Greetings again, my friends. It has been a busy time since my last
communication. Having had my fill of
caviar harvesting on the stormy
If I recall correctly, when last I spoke to you, I was on my
way toward satisfaction of my first quest, to bring back the eye of the
Sturgeon Theodore. My researches on
sturgeons had turned up a surfeit of information. I had no idea that there are sturgeons in the
I found nothing else in my researches regarding a particular
sturgeon named Theodore. I had almost
decided that an exhaustive search was in order, and had actually booked air
passage to
However, on the night before I was to depart, I stumbled
across a reference that seemed infinitely more promising. I was idly perusing the official web site of
the country of
Now this seemed like a much more worthy object of desire for
the King Fish. I immediately cancelled
my reservation for
I arrived in
I was thoroughly enjoying the quality of my drink when a man, a Russian, sat down beside me. He was middle-aged, balding and heavy-set, and was clothed in a wrinkled business suit. In other words, he was somewhat like me. We sat for a while, watching a tournament chess match on the TV, sipping our drinks and studiously ignoring each other. Then the man turned to me and spoke.
“You are American, I presume”, he asked in a quiet voice in Russian.
“Yes I am”, I replied in flawless Russian. “How can you tell?”
“Only Americans sip their drinks through their straws” he said. “Also, only Americans wear sports coat, tie, and athletic shoes.”
“Very observant of
you”, I said. “Did you also happen to
notice the tag on my briefcase identifying me as a traveler originating in
“Da. I also noticed the train ticket sticking out
of your coat pocket, and couldn’t help but notice that your destination is
I shook his hand and introduced myself, using my assumed name, of course. “By the way, I consider myself fairly observant as well. I believe that contrary to your introduction, you are presently unemployed, and that you are being sought by the authorities.”
“And how did you come about such observations?”
“Your suit is poorly fitted, as if it was tailored for another. I can tell from your accent and diction that you are quite well educated. From this, I conclude that you haven’t the resources to clothe yourself the way you ordinarily would. You keep glancing at the door, and around the room, as if you are looking for someone, or someone is looking for you. Finally, you smell like you haven’t bathed for several days. Oh, please don’t be insulted. I have an unusually sensitive sense of smell.”
He smiled and nodded to me in a small salute. “My congratulations on your astuteness. Allow me another appraisal in return. You are CIA, no?”
“No, I am not CIA. I am a businessman.”
“Too bad. I need CIA. Well, perhaps we might retire to somewhere a bit more private, wherein we might discuss arrangements that might prove beneficial to both of us.”
I looked him up and down.
A con artist?
Was he gay? Neither
seemed to fit. Since I was stuck
in
“There is a coffee house down the street, and at this hour there are some young hoodlums there playing the most awful music. I find it somewhat annoying, but I also find it conducive to discreet conversation.”
“Very well”, I answered, plopping down a few rubles on the bar. “Lead the way.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I left first, and then you followed after, say, five minutes?”
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” I had to admit, I was intrigued. I figured him for a New Russian black marketeer, and he was probably going to try to sell me
He left. I noticed
somewhat peevishly and at the same time as the bartender that he had not paid
for his drink. She stared piercingly at
me until I pulled another couple of rubles out of my wallet and placed them on
the previous pile. Then I got up and
went out into the cool
I walked down the street, fully expecting that there was no coffeehouse and that Andre had disappeared. However, just at the end of the block I saw a small, pleasant looking establishment called “Pushkin’s Cafe”, and the strains of music came from within. I came to the door and stepped in. The place was popular and crowded, mostly young people. There were a couple of young men with guitars, and a young lady with various percussion instruments, and they were singing American folk music in Russian. They had fairly pleasant voices. I saw Andre wave from a table in the back. I joined him, intending to admonish him for stiffing me.
I didn’t have a chance. He had a coffee waiting for me, and with a flourish presented the waiter a handful of currency and laid a large wad on the table. “My treat this time”, he told me. I sat next to him, and we got down to business as the musicians started in on a jovial Russian rendition of “Leaving on a Jet Plane”.
“So, what’s your story?” I asked brusquely, glancing pointedly at my watch.
“Ah, you are a direct man, Joe”, he said, switching to English. “That will prove conducive to our business. As you indeed surmised, I am presently unemployed. I was once important scientist. I had the respect of the physics community across the world, even your crude and argumentative Caltech prima-donnas. You are maybe familiar with the N-Space Manifold String Theory? I was author of the original paper announcing the theory.”
I told him I had heard a little about it. I neglected to mention that I had written a paper arguing against it long ago. I didn’t want to blow my cover. I also had to admit that my paper was absolute garbage, intended only to get myself through grad school. At his mention of the theory, his name finally rang a bell. Andre Katinoff. He had indeed made a name for himself in String Theory, decades ago. Perhaps he was pumping his own reputation a little high, but then again, he was one of perhaps a few dozen people in the world fluent in String Theory. I do not count myself, of course. I got an F on that paper, and I decided a career in Physics was not for me.
“I went on to do work in elementary particles and high energy physics”, he continued. “Unfortunately, Mother Russia regards such areas as national secrets, and I could not share my work with the rest of the world. I made a series of discoveries, earth-shaking discoveries, which languished in secrecy for decades. You have heard of room temperature superconductors?”
“Absolute balderdash”, I replied. “Even the researchers at
“Only because their discoveries were quashed by the American corporations. I experienced the same attitude here. And yet, it is a reality. I have invented marvelous creations based on the concept. The KGB has buried every single one.”
“The KGB?” I asked. “Don’t you mean the FSB?”
“Whatever acronym they choose to use now, it is all the same
to me. They are still the same bunch of
thugs. Where was I? Oh yes.
I have made a number of inventions, including some that even the KGB is
unaware of. In the spirit of the new
“I resisted the KGB. I contacted several American and European corporations. They were interested at first, but after the KGB learned what I had done, they dried up and abandoned me. I have made many enemies. I lost my post at the Moscow Institute. I could not find job anywhere. I have gone underground. The KGB hunts for me, and I remain a specter, skipping and hopping from place to place as I feel their hot breath close in on me. My only chance is to contact CIA. I am sure they would be interested in what I have.”
“What exactly is the furor all about?” I asked.
“I have discovered the secret of limitless energy. What if I told you that I have designed an engine which will power a motorcar for a decade, using half kilogram of sand as fuel? I tried to sell my invention to General Motors Russia, but it seems they have a vested interest in the status quo, by which I mean…”
I started to get up. I had heard enough. Andre had once been a brilliant man, but was now obviously off his rocker. This had been a pleasant enough diversion from my quest, but now I feared I must push on.
