Always Finding Trouble
Chapter 25

Copyright© 2009 by Dual Writer

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 25 - Chuck Johnson. his "Job Hunt" over, is now a Deputy U.S. Marshal. His life is pretty complete with his six foot seven, three hundred fifty pound girl friend and a good life. He keeps finding trouble though but battles back against the bad guys. See how he handles several tough jobs without a lot of bloodshed but it can't last. Chuck and friends meet a lot of people you know that live in the area. (Some chapters have more sexy scenes than would be considered "some sex.")

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa  

Morning found the three of us swimming so hard, I think we were churning instead of swimming. When we finished we were breathing hard, but feeling refreshed. Jan had not come home, so she had obviously found a friend to go home with.

About the time we were eating breakfast, a car drove up and Jan got out. She came in smiling and said, "I'll be ready in a few minutes. Save some breakfast for me."

I needed to wander around with the Homeland group today, so I would have to drive. Wanda said she wanted to go shopping after work, so she was going to drive. Jan asked Wanda, "Can I go with you? I haven't been in a store in ages."

We were split into three ways, just like Steak and Shake chili. After checking in with my crew and Wanda in her strict office persona, I took off for the waterfront.

I was given a tour of their facilities and boarded a ship with them. When a ship comes in, the first person that boards is a person that represents Immigration. If there is sickness on board, a doc goes along to check out what it is. The next group on board is Customs. They do a preliminary check before the cranes begin lifting the containers off the ship.

They have it down to a science that works for them. As the containers come off, Customs crews break the seals, do a partial inspection, and reseal the container. It gets another check that is a little more thorough in what is called a bonded warehouse, but there is just too much volume to be able to look at every single item.

We walked down the docks to see what was being loaded onto ships. A Customs man was checking vehicle serial numbers and titles for cars, trucks, and old school buses being loaded onto a ship that was more like a ferry than a cargo ship. Everything was routine.

I made it back to the office around two, just in time to find a huge stack of papers in my inbox, plus a long list of e-mails. I dug into the incident reports to find that most were hang nail variety, with only one escapee that ran in front of a speeding tractor-trailer. The feds wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

E-mails were equally as easy until I got to one from John that just popped up. It said, "Call me, secure. John."

Now what? I erased the e-mail and went to the station where I asked to use

Bobby's office. She was downstairs at the range. I needed to go there too.

I called and told John to hang up and wait for the call. I used the secure phone and called him.

John asked, "Are you alone, no one can hear you?"

"I'm in Bobby's office with the door closed, I'm alone."

"Good, this is for your ears and only your ears."

"Go ahead, John."

"You have to make a trip to Alaska. A bush pilot will take you into the Northwest Territory where you will be transported by another small aircraft to pick up a guy the Mounties have. This has to be done the right way, since you can't bring this guy back across the border the regular way. You have to bring him back by air, through Alaska. The Mounties don't want him and they didn't have a chance or a reason to shoot him, so now it's our problem."

I could hear John take a deep breath.

"Arm yourself heavily. When you get there, buy some clothes that you will need for the trail up there. You can't get what you need in Florida. Have Sarah give you a trip credit card. You don't have a budget, just don't be stupid."

"Now the fun part. A lot of people do not want this man to be in custody. They would prefer him dead or free. Either way, you are between him and whatever his fate will be. If he gives you too much shit, shoot him. Just leave him out in the woods and nature will take care of him."

"Your plane, or our plane as it has come to be, is busy, so I want you to call your local guy and get him to fly you up there. He has to stay there so you can get back. Do not, and I say again, do not list this man on any passenger manifest. When you get the guy, you'll know why. I just posted a secure file to your site. Pull it down and read it then erase the file. Call me when the prisoner is in your lockup or whatever the conclusion is."

This was different. We were not allowed to go get prisoners in Canada. The Mounties would deliver them to our door. Wonder what this is about. I took Sarah into the supply closet with me and checked out an MP5, and a 308 set up for long range. Both were breakdowns that would store in a case so I put them into a single aluminum suitcase, with some extra ammo and magazines for the MP5. We did the sign out for the credit card, and I just knew I was forgetting something. I waited for Bobby to come up and I told her that John called and I would be gone for four or five days and I would call her.

Back in my office, I asked Wanda to come in. "Call our air charter. I want a fast plane to Anchorage. The pilot will have to stay over and wait for me. Use this credit card number so it will be part of the trip. Tell them I need a pilot that can keep his mouth shut. And last, but as always, I'm going home to change, and head to the airport. I would like to leave in about an hour."

I was on my way to the elevator when I remembered what I was missing. I went into the station and signed out a set of waist and ankle chains. I also brought along an extra set of cuffs just for fun. Now the nagging feeling was gone.

At home, I changed into jeans, T-shirt, and a flannel shirt that I had. I put in my armor and a little bag of toiletries, knowing the clothes I would need would be bulky. It was early summer, but that meant it was only freezing up there right now. Not frozen solid.

Out at the airport, I was greeted at the charter office by the cowboy guy and the big breasted babe. He said, "We'll take you up. We have a friend up there we can visit with. This will be nice for us and make some money too."

We took off and began the long flight across country. We landed for fuel in mid-Missouri and flew to a small field in Montana where we refueled again. That Glenda person had made up a bunch of meatloaf sandwiches that hit the spot. I was going to have to meet this Glenda person.

In Montana, the cowboy suggested we layover and rest a little as it was very late. Since we had gotten such a late start, we would have to fly all night and he would prefer not to do that. He said, "We can get a room down the road or just nap in the plane. If we sleep for about four hours, we'll get up there reasonably early in the morning.

I was anxious to get this one done, but the bush pilot wouldn't be available in the middle of the night and I wouldn't have any stores available for clothes or equipment. Thank goodness the seats folded down to allow comfortable snoozing. We only slept about three to four hours before we were on the way again.

Next stop, Anchorage. When we were parked, I asked the two piloting the plane for a quiet chat. They sat in the plane with me so I could give them a little information. "I'm getting a man from the Canadians that is wanted by our government. This is unusual, as they normally prefer to hand them over at the border. This man is very dangerous and his associates are also very dangerous. By the time I get him here, he shouldn't be a danger to us, but when we get to Tampa, no one will ever know how he got there. He will not be listed on the plane, anywhere. Do you understand?"

Both of them nodded, agreeing without an argument.

"Now I need to find an outfitter to get some clothes, but I would like one of you to wait at operations for my bush pilot to come." I told them, "There is a man named John Stevens that will be coming for me. Just have him wait for me here."

The two were grinning so I had to ask and the cowboy answered, "That's who we want to see. We'll catch him for you and keep him here. There is a place to get clothes. The guy will buy back any stuff after you use it. Everything he sells is clean, but buy new underwear and socks."

He wrote down the address and I went outside and found a cab that was really a pickup truck, to get to this store.

The place was an old hangar filled to the brim with camping supplies, bobsleds, dog harness, and all types of clothes. An old bearded guy asked how he could help, then asked what I was going to be doing. I gave him what I knew, but said, "Even though I'm going to be scheduled to fly everywhere, I'd like to be prepared in the event I get caught out in the weather. Cover me for the next ten days, I hope it's not that long, but I want to be safe."

The man loaded me up. He only gave me two pairs of long johns as he said, "You won't have a chance to change or bathe anyway. Take extra socks so your feet don't rot, but your balls will just have to suffer." He chuckled evilly as he said that.

We stuffed everything into a big duffel bag. He asked if I needed a gun. I showed my Glock and said I had a rifle. He just nodded and said, "Up in the territory, there are some really bad people. They will be starting to move around this time of year so be careful."

My pickup truck taxi driver was still waiting, so we rode back to the airport. Inside I found the charter pilots and another guy. He was introduced as John Stevens. They said they had just ordered food, so I ordered as well, along with a beer. I wouldn't get another one soon. The couple were very friendly and I finally had to stick my hand out and ask, "I'm Chuck Johnson. You two have flown me all all over the place. Can you tell me your names?"

"Sorry, thought you knew us," the cowboy said shaking my hand. "I'm Steve Sharp, and this is my wife Sue. Flying is sort of our hobby and we take flights fairly often to keep proficient and to use as mini-vacations from our pile of kids. I love 'em dearly, but a day or so away is always good. While you're gone a friend of ours from Seattle is coming up to visit with us a while. Our friend Dewey and John here go way back."

I asked John, "I was told you might only take me part way. Do you know if I have another pilot or will it be you all the way?"

"Me all the way, Chuck. I don't have a problem going into Canada. I've worked with you government guys before. My plane is prepped and ready. As soon as we eat, we can be on the way."

As we were eating, he let me in on one of the problems this time of year. "The lakes are going to have a lot of ice on them, but it will be weak. Everywhere we need to land for fuel will have to be on a river where the water flows and there's no ice flowing with it. Where you're going is going to be all right as there are two rivers and a good airfield. I ordered a bunch of sandwiches and we'll have three thermoses of coffee. I have a couple of milk jugs to pee in, so we're fixed."

I had not thought about the need to pee in-flight.

