Luckily Ross came back at this point carrying a pitcher of freshly made orange juice. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, then, about what was going on. I needed an excuse for going out onto the balcony to stop the girls discussing me. I picked on the first thing that came to mind.

      "Say, Ross, what's with that boat out there in front of our bay?" I said to him. It pointed to a fishing boat, the only boat that was out there to be seen, the only thing that I could point to. The small boat also seemed rather vulnerable in the storm. The storm had already caught up with it. "Do you think they might be in trouble?" I said. "Should we go onto the balcony and take a look?"

      Ross turned around and looked out the window. He looked stunned. He set the pitcher of orange juice down onto his desk and the glasses he brought without taking his eyes off the fishing vessel. He muttered something indecipherable that sounded like, "My God, here we go!"

      He turned to me seconds later. "That isn't a fishing boat, Pete." He had stopped smiling at this point. His face had become tense. "This is a Russian surveillance ship, disguised as a fishing trawler. Damn! They shouldn't be so close to the shore!"

      Ross grabbed a pair of binoculars that were hanging near the door of his office and rushed out onto balcony.

      "Damn!" he shouted moments later and slammed his fist onto the glass-panel railing. All it took was a brief glance.

      I was beginning to wonder what kind of coastal surveillance duty Ross was involved in. He stood on the balcony like a naval commander overseeing a battle.

      "Here, take a look!" he said, handing the binoculars to me, shaking the hand that he had hurt hitting the railing. "That's a Russian boat all right," he said and went back inside to the telephone.

      "It's too heavy," his voice came thinly from his office. "No, our fishermen aren't that crazy to stay out in a storm like that!"

      He closed the door while he spoke on the phone.

      The boat seemed to be in trouble. I gave the glasses to Heather and then to Sylvia. Moments later Ross called us into his office. "We'll watch them with the big telescope," he said.

      He was considerably calmer now. He turned the lights off in the office, opened both windows and removed the black velvet cover that had hidden a large reflective type telescope. He aimed it carefully towards the boat. It was an exquisite instrument, finished in velvet black and chrome, with not a scratch on it. He had it mounted on a heavy table. I was just about to comment on it when Sylvia and Heather came into the room.

      "It looks like the boat is sinking," said Heather urgently as she came in.  "Shouldn't someone radio for help?"

      "It seems to me they have lifeboats in the water beside them," said Sylvia.

      Ross ignored them both.

      I gave the binoculars to Tony. He simply shook his head at what he saw.

      Within seconds the telescope was outfitted with a video attachment and a computer controlled tracking device. Ross opened a closet beside his desk that contained the electronics for the thing and a large screen.

      "All right then, let's see," said Ross while the computer was scanning for the fishing boat.

      "I suppose we will know in a few seconds whether the boat is sinking or not," I said to Ross.

      "Pray that it is sinking!" Ross answered.

      Within moments the boat came into view in perfect focus. What we witnessed seemed remarkable to me, considering the relative darkness and the poor weather that was upon us by then. Ross operated the computer, zooming in so that the boat filled the entire screen. Then he switched to what he called "image processing," and the boat stood out in even more perfect detail. It was rather chilling to watch a Russian warship with such a detailed clarity. We could see the individual sailors on board. The boat certainly wasn't sinking.

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Stories about  Sex from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche