CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN The Mouseketeers After Don departed, I re-inventoried the contents of my drawer. The last of the papers in the sheaf of documents we had poured over, but Don had nothing to do with recon satellite photos or maps. They had to do with the...
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX PROVIDENIYA Our cruise director’s office door was slightly ajar. Her cabin was as before, stark, although not as severe as Captain Kessler’s. Benito was at her desk. Her cabin was huge, compared to what I was assigned, but then, after the Captain...
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Chukchi I dressed in my Lindy-provided blue sweater. There was no name on the front of the beautifully knit Canadian wool, just an embroidered representation of the ship over the left breast, and the white stitched letters, “STAFF” on the...
CHAPTER ELEVEN The High Cliffs of Russia Dutch moved the bottle of Bacardi back to his lips, runnels of tears falling from his cheeks. I pried the half-empty bottle out of his clenched hand. I propped it back into a cleft between two nearby rocks. “Stop blubbering and...
CHAPTER NINE Down to the Bottom of the Bering Sea I moved down the corridor with a purpose. Don stopped at his cabin door. I turned back to him with a snap. “Where are you going?” I demanded the things I had unloaded from my ditty bag almost scattering. “What do you...