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From: Willy Tamarack <willytamarack@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack" 28/30 {Willy Tamarack} (no sex)
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Date: Thu, 20 Aug 2015 08:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Tamarack28.txt" begin>

Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack - Captured In Mazatlan
Part: 28 of 30
Universe:
Summary:
Keywords: (no sex)
Language: English


***************************************************************************

   @(C) 1996-2015 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the
written permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds
goes to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   !!!!!  ATTENTION !!!!!

   Before we get going here, several notes.  The following is a sex story.
A stroke story.  A porno story.  The content is unsuitable for youngsters
and some adults may find it objectionable.  I've ensured my material is
properly coded and registered.  Adults, who have custodial responsibility
for young minds, must ensure this smut doesn't fall into their children's
hands.  To charge the government with that responsibility.  Wow !  Don't
get me started.

   All my stories are total fantasy.  They are fiction, made up.  MSU (made
shit up).  I started this effort in several forms before deciding on "The
Chronicles" for a direction.  Yes !  Willy is back !  Willy, Erin, Amanda
and Micky Rincon sail to Mazatlan with the "Yachtsman" and Jill Olson.  It
isn't exactly a vacation !

   And while the plot and subplots of the following tale stem from the
author's fertile imagination...The characters...Well, the characters are
also total fantasy.  They don't exist, never have and never will.  Any
public figures mentioned are for background and time line purposes only.

   Remember now...Sex should be fun !  As always e-mail your comments to
the usual.

   The Chronicles of

   Willy Tamarack

   Captured In Mazatlan

   (no sex)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Eighty-two

   Snake Edwards was sweating.  His contact with the government was always
through lawyers, except when he was in the Nevada guard.  This guy sounded
an awful lot like a spook and that fucking Tamarack was a spook.  "Mister
Hamilton, could you be more specific as to the type of difficulties I may
be facing ?"

   "Certainly, Mister Carnelli." Lance stated.  Snake started shaking at
the mention of "Carnelli." "Your close friend, Mister Santiago, is selling
hundreds of pounds of Mister Tamarack's weed on the `Strip.' Plus, is it
just coincidence his girl friend works for the T.V.  station that broke all
that exclusive assasination news a while back ?  And how about those
federal agents who were wined and dined the night before the
assasinations...Carlos have anything to do with that ?  Your other old
friend, Mister Swartz, is still laundering your weed money through some of
the same accounts you were using years ago.  These facts have not escaped
detection by both Uncle Sam and the Mexican drug cartels." Lance paused for
several seconds before continuing.  "The cartel in Culican is convinced
Mister Tamarack was responsible for those assasinations back in January
which makes you sure look like an accomplice, Mister Carnelli.  And Micky
Rincon !  Snake, he's a fucking sniper !" Lance paused again for a couple
of seconds.  "I'm sure I could prevent those two climatic forces from
crashing down around you out at Lake Las Vegas."

   "And all I have to do is tell you where Tamarack hangs out ?  Uncle Sam
can't find that out on his own ?" Snake countered.

   "Yea, I'm sure I could eventually find him but it'd be expensive so I
thought I'd save Uncle Sam some coin.  And it's always usefull to have some
friends with juice in 'Vegas.  I thought maybe this would start a working
relationship between the two of us.  Am I wasting my time here, Mister
Carnelli ?"

   Snake let the silence grow, finally.  "He lives and grows off the north
lake shore road right here at Lake Las Vegas.  It's one of the only places
on that end of the lake.  You shouldn't have trouble finding it."

   "Thanks, Snake.  You'll be hearing from me when your troubles are over."
Lance broke the connection.  Now he had to get Tamarack to Mazatlan, some
how ?

   *****

   "Lance will want me to go to Mexico.  I'm sure the meet and greet will
be in Mazatlan." I told the girls.  The Villa was blacked out and we had
all the sensors turned on.  Both AKs were within arm's reach.  "So how do I
get down there ?"

   "Why go at all!?  Tell this surfer dude to fuck off, Willy." Amanda
offered.

   "Can't do that.  I owe this guy.  He's probably getting lots of heat
from the DEA.  We're moving lots of weight through the hotels and while no
one can prove it's me.  They know.  The Mexicans know.  So I'm sure I've
become an embarassment."

