Cinch Knot

by Ron Walden

  Gwen unlocked and opened the door.

  “Can I speak with you a minute, Roger?”

  The two stepped away from the others.

  “If you can, get the keys to the equipment boxes on the truck.” she said quietly. “Sam and I can get started looking for that arming device.” “Good idea,” Roger said, and turned to speak to Sergeant Milner.

  “Greg, I need any keys you took from these men.”

  Captain Deitz was holding the radio close to his ear. He dropped his arm and called to Roger, “Roger, the helicopter is 10 minutes out.”

  Roger nodded his acknowledgment.

  “Captain.”

  Captain Deitz joined the FBI agent and the Trooper Sergeant.

  “Captain, I want to put two of your men on guard here at the pig receiving station. I also want one of your men and one of Greg’s troopers to take the two prisoners to the OCC and hold them until we can transport them to jail in Anchorage.”

  The Captain turned away and began to make assignments.

  Roger, Deitz and Milner were in the same Security vehicle. Deitz looked at Roger and said, “I have an idea for getting the others.”

  “I’m open for suggestions; you know this place better than we do. What’s your idea?” Roger asked.

  “The helipad is across the terminal area from the pig receiving station. It’s policy that Security check the helicopter passengers for proper identification; then someone from TAPS will pick them up and drive them to their assigned work area. Let’s stay with the policy. We pick them up and drive to an area where the rest of the officers are waiting. That way, we can control the entire arrest and not endanger anyone. We can make the arrest just off the helicopter pad. We have to stop at OCC. I can have one of my men get a pair of TAPS coveralls from there.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me. You’ll have to show us where to meet the other truck. One more thing. We should get that helicopter out of here fast. We don’t want to give them an escape route.” Roger was uneasy and did not like being in unfamiliar territory.

  The helicopter was approaching, and the officers could hear him asking OCC for a clearance to land. OCC obliged and the helicopter circled into the wind to make his landing. A uniformed Security Guard took the pickup as Deitz and his two passengers got out. Another officer pulled on blue coveralls with the TAPS logo over the left breast pocket. The two designated officers had been briefed and were climbing into their vehicles. The remaining four stood beside the road to wait. Waiting was always the hardest part.

  The two officers parked on the edge of the helicopter landing pad and waited while the red aircraft settled onto its skids. Almost immediately, the side door slid open. Four men stepped from the open door. The last to exit turned and closed the door behind him. The officer in the blue coveralls stood with the truck between himself and the four suspects; making sure they could not see him, he waved to get the attention of the helicopter pilot. When the pilot spotted him, he motioned for the helicopter to take off. He unzipped the coveralls to show his uniform, the pilot got the message and lifted the helicopter into the wind and circled to a departure to the north.

  The uniformed officer checked the identification badges of the arriving personnel to make sure they were authorized on the Terminal property, and their badges had the proper stamps showing they had been properly instructed in safety procedures. He wrote their names and badge numbers in a notebook and wished them a good day. He also made note, the only baggage they had with them was one black brief case. He returned to his pickup and drove off the helipad and back to the waiting officers. The four oriental men walked to the GMC Suburban and told the driver they would need a ride to the East Manifold and Metering Building.

  The high banks of the helipad had prevented anyone there from seeing the group waiting beside the road just below the pad. The members of the group were speaking to each other in Japanese and had not been suspicious The driver stopped near a group of men and a security truck. The driver pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out of the vehicle. Roger, Greg, and one of the uniformed security officers were on the driver side. The Captain and the other two officers were at the door on the passenger side.

  Roger presented his badge and ordered, “Come out of the truck with your hands up. Federal Agents. You’re under arrest. I repeat, you’re under arrest. Come out of the vehicle with your hands up. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, we understand. What is this all about?” Mr. Yamazawa asked as he stepped to the ground from the truck.

  Greg and his trooper held their weapons on the group while the uniformed security officers placed handcuffs on each of the suspects. Greg and his officer began to search the four.