“Mr. Halueth, please, we have not yet discussed our business”, he said. “I was merely reminiscing. The regrets of an old man. Please forgive me. I believe we can be of benefit to one another.”
“Make it quick, Mr. Katinoff. I have things to do.”
“I have no idea what your plans are in
“And you propose to be my guide?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.
“I was born in
I was quite aware of that.
It had been that way the last time I was there, decades ago. I had needed a guide back then, as well. I hadn’t quite figured out exactly how I was
going to proceed in
“And how much would your services cost me?” I asked.
He smiled. “Not a thing. Just a small service in return. I find that in my present circumstances, travel can be quite difficult. I find that if I travel with a companion, say a beloved brother in law here on business, there is far less suspicion placed on me, and far less scrutiny of my forged travel papers. I presently have urgent need to travel to my home country.”
“So you need me to get you across the border.”
“As I said, we can be of mutual benefit to each other.”
He had a point. I sipped my coffee and thought about it for a minute. The band struck up a rousing rendition of “Like a Rolling Stone”. I had a moment where I was visualizing Bob Dylan with a Russian accent. Andre must have noticed my smile.
“So, we have a deal?” he asked. “By the way, what is it you are planning in
“I’m planning a fishing trip”, I said.
“Are you sure you’re not CIA?” he asked.
Which is how I found myself in the
We stayed the night at the village’s one small hotel. The village gave new meaning to the word poverty. It was a drab collection of dirty huts, with a single unpaved main street which was crowded all day and most of the evening with merchants peddling their wares. The “hotel” was merely a hut slightly larger than the others. After a few inquiries, I had bought a beat up old Ford Focus. After a few more inquiries, I bought a beat up old house boat and skiff. We moved out of the hotel and into the house boat. The boat was actually cleaner than the hotel. I named the houseboat “Macie”.
I thought it would be a simple matter to establish myself in
the fishing business. I explained some
of my plans to Andre. I explained that I
was a game collector, and had come to
Having a boat and a strong will were not enough however, not here in Sacere. You see, fishing in Sacere is not merely a profession. It is a way of life. It is a religion. Game fishing is unheard of, especially sturgeon. Not only that, but sturgeon fishing on the Caspian is highly regulated. There had been severe overfishing for generations. Stocks were depleted. The scarcity of sturgeon on the Caspian was one of the reasons for the high price of Russian Beluga caviar. The governments of the countries bordering the Caspian had come down hard on the fishing industry. Only certain people were licensed, primarily long-time native fisher folk. Daily catches were strictly limited by the authorities. The locals had developed traditions and rituals around the profession, and it became highly specialized and inbred.
Andre and I realized that my story would not fly here. So Joe Halueth was
no longer a diesel salesman. He was now
a representative of a small Caviar manufacturer in
“Ah, Mr. Halueth, it is great
pleasure indeed”, he said in his baritone voice the day we met. “We rarely see anybody interested in our
ways. It is always ‘catch Beluga’ and ‘I
cannot pay that much’, even though they rarely understand the expenses we incur
in our trade. The fees we pay Solntsevskaya (the Russian mafia) are robbery.
The government regulates us to death, and then taxes us off the
top. But, we produce finest product in the world. It would be my privilege to show you
our operations.”
“Mr. Valiokvsky, I thank you very much”, I replied. “I’ve always felt that the best way to learn how to do something is to actually do it. What I would like is that you help set me up as a fisherman, for which I will pay you quite handsomely.”
His eyes lit up at that. “Mr. Halueth, as much as I’d like to help, I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. I have no boats to spare. Then there is the matter of obtaining license from government. Unless you are native born Kazakhstani, you cannot obtain license.
“I have acquired my own boat, and am in the process of acquiring the necessary gear. I merely need help with the, ah, well we Americans call it ‘the red tape’. As I said, I will pay you quite handsomely.” I pulled out my pad and wrote down a figure which would put a noticeable dent in my bank account but which I was sure would exceed the annual income of his poor village. His eyes lit up even further.
“That’s quite impossible, I couldn’t do it for less than…”, and named a figure 500% higher than my offer. We negotiated for a while and finally settled on a figure which would put at least a robust dent in my bank account. We shook hands on it, he gave me a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek, and we were in business. It turned out that a fishing license consisted of a handwritten piece of paper which he issued on the spot, and a Kazakhstani fisherman’s cap, a sort of turban to be worn at all times while conducting business. With that, I became a Beluga fisherman.
“There is one more matter, Mr. Halueth, or may I call you Joe? It is tradition in our country, and in our profession, to take on an apprentice. We consider it our sacred duty, as Kazakhstani fishermen, to pass on our knowledge and skills to the next generation. Dmitri, come here my boy.”
A young man with curly black hair and a mix of Asiatic and European features stepped out of the entourage and came to stand beside Omar. “This is Dmitri. He is son of a colleague, and he will be your apprentice. Of course, he has spent his life in our village and knows great deal about fishing already. I believe you and he will learn much from each other.”
“I appreciate the offer, Omar”, I said. I didn’t quite like Dmitri’s shifty looks. “But I believe this is something I must do myself…”
“Nonsense, we all have apprentice. It is our tradition. Without apprentice, you cannot call yourself fisherman. It is our sacred duty. Besides, Dmitri here is young, and has strong back. No sense in the master doing all of the hard work, is there? Let the apprentice do the work and the master exercise his brain.”
I acquiesced. I was in desperate straits, and I didn’t want to go against the ingrained traditions of these proud villagers. Our negotiations concluded, Omar strolled off, his entourage following. Dmitri went to get his gear. He would move aboard the “Macie” this very day. Later, onboard the houseboat, Andre went about shaking his head whenever I passed, muttering something about ‘crazy Americans’. He finally retired into his cabin, one of two small staterooms aboard the Macie.
Dmitri returned, hauling a rucksack over his shoulder. Andre had claimed one cabin already. I told Dmitri that he was welcome to sleep on the deck, underneath the awning for protection from the weather.
“Mr. Halueth, obviously you have not been instructed fully in the intricacies of Kazakhstani seamanship”, he replied in a precise British accent. “The apprentice does not sleep on the deck. He has his own stateroom. It is a tradition among my people.”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave some traditions by the wayside”, I replied. “After all, you see yourself that the Macie has only two cabins, one for my esteemed first mate Andre, and one for the captain of the ship, that is, yours truly.”
