Judgment at Alcatraz by Dave Edlund (carter reed .txt) 📕

sorry. I was being selfish. Take lots of pictures. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Alcatraz Island was nicknamed The Rock for good reason. It was a robust mountain peak that protruded through the bay, leaving the tip exposed. This solid foundation gave work crews a good footing for the structures they would build there—apartments and barracks, a chapel, administrative buildings, and the iconic cell house, which was located on the very top of the island. Due to the steep slopes dropping into the surrounding water, the boat landing had to be cut from rock, leaving a steep escarpment where the excavation had ended. The old barracks building was located at the north end of the landing, with the back of the large structure almost touching the stone ledge.

Leaving Toby with the protestors, who were swelling in number, Danya followed the main pathway from the dock, up toward the cell house. The grade was surprisingly steep, and passed beside the guardhouse and through the sally port about a hundred yards beyond the guard tower. The sally port was constructed with an outer wall and an inner wall to create a strong defensive position. A massive door was hinged from each wall. Illustrating the serious intentions of the fortification, an iron muzzle-loading cannon was mounted on a carriage within the sally port. The gapping maw of the cannon pointed down the slope, toward the dock. Had it been loaded with grapeshot and fired, it could have taken out a hundred invading troops charging up the path Danya had just walked.

Just inside the sally port, she turned and gazed back toward where she had come from. Several park employees, clothed in dark green jackets, were talking to Clyde Means while the demonstrators continued waving their signs and chanting. But after a brief conversation, the rangers dispersed again.

Hopefully, the park staff would allow the protest to continue without anyone being detained. Danya knew it was supposed to work that way, as long as there wasn’t violence.

A young couple entered the sally port, and she quickly turned again to admire the view across the bay, to Treasure Island, and beyond to Berkeley, just like she imagined thousands of tourists did every day. The pair paused at the breach end of the large-bore gun while the woman read from a guidebook.

“The island is perfectly placed to protect San Francisco Bay. It was originally built as a fort. But the Civil War didn’t reach this far west, and the fort didn’t see any action.”

Her male companion slapped a hand on the steel gun barrel.

“So they eventually converted it to a prison,” he said.

“That’s right. First, a military prison. And then, for civilian criminals.”

The young man gazed across the cold waters of San Francisco Bay.

“I have to admit,” he said, “I’d be intimidated about trying to escape if I was locked up here. Assuming you eluded the guards and didn’t get shot, that swim is a long one.”

“And the water is really cold. Plus, they say the currents are very strong. If you were swimming for shore when the tide was going out, you’d probably get pulled out into the Pacific Ocean.”

“Did anyone escape? Make it out alive?”

“Maybe.” She ran her finger along lines of text in the guidebook. “It’s controversial. It says here that three inmates executed a daring plan. It was really cool, when you think about it. They made a movie about the escape. Anyway, they were never seen again. And their bodies were never found, either.”

The couple exited the sally port and strolled up towards the cell house, which appeared to be the main attraction.

After snapping several photos across the bay, Danya ambled on. Ahead was the empty shell of what used to be the post exchange and officers club. There, the path made a sharp 180-degree turn and continued to climb. At the next switchback, she opted to go straight ahead and enter the large, flat parade ground. A few other visitors were milling about, mostly enjoying the spectacular view.

Eventually, she wandered to the edge of the grounds facing south. She was unable to see the courtyard adjoining the dock area, as the view was blocked by the tall barracks building. But the view of San Francisco was stunning. She meandered across the parade ground and toward the southern edge of the island, where she found herself standing alone on the edge of a bluff overlooking a rocky shoreline.

Given her military training, it was obvious to Danya that the extreme topography and commanding views made Alcatraz a strong defensive fortification. The steep rocky slopes reminded her of the mountainous terrain where she had hunted the American many years before. The memories were still vivid, as if it had all happened only weeks ago.

Her intelligence sources had said the American was just an ordinary man, lacking any military service or martial training. That assessment couldn’t have been further from the truth. After he lured her team into the Cascade Mountains, he proceeded to use the boulder-strewn slopes and tree cover to his advantage, picking off the Mossad team members one by one, using only a hunting rifle.

Danya shook her head. Life was so much simpler when following orders was all that mattered. How many of those orders were morally wrong?

Her introspection was interrupted by a pair of seagulls diving off to her side to snatch a few morsels from a dropped cereal bar. A short distance beyond the squawking birds, a sign pointed to the Agave Trail, but a gate was closed at the trail head.

She drifted closer. A map posted next to the gate showed the trail extending down from the parade grounds, to the edge of the bay, then wrapping around and finally connecting to the ferry dock. Another sign read that the trail was closed due to nesting seabirds.

She looked toward the water lapping at the rocky shore, and spotted a man and a woman at the water’s edge. They were facing the bay, squatting.

Some people just won’t follow the rules.

After