As Ivan settled back into the cove, Harry McCallister was back in Washington, dealing with the savagery of government. In the 70s there were periods of comity that did allow business to be done, but with Reagan in charge, the government was pointed in a direction that was less about the people and more about the power to do things for your friends, that no politician should be caught dead doing.

This meant the gains Harry McCallister was successful in gaining concerning the environment were no longer seen as good works. With a wealthy man making sure his wealthy friends benefited from his presidency. The idea of regulations to protect the environment or taxes to pay to clean up the pollution corporations left behind, were out of the question.

Taxes and regulations were slowly being turned to favor the very rich, big business, the most successful corporations, and once they took all they wanted, if anything was left, it might go to the people. The idea of clean air, clean water, and enough food for every citizen, came right after padding the bottom line of wealthy donors.

Harry would spend hours arguing for more reasonable laws to make things good for everyone, but more and more senators didn't like Harry's fairness idea.

Harry watched the middle class senators and representatives slowly being replaced by very rich politicians. Why people wanted to vote for rich people, who pass laws to protect their wealth, was a mystery for which Harry had no answer.

If this was all he had to worry about, he'd consider himself lucky. Ivan had come home and Clay hadn't rung him up even once. Harry didn't know why threatening the director had worked, but it seemed to have worked for the time being, and he had some peace and quiet.

After a hard day on the floor and making votes that had to be made before August recess started, he retired to his office and a couple of drinks before contemplating going to dinner. That's how it worked the Wednesday before August recess was scheduled to start.

The intercom buzzed, startling him back to the hear and now.

"Senator, the director," his secretary said.

"Which line?"

"He's here standing right in front of my desk. He Insists on seeing you right away, Sir."

Harry's head sagged between his shoulders.

"Why me? Why now? Why can't I go home and not deal with this asshole?"

"Harry, the intercom!"

"Shit," Harry said. "Tell him I'm in the middle of something at this moment. I'll see him in a minute. Have him sit down out there. Offer him some coffee. Remind him that I'm a United States Senator and it works best when he makes an appointment."

"He heard, Senator."

Harry stood in front of the bar behind his desk.

"Think of your heat. Calm down. This too shall pass," he said while mixing a bourbon and branch, drinking it straight down. he fixed a second drink. He'd needed a drink when he came off the floor, "Send him in, Ms. Ryan."

The man stepped through the door. Harry sat as straight as he could. He wasn't standing up for this guy.

The first thing he saw when the director came into the office, was Harry's drink. Harry watched him approach his desk.

"Harry, nice to see you. Excuse my barging in on you."

He held out his hand and then used it to brush off the chair Harry pointed to.

"Sit. You didn't barge in, Mr. Director. I had you wait until I finished with some business I was doing."

"We needed to talk. I think we may have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way," the director said cheerfully.

"I don't recall that," Harry said thoughtfully. "I plan all my turns carefully. I'm not prone to taking wrong turns. One might become lost should he take a wrong turn. I never get lost, Mr. Director. I don't have enough time to risk getting lost."

"The Minute Men, Bob Alexander's organization, I believe. Nice man that. He's quite pleasant for a military contractor. You have a relationship with him, or so it would appear," the director said.

"No, I don't. He's appeared in front of the appropriations committee. I sit on their hearings to stay up to date on where the money goes to. Mr. Alexander is a private contractor for DOD. We asked him about the amount of money appropriated to him."

"Our last contact, and herein is the misunderstanding, Ivan Aleksa arrived back in Tampa on Bob Alexander's plane. He leases it from North American Airlines."

Harry smiled. He knew this was coming, and he was ready for it.

"Yes, funny thing about that. Bob called my office over a week ago. He told me a story about finding a man in Phnom Penh who said he was from the same cove where I'm from. Do you know an Ivan Aleksa? Imagine that Mr. Director. A man who left here with your people is wandering alone in Phnom Penh. He told Alexander a tale about some crazy general wanting to shoot him. Now that you're here, Mr. Director. How is it Ivan wasn't being handled by your handlers and some local Cambodian general is looking to shoot him?"

"Shoot him?" the director said with surprise.

"Yes, some misunderstanding and the general thought Ivan was involved in a plot to kill him. Bob said he had a plane coming this way, and if this was my man, he'd bring him along to Tampa. Not having any idea what was going on, getting Ivan home seemed the right thing to do."

