Standing on the bow of the fishing trawler, Ivan slowly looked around the harbor. A strong haze limited visibility to about five miles and the sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon. He turned and shouted to a tall man standing alone on the dock.
"Igor, there are no naval ships, the tide is going out and it's going to be dark soon. It's time we got under way. I'll take the lead ship; you follow."
"OK, but remember you have one of the suitcases and I have the other," said Igor.
"I still don't know why we have two suitcases. We only need one for this deal."
Igor looked around to be sure no one could hear him. "Little brother, you'll see. Anyway, it didn't cost any more to bribe those guards at the weapons facility for ten rods instead of five. Getting the stuff from the army was easy. It's the navy that's a problem."
After watching two crewmen board Ivan's ship, Igor boarded a second Russian trawler and greeted his own crewmen, who were already busy preparing the ship for departure. "Thomas, Victor, untie the docking ropes and prepare to get under way. Give me full power."
Igor watched as Ivan's ship pulled away from the dock and headed toward the open sea. He waited twenty minutes before he throttled the controls and steered his ship through the harbor to the open sea, following Ivan's route, but far enough behind to avoid being seen.
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."