Dmitri looked aghast. “Mr. Halueth, surely you’re not suggesting that we go against the traditions of my people. What would Omar Valiokvsky have to say about this? He would not be happy. He might even consider revoking your fishing licence. No, our traditions are in place for a purpose and cannot be violated.”
“Andre!” I called out. He appeared from the cabin. “It appears that there has been a misunderstanding. I’m afraid you are going to have to sleep on the deck tonight. Don’t worry, we will provide you all of the blankets you desire.”
It was Andre’s turn to be aghast. “Joe, surely you are not suggesting that I give up my cabin? Sea winds do not agree with my constitution. I will catch my death of cold. Surely you don’t want that, Joe. What would you do without your first mate? Your traveling companion? Your guide? Your benevolent protector in this strange land? Where would you be without me?”
Which is how I ended up spending that
first night on the deck of the Macie. It was not too bad; rather pleasant,
actually, as it was still late summer in
“Uh, Andre, what are you doing?” I asked sleepily.
“Joe, is something I must do” he said, his hand emerging from the pocket with my car key. “I must borrow car. I’ll bring it back soon. Thank you, but I must be going.”
“Wait a minute!” I said, but he was already heading to the car as I threw my blankets off and struggled to get my pants on. I heard the rusty cough of the engine of my Ford Focus starting up. It was having trouble getting going this morning. I finally got my pants on and raced across the gangplank toward my car. But I was too late. Andre had finally gotten it started. I stood there in the thick cloud of black smoke my car had belched out and watched it recede in the distance. It was moving so sluggishly I probably could have run and caught it, if I had been at all alert. At several points the engine seemed about to stall, and just when I thought to go chasing after, it would sputter to life again amid a ghastly grinding of gears, and another thick cloud of smoke would burst from it. I watched it disappear from view, visible only by the puffs of smoke slowly ascending above the rooftops of the huts of the village. “Son of a bitch” was all I could say.
I complained to Omar but to no avail. There was nothing he could do. “After all”, he said, “he’s Russian, what did you expect?” I neglected to mention that he was a native Kazakhstani.
I had another rude awakening that very day, when Dmitri and I first put out to sea in the Macie. Apparently,
my understanding of the word “apprentice” was not the same as the general Kazakhstani definition.
It turned out that Dmitri was not what he
seemed. By that, I mean that his father
was actually a highly placed lieutenant in the
Not that the mafia cut amounted to much, because I was not catching much. I just didn’t seem to have what it took to be a fisherman. I caught one or two small sturgeon, and the profit after expenses was meager. I caught a few other fish, just enough to sell to some of the village merchants and keep me supplied in diesel fuel, but not nearly enough to cover Dmitri’s regular salary. This was entirely a losing proposition, and in my despair I wondered if I was ever going to come close to Teodore the Sturgeon. At this rate, my bank account would be depleted in the next few weeks.
I commiserated with Omar.
He told me that business would get better as I learned more. Until then, I must soldier on. He seemed to take a liking to me. He started inviting me to his house for
dinner. His house was one of the more
stately huts in the village. I met his
wife, a quiet old woman who served his every demand. I met his large family of eight kids; the
eldest a son in the military, his youngest a daughter not yet seventeen. That daughter, Elona,
was her father’s pride and joy. He doted
on her. She had black hair and dark
skin, and her figure was just escaping from its pudgy adolescent confinement
and blossoming into full womanhood. Her
face had the kind of mysterious beauty that only Asians could evoke. Omar bragged that she was to be the queen of
the upcoming fall harvest festival. Only
the purest daughters of
Personally, she didn’t strike me as particularly pure. She had a way with all men she came into contact with, a sort of shy flirtatious nature on the outside, but hidden underneath was a barely discerned cunning intelligence. When Elona batted her large dark eyes at a man, few could resist. Since I was invariably in the presence of Omar when I saw her, she withheld her wiles and I was spared her charms. But I saw the effect she had on the other men in the village.
Within a few days, I became aware that Dmitri was secretly seeing her. I awoke one evening to a noise, and going out to investigate, I spied Dmitri on shore headed away from the Macie and into the village. I decided to investigate. I followed silently behind him, and eventually he came to Omar’s house. He knocked on a window, and it opened, and there was Elona beckoning him in. I hid behind a rain barrel as I contemplated this state of affairs. Should I tell Omar? The man was my friend and he deserved to know what was going on between Dmitri and his daughter. I finally decided that it was none of my business, and that if I got involved it would surely complicate my quest. I had learned long ago to stay out of the affairs of others. It was just not worth intervening.
I followed Dmitri a couple more times on his nocturnal journeys. One time he came knocking on Elona’s window. She opened the window but did not let him in. Instead, they seemed to get into an argument. Dmitri left in a huff and went to the village tavern. I stayed and watched Elona’s window. Just as I suspected, after a while, the window opened and a man stepped out of her window and strode off into the night. It was one of the other young men of the village. This young lady must have been doing the whole village! Again, I argued with myself over what to do. Omar would be heartbroken to learn what his pride and joy was up to. I refused to do that to the man. I kept quiet.
In the next few weeks, I started getting the hang of the business and started making just enough to make ends meet. It was hard work, especially since I had no help whatsoever. I began to regret the loss of Andre, who at least seemed willing to work, unlike Dmitri. The only thing Dmitri was good for was taking my money. All he did was sleep all day in his cabin while I worked. Still, I was not making any progress with Teodore. I had a small fishing sonar, but never spotted any fish close to the size I was looking for. It was depressing. I was beginning to think of hanging it all up, of going back to The King Fish in failure and accepting my fate, of being absorbed into the ebb and flow of life’s infinite parade.
What kept me going was Omar. He and I became the best of friends. He and I would sit back after eating dinner, smoking his water pipe and discussing all that was right and wrong with the world. He revealed to me that he was a member of the Sa’leph (The Faith), a secret religious order which denied the Incarnation of God in Christ, but which nevertheless recognized Jesus and Mohammed as bringers of truth to the world of men. The Sa’lephi (The Faithful) believed that God manifested Himself in the world as Teodore, and that He provided bounty to each according to his need. In the case of the people of Sacere, this bounty was the harvest of the sea. The upcoming festival was a celebration of this faith, and the Sa’lephi would worship Teodore and provide sacrifices in His honor in secret on the first full moon after the fall equinox.
