Sandy rolled ashore.

Lifelong treasures turned to trash.

Nature humbles us.

Installment #5 of, A Walk in the Park....

                                                                                              

Meanwhile as Ranger Jim and Tina were falling in love and planning their futures, the real action was taking place somewhere in a secret subterranean facility in the George Washington National Forest, Virginia……..

“State your name?”

“Stochnia Kobitjin.”

“Place of birth?”

“Junik, Kosovo.”

“Profession?”

“… Security Consultant.”

“Security Consultant my ass Stochnia.  You want to try that question again?”

“You call yourself Special Agent, you are Gangster, you try again.”

“Oh Stochnia, you were doing so well.  Were you consulting with Jed Smith up in the Okanogan National Forest?”

“Jeb-ed Smit’ You so funny Special Agent.  Everybody in dis country wants be clown.”

Special Agent Karlson decided to get up close and personnel with Stochnia Kobitjin. He leaned over Kobitjin and made a fist.

 EH! Eh, not in face. If you mean to say Joseph Stalac, den I know who you mean. Yes, we there together in forest for few days to talk.”

“What did you talk about? And don’t be a wise-ass.” 

“He has large quantity Semtex explosive coming to drop-off points in USA.  He wanted me to set up training for people.  American people. Your own people looking to do some Jihad on your ass. But of course I refuse to do this terrible thing.”

The intercom crackled ~~ Special Agent Karlson.  Come out here. ~~

Karlson walked back to the observation area overlooking the interrogation room.

His boss was standing there alongside of a handful of dark 3-piece suits. Men-in-Black who, true to form, were wearing sunglasses in the poorly lit room.  “Agent Karlson, these folks are going to be taking over for us.  Kobitjin will be getting some … special attention.”

Karlson looked into the sunglasses of one of the 3-piece suits. “Cut his face.  He doesn’t want his face messed up.  Cut his face.  He’ll talk.  You’ll get your list of bad-guys.”

The 3-piece suit barely moved his lips; “Thanks for the tip.”

The suits marched single file out of the observation area and into the interrogation room as Karlson’s boss led him out in the opposite direction. 

Before he left, Karlson turned his head just enough to see Kobitjin greeting the 3 –piece suits like it was old home week.  All of Karlson’s instincts told him that the Suits were going to get their list of would-be domestic terrorists, and Kobitjin was going to get a free ride home. 

 ********

2 months later.  Special Agents Quarterly Security Briefing. 

The Director of the Threat Analysis and Capabilities Section was talking about foreign agitators in the Middle-East.  In particular, those identified as having been killed in the latest round of Israeli retaliatory air strikes in Lebanon.  Number 3 on the list: Stochnia Kobitjin.

The End

Installment 4 of, A Walk in the Park

Tina wasn’t under surveillance, by anyone other than her x-boyfriend that is.  Still she was careful to be cryptic in her communications with Jim, just in case she was wrong about being monitored.

She was on Limited Duty until her appointment with the State’s Doctor later in the week.  She felt fine, but she had to wait for the doctor to sign-off on the paperwork. She was eager to get back into the field, but being in the office gave her access to some interesting information.

The two hikers who had the misfortune to be in the field near Hadley Ridge at the wrong time were both identified.  After exhaustive interviews and background checks they were found to be just that, two innocent nature-loving hikers, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

The FBI had called the crime lab.  They wanted to take another look at the evidence from the Park shooting incident.  Scratches found on three of the shell cases recovered from the shooters position in the Park incident were thought to have come from contamination of the rifles chamber during the shooting.  A later, more thorough examination by the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms concluded that such scratching was inconsistent with the condition of the chamber of the recovered weapon. 

Two days ago an empty .30-06 shell casing, with the same scratches on the case, was recovered by an undercover agent working at a right-wing sniper training facility in the woodlands of Georgia.  The FBI was now working a new theory in the Park shooting incident, a theory centered on two shooters.  One of whom was still alive, and apparently getting some target practice down in Georgia.

Tina was afraid for Jim.  She wanted to get a message to him, but this new information was confidential.  At first she thought her idea of the picture of two shooters was clever, then she thought it was too transparent.  She waffled back and forth between feeling it was too cryptic, and not cryptic enough.  In the end she realized it did not matter.  She had hit send, and the deed was done.  Tina rationalized that it was not the means, but the simple fact that she had tried to get warning to her new boyfriend, that made her feel better.

Her feeling better didn’t last more than a day.  Interpol finally identified the body of the Park incident sniper as one Joseph Stalac, a.k.a. Jed Smith.  A Bosnian Serb who had been recruited by international gunrunners after his talents were no longer needed at home.  He was thought to be in Canada.  His appearance in the USA was drawing some major resources from Homeland Security.  Resources that were up on Hadley Ridge checking every blade of grass, and every stone for a clue as to what was going on.  From the amount of trash, and buried human excrement they found, the FBI believed that Stalac had indeed been in the area for months, hiding, waiting for his trail to get cold.  They were still working the issue of who was this other shooter, and why was he meeting Stalac?