I changed clothes in the restroom to be ready for the flight. The hard part was putting the boot on my fake leg. Hopefully, everything worked fine. John said I wouldn't need the coat in the plane, but to keep it close.

We rode in an airport vehicle to his plane, which was in the water. It had two big pontoons that kept it afloat. The plane kind of made me nervous, but then, these guys didn't want to die either. I loaded my duffel bag and gun case. John asked about the gun case and I told him. He suggested I put one of them together as you never knew when you would need one. He said, "I have a 308 lever action in the plane, but it's only good for about two hundred yards on a good day. Yours looks like a five hundred yard gun."

When everything was tied down and I was buckled up, Steve was helping and untied the line holding the plane and put it in the pontoon. Pretty neat, the pontoons could carry extra equipment.

John started the plane, doing a bunch of things in about the same order as was done on the Lear when I helped with the checklist. John called the tower and taxied out into the waterway and headed into the wind, building speed and lifting off. We circled around to a point where he entered some numbers into a fancy Garmin 4000 something. He brought up a map of an airfield saying, "This will be our first refueling point. It's actually a river, but it's classified as an airfield. They have a thousand foot runway along the bank they keep pretty clean but we can use the river. We'll check it out first to make sure, but the ice should be clear by now."

We did make a pass and landed in the river. John attempted to call the field a couple of times but no one answered. When we tied up to the fuel dock, a beat up old pickup came out to meet us. The man who got out said, "Hey John, good to see you. Was up getting my supper when you buzzed us. Gonna have to get a radio up at the house so it will be easier on you guys. Fill it up?"

As soon as the plane was full of fuel, John paid the man in cash and we were quickly back up in the air. The man didn't ask where we were going and John didn't offer. I like these Alaskans. They mind their own business.

As it got dark, John said, "The next one will be a little tricky. The river is pretty narrow where we need to land, but we have to get down to look at the water first. Some times there's a big old log right in the middle of where we want to land. We'll see. They also have a strip we can use if we have to. There's almost enough snow still on the ground I could have used skis."

This landing was tricky. We made a pass down into a gorge with the river at the bottom. We checked and it looked clear. We had to fly out of the gorge then back in the other way again to land into the wind. This landing was a little rough. The plane buffeted around a lot in the little crosswind there was.

This place was not the same, as we did make radio contact before landing. The station operator told us not to get out of the plane as there was a pack of wolves down near the fuel docks. He told us that if we shot any, to make sure we didn't hit the fuel tanks.

When we landed, I stepped out onto the pontoon and pulled the line out to tie us to the fuel dock. John came out with his Winchester 308 and a real bright flashlight that he had clamped on the underside of the barrel. He found the eyes he was looking for and started shooting. I know he hit some as they yelped. Not a nice thing to do, but apparently the wolves had been causing problems locally.

We filled up and were gone quickly. John said, "This last little bit is only about forty-five minutes. We're not flying back tonight, so we'll just relax and we can go back in the morning. This place has a little hotel and a decent restaurant. I suggest we get a room so we can get a shower in the morning. I don't know what kind of guy you have to get, but if you need some rope, I have a bunch in the pontoon. If the guy gives me too much shit, out he goes at six thousand feet. When we're in the air, I'm the boss."

I just nodded.

We landed at the well-lighted airfield using the wheels in the pontoons. Before we set down, John said, "I hate to trust those things. If they don't work right, I could ruin a good pontoon. If we're lucky, everything will work the way it's supposed to."

We landed smoothly, with John acting like a little old lady triple checking the pontoons for scrapes and gouges.

I didn't want to check in with the Mounties until I was ready to take the prisoner. If they wanted to get rid of him bad enough, they might just hand him over to me and I'd be responsible for him immediately.

We ate a late supper and checked into a double room that had a shower room down the hall. I slept well and John did too, if you figured his snores were good sleeping.

The next morning, we were showered and fed by seven. John tended to the plane while I walked to the Mounted Police office on the airfield. It was complete with a jail. The officer in charge was very pleasant and spoke understandable French flavored English. He said, "We no have any problems, but he know we shoot. I hope you shoot quick too, because his friends are no nice. I no see any of dem, but dey be around. You watch close so you no take chance."

I looked at the prisoner and wondered what in the world he was doing way up here. The guy was an American that had decided to go to the dark side. He had become Muslim and worked with a U.S. terrorist cell before coming to Canada. He had been caught up here with explosives and maps of a Canadian oil field. They didn't know what he was doing and did not get it out of him. They didn't get a chance to shoot him, so the best they could do was to ship him out.

 
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