  “Mr. Yamazawa, I am Roger Dorfmann. I’m a Federal Agent with the FBI. You and your associates are under arrest for the act of terrorism. I’m not sure you understand, but I’d like to tell you if you’re found guilty, you could be given the death penalty. What I am saying, Mr. Yamazawa is, you’re in very deep trouble.”

  Roger stepped to where Sergeant Milner was helping his men. “Greg, let’s finish searching these men and get them to the OCC conference room. If you have a tape recorder, I’d like to have you record the reading of their rights.”

  “Sure can. We’re just finishing here. Has Yamazawa said anything?” Milner asked.

  “No. I haven’t asked him any questions yet, and I walked away before he could. I want these guys to understand their rights before I question them. These foreigners sometimes lose their ability to speak and understand English when they get to court. I have seen it many times, and I don’t want to lose this one on a technicality.”

  “At least we stopped the destruction of the Valdez Terminal. If Sam and Gwen come up with that arming device, we’ll have done our job here. How soon do you want to transport these people?” Greg felt good that the arrests were made without incident.

  “I don’t know the whole story yet, but you can be sure this is only the tip of the iceberg. We’ll go over to see how Sam and Gwen are doing as soon as we get the rights read to these guys. After, we will let them stew for a while. We can go over and see how the search is doing. We’ll have to arrange for transport in, maybe …, 3 hours should be enough.” He checked his watch. “I don’t think they’ll talk without a lawyer, but we might get lucky.” Roger, too, felt good about the arrest being without incident. His old cop instincts told him he couldn’t relax just yet.

  Once at the OCC building, the suspects were escorted inside. Greg gave instructions to one of his troopers and handed him a small Panasonic Micro-Cassette recorder. The six offenders were seated at the conference table as the officer began to read the Miranda warning from a card. After reading the list of guaranteed rights to the suspects, each was asked to give his name and to answer whether he understood his rights if he had any questions, and, each was asked if he wanted a lawyer present during this initial questioning. All understood and no lawyer was requested.

  Sergeant Milner spoke softly to Agent Dorfmann, “I can call Sergeant Schoen in Soldotna and see if he’d be available to transport this bunch in the Trooper’s Piper Navajo. It seats nine plus the pilot and copilot.”

  “Make the call. It’s 1835 now and we’ll be ready to transport by 2100. In the daylight it should be an easy trip. Book them at the Cook Inlet Pretrial Facility in Anchorage.”

  As Greg disappeared into another office to call, Roger spoke to Captain Deitz.

  “Tell your men I appreciate the outstanding job they did today. They performed like clock work and in a professional manner. If you’ll give me a list of their names, I’ll have my office draft a letter for each of their files.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. The men’ll be pleased, “ Deitz said.

  “Greg and I are going to see how the search is going. Want to join us?”

  “Yeah, sure” The captain walked to the window and looked out. The deep blue water of the bay was near calm and glinted in the sun. The bay, bordered with lush g
reenery, mirrored the jagged snow capped peaks. Across the bay, the city of Valdez was clustered against the mountains. After the Exxon Valdez incident, the city recovered and carried on. He felt good about being part of preventing another catastrophe and wondered what motivated a person to indulge in wanton destruction of such beauty.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As the three senior officers approached the Pig Receiving Station, they saw two uniformed security guards standing at the door. The red flatbed truck was parked where it had been before, only the large pig box had been left. Contents of various boxes and containers were spread on the ground. Sam was searching the cab of the truck when Roger and the others arrived.

  “Find anything?” Roger asked.

  “Nothing.” Sam shook his head in frustration. “I even looked to see if other tool boxes or parts could be assembled to make the device. Did the other technicians have anything possibly connected with all or part of the arming device?”

  “No. The only thing they brought with them was a brief case with, what appears to be, legitimate papers inside,” Roger reported. “Where is Gwen?”

  “Inside,” Sam said, pointing to the door, flanked by security guards. “The pig arrived about a half hour ago. We weren’t finding anything here, so she went inside to help retrieve the pig from the trap.”

