Hunt The Wind

            *     *     *     *     *      Surfacing out of dark green water a 500-pound sea lion bull  exhaled with a splutter, took a breath, and looked around.  Behind him stood the two-storied, north end of Pier 39, with all its boutique tourist shops and restaurants.  Getting its bearings, the huge bull submerged and scooted barely underwater without creating a ripple.        After a while the enormous sea lion surfaced and found himself in the middle of K-Dock, containing 25 heavy-duty wooden floats, supporting some 60-plus sea lions sunning themselves.  Since September of 1989 the sea lions took over the K-Dock area, in the Pier 39 Marina, and eventually became an important tourist attraction.        Exhaling loudly, the sea lion bull checked the area for a dry landing spot.  Selecting one, he swam for a float with three, smaller, female sea lions on it.  Pulling his slick, dark-chocolate, tremendous 500-pound bulk halfway out of the water – causing the entire float to tip preca

                    *     *     *     *     *      I caught a taxi back to the Parc 55, paid a visit to my safety deposit box at the front desk, and then went upstairs to my room on the 14 th floor.        Sitting at the writing desk, consulting Jake’s checklist, I made certain to write down the correct serial number he gave me on a clean sheet of the notepad’s paper.  Satisfied it was right, I tore the new note out of the pad and placed it inside a Parc 55 envelope; leaving it unsealed.  I then slipped the envelope inside my windbreaker.      Afterward, taking out an O’Farrell Theater business card, I checked the phone number scrawled on its back, and dialed the number.  It rang a few times, and eventually a sleepy sounding stripper, Gia DeCarlo, answered.  After we chatted a bit, I apologized for waking her, and told her to go back to sleep.      Going downstairs, I grabbed another taxi in front of the hotel, and asked the driver to drop me at Polk and O’Farrell.      I reache

                             CHAPTER 11                                                  San Francisco, California                                                       Golden Gate Bridge                                              Wednesday, 17 th October 2001   “Jeez-Louise!  Never underestimate the breeding capabilities of rats!” –  FBI Special Agent Fred Glover                                                       I glanced at my fake Bangkok Rolex.  It was just coming up to 3:36 A.M.  Thick, damp fog continued wafting across my body, making me shiver and cough.  I hacked up a gob of phlegm and spat it over the wet iron railing; the fog bank swallowing it.  In the distance a chorus of foghorns weakly echoed round the bay, while the occasional car or truck rumbled down the roadway behind me; appearing ghostly in the fog as they passed.  I snugged down my ball cap, and then shoved both hands inside the pockets of my windbreaker.      Jake Holman remained standing next to me,

            *     *     *     *     *       Don Mueang International, Bangkok, Thailand      Monday 27 th September 1999      It’s at night, I’m in command of a B-747-200, and I’m sweating bricks; not from heat but purely from stress.      So what’s got Mrs. Chisholm’s little boy so stressed out, dear reader?       Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I’ve just suffered an Engine #4 failure and a fire in Engine #3, which I’ve shut down and extinguished.   Presently I’ve got two engines remaining, Engines #1 & #2 on the left wing, setting up a monstrous yaw to the right...that I’ve managed to neutralize with rudder trim.   The 747 is sluggish in this lopsided, two-engine configuration, so I go back to my helicopter training...with gradual, smooth, easy control pressures.      My Thai Co-Pilot is handling the radio, while he and my Thai Flight Engineer are running the “Two Engines Inoperative” checklist.   So far they’ve proven to be on top of things.      We’re attempt