One night, as we sat back in our cushions and smoked and
talked and digested, Omar invited me to join the Sa’leph. He told me that I was a good man and deserved
to share in the Bounty of Teodore. This was what I needed to become a true
fisherman of
Omar made a more astounding offer that night as well. He told me that he would be honored if I would take his daughter Elona as wife. If I was willing, then we could be wed the night after the festival; as she had to remain chaste until the festival ended. He told me that he thought I was a good man, and would be a good provider for his cherished daughter, and that our children would be beautiful and strong. He said that like unlike those western sluts, his daughter was a virgin, and wouldn’t it be better to marry a virgin? I told him sputteringly that I was honored, and that I was thankful for his generosity and that marriage was such a solemn commitment that I would need a little time to think it over. I took my leave and stumbled back to the Macie.
Boy, was I in trouble. I regretted that I had not told him about Dmitri and Elona. My mind was in an uproar. What was I to do? I allowed myself a small fantasy, to imagine being married to the beautiful Elona, and coming home every night to bask in the sensuous delights she offered. I would reform her. I would make a good and faithful woman out of her. But my fantasy turned into a nightmare as I imagined myself asleep beside her when a quiet knock came at the window, and she went out into the night with Dmitri. This would not do. It could never happen.
I immersed myself in my work. I kept the Macie out until late in the evening, long after the other fishers had retired. Dmitri complained, but I ignored him. He told me that he would tell his father, and that his father would have my balls cut off and fed to the sea. I told him that he was a spoiled young punk, and that his complaints to his father would go unheard, and that I knew he was doinking Elona and that I would tell Omar. That seemed to quiet him down. He seemed genuinely afraid of Omar, of what he would do if he found out. I told him let’s just both keep our mouths shut and all would be well. He got the picture and stopped his complaining.
I avoided Omar. I occasionally met him in the village market, and I would tell him how hard I was working, how tired I was all of the time, that I was just too tired to come over, and that I had not forgotten his offer. I was still thinking about it. He seemed to accept this, although he seemed genuinely puzzled as to why I would not jump at the chance to marry Elona. He would get this funny look on his face, as if to ask “How can you do this to me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with my daughter that you reject her so?” It broke my heart to see that look on my friend’s face. But what could I do? I would hurt the man severely if I told him. I was torn.
The very next morning, a new distraction came my way. I was lying on the deck of the Macie, lost in thought, turning my problems over and over in my mind. I heard what sounded like a jet aircraft approaching. I scanned the sky, but saw no telltale contrails. I then looked out over the village, and realized the sound was coming from the village. I sat up quickly. There, coming up the dirt road from the north, was my battered old Ford Focus towing a small trailer. But it was no longer belching smoke nor lurching along like a drunken hippopotamus. It was racing down the thoroughfare, and the jet engine sound was coming from it. Villagers were leaping out of its way as it barreled along. It was headed straight for me, and I thought it would leap from the quay and ram the Macie. At the last moment, it skidded to a stop right in front me, and out stepped Andre with a smug look on his face.
“See, Joe, I told you I would return” he said as he popped the hood of the Focus. “And look, I have brought my engine with me. My beautiful invention, my creation. The Room Temperature Superconducting Frictionless motor. I call it the Katinoff Engine. Am I a genius, or what?”
I was speechless. I just didn’t know what to say. He may have been a genius, but he was insane as well. I tried to say something, anything, but only senseless stutters emerged.
“Joe, don’t get all choked up”, he said. “I know this is overwhelming. But I have a plan. We will take the Katinoff
Engine and put it in the boat. We will
be the fastest boat in all of
“Andre, I’m not sure this is legal”, I objected. “The Kazakhstani government has very strict regulations on fishing. I’m not sure how they would react to a fishing boat with a souped up engine. They might consider it an unfair advantage.”
“You worry too much, my friend. You are starting from a disadvantage. You have a house boat, for goodness sake, while other fishermen have seaworthy fishing boats. This is merely the equalizer.”
I don’t know how he talked me into it, but that very day we installed the Katinoff Engine into the Macie. We worked long and hard. Occasionally, Dmitri would come out from his cabin with a bottle of vodka in his hand, and stare at us in a drunken stupor. Then, he would mutter obscenities and retreat to his cabin. Villagers crowded around and watched. We finally finished installing the Katinoff Engine and Andre fiddled with it until it purred. When it started getting dark, and the bored villagers had left, Andre pulled the tarp from the trailer, to reveal a strange contraption, sort of an oversized water ski.
“This, my friend, is new keel. Is secret weapon. We will install on the underside of this vessel, and transform it. Watch!”
He pulled scuba tanks, fins, and mask from the trailer and, with him working underwater and me working the winches topside, we soon had the new keel in place. I was mystified throughout the entire process. I had decided to just let this mad genius work, and see where it led us. At about midnight, we were done. Andre looked around, and when he was satisfied that nobody was watching, he and I grabbed boxes of electronic gear from the trailer and put it into the other cabin; the captain’s cabin, until it was jammed to capacity. He put his fingers to his lips and shushed. “Very hush-hush stuff”, he whispered. Just as we were finishing up, Dmitri came staggering out of his cabin. He looked our way with a disgusted look on his face, and then proceeded ashore. I was pissed off at Dmitri. With the captain’s cabin full, it looked like both Andre and I would be sleeping on the deck this evening.
“Asshole!” I called out after him, in English, but he didn’t hear or just didn’t understand. He kept walking down the road. I went into his cabin, poked around, and brought out a half-empty bottle of Vodka.
“Come, let us drink to the success of the Katinoff Engine”, I exclaimed joyfully.
“Hear, hear”, said Andre, and we sat on the railing of the Macie and passed the bottle between us. We talked. I told him about Dmitri and Elona and Omar and myself. Andre took the last sip and tossed the bottle over the side.
“More vodka”, he yelped, and he leaped over the railing to the shore. “Come, Joe, let us drink away our sorrows, for tomorrow is the start of a grand new adventure.” I followed after, tripping over the railing and landing hard in the dirt. I hardly felt a thing; the Vodka burning through my veins removed all hint of pain. We strolled past the gutted remains of my Ford Focus, and proceeded to the village tavern. As we took our table, I noticed that Dmitri was there. I called out to him.
“What’s the matter, Dmitri, somebody beat you to the punch tonight?”
He scowled at me, but said nothing, merely continued nursing his drink.
Andre and I polished off a second bottle, and we managed to each assist the other back home to the Macie. There, we rigged ourselves hammocks on deck from the remains of the trailer’s canvas tarp, covered ourselves in blankets, and fell into deep slumber. I awoke briefly as Dmitri staggered back onboard just before dawn. I got up at about 6:00 AM, my head throbbing to the fierce sounds of the Katinoff Engine warming up. Or maybe it was just a hangover.