  “We’ll be inside if you need us. Let me know right away if you find anything at all suspicious.” Roger turned to go, but Sam grabbed his arm.

  “Okay, but right now I’d have to say the arming device is missing. I’ll go through all this stuff again to make sure. Give me a shout when they’re ready to open the pig. I want to get in there with my test equipment as soon as I can. They may have installed the arming switch when the pig was out of the pipeline at Pump Station Ten. I think that’s only a remote possibility, but an option nonetheless.” Sam had not yet finished speaking when he returned to his task.

  The three walked to the guarded door. They presented their identification to the guards and stepped inside. Mike Deitz lagged behind for a few minutes to confer with his guards. He had hand picked his men for this job and knew them well.

  Waylon “Tex” Smith was a thin, sandy haired, young, ex-cop from Houston. He had left the Houston Police Department after he was investigated for shooting a 17 year old Hispanic boy. The boy had shot a liquor store owner during a robbery. Tex and his partner accidently came upon the robbery. They’d seen the young robber run away with a gun in his hand. Tex’s partner got out of the patrol car and ordered the kid to drop his weapon. The kid turned, yelled “chinga tu, cop,” and fired two shots. The first stuck the windshield of the patrol car while the second disintegrated the elbow of his partner’s right arm. Tex stepped out of the car, using the door for protection; he shouted, “Freeze right there, drop the gun.” The young robber turned and took aim. Tex fired, striking the youngster in the chest. He died before the paramedics arrived. The investigation proved it was a justified shooting, but Tex found it impossible to work the streets after that night. It had taken him a long time to deal with self incrimination over the death of the Mexican boy.

  The other guard was a red head by the name of Sean Dillon. Deitz suspected Sean had received his early training while with the Irish Republican Army. A prankster and jokester, he was fun to have around. He had the best powers of observation Deitz had ever seen.

  “Hi, Captain,” Dillon said, “Looks like a good night for swatting Alaska ‘skeeters!”

  “Hello fellas,” Deitz greeted. “I’ve set up a 4-hour schedule. I want this truck and the pig guarded within an inch of your lives. Information is tight, but rest assured this is a situation of grave importance.”

  “I don’t like that word grave, Cap.” chided Sean. “Except for Sam and Gwen, you must keep everyone, and I mean everyone, away from here once the pig is out of the pipe and cleaned. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir, we understand,” Tex Smith said. “Tell our relief to wear warm coats. It’s warm now, but it’ll cool off.”

  Deitz smiled and slapped Sean on the back, “I’ll pass that along. I’ll try to get some coffee out here to you, too. Stay alert and be careful. I mean alert, Sean.”

  Inside, he found five technicians working with Roger and Gwen. Gwen was busy helping the regular crew of techs remove the pig from the pipeline. The end of the large pipe was open. The metal door usually bolted over the end of the pipe, had now been removed making the pig visible. It was resting on a carriage. The technicians were backing the pig out of the pipe. It would be some time before the object could be cleaned with a pressure washer, and the rear bulkhead removed thus allowing access to the electronic equipment inside.

  “She’s got this under control. Let’s go back to the OCC and have a talk with our friends,” Roger said as he turned to leave.

  Back in the conference room at the Operations Control Center, they each poured a cup of coffee. Roger stared at Mr. Yamazawa, then, addressing Greg he said, “Let’s take him into the other office. I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  In the office, Mr. Yamazawa was placed in a comfortable office chair. Roger sat behind the desk. Deitz and Milner each sat intimidatingly on a corner of the desk looking down on him.

  “Mr. Yamazawa, I am with the FBI. I have found that you are involved in a conspiracy against the Trans Alaska Pipeline. I am not asking for a confession; I already have enough evidence to get you the death penalty. There are, however, several questions. I need answers.

  “I will not make any statement. I am a foreign national and demand that I be treated with respect,” Yamazawa spat out.

  Roger continued, unabashed, “You say you’re a foreign national, for whom do you work?”