   Erin put a lighter to a bowl and took a drag.  Amanda was drinking a
coke.  Erin spoke.  "We sail.  Work it through Yachtsman.  Bring Micky. 
Work it so Lance doesn't feel we fucked him but slip away at the last
moment.  Before they cut off your head, Willy."

   I looked over at Erin.  "Nice thought, wife of mine." She held out the
bowl.  I took a hit.  Amanda took the next drag.

   "And we don't tell Snake or Carlos shit !" Erin exclaimed.  I smiled. 
That wife of mine was a smart woman.  "Think Micky and Yachtsman can be
talked into it ?" She continued.

   "Yea.  They're players, Mrs.  Tamarack." I blew a pot ring toward the
ceiling.

   *****

   Snake called Casey as soon as he got off the phone with Lance Hamilton.
"Shut it down immediately, Casey.  Face to face only.  Tamarack is poison.
Get the word to Carlos." Snake hung up and wandered over to the big bay
window that overlooked the pool and the lake.  He could just make out
Tamarack's place.

   "Well, that's what you get for playing with fire, Mister Tamarack.  But
god damn you sure do grow superior weed." Snake thought.  He wandered over
to his computer and found that Casey had already shut down the system. 
That ought to merit a call from Carlos.  Snake poured a double Jack on the
rocks and waited for Carlos to call.

   *****

   "We need to send email to Perry." Erin was transcribing.  Amanda was
smoking weed.  I was talking.  "I need to call Micky and get Yachtsman on
board.  Amanda, you're coming with us.  We'll leave the weed on automatic."

   "You sure, Willy ?" Amanda was concerned.

   "And what about the Carlinos ?" Erin asked.

   "They're on their own.  We need to get out of here tonight so let's
start packing.  I'll call Micky and get the ball rolling." The three of us
broke up and started preparing for evacuation.  Two hours later we left the
Villa, headed for Newport Beach after exchanging twenty-five pounds of weed
for a suitcase full of cash at Dudley's place.  Amanda was driving and we
were halfway to state line before Erin climbed into the front seat.

   She started using her phone to email Perry.  The twenty-five pounds we
left with Dudley was for Perry.  Micky was on board and was sure he could
convince Yachtsman and Jill to join the caper.  He'd ensured me we could
stay at Ashley's until we left for Mazatlan.

   Micky called as we left the In&Out in Barstow and informed us that
Yachtsman would have the "Viper" provisioned for six by tomorrow afternoon.
And the three amigos were not in the loop at all !

   *****

   The blacked out helicopter came in from the east...From the direction of
Lake Mead.  All of the occupants were wearing night vision goggles.  Six of
them rapelled to the ground and followed the shore until approaching the
building from the beach.

   Three of them headed to the west and the earthen ramp that led to the
building.  They soon disappeard from sight.  The three, who remained,
climbed to the sod covered roof and set up look outs on the porch.  The
sliding glass doors were locked tight and blacked out.

   There was a whistle from the front.  Just moments later the three
appeared, trotting down the ramp toward the beach.  The six joined up and
headed for the pick up area, the vacant lot to the east of the target.

   The helicopter was almost silent as it descended into the vacant lot. 
After the six boarded, the black helicopter lifted off and flew back over
the lake before turning to the east and the darkness of Lake Mead.  They
had spent but ten minutes surveiling the hide out of Willy Tamarack.

   The team leader was on the SAT phone as they climbed out to the east. 
Passing through five thousand their lights came on bright and flashing. 
"The place was empty.  Looked like they left in a hurry.  Some dirty dishes
and laundry upstairs.  But there's plenty of weed down stairs so they'll be
back.  No sign of other watchers outside but a lot of sensors littered
around the approaches to the building.  They're definitely prepared and
could hold out for a while if they've got lots of ammo."

   The team leader listened for several moments before signing off and
closing the SAT link.

   *****

   Lance Hamilton leaned back in his chair and glanced toward the ceiling.
Where was Tamarack ?  Could he have gotten wind that the game was up !? 
Lance had read the reports about his supposed ability to foresee danger
lurking in the future.  And Lance was surprised how easily Snake gave him
up.  Their network was shut down just moments after he talked to Mister
Carnelli.  His phone rang.  Lance looked at it before pressing talk.  It
was Tamarack.