“Come, Joe”, called out Andre at the helm. “We will now see what the Katinoff Engine can do”. He gunned the engine and windows rattled throughout the village. I cast off our lines and Andre slowly increased the power. Even at low throttle, the engine vibrated our teeth. We trolled slowly through the harbor and out into the open sea. Dmitri came out of his cabin rubbing his head.
“What the hell is going on out here?” he asked.
“Watch, Joe, I flip this lever and the keel is engaged”. I felt the Macie rise ever so slightly in the water. “And now, we give her the gas!” He slammed the throttle full forward and the Macie jumped out of the water. I was leaning against the rail, but Dmitri had no support. The Macie slammed into forward motion, and suddenly Dmitri was sliding along the deck before ramming into the aft railing. He held on for dear life as his feet dipped into the water behind. The bow was raised high out of the water, and the stern was digging into the water like a badger burrowing for rats. I eased my way over to the side and leaned over to look under the houseboat. The new keel was fully extended, and the Macie was now racing along on a single water ski. We passed a buoy, and I realized she must have been doing 60 knots!
He had performed a miracle. A nuclear powered houseboat! How cool was that? “Andre, you are an absolute genius!” I yelled over the roar of the engine.
“I know!” he answered, and let out a hoot of joy.
I looked aft at Dmitri, still hanging on for dear life at the stern railing. “Say, Andre, I had better rescue junior there before he loses his grip.”
I went aft and pulled on Dmitri, struggling to break his death grip on the railing. He was petrified, and still stone drunk. I half carried and half dragged him back to his cabin, tossed him on the bunk, and slammed the door. I then joined Andre at the helm. We had already passed most of the fleet of fishing boats and left them well behind us, and we were out in deep waters. He eased back the throttle to trolling speed.
“And now, Joe, as if you didn’t already recognize my genius, I administer the coup de grace. Take the helm, dear captain, whilst I prepare the equipment.” He left me in charge of the helm, and he went below to the captain’s cabin. He was there for an hour, and I spent the time following small schools of fish on the sonar. No sturgeon. I sighed, but I was too excited to even think about catching fish. Presently, Andre emerged.
“Cut the engines, cast the anchor, and come see my handiwork” he said. I did so, and then followed him into the crowded cabin. There was electronic equipment everywhere; computers, meters, power supplies, oscilloscopes, logic analyzers, and assorted spare parts. There were three huge monitors, arranged left, right, and center. They had a display somewhat like I was used to on the sonar, except that the area they covered was much larger. . The little Radio Shack sonar I had at the helm could penetrate maybe 100 yards. I looked closely at the scales on the borders of Andre’s screens, and realized I was looking at an area of the sea 100 miles in diameter, and it scanned from the surface to the bottom. This was amazing! I saw little blips with text legends beside them representing the Sacere fishing fleet almost 10 miles to the east. I saw little blips which must have been other vessels, and I saw glimmering blips of incandescence labeled as schools of fish. One blip was labeled “sturgeon”.
“Andre, you’ve done it!” I howled in joy. “Surely we will find the great sturgeon now!” Andre beamed in enjoyment at my praise. “How have you done this?”
He merely raised his fingers to his lips and said “Shhh, very hush-hush.” He allowed a huge smile to emerge on his face and raised his arms high. “General Motors! Here I come!” he yelled out, and he let out another yelp of joy.
I followed suit. “Teodore! Here I come!” and let out my own joyful howl.
In the next few weeks, we became the superstars of the Sacere fishing community, indeed of the entire region. We were unstoppable. Every day we brought home our legal limit in sturgeon. We were raking in money. Even after the mafia’s larcenous cut, and Dmitri’s salary, there was still plenty left over for Andre and me. A fifty/fifty split. Andre insisted. As captain and owner of the boat, I thought maybe I deserved more. But I didn’t argue, as my bank account was growing again. The other fishers tried following us but could never keep up. Nobody could discover our secrets. We found that all we had to do was keep a couple of ice cold bottles of vodka handy and Dmitri would stay in his cabin in a stupor. As long as he got his vodka and his share of the take, he kept quiet.
Omar and I renewed our friendship. We would meet in the tavern, and he would draw his friends around and tell them he had taught me everything I knew. I would buy a round of drinks, and everybody was my friend. Omar took me aside and told me he knew why I was vacillating about his proposal. He guessed aloud that I had wanted to be successful before I asked for his daughter’s hand. Now it was only a matter of time. I congratulated him on his acumen. It most definitely was a matter of time. Time was running short for me to find Teodore. I was still completely at a loss as to what to do about Omar. I would completely convince myself that I should tell him about Elona, but then chicken out at the last moment when I met him at the tavern and saw his affable good nature. How could I do this to the man? It would destroy him.
One night, Omar entered the tavern accompanied by a companion, a man with a familiar face. He introduced him around as the new district fishing commissioner, Vladimir Asoro, but I knew him from a long time ago. From the CIA. His real name was Frank Stanford. He was a cool customer. I’m sure he recognized me, but he didn’t let on. I did the same. He was obviously in deep cover, and I didn’t want to expose him. He merely praised me for my fishing skills, and cautioned me to stay under limit or he would have to fine me. I smilingly assured him that I would do so. We drank and told stories and the evening passed, and it was time to go home. As I was leaving, I glanced at Frank and thought he gave me a wink. I waved and left. I didn’t think much about the incident; the CIA was everywhere these days. I promptly forgot about it.
The next day, I was strolling through the market shopping. People came up to me, total strangers, and patted my back and rubbed my hair for luck, and told me how great I was, that they knew I was destined for greatness the moment they laid eyes on me. It was a fantastic feeling. I imagined it must be like what a movie star feels when he strolls through the crowds of his adoring fans. As I passed through the throng, I saw one shining face standing out. It was Elona. It was the first time I had seen her without her father present. I passed close, and she smiled at me; she beamed at me; and she cast her spell. She touched my hand as I passed, and then she was lost in the crowd.
I was electrified. I felt a tingle pass up the hand she had touched. I was thunderstruck. She had me spellbound. Her face was burned in my memory; that one simple mesmerizing look on her beautiful perfect face. And the idea struck me like a thunderbolt. I would marry her. It would be the solution to everything. Omar would be ecstatic. I would stay here, and hunt the Sturgeon Teodore forever, and The King Fish could not punish me because I was still trying to satisfy its quest. I would join the Sa’leph, and I would be happy. I would find a way to make my beautiful wife happy. She would see the error in her ways and see that the path to true happiness lay in faithfulness and contentment, not in carnal desire and wanton licentiousness. I stayed up all night thinking it through, imagining what it would be like laying naked next to her. This was my true destiny.