********

John was totally pissed when he logged into Tina’s e-mail account and read her e-mails to Jim.  He saw the pictures.  He recognized the bar, it was Flatheads, and it was a Friday.  He recognized Mike the bartender, and Mike only worked the bar at Flatheads on Friday.

As John looked at the pictures he thought he knew what they meant.  Tina wanted this new guy to join her at the bar.  She had a shooter waiting for him.  John was itching for a confrontation so he figured he’d hang out at Flatheads on Friday nights and wait for them to show up.  Weeks went bye and they never did show, but even if they had John would have been too drunk to do anything but fall down and hurt himself in a confrontation.

********

The FBI’s undercover agent working at the sniper school in Georgia spent a week secretly taking pictures of all the “Students.”  He sent the pictures to the Bureau’s Facial Recognition Lab who compared them to the security video from the Park's Visitor Center.  They got a match, and an arrest was made. 

The case was officially closed, and no one with any information was talking.  Not a word.  Not even to all the local authorities back in Washington State who had been involved in the case from the start.  The details of the case were strictly on a “Need to Know” basis, and the Fed’s didn’t think the Locals had a need.

********

As for Jim and Tina, they wondered what the answers were to this mystery, but after a few months those cares became secondary as they worried about the more important things in life.  Things like; where are we going to live, who’s church are we going to get married in, and where are we going on the honeymoon?

Where Have I Been?                                                                            

I apologize for not posting lately; the main level of my home was destroyed in hurricane Sandy.  Online time is quite limited, and my time in general is involved in the most rudimentary tasks of survival in the modern world.  My wife Helene and I … and our cat Smokie are all OK.

Bare with me … The excitement shall continue!

Modern Traveler Blues                                                         

Sitting in the airport, the view just can't be beat.
Watching people strip down to the waist, from my gate F seat.

Oh my here comes a Grandma, they're going to touch her where?
Gee Granny is starting to smile, I guess she does not care.

Now here come two businessmen, they look a little bit mad.
TSA took away their laptops, after wiping them with a pad.

Good news! TSA is handing them back, but they sure did annoy.
How dare they ever come between, a techie and his toy.

Those two guys had better lighten up, they really have the blues.
The one guy is still so friggin’ mad, he just forgot his shoes!

Still sitting in the airport, still waiting for our plane.
I think we are in Philly, they’re all starting to look the same.

We’re on our way to Knoxville, then driving to the sticks,
We're going to change our lifestyle, just call us two old hicks.

There’s limited Internet access, and no cell towers do you see.
It's just like here in terminal F , with my I-pad on my knee.

I cannot get to Facebook, no updates from CNN
There is no internet at all, do you remember when? 

They're making an announcement. What the heck did she just say?
Oh wonderful, wouldn't you know it, another 2 hour delay.

ENCINITAS 81                                                                                                                      

No you Road Atlas addict.

I’m not referring to a highway.

It’s a special place at a special time.

Back in the bye-gone past called yesterday.

A Spanish mission on a hill.

Split into apartments I think three or four.

With its terracotta roof and bleached white walls,

And a huge, arched, heavy wooden door.

One was my Brother-in-laws apartment.

He shared this Alamo with three ladies I recall.

He swears there was no funny business,

Yeah right, I’m sure he had a ball.

We slept on a waterbed there for the first time.

Just once, my back was killing me in the morning.

“I told you things were different out here.”

I should have heeded my wife’s warning.

Walking down the hill towards the beach

Past the Classic Movie Theater, past the Jesus Pizza place.

They would make any kind of pie you wanted,

but be sure to give thanks … and say grace.

We walked down the narrow path

Along a cliff face to the stony beach.

There were people 60 and 70 years old

Chasing Frisbees that were tossed out of reach.

Listening to Beach Boys music.  Wearing wet suits

and doing tumble salts into the waves.

Young and old were intent on having a ball

Until the day they awoke in their graves.

On the last night we went to a 5 star restaurant

in the place called Cardiff by the sea.

I thought I looked fine in my three-piece suit,

but everyone just stared at me. 

Our Maitre-de in his flip-flops,

our waitress in her terrycloth shorts.

On the beach the guests were playing “Over the line.”

It was a game like “beach softball” of sorts.

We toasted our host and thanked him

For his hospitality by the sea.

But we yearned to get back to old New York.

            And our life of normalcy.

Who cut Jack O’Lantern?

                                                                     

           

Oh he was a plump one

Jack O’Lantern my dear old friend.

I knew him back when we were seeds

Now it’s left to me to speak of his end.

We begged farmer Jones, as we grew in the field

Please keep turning us as we grow fat.

Farmer Jones made us all a nice bed of hay

He didn’t want our side to go flat.

Oh no! Jack, they are coming to pick you.

Quick, hide over there in a rut.

Jack cover yourself with leaves and mud

Or you will wind up getting your stem cut!

Dozens of pickers wearing straw hats

Walking behind wagons these pickers came on.

I looked back towards Jack to make sure he’s OK

To my horror I discovered he was gone.

Who cut Jack O’Lantern?

I’m afraid we may never know.

But I saw him last night on farmer Jones’ porch.

His face was all-aglow.