   "Yo !  Lance.  Willy here.  On my way to Mazatlan.  I imagine you have a
number for the SAT phone that Culican uses ?" Lance laughed into the phone.

   "You would have made a good spook, Tamarack." Lance said.  I noticed it
was "Tamarack" now, not "Willy."

   "Too much bullshit, Lance.  Just like the air force.  And I'll need to
know where to meet you down there."

   Lance went on to give me a phone number and instructions to meet him in
the El Cid marina bar.  We'd go to the meet together.  All Lance wanted was
an introduction.  He asked several times how I was getting into Mexico but
I told him that was my problem.

   After terminating the call Lance figured Tamarack was in Newport Beach
and would be using that casino captain's boat.  The one that brought down
all the weed from British Columbia several years ago.

   Lance Hamilton was sure Willy Tamarack smelled a rat but there was
little Tamarack could do about it.  He owed Uncle Sam and Uncle Sam was now
collecting.  That Lance could use Tamarack to settle so many scores and
cement relations in different spheres of influence was just a bonus.  He
picked up his SAT phone and called Culican.  They would be very happy to
hear that Tamarack was on his way to them.

   Chapter Eighty-three

   Yachtsman was at the helm of the "Viper" as it sliced through the ocean
at a good eight, ten knots.  Micky Rincon and I were topside with him.  The
girls were below deck fixing breakfast in the galley.  Jill, Erin and
Amanda.  All of us were smoking weed.  We'd just cleared twelve miles and
were in international waters.  We'd sailed just after zero two hundred
hours the morning after we arrived in Newport Beach.

   Yachtsman was excited.  Getting Tamarack in and out of Mazatlan undected
was going to be a challenge even though Tamarack brought several toys that
were quite shophisticated and a fucking armory of weapons.  They would all
have to start familarizing and practicing tomorrow.

   I moved forward and inspected one of the wave runners tied up on the
forward deck.  That Yachtsman and Jill agreed without demanding a large
amount of cash surprised me.  I expected Micky to volunteer.  He was an
adrenelin junky.  I know they all considered it an adventure.  I was glad
they did.  I did too but there were some darkening clouds on the horizon. I
wasn't stupid enough not to realize that I was near the end of my rope. 
Having the U.S.  Government and the drug cartels after you is not conducive
to a long life.

   I watched the water rush by both sides of the boat as the sun started to
lighten up the eastern sky.  Erin came forward and we started to plan some
surprises for our advesaries.  We all took eight hour shifts and a couple
manned the helm at all times.

   *****

   Lance Hamilton was in Newport Beach, waiting for Snake Edwards, aka
Eddie Carnelli, to answer his phone.  The yacht "Viper" was not in it's
slip and the Newport Harbor master had no record of the yacht leaving. 
That was not unusual in the least but was a red flag to Lance.

   "Mister Hamilton, my troubles are over all ready !?" Snake actually
sounded surprised but relieved.

   "Not quite, Snake.  Have you heard from Mike Minter lately ?  Is it
possible he could be taking Tamarack to Mexico on his yacht ?"

   Snake was thinking Mister Hamilton was having an awfully hard time
pinning Tamarack down.  "Haven't heard from Mike in a long while but yes,
Mister Hamilton, that's quite possible.  So I must inform you that Mister
Minter is an excellent boat captain."

   "That doesn't surprise me.  Tamarack deals only with professionals,
Snake.  Consider yourself one of the priviledged." Lance dropped the
connection and called Culican.

   *****

   Snake debated several hours before calling the "Viper." The first
connection was rejected by reciever.  Snake checked the number before
trying a second connection.

   Jill Olson keyed in the reciever and heard Snake's voice quite clearly.
"Mike, that you ?"

   "No, Snake, he's down for eight.  I could have him call you when he's
back at the helm.  What's this about ?"

   "Where are you headed ?  Heard it might be Mexico." Snake inquired.

   "Nah...Up off the Channel Islands with some surfer dudes.  Good north
swell hitting the area and it rocks, Snake."

   "Tora Tora Tora." Snake said before closing the connection.

