“Let’s tie up to a root and double-check the map. Offhand, I would guess five or six miles. Make it five, less than an hour’s travel.”

“So now what should we do?”

“Tell you the truth, I’ve been putting that question aside. You have led the way ever since we landed at Sasha Island. Any ideas?”

“Back to you.”

“That’s the trouble with women’s lib. Just when a guy figures he can lay around and watch As the World Turns, you gals switch channels again.”

“True. Yet, since you ride a white horse, I defer to you Kemosabie.”

“Guess we will have to settle for a Two Stooge Snafu.”

Collectively they opted to wait for what passed as a summertime Alaskan cloak of darkness. This plan of approach, as they would be unable to see what lay ahead, required studying the map in detail to memorize the predicted “best choice.” The monotonous chanting, “Left, two rights, cross, then left again...” helped them fall asleep, sitting upright in the tethered kayak, for a much needed rest.

The effort of committing the map to memory paid dividends, for other than damn near running over a moose wading a shallow crossing, they made it into the station without mishap. This choice was based upon the reasoning that if the compound was fenced, it would have been impossible to string wire across the river without having flood waters carry it away. And, that it would be much easier to enter the base through an open front door, than climb a fence. Once inside, they could cache the kayak, or at least take a quick look and let the current carry them on, then return through the back door.

Unfortunately the river had other ideas. Whipping them around a bend, the paddlers were forced into making an instant decision —shoot a six foot drop, or take the risk of maneuvering a sharp corner past a jackstraw jumble of trees caught up by a sweeper. The opted for the latter. And, to try and make a landing. Then, seeing the danger of this, but too late for a change of mind, the kayak began to roll.

Since the bottom of a Folbot wasn’t designed to finish an Eskimo roll all the way around to an upright position, and as upside down, underwater, branches were ripping and tugging at his clothes, Jed panicked. Kicking himself clear, he headed for the surface so fast he banged his head on the log that had caused the problem.

It was a blow that brought him back to his senses. His only concern was for Jenny, so experienced a double feeling of relief when her hand grabbed his arm to pull herself to safety — just in time to avoid the path of a searchlight beam that swept across the floating mass of debris, an overturned kayak, and two very cold intruders of what was an ultra top secret Air Force Station.