This was not a bad life.
Sure, I worked hard. But I was
making ends meet. It was so different
from my life in the States. I never had
to deal with freeway traffic after a bad day at the office. It was quiet and peaceful here on the beaches
with the mountains of
I made up my mind that I would tell Omar of my decision that very night. I imagined the look of joy on his face as I asked him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. As we set out to sea that day in the Macie, I rehearsed what I would say to Omar. Andre gently chastised me several times for my absent mindedness as we went about our work. I didn’t care. I was in love! Despite my inattentiveness, we still managed a full catch. Life was so beautiful. Everything was just so right.
We arrived home and dispatched our catch. As we walked to the tavern that evening, I told Andre everything. He congratulated me, but seemed troubled. I asked him what was wrong.
“But what about me, Joe?” he asked, somewhat selfishly I thought. He was raining on my parade. “What am I to do when you are married? You cannot abandon me. I need you. You must get in touch with your CIA masters. I need to bring the Katinoff Engine to the world.”
Immediately the thought of Frank Stanford came to mind. I scolded myself; I had been thinking only of myself, and not at all of this man who had been a large factor in my success. “Is that all, Andre? Worry not, my friend. How could I abandon you, you who have brought me so far and helped me in so many ways? I know just the man you need to talk to. The next time I see him, I will discuss your situation with him. I am sure he will be very interested in the Katinoff Engine. Rest your mind.”
He beamed, and hugged me. “Ah, you Americans are not so bad after all”, he said. “Congratulations, my friend. I wish you a blissful marriage. She is a lovely lass.”
I was in high spirits indeed. Everything was coming together. Everybody was happy. Nothing could go wrong. Or so I thought.
We came to the noisy tavern. I entered, expecting the usual rush of greetings and handshakes I had been experiencing lately. Instead, the tavern went silent. I was puzzled at this reception. Everybody just stared at me. I glanced around until I saw Omar at his usual table, but he had a troubled look on his face. I came up to him, and asked him what was wrong in a concerned voice.
“Lecher!” he said. “Fiend! You are evil!”
“Omar, my friend”, I begged in astonishment. “Why are you calling me these names? What have I done?”
“My Elona told me everything tonight. How you slinked into her room at night, and debauched her. You have ruined her, and you have ruined me. Leave my sight!”
“Omar, I swear by God! I swear by Teodore! I have done no such thing. How could she say those things?”
“You dare deny it? You dare ask me to take your word against my own daughter’s? She is with child. She accuses you. She carries your bastard child, you heartless evildoer.”
“But, Omar, that is impossible. I swear to you. Here, let me…”
“BE GONE!” he cried, and a sob erupted from his lips.
“I demand a confrontation with my accuser, Omar! This is a farce! This is injustice.”
He was shaking with rage. “You demand? You lawless rogue, you make demands on me and my innocent Elona?” A torrent of protests erupted from his friends around him. I saw not a friendly face in the entire place. Even Andre looked shocked.
“Yes, I do.” I hardened my face. To think that I had contemplated marrying that lying, conniving….female.
Omar took a deep breath and composed himself. “Very well, come to my house in one hour. There, we shall see what is farce and what is unjust.” He got up from the table and walked proudly to the door. Several friends accompanied him. The remainder of the crowd stared at me with angry, hostile looks. I left as well, and Andre accompanied me back to the Macie.
“Well, at least now I know why you wanted to marry her so badly”, Andre said in a bumbling attempt at comforting me.
“You fool! It is not my child. I have not had sex with that woman. Now leave me alone!”
I went to the foredeck and sat alone in misery. I had gone from the heights of ecstasy to the depths of despair in a matter of minutes. Why, oh why, could I not find happiness in the world? Why did God punish me so? But I knew it was not God who was punishing me. Oh no, it was The King Fish. Punishing me for having abandoned its quest. I could not fool The King Fish. It knew all.
The appointed hour came, and I desolately made my way to Omar’s house. Andre stayed behind, sulking at the way I had spoken to him. I came to the door and knocked. Dmitri answered the door, and silently let me in to the living room. Omar sat in his chair and smoked his pipe, with a sour look on his face, not even deigning to look my way. His wife sat on the sofa, crying, with her arm around Elona, who was also crying, her hands covering her face. There were several others standing in the room, casting baleful stares my way.
Dmitri spoke up. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Be quick with it, and leave these poor suffering folks to their pain.”
I was seething with rage at Dmitri’s charade. He knew full well that I knew who was the fiend here. But I had no proof that he was the one. I was the outsider and therefore the burden of proof was up to me. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I reached into the innermost pocket, and pulled out a battered sheet of paper. It had been in my wallet for so long it had separated at the creases. I laid it out on the coffee table in front of Omar, and put the separated pieces in the correct order.
“Well, what is it then, Dmitri?” Omar asked as he fumbled his reading glasses in place. “You know I don’t read so good anymore.”
Dmitri bowed down to the table and examined the evidence. As he read, a grim look came out on his face. He looked at me with hatred in his eyes.
“Come now, Dmitri”, demanded Omar. “What does it say?”
Dmitri didn’t answer. He merely straightened up, turned on his heels, and stomped to the other side of the room. There he stood, facing away from the rest of us. Omar watched him in astonishment, and then turned to me and waited.
“It is a hospital bill for surgery”, I said. “It certifies that on August 8, 1987, I had a
vasectomy performed. It is signed by the
doctor in attendance at George
He didn’t answer. He merely stared at the shreds of paper spread out on the table before him.
“It means that I am sterile, and have been so since 1987”, I said in as gentle a voice as I could muster as I stood there seeing the defeated look on my friend’s face. “The child is not mine.”
Dmitri turned suddenly to face us. “It is fake! Even if it is real, the procedure is not foolproof. It can be reversed.”
Omar slammed his fist on the table. “It is there in black and white, Dmitri!” he roared. “Why are you being so dense? Why is everybody lying to me?” His face looked even more crestfallen as he realized the implications of what he was saying. “Why is my daughter lying to me?” he asked with a hint of abject misery in his voice. He glanced toward Elona and his face softened with love for just a moment, before his misery returned.
Elona’s crying increased in volume. “Father”, she said in between sobs. “Forgive me for lying. It is true. This man is not the father. I only said so because I wanted to marry him. Dmitri is the father. Dmitri and I are in love, and we want to get married.”
