Target Alaska A Fools Journey

The harbor provided excellent protection from the cold west winds and the rough Pacific waters ahead. The salt-water spray invigorated Igor. He loved his life as a fisherman, but regretted having turned to crime to support his family. His younger brother Ivan, on the other hand, loved the rewards this black market life offered.

Igor looked back at the harbor and the small town he'd called home for more than forty years. He'd made thousands of trips just like this in his lifetime and always returned. Lowering his head, he whispered a short prayer: "For my ship shall be called a ship of prayer and all who ride with her shall return home soon." His prayer complete, Igor turned his concentration on the open sea and the navigating charts in front of him. He picked up the microphone of his ship-to-ship radio: "Ivan, switch to our special channel." Igor and Ivan adjusted their radio frequency to a new channel, one that both used for trips like this.

Igor listened to static for fifteen seconds before a message crackled over the radio. "Igor, do you hear me?"

"Ivan, I copy you, but I can't see you. Relay your current position and heading. "

"We're at latitude 59 degrees, 30 minutes and 10 seconds, longitude 166 degrees, 10 minutes, and proceeding east by southeast."

"OK, little brother, we have forty-eight hours to get to the rendezvous point. It will be getting dark in two hours, so watch out for other ships and give me periodic updates on your position."