Harry reached for his drink without offering one to his guest.

"Damn lucky since that same general is reputed to have sent your men packing without Ivan. You had a contract. I read the contract, Mr. Director. You were to see that Ivan wasn't put into any jeopardy. That was my understanding. Was it yours? Why did your men leave Cambodia without Ivan? They took him to Cambodia."

"Ivan was in the car with the general, Harry. That doesn't sound like he wanted to shoot him, does it?"

"He was taking Ivan to the jail. Somehow Ivan escaped, during the transfer. He's a resourceful young man, which I assume is why you people keep bothering him."

"He signed a contract to work with us until August 15. That date has not arrived yet. He still has an obligation to us, Harry."

"No, he doesn't. You people left him on his own. He signed the contract under duress. I'm in possession of a report made by a homicide detective who investigated Mason's death for me," Harry said, tossing McCoy's report on his desk in front of the director. "He solved the murder of Mason, knew who killed him, and the evidence is in this file. I'll have it copied and I'll send it to you. Ivan was wrongly held on nothing but a phone conversation our sheriff had with someone who identified himself as being from Washington. Ivan was turned over to the FBI by the local authorities. They turned him over to marshals, and he was taken to a warehouse, turned into a prison, and who was using it is the source of an investigation that is being conducted as we speak. I should know why he was taken there in a few days. I'll advise you about the findings, but Ivan says that a man he knew from his first go round with you people showed up to get him free of murder charges if he signed a contract with you people. Mr. Director, you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar."

The director sat watching Harry drink. He said nothing.

"I can't prove it yet, but you people had Ivan arrested and held on a bogus charge. You kept him noncommunicato for weeks on end. The station chief Ivan knew from Cambodia came to get him to sign the contract I read. The one you mentioned that obligated Ivan until the 15th of August. Not only did your people leave without him, but they knew the general was after Ivan Aleksa. Some of this is speculation, but there are people turning over the rocks as we speak." Harry finished his drink and didn't make another one.

"As I don't make wrong turns, I make sure I turn over every rock, Mr. Director. I am holding onto the police report of Mason's death. I'm going to get all the information about why Mason was in the cove, and how it is Ivan Aleksa, an innocent man, got mixed up in a mess of your making."

"I'm not in the habit of making messes, Senator. I'm the head of one of the most important agencies in our government."

"Because of professional courtesy, I suggest you leave my office now. And in the future, Mr. Director, if you wish to speak to me, make an appointment like all good citizens do. I'm a busy man, and if I hadn't planned to contact you about what my investigation of the Mason murder uncovered, I wouldn't have seen you today. I will copy this file and send you a copy of the file on Mason," Harry said, when the director didn't pick up the file to look at it.

"Bother Ivan Aleksa again, you or any of your henchmen, and this file will go public. Once it does, I'll use it to put a hold on all funds appropriated to your agency, while the senate does its own investigation. I'm sure we'd want to hear from Ivan Aleksa. Your connection to the Mason affair, not to mention your complicity in holding an American citizen inside this country might raise some eyebrows. Coerced him into doing work for you would be an entirely different kettle of fish. I'm sure senators would have a field day with this stuff."

"You can't do that," the stunned man said.

"Can and will. Mark my word, if you ever make an attempt to contact Ivan Aleksa again, I'll become your worst nightmare. Now, I don't want you to say another word. Nod if you understand me."

The director sat immobile as he contemplated what he heard, and only then, he nodded one time as if in submission.

"You may go now," Harry said with cold stern words.

*****

As August arrived, the more intense humidity arrived with it. Some summers were worse than others, when it came to humidity, and this was about average. It was mid-week, and Ivan had been home for over two weeks. Things had gone back to the way it was before Mason died at the Cove Campgrounds.

Ivan sat at the gigantic mahogany desk filling out order forms for the stock that had been depleted in the past week. With the campsites full, and many people camping there for a second or third time, the products they carried were in greater demand.