   *****

   Yachtsman went topside.  Jill was with him.  I was at the helm and we
were making some very good lines in moderate wind with moderate chop.  The
sun was shinng brightly and the further south we went the warmer it got.  I
was wearing just trunks.  They sat.  We smoked weed and drank Jack for a
while, talking about the weather.  Erin came up with some snacks.  Micky
and Amanda were sleeping.  We were still several days away from Mazatlan.

   "Snake called." Mike changed the subject.  "I had Jill answer and tell
him I was sleeping.  Told him we were up by the Channel Islands on a
surfin' surfari." Jill handed him the pipe.  After taking a drag, Yachtsman
continued.  "He thought we might be headed for Mexico.  So someone has
talked to him.  Unusual to say the least that he would use `Tora Tora
Tora.' That was a code for `we're in deep shit' when we were running weed."

   "That makes sense to me, Mike." I said.  "This is all a government
operation.  I'm surprised that Snake called you at all." I took another hit
off the pipe.

   "Lucky we didn't trust Snake on this, Willy.  Where'd he get the Mexico
destination but from Lance." Erin stated.

   "You can drop us off in Mazatlan, Mike, and we'll get out of your hair.
You three can take off for where ever." I told Yachtsman.

   "Fuck that, Willy.  I'm not doing anything illegal.  Neither are you. 
We're not transporting, except for personal use.  And I'm having a hell of
a time sailing with my friend, Willy Tamarack.  What do you say, Jill.  You
on borad here ?"

   Jill Olson had noticed the change in Yachtsman's demeanor two days ago,
the moment he got off the phone with Micky Rincon.  The light in his eyes
was back.  Yachtsman was like he was the summer they trained for their
final weed run, comitted.  He was excited again and after provisioning the
yacht for the trip, fucked the shit out of her before Tamarack and his crew
showed up.  Jill knew it had to do with that caper Tamarack pulled in
'Vegas, the assasinations.  Mike Minter was jealous he was no longer in the
game.

   "Sure, why not.  A little excitement might get me laid more often." She
looked over at Mike Minter and winked.  The four of them remained topside
and talked over some options.  Yachtsman spent a lot of time exploring the
internet for maps of the coast around Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico.....

   .....The Viper was moving slowly on her electric motors.  Yachtsman was
at the helm.  I was standing next to him.  Micky was with us.  It was
early, before zero five hundred hours.

   "Do you believe this, Willy ?  It's fucking overcast !" Yachtsman
exclaimed.  The ceiling looked to be but a hundred feet or so above the
ocean.  The top of Deer Island was obscured but you could see the mainland
off in the distance.  Visibility was at least seven or eight miles.  The
"Viper" was about three or four miles off shore.  The hotels were easy to
pick out.

   "Let's do it, Jill." I called to the ladies, who were congregating
around the wave runners.  Jill waved to me as I headed forward.  Micky and
I maneuvered the crane above the wave runner and lifted it and Jill over
the side and into the water.

   I was already wearing the harness and backpack so started hooking myself
to the parachute canopy.  When I was secure I raised my arm.  Micky was
holding one side of the canopy and Erin was on the other side.  Jill was
starting to accelerate away from the "Viper" and the rope was rapidly
running off the deck.  I started running and was yanked into the air and
headed for a rondeveau with the CIA and the drug cartels.

   The parachute, with me hanging below it, rose rapidly and I was soon
skimming the clouds.  I could no longer see the hotels or the wave runner
but I could hear it out in front of me as we made our way to the beach.

   Jill had the throttle wide open and was riding the machine as it slapped
it's way toward the beach, heading across open ocean.  From her vantage
point she could just see the hotel tops.  She looked up behind her and
could just see where the cable disappeared into the clouds.

   The small boat was sea anchored about a hundred yards off shore, well
beyond the surf.  The man in the small boat had two ten liter plastic
containers of petrol sitting in the bow.  He heard the wave runner before
he saw it.  The para-sailer was hidden by the clouds even when the wave
runner came into sight.

   Jill turned the wave runner to the north to parellel the coast.  She
powered back and watched Willy become visible as he descended out of the
clouds.  He was steering toward the beach.  Jill gave the throttle a twist
and the wave runner shot forward, slowing Willy's descent.  He was going to
make the beach, no sweat.

   I knew I had the beach made and just let the para-sail set me down on
the sand.  I immediately unhooked the harness from the tow line.  It moved
away from me toward the ocean.  I raised my arm and Jill accelerated toward
the small boat.