Elona had apparently seen the writing on the wall, and was now trying to make the best of things. She couldn’t have me, the successful fisherman who could give her everything she wanted. So she chose to have her lover instead. A cheeky woman, I had to admit. Dmitri did not look happy. He did not look like a man in love. He looked like a trapped animal. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow. I sighed. Perhaps these two deserved each other. I reached over and picked up my tattered certificate. I started to leave.
Omar finally spoke up, with his teeth clinched in rage. “As mayor, I will convene an inquest on this matter at 10:00 AM tomorrow. Dmitri, you are hereby summoned to appear before me, and you as well, Elona. I ask all of you to keep this matter in strictest confidence until the inquest.” He then got up and left the room.
I left the house and slowly walked back to the Macie. My mind was a blank. It refused to function anymore after the day’s events. I boarded and went to my hammock and lay down. Andre was in his hammock, and he turned to me.
“Well, how did it go?” he asked.
“Andre, I knew there was a reason why I saved that damned
certificate all of these years.” Then I
turned over and went to sleep. I had to
get up early the next day. By the time
the inquest started at 10:00 AM the next day, Andre and I were far out on the
Caspian Sea, headed away from
I was asleep and dreaming of Elona. We were married, and had seven children, and were talking about an eighth. We had a beautiful dacha in the mountains. I had retired from active fishing, and was the CEO of a harvesting company, and had people working for me who did all the work, while I just counted the money as it rolled in. It was a beautiful dream, but behind it all, I felt the wide, lidless eyes of The King Fish watching me, watching and waiting. It was growing impatient.
“Joe, wake up, Joe, I’ve got something to show you.” Andre’s voice intruded and my beautiful dream collapsed into the ashes of my unconscious. I awoke to the sound of the Katinoff engine idling in a gentle purr, and saw Andre peering down at me, staring with his mad, brilliant eyes.
“Wha…What time is it?” It was still dark. I could see the glorious stars above me from
my hammock. Andre and I had decided that
sleeping outdoors wasn’t bad at all, and had both kept our hammocks on deck. This would do until we reached landfall in
“Come on, Joe, you’ll love this.” He disappeared into the captain’s cabin, now our equipment room.
I rolled out of my hammock and slid into my pants. I sat there a moment, staring at the stars. Orion stood there on the horizon, and his belt and sword glistened in clarity. I had not seen so many stars since I was a kid, back before my home town was permanently encased in smog. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and went to the equipment room.
Andre grabbed me and sat me down in the chair before the three sonar monitors. I scanned it quickly. The usual shipping traffic. A few schools of fish, and a few sturgeon. The computer had characterized and labeled each blip. But, one particular blip was labeled “unknown”. I had never seen that happen. I pointed to it and asked Andre about it.
“That, my friend, is the end of the rainbow”, he replied. “According to the parameters, that is a long, thin denizen of the sea. It is carnivorous, see how it swims through the school of fish and they scatter? The computer cannot characterize it because of its size. But, if one were to shrink the dimensions, say about 4 times, the characterization would become clear. Can you guess what it is?”
“It’s Teodore, isn’t it?” I asked in an excited voice. “By God, Andre, you’ve done it again!”
“Yes, I certainly have!” The Russian’s face erupted into a big, crazy smile. His eyes had a crazy look in them. Yes, the man was crazy. Like a fox.
I jumped out of the chair and hugged him. We started dancing a jig right there in the crowded equipment room, and then I danced out onto the deck, with Andre following. We danced and laughed and howled at the moon. We hooted and hollered, and high-fived each other, and kissed each other on the cheek in the time-honored Russian fashion. We celebrated for quite some time, and then I went back into the equipment room to check that I hadn’t been imagining things. I hadn’t. The glorious blip was still there, still dipping in and out of the ghostly cloud of fish it was feeding on.
“Let’s get on with it, then” called Andre from the helm, and cranked up the engine a couple of notches and started bringing the Macie around. “What’s our heading, Captain?”
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I called out the heading to him, and then went astern to ready the nets. I went back to the sonar, corrected the heading, and went back and continued my preparations. After several rounds of this, we started getting close. Teodore had sensed that the great noisy behemoth above was hunting him. He sped up, and dove, but there was nowhere he could hide from us. He kept going. We followed him for thirty minutes, and finally he started slowing down. I sensed that it was time.
I called out to Andre that I was casting nets. I ran back and pushed the release, and the nets plunged into the sea, pulled down by their weights. I ran back and forth between the sonar and the stern, calling out course and speed corrections to Andre. I was constantly fiddling with the play on the nets, working them to just the right depth to snare our prey. I ran back to the sonar, and saw that we were close. I ran out, grabbed the railing, and called out to Andre: “Full speed ahead, Andre!”
The Macie’s bow leaped up, and the roar of the Katinoff Engine shattered the silence of the night. I glanced at the sonar, and then I raced back to the stern just in time to see the lines tighten as the nets closed around Teodore. I called out to Andre: “All Stop!” I pushed the winch clutch and engaged its motor, and the yardarm screeched at the weight it was being asked to hold. But it held. The growl of the engine softened and soon the sound of the winch motor overcame it. The winch was steadily reeling in line as the Macie slowly drifted to a dead stop in the water. I ran back for a glance at the sonar, to make sure we had a good catch. We did. Then, and only then, I paused a second to rest, my lungs heaving from the exertion.
Soon, the leaders were visible, and then the first strands of the nets. Finally, Teodore appeared as the winch lifted him out of the water. He was magnificent. He was easily over twenty feet in length, and he must have weighed a ton. His beautiful bill was easily four feet in length, and his dagger teeth sheared fruitlessly at the web of the net. As Andre swung the deck light beam over him, his scaly body seemed to reflect the colors of the rainbow. He stopped fighting. He knew he was beaten. I swung the yardarm over and deposited him on the deck. His body gave a few weak flops, and he gulped a few breaths of poisonous air, and then he was still. We had done it! I had my cleaning knife in my hand, ready to cut out Teodore’s inhuman eye.
I heard a splash behind me. I turned toward it. The deck light was shining in my eyes, but I could just barely make out a shape in the water on the starboard side. It was our dinghy, a small two man rubber boat. I saw Andre on the deck toward the bow, where he had apparently just put the dinghy over. I was confused, needless to say. What was he up to? He came back toward me, and I saw that he had a gun in his hand.
“Get in the dinghy, Joe”, he said. He had that crazy look in his eyes again, only this time he was not smiling.
“Andre, what are you doing?” I asked incredulously.
“Get in the dinghy, now!” he said more forcefully, and he raised the gun to point it straight at me. “I will take the fish for my own!” He was coming closer.
“Andre, come on, stop joking around. It’s not funny.”
