What do you want us to do if we spot him? Anything?”

  Deidre answered, “Just don’t call attention to the fact we know he’s back. Okay guys, you know what we h
ave to do. Have a good shift.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vic Aiala sat in his chair on his deck, reading a book. It was a few minutes past midnight, and he could hear the rhythmic pulse of a siren coming from the ore docks two miles down the hill from where he lived. He could see the rows of lights delineating the railroad tracks that ran along the top of the massive hoppers into which iron ore was dumped from strings of gondola cars. From his vantage point, he could see lights illuminating the hundreds of yards of conveyor belts that moved ore from the mountainous stockpiles heaped near the base of the docks. All those steel chutes and bins and belts were essential for loading the thousand-foot-long ore carriers that carried their cargo from Two Harbors on the Great Lakes to steel mills out East.

  Vic was the supervisor for the entire facility and operation. To him the sirens that sounded every time the conveyor was moved, the train whistles that signaled an outbound string of empties being returned to the mine, and the boat horns that communicated with the ore dock workers were sounds of comfort. The night sounds told him all was well.

  He thought it ironic that he could fall asleep peacefully when the harbor symphony was playing in the middle of the night, but when all went silent he would wake with a jolt as if from a nightmare.

  The peace that night was a far cry from the turmoil that had erupted on September 11, 2001. That morning he had received an urgent call from Sheriff Thorton commanding him to shut down all operations. No trains were to be allowed onto the docks, and the conveyors were to be shut down. Any lake traffic was prohibited from entering the small, single use harbor, and no one was to enter or leave the road entrances until several deputies arrived to help sort things out. At the time, Vic knew nothing of the tragedy taking place in New York, and he was more than irritated until the sheriff told him to turn on a TV. After that, no explanation was needed.

  Within minutes three deputies had pulled up outside his office, their SUVs immediately enveloped in the cloud of dust trailing them. One deputy was posted at each plant-site entrance, and the third, a petite blond whose name tag read Deputy Johnson entered his office.

  “This isn’t a good morning, Mr. Aiala,” she said with a catch in her throat. “Sheriff Thorton will be here in just a few minutes.

  “You have a full shift of workers on right now, and he wants you to call them to your office right away. I know you have security on duty all the time. Have them continue to monitor the docks. Especially, have them watch for any small boats motoring around the dock abutments. That shouldn’t be a problem, because the Lake County Search and Rescue is already patrolling the harbor entrance, but just in case, have them be alert for any movement.”

  Vic was impressed with Deidre’s take charge attitude, and he made no objection to her commands.

  As she had predicted, in only a few minutes Sheriff Thorton pulled up in his SUV marked Lake County Sheriff.

  “Well, Vic,” he said. “I’m thinking things have changed forever, and not for the better I’m afraid. Is this your entire force?”

  Vic looked over the group of men now assembled outside his office. He counted the number listed on the work schedule and then counted the confused faces before him.

  “This is all,” he affirmed, “Except for security, and they’re doing what Deputy Johnson asked.”

  Sheriff Thorton cleared his throat. “If you haven’t heard, the Trade Center towers in New York were attacked only an hour ago by terrorists. It’s turning into a real disaster, and all sorts of alerts have been put out. All air traffic has been grounded. All possible strategic targets have been placed on alert, and all unnecessary travel is being discouraged.

  We have been issued an alert for the ore docks, and while it doesn’t rank up there with the Prairie Island nuclear power plant, the docks are of national security importance because of the need to move ore to the steel plants at the other end of the lakes.”

  Then, Sheriff Thorton began to divide the workers by crew assignment. “How many of you work at the water’s edge, helping to moor the lines from the carriers?” Three men raised their hands.

  The sheriff pointed at two others. “You go with these three who are familiar with the bases of the docks. Search each steel support one by one. Look for anything that in your opinion seems out of the ordinary. Especially, look for any backpacks strapped to the uprights or any wires running along the I-beams. If you find anything at all that looks out of place to you, do not touch it but call me immediately.”

  He spoke to the remaining workers. “I’ll let Vic divide you up into respective search groups. I’m not sure what goes on around these docks, and he can assign you areas that are most familiar to you. Be thorough in your search, and don’t try moving anything you find.”