   I gathered up the para-sail and headed off for the entrance to The Inn
which was about a quarter mile away.  I looked around and saw there were
not many around at this early hour.  Anyway, no one was paying any
particular attention to me although I'd just para-sailed on to the beach at
zero five-thirty.

   Chapter Eighty-four

   After climbing the stairs to The Inn, I shot the shit with the guard for
a few moments.  We went back many years.  I eventually ended up in the
restroom.  I ditched the para-sail in the employee locker room off the
restroom and dressed in a pair of slacks with a collared shirt.  No tie but
a nice blue blazer to go with the tan slacks and blue dress shirt.  A pair
of blue tennies and a baseball cap finished off my attire.

   I walked into the resturant at six and ordered a large breakfast, eggs,
bacon, toast, the works.  I established communications with the "Viper" and
Jill, who was tied up to the small boat sea anchored about a hundred yards
off shore in front of the Inn.

   "Malibu's checking in.  Having breakfast at The Inn." I spoke into my
phone.

   "The Viper's on." Yatchman answered.

   "Wave runner's on." Jill answered.

   "We're tracking you with a strong signal, Malibu." Erin answered.

   I finished my breakfast and went upstairs where I'd reserved a room.  I
slept for a couple of hours before descending to the lobby at noon.  I
flagged a jeepne out in front of the hotel and told him to take me to the
El Cid Marina.  Lance told me to meet him in the yacht club bar at one.

   The trip took only ten minutes or so and I spent the rest of the time
casing the joint.  Walking around the area looking for escape routes.  When
I left The Inn I called Jill and asked her to reposition to the yacht
marina.  I watched her ride the wave runner into the marina about fifteen
minutes after I arrived.

   The yacht club had a good lunch time crowd when I wandered in.  Lots of
tourists and well dressed Mexicans.  The dinning room was off to the left
as I entered so I wandered through it before heading for the bar.  There
were few exits that I could find.

   I bellied up to the bar and ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks.  It was
twelve fifty-seven.  I was turning around to scan the tables when they
started entering the bar.  Federales.  And they were here for me, no doubt
in my mind.  I casualy turned back to face the bar and sipped my drink. 
Moments later I felt the hand on my shoulder.

   "Senor Tamarack, please come with me.  I am to escort you to the
meeting."

   I turned.  The Captain had a "got you now, asshole" smile on his face
and there was no doubt in my mind that I wasn't going to any meeting.  His
troops were spread out among the bar tables.  All the civilians were moving
out of the bar and the fields of fire.  The soldiers had automatic weapons
pointing in my general direction wearing those masks which hid most of
their faces.

   "Certainly, Captain.  Could I use the rest room before we leave ?  You
know how old men are..."

   "Where we are taking you has a bathroom.  It is only a few minutes away.
Please make no trouble.  Some would like to see you treated roughly."

   I put my drink down after draining it and walked past the Captain toward
the entrance of the bar, through the lobby and out into the parking area.
There were lots of Federales.  Two truck loads of them.  Two young soldiers
frisked me and then shoved me into the backseat of a limo like vehicle.  I
sprawled on to the floor and was getting to my knees when I was clubbed
over the head with something very hard.

   *****

   Erin was the first to notice that Willy was moving.  The others gathered
around the laptop and watched as the flashing, red dot started moving away
from the El Cid Marina.

   At that moment there was no doubt Erin Tamarack took command.  And it
didn't appear anyone would challenge her.  She called Jill.  "Wave runner,
status."

   "Seven-eights full.  Shut down at the yacht marina."

   "Top off while you're waiting, wave runner."

   "Roger, be off line a while."

   Erin was still watching the red dot blinking it's way north away from
the yacht marina.  It appeared to stop and started moving west toward the
ocean.  Then it stopped moving altogether.  Erin studied the map overlay.
She studied the angles from the north tip of Deer island.

   "Yachtsman, can you move the Viper to this point..." She was pointing to
an area just west of the island.  "...And can we anchor there until tonight
without attracting a lot of attention ?"

   "Sure, no problem.  I'll pull the anchor, Jill.  Prepare to sail, dear."
Yachtsman was up and disappeared topside.

   Jill jumped to her feet and headed topside.  Mickey Rincon started to
follow her, along with Amanda.