“This is not joke!” he yelled. “And you are not CIA. You cannot pretend any longer.”
“What?” This was the last thing I expected to come from his mouth.
“You thought you had me fooled. You pretended not to be CIA, so I would think you were. But you are not! Ha! You cannot fool me.”
“You’re crazy”. His eyes were open wide, and were staring into some alternate universe I could not imagine.
“Actually, you had me fooled for a short time, long enough for me to help you and to bring my engine right to you. But you slipped up. You told me you had someone you could talk to about me. But you didn’t.”
“But Andre, I am CIA. At least, I was long ago. I still have contacts…”
“Enough!” he cried, and he was right in front of me with the pistol pointed at my forehead. “You are not CIA! You are not. You are General Motors, and you have come to steal my inventions! I will not let you do it!”
I saw his finger pulling on the trigger. My time was up in this world, and I would not be completing my quest. I started saying my prayers. I decided I would not close my eyes. I would not give him the satisfaction. Instead, I stared directly into his mad eyes, hoping that he would be haunted forever by the memory of the face of the man he had killed.
At the moment his finger was pressing toward my doom, Teodore beside us gave one last death flail. His long bill tore through the netting, and his sharp teeth latched on to Andre’s foot. Andre let out a scream and turned the gun to the fish. He pulled the trigger and fired at point blank range into Teodore’s head. The great fish let out a ferocious spasm that rippled through his body. The jaws clenched reflexively into Andre’s leg and sliced like a knife through fresh caviar, and his foot was torn from his leg at the ankle. He didn’t scream. His eyes went full wide as he balanced momentarily on one foot and stared at his bloody stump. Then he fell over, and the gun dropped from his hand and slid across the deck into the sea.
I was petrified. I couldn’t move for a second, as I stared in horror at the carnage before me. Teodore lifted his head and turned his haunting eye toward me. The mouth opened, and I heard Teodore speak:
“You may take my eye, but you must tell The King Fish that my spawn will seek him out and destroy him.”
With that, the great head dropped back to the deck, and Teodore was still.
I came back from whatever dark place I had been driven. Andre was unconscious. The first thing I did was apply a tourniquet to Andre’s leg. I got the meager first aid kit out and cleaned the wound. Then, I got an old iron out of the ship’s stores and cauterized the wound. Andre was starting to regain consciousness, so I dragged him into the mate’s cabin and tied him to the bunk. I gave him a double dose of tranquilizer and knocked him out again. I had no idea if that was the proper medical thing to do, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t want him awake.
I used my knife to cut out Teodore’s
eye, and then put it into a plastic bag and hid it inside the barrel of the
grappling hook latched to the bulkhead.
I then turned the Macie to the west and
cranked the throttle to full. I sailed
all night across the
I coasted in from there, and a Russian Coast Guard cutter
towed me to the docks of the
I woke up in a jail cell. I got up and stretched, and found that I was hungrier than I had ever been in my entire life. There was a guard just outside the cell, and when he saw that I was awake, he got up without a word and went through a doorway. He returned with three tough looking men, and they came into my cell and tied me down in a chair. They then proceeded to grill me for eight hours. There were a lot of questions about Andre. There were questions about the Katinoff engine, and the new fangled keel on Macie. They were particularly interested in the sonar in the equipment room. I answered as best I could, but I didn’t know many of the details. I kept telling them that Andre was the man to question, but they ignored that. They seemed particularly curious about Teodore, and how a one-ton twenty foot fish ended up on the deck of a nuclear powered houseboat.
They asked me how Andre lost his foot, and I told them the fish did it, wasn’t it obvious? They didn’t like that answer, even though it was the truth, and they slapped me around a little. I asked them who they were and they told me to shut up, then asked me more questions. I was delirious. I asked for food and they kicked me in the crotch. I asked for something to drink and they punched me in the stomach. I finally screamed that I had had enough, and wanted to speak to someone at the American consulate. They took a break, went out for a cigarette, then came back and grilled and smacked me around some more. Finally, they seemed to run out of questions. I think they were seriously confused at this point. I hat to admit to myself, my story didn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense, even to me.
Finally, the tough guys left and a new guy came in. This one was even scarier. He was not muscle; he was the brains behind the muscle. He was a career bureaucrat and I could tell he didn’t give a damn what happened to me. He was just pissed because I happened to cruise in on his watch. I was sure he was ready to toss me in a dungeon and forget about me.
“Mr. Halueth, or whatever your name is, you are in serious trouble”, he said. “You have been harboring a fugitive. There appears to be evidence of foul play on board your vessel. You have entered our country illegally. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I am a lawfully registered Kazakhstani fisherman”, I said. “I was lawfully practicing my trade when a terrible accident happened aboard my ship. I was unaware of Mr. Katinoff’s legal status. I entered Russian waters because of a bona fide medical emergency. And I am really, really thirsty. I also have to take a piss.”
“You don’t want to make me angry”, he said with steel in his eyes. “I would like nothing better than to skin you, shoot you through the head, and throw you into the sea and let the fish gnaw your bones. We have a saying here: ‘The penalty always matches the crime.’”
“And we have a saying in
“Unfortunately, I cannot do what I’d like. There is a jurisdictional matter.
I wondered if they had been in touch with
“Much as I would like to keep you as our guest, I am forced
to turn you over to
At that instant, Vladimir Asoro, the Kazakhstan Fishing Commissioner, a.k.a. Frank Stanford, CIA, came into the cell. He walked up to me, looked me in the face, winked, and slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrist. He led me out of the cellblock and into the main police station. We got my things, and went out to a glorious sunny day. I caught him up on my adventures as we walked. He didn’t say a word through the entire story. When I was finished, he finally spoke up.
“Come on, James, you’ve got a plane to
“Frank, is there anything you can do for Andre?” I asked. “He’s really got some good ideas. Maybe you could get him to defect.”
“Oh, James, you’re still so twentieth century. Russians don’t defect anymore. They don’t need to. They just join the mafia. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. Can I get a few things off my boat before we go?” I asked, and he agreed.
We went down to the dock and I said goodbye to the Macie. While he
stood staring in amazement at Teodore’s stinking
corpse, I reached into the boathook and retrieved the plastic bag with Teodore’s eye, and stuffed it into my pocket. I got a few other things from under my
hammock, and we were off to the airport.
Frank shook my hand and said farewell.
He told me to go straight to
My friends, you are now up to date, and I must venture
on. I go in search of the mighty Squalamastoid. I
will try to dash off a note to you when we make landfall in
Your Friend…James