  Before turning the group over to Vic, Sheriff Thorton turned to him. “Meet me in your office when you’re done. I need your opinion about what we can do to make this area more secure.”

  It took the rest of the shift and another three hours of overtime for the workers to inspect every angle of iron that formed the lattice supporting the tracks above. In the end, nothing was found that was of any significance.

  When the group gathered again in the business office, a comprehensive list of findings was drawn up. Sheriff Thorton stood up from where he had been sitting. “Thank goodness everything here is stable. Unless anyone has something to report, I think we can continue our stepped up patrol, and you can go home.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “You had me stationed at the southwest entrance, and things were so quiet there, I was scanning Pork City Hill for any sign of deer. I saw something that I suppose I should mention.”

  Sheriff Thorton’s head snapped around. “Well, what did you see?”

  Ben’s face started to flush, and he regretted having said anything. “Somebody was on the hill glassing the docks. He was only there a second and then ducked behind a boulder. After that, I didn’t see anything more.”

  Sheriff Thorton’s face contorted, and he blurted out. “And you didn’t call that in right away? What in the hell were you thinking? You’re hired to act like a law enforcement officer. Do your deer hunting on your own time.”

  He glared at Ben as he said to Deidre, “You and Jeff go up there and see what you can find. Ben, if I didn’t need every warm body here, I’d send you back to the office. Take your blasted binoculars and go to the breakwater. Take a good look at Pork City Hill as Deidre and Jeff come up the backside. By a stroke of luck they might flush something out.”

  Ben packed up his humiliation and left.

  The night of 9/11, Vic Aiala had sat up well past midnight looking at the strings of lights on the docks and listening to the steady pulse of sounds coming from the harbor. That night he slept restlessly, waking every time the warning siren on the conveyor stopped sounding.

  Now, ten years later things were different. Deidre Johnson was the sheriff. Although her department still kept tabs on the docks, there was usually only one deputy on watch during a shift. Time caused even traumatic memories to fade, and tonight, hearing the sounds of activity from the docks and knowing that increased security was on duty during the dark hours, Vic slept well.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sheriff Deidre Johnson tried to force herself to stop thinking of the past. As she was about to dive into a stack of backed-up paper work, her desk phone rang. She answered.

  “This is John Erickson,” Deidre heard from the other end of the line.

  “Hi, John. What’s up with you this morning?”

  “Not much on this end. How about there? Anything to report on those fellows up north?” John wanted to know.

  “We might have something developing. That black Ford Explorer you told me about yesterday might have been spotted by one of my deputies. Last evening, it was parked outside the old farmhouse in Brimson.

  “John, is it possible for you and me to meet this morning. I really feel we’re being kept too much in the dark here. You know that old saying about feeling li
ke a mushroom, ‘kept in the dark and being fed too much BS.’”

  Surprisingly, he seemed eager to talk. “There is a great little place on the scenic highway between here and Two Harbors. They serve wonderful gourmet food, and the place is quite private. Can you meet me there at noon? Better wear civilian clothes though. No need to attract attention to ourselves.”

  Deidre was pleased with his response. “I know the place you’re talking about. See you there at noon.”

  When she pulled into the parking lot of the small restaurant, Deidre knew she was ten minutes late, and when she entered the eating area, she noted that John was already seated at a table in the far corner of the room. Deidre had never allowed herself to get involved with any man. She had not dated, had not sent out any vibes to anyone, but when she looked across the room to where John sat, she couldn’t help but notice that he was quite good looking, for a man.

  The place was almost empty, and John had picked a table well away from other customers. To the other diners, the two of them were just a man and a woman meeting for lunch. Neither of them carried a notebook or computer. The only tools they brought with were concealed in holsters beneath their clothes.

  John stood and shook Deidre’s hand. “Sheriff Johnson, it’s good to see you again. We want you to know that we appreciate the job you and your deputies are doing. So far, everything is falling our way.”

  Deidre nodded her approval to his words. A waiter appeared and with much fanfare described the day’s specials. He recommended the halibut on toast with asparagus spears. Deidre decided to have the grilled egg and asparagus sandwich instead. Agent Erickson took the waiter’s recommendation. Each ordered a glass of white wine. It was against regulation, but they decided it would be a good way to look like an ordinary couple. Anyway both of them liked a glass of wine with their meals.