  “I am Field Supervisor for TMC Electronics Limited of Japan.”

  “We’ve checked with TMC. The company said you had no business being here. It seems the names fit, but the faces are wrong. Any explanation?”

  “I do not know who you talked with at my company, but I assure you they have made a terrible mistake. I am Field Supervisor for TMC Limited of Japan.”

  “Somewhere in Japan you or your associates switched the TMC pig for the one we have here. Where’s the real one now?”

  “We have detected radiation emitting from the forward bulkhead in the pig. We know there is a nuclear bomb inside. Where is the arming device?”

  “You are mistaken. If you detected radiation, it came from the ultrasonic transducers. There’s a residual magnetic influence that would trigger a reading similar to nuclear radiation.” Yamazawa seemed confident in his explanation.

  “Who do you work for?” Roger asked again.

  “I am Field Supervisor for TMC Electronics Limited of Japan,” came the calm reply.

  “Take him back with the others.” Roger was becoming irritated.

  “Sergeant Schoen will be here with the airplane to transport these people in about a half hour. Do you want to question them any more before we transport?” Sergeant Milner asked after Yamazawa had been taken from the room.

  “No. I don’t think we’re going to get anything from him. I can’t figure how this Yamazawa can be so confident. He knows we have him cold. Can it be he has that much confidence in the power of those who employ him?” Rogers frustration level climbed again.

  The beige color Piper Navajo, N6SF, lovingly called Six Sugar Fox, was parked in front of the terminal building. The two TAPS vehicles drove through the cargo gate and onto the flight ramp. Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Arlon Schoen was waiting beside the aircraft. Arlon was not only one of the finest pilots in the state, but he was, also, one of the best cops around. He was a rare individual who could act instinctively and always make the right decision. The ladies thought he was just tall, dark, and handsome.

  Roger said hello to Schoen, then turned to Greg. “Good luck kid. When you get these guys to Cook Inlet Pretrial, tell the Corrections people to keep track of who they call, especially overseas calls.”

  Mike Deitz and Roger Dorfmann s
tood on the flight ramp and watched as the Piper made its departure.

  “I had TAPS make reservations for you and your two partners at the Westward Hotel, near the boat harbor.” Deitz said.

  “It’s been a long day. I’m be ready to get something to eat, a hot shower and some sleep. I’ll drive back and see what’s going on at the Manifold Building. If Sam and Gwen haven’t found anything, I’ll have them call it a night. They must be beat, too.”

  It was a slow drive back to the Terminal Facility. After checking in with Security at the gate, the two trucks motored directly to the East Manifold Building. The guards were still outside the building. Inside, the pig had been cleaned and the rear bulkhead removed. The regular technicians had left the area and only Sam and Gwen remained.

  Sam had his head inside the opening at the rear of the huge instrument. The pig was nestled in a form fitted cradle. The rear bulkhead plate was resting against the far wall.

  “What is the cone protruding from the bulkhead cover over there?”

  “It’s a radio transmitter, Roger. It’s used as a locator. As the pig travels down the pipeline, we keep track of where it is by locating the signal sent by that small black box. In fact, we call it the locator beacon,” Gwen explained.

  “Did you find anything inside?” Roger asked.

  “Sure did,” Sam said as he backed out of the cramped space. “Gwen was right. There’s definitely a nuclear device in the nose. She was also right about the type. I’ve just run some electrical tests on the harness, and it all checks out. What we didn’t find was the arming device that plugs into a Cannon Plug right there.” He pointed to a large round electrical plug with 25 or 30 connecting pins.

  “Is there anything else we can do tonight?” Roger asked.

  “Can’t think of anything,” Sam replied. “We’re going to need a lot of help finding the arming device if we can’t figure out where it is. This is a big place, and it’ll take a lot of people for a search.”

  “The Captain has assigned guards here all night and as long as the unit is secure, let’s call it a day. We will all think clearer after a good night’s sleep. The pressure is off now, and we can work on our schedule.”