   "Micky, Amanda, get the weapons out and man battle stations." Erin
commanded.  Mickey looked back at her, like she was crazy, before Amanda
rushed by him and headed for the armory and the heavy weapons.  Amanda
liked firing them and they brought enough amunition to hold off a small
army.  She'd been practicing every day.

   "You really think..." Micky started.  Erin cut him off.

   "Willy is out there...My best friend.  You've seen how we operate,
Micky. You expected this to happen.  Don't tell me you didn't.  You're as
excited as Amanda and I am about getting to kick some more ass.  Get
prepared, Micky."

   Micky Rincon took the stairs two at a time and found that Mike Minter
and Jill already had the yacht moving.  Amanda, an AK slung over her
shoulder, was yanking a box of amunition forward to her position.

   *****

   I had a hell of a bump on the back of my head but not much of a
headache. Oh !  It hurt, no shit hurt and there was some blood on my hand
after I felt the bump.  I rolled over on to my back.  I was on a twin bed.
There was another one about three feet to my right.  Light was coming
through windows above the bed.

   I sat up and the pain came like a sledge hammer.  I flopped back down on
to the bed but the pain persisted, coming in strong waves.  I willed it
away, finally struggling to a sitting position.  I patted my jacket down
and found that they didn't take my cell phone.  It was three-thirty.  I
slowly rolled to the edge of the bed and slid to the floor.  The pain was
managable.  I rose to my feet and went to the door.  It was locked.  There
was a key hole.

   I squatted down after listening for a few moments.  There was a key
blocking the view.  But no sound of movement outside the door.  I rose,
walked to the window and looked out.  I was in a villa or something like
it, right on the beach north of Mazatlan, I was sure.  I'd been out here
many times in years past.  It used to be almost uninhabited.  That had all
changed as Mazatlan grew as a tourist resort.  Lots of villas and
multi-storied condos dotted the beach north of Mazatlan in 2010.

   I watched four to five foot waves breaking on the sand beach no more
than a hundred yards away.  I looked around for some guards but found none.
I pulled out the phone and dialed.  Erin picked up on the second ring.

   "You okay !?" She asked.

   "Headache but fine.  Got my position ?  Think I'm north of Mazatlan, on
the beach." I answered.

   "Roger that.  We're anchored three miles west of the north tip of Deer
Island.  Jill's still at the marina, topped off and ready to go.  What's
the plan ?"

   "Bring the wave runner up, Jill.  I've spent enough time in the Lion's
den."

   "Wave runner is moving." Jill reported.

   "As soon as I have sight of the wave runner, I'm making a break for it.
Bring the yacht toward shore when I make a break for it.  I'll call you
when I go out the window." I broke the connection and stripped the bed of
it's sheets.

   *****

   Lance Hamilton was in the front seat of the military vehicle.  There
were twelve heavily armed Federales sitting in the back.  He had his phone
to his ear, waiting for the Captain to pick up.  They were but ten minutes
from where the Federales had Willy Tamarack stashed.  Lance had been out to
Culican since early this morning negotiating and coordinating the final
details.  He wanted to have a few words with Tamarack before the military
turned him over to the...Well, the people who wanted him.  It was either
this or jail.  Tamarack would understand.  The Captain's phone was still
ringing.  Lance hung up.

   The Federales had called Culican with a report right after they snatched
Tamarack.  Lance was surprised they took him so easily.  He'd heard so many
stories about his miracle escapes from several different agencies.  He was
sure now that most of them were bullshit.  The truck was approaching the
compound.  A real drug den, it was.  Poetic justice, Lance thought.

   The sun had set just a few minutes ago but the soldiers were still
playing soccer on the tennis courts.  The Captain was no where to be seen.
Lance exited the truck before it stopped and trotted toward the estancia.
The Captain was sitting in the living room, watching some Mexican soap
opera on a flat screen.

   "Where is he ?" Lance demanded.

   "Upstairs.  He's still out.  Don't worry, he's an old man.  He's not
going anywhere.  I have a guard at the door." The Captain replied without
taking his eyes off the flat screen on the wall.

   Lance headed for the stairs and took them two at a time.

   [continued in]

   "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack"

   Part Twenty-nine
   "Battle at Sea" 

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