People were familiar with what they needed to pack and what they could buy at the cove store. Since Ivan kept his prices reasonable, many people waited until they were camping at the Cove Campgrounds to get perishables. Ivan knew the items that were in demand. He tried to keep enough without over stocking. The snacks, chips, and drinks never lasted the entire week, but there was only so much room, and JK began carrying items Ivan didn't have room for. If they ran out of a popular item, Tag would stop at Piggly Wiggly on the way to work. If a camper wanted marshmallows to cook over the fire pit, Ivan wanted to have them, or the next time they'd simply buy such items before they came to camp.

It was on Thursday and Tag was leaning on the counter reading the new copy of Time that Ivan brought from the house. Ivan was looking out the huge front window, watching a man and his wife launch a ten foot sailboat off the beach. He thought about renting small sailboats.

Tag stood straight up, looking toward where he knew the sky should be. Ivan looked at him and he knew what came next.

"Senator's home."

"How can you hear that plane. I don't hear it."

All of a sudden the noise from the four engine Beech craft filled the shop as he did his usual circle around the cove to make sure everything was as the senator left it. The plane flew back out over the Gulf for its approach to the runway behind Harry's house.

"Senator's home. August recess started almost a week ago. I wonder where the senator has been," Tag said.

Only then did Ivan hear the Beechcraft. With its four big engines, it made a distinctive sound flying over before making its approach and landing on the runway behind his house.

"I bet he comes here today," Tag said.

"He must have left around noon. I think he said it's three and a half hours if he comes straight home," Ivan said. "Why would he want to come here? He didn't lose anything down here."

"You're here. He'll want to see you with his own eyes. He was in Tampa the day you came. Sounded like he called from the airport."

"Harry was in Tampa the day I came home?"

"He called. Asked if I had heard from you. I said Clay just left to go pick you up. He said good, and he hung up."

"So, he knows I'm home. I'm sure the news has reached him. Not much goes on in the cove he doesn't know about."

"The word I got, the senator stopped taking Clayton's phone calls. You can't imagine what a pain in the ass Clayton has been since you left."

"Oh, I think I can imagine it," Ivan said with a grin.

Clayton Olson was a world class marine biologist. He told people the way it was, not the way they wished it was. Clay is an easy going father, who wants his son to experience as much of life as it was possible to expose him to, which wasn't easy living at the cove.

Clay was at home in the world he chose to live in. He loved his family, Dylan, and Ivan Aleksa. He loved the life he was blessed enough to have. Heaven help he who threatens any part of his life.

*****

On the Horizon, four hours west of Guam by boat, Dylan has recovered his balance. He'd hard at work doing the things he's always enjoyed doing while on one of Bill's summer research trips.

The research work is on-going and Dylan has become remarkably at ease since hearing from Daddy-O. For some reason, and he couldn't be certain why, having Ivan tell him he'd be home when his son got home made all the difference. Dylan believed him. His seething anger dissipated. The work became something he looked forward to doing. It became fun and easy to be on the Horizon.

Dylan was able to smile again and he didn't know why. On Guam, when he called his dad, he felt like his world was ending.

*****

I was approximately eight thousand miles from home. The research ship Horizon was at anchor in the same location we went to after visiting Guam last summer. I remember the reef from diving on it last summer with my father and Bill.

It was a spot without mysteries or unexpected things popping up out of nowhere. It's fun diving on this reef. There is no tension or displeasure from anyone as far as I can tell. I think everyone, especially Captain Hertzog, who was delighted to leave the dive sight with the ruins and a sea creature he imagined living in the trench.

We'd gone at a moderate speed for three to four hours, I didn't time it, when we anchored here. I calculated it to be fifty or sixty miles west of Guam. It was probably more, but I didn't ask.

The days are rather hot but at night with the ship open to the fresh sea air, it's pleasant sleeping. I've had no trouble sleeping since we left Guam. I suppose the call from Daddy-O made me feel better than I'd felt in a while, but since the call, I'm glad I didn't fly home.

I want to finish what I started. There's talk of going through the Panama Canal. We'll sail up into the Gulf of Mexico once we reach the Atlantic Ocean. The Horizon will anchor next to the cove.

Bill will be able to have his associates at the university come see the Horizon for the first time. Only a few flew to San Francisco to get a gander at the university's research ship. The rest had seen only pictures of the ship. It's a lot more impressive close up.

I never gave much thought to going through the Panama Canal, but the idea fascinates me. Sydney Peacock told me it was dug and cut out of the jungle between the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. The Canal saves shipping companies between four and five thousand miles. Sydney says that's the difference between sailing around the tip of South America at the Straits of Magellan to reach Asia.

