The Assassin

Fishing on the Seaward

Chapter 6

Fishing on the Seaward

The Blue Marlin

Roy didn't spend all of his time as deputy director of the FBI. He was wise enough to know that he needed another passion to avoid burning out in his law enforcement career. He knew that all work and no play made Roy a dull boy.

When he was still a detective with the Chicago Police Department, Roy traveled from Chicago to Hatteras to fish every year. He was an avid fisherman who loved the surf at the Point. He stayed there a week every year.

Roy spent many hours in waders, water up to his chest, with a surf fishing rod in his hands. He continued this tradition after becoming an FBI agent regardless of the intensity of the investigations in which he was involved. Sometimes his trips were delayed, but they were never cancelled entirely.

Fishing was his escape from the intensity of the life that he had chosen. Violence surrounded everything that he did professionally, but when he was fishing at the Point, it was all left far behind him. He thought only about fishing. Not about the violence that had taken the lives of thousands of homicide victims whose deaths he had investigated.

When he was at Hatteras, everyone with whom he had any contact simply called him Roy. No one there knew that he was deputy director of the FBI. The motel clerk was the only person who knew his last name, and even he didn't know what Roy did for a living.

Roy never mentioned to anyone there that he worked for the FBI or anyone else. He was just another among hundreds of fishermen. And no one there seemed to care what he did for a living. He was simply a fisherman like all of the other fishermen who returned year after year. He paid for his room with a credit card, and he ate with other fishermen that he had met through the years.

Roy had been making his annual trips to Hatteras for more than twenty years. He had begun fishing at the Point on his first trip there. He would wade into the surf to fight the big bluefish that struck in blitzes.

These fish normally weighed only about fifteen pounds each, but they were ferocious fighters. The bonefish of the Caribbean didn't even compare to them.

These big bluefish fed in frenzies, and when they struck, whether they struck small baitfish or artificial lures, they began a fight that would seem to last for hours, although it was generally much less than that.

They simply wouldn't give up. There could be twenty to thirty fishermen wading in the surf at the same time, competing for the same spot. Each of them was fighting a big blue. The sight was remarkable.

The more experienced fishermen were able to bring their fish ashore, but the less experienced watched helplessly as their lines went limp. The big bluefish managed to break the line and return to the rough waters of the Atlantic to fight another day.

Roy fished the Point exclusively before he finally turned his attention to the charter boats that were docked at Hatteras. The mates of the charter boats would toss their catch onto the docks when they returned after a successful day in the Gulf Stream. The docks were crowded with people trying to see what had been caught.

After years of fishing at the Point, Roy began going to the docks every afternoon to see what had been caught. The thrill of the fishermen and their parties alike could be seen on every face. They all posed for photographs. The captains and their mates were always included in the photographs.

Each day there was a variety of fish tossed onto the dock. Every deep-sea species was among them. There were tuna, wahoo, dolphin, snapper, and groupers.