I don't know how many days it saves, but at the speed ships move in the ocean, it would save weeks, not to mention fuel.

I read in school that the Panama Canal might be the greatest building feat man has ever undertaken. The French started working on it in 1880. They could never gain a foothold, although they did build a railroad that went from the Atlantic to the Pacific, which allowed some freight to be off loaded on the Atlantic side, put on the train, and transported to the Pacific side, where it was loaded back on other ships.

It must have saved someone a lot of time and money to go through all that trouble loading and unloading freight, but the French did accomplish that, and they built the Suez Canal, so they had the experience in canal building. Not in the jungles of Central America, where disease and the harsh environment took its toll.

In 1906 Teddy Roosevelt pledged to build the Panama Canal. It only took eight years, and tens of thousands of deaths from disease and accidents, but that's what it took to connect the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean, and speed commerce by leaps and bounds.

As you might suspect, I would love to get a look at what I've only heard and read about.

Greek said, "The wildlife comes right to the edge of the canal in places. There are monkeys, parrots, and big cats that you'll catch sight of from the Horizon's deck."

He couldn't tell me what species of animals are down there, but I'd like to get a look at them and of the most important bypass in the world. The idea appeals to me. No one has said for sure yet.

The business of the Horizon is research, and everyone has a hand in the daily activities on board. Logan and I divide our time between taking dives with the professor and working in the film lab.

I dive with Bill each morning. Mostly Logan dives in the morning with us. Sometimes I dive with Bill in the afternoon. It wasn't something Dad would let me do the year before. He thought it best I go on one dive each day and then, not every day.

There are no restrictions on me this year. Bill lets me do what I want as long as he doesn't think I'm doing something stupid. I do my best not to do that, but I'm fifteen and a little stupidity is allowed.

If Logan doesn't dive with us in the afternoon, he's in the film lab developing that morning's film or working on the documentary we'll produce from this summer's research voyage. As good and as smart as Logan is, he still uses some of the film I shoot. He claims it is as good as anything he can take.

I think he might be trying to make me feel good about what I do, but I do feel good about it. If I can be half the filmmaker Logan is, I'll be happy with that. He's as aware of the environment as Dad is and just as sensitive to it. That's why I like working with him. One day, when we finally get the people's attention, they might be more respectful of the planet they are destroying.

I'd like to be involved in getting that message across to people.

I watch Logan developing the motion picture film in the film lab. It takes several steps with machinery I'll never be able to afford. The university bought it and Logan uses it.

My 16mm film goes to Fort Myers to be developed after a few days. That suits me fine at this point. If I become as good a filmmaker as Logan, I'll have my own film lab, and I've already learned about developing the film.

In the afternoons I'm ready for a second dive. Anytime I'm underwater it's like being at home. In the afternoon, if Bill is going out in the Scorpion, I go to the galley to help Greek clean up from lunch. As hard as I've tried, I can't get back in the Scorpion. I get claustrophobic thinking about it. It's like being in a coffin. I can't seem to shake the feeling that if I get back in that thing, I'll die.

I hate acting like a sissy. I know it's my imagination, but that doesn't help. I've never shied away from anything I've seen other people do. I want to get back in the Scorpion, but I can't.

I hope this fear doesn't extend to any other situation I'm in, but how can I be sure it won't spread? This is something like saying I'd go with Bill for the summer, and then flying home once I got to Guam.

If I had gone home like Dad wanted me to do, because it was the easy thing to do, what would the people on the Horizon think of me? What would I think of me? I wanted to be as honorable as Dad.

I haven't told anyone I'm afraid to get in the Scorpion, but Bill has to know. Any time he mentions going out in it, I disappear.

If we go through the Panama Canal, we'll need to leave this site next week. It's quite a voyage down to the canal and then to Florida. As much as I enjoy diving here, I wouldn't mind going that way.

Today Bill took the Scorpion on an afternoon dive. I helped Greek in the kitchen. After cleaning his pots and pans, he gave me a handful of his butter cookies. I love those suckers. I put some on a napkin and took them to Logan when I went to the film lab. He likes Greek's butter cookies as much as I do. I don't mind sharing.