March 14, 2026

Today there is a conference of sixty-eight globalists taking a cruise out to an island in Boston Harbor. Ted rented a Boston Whaler under a phony name and is watching from a smaller island on route to the globalist destination. He is studying them from neatly half a mile away with powerful binoculars, and he can see for sure that it’s the right boat. He pushes off from shore and starts the outboard.

Conditions are perfect. There is very little choppiness in the harbor today. As he moves out, the salt tang in the air is pleasant and invigorating. 

When Ted is about four hundred feet from the cruise boat, he puts the outboard in neutral, carefully aims the rocket, and fires. The rocket flies visibly to its destination, and the boat goes up like a big bowl of gasoline. A man on the destination island sees the whole thing in profile, and is the only person who did. He runs to a phone, but trips, and is knocked out. 

The man awakens sixteen minutes later, shakes his head, and calls the harbor police. He tells about having seen a man fire the rocket. The harbor fire department is already on the case, but the police had no idea that the whole business was anything other than just a fuel leak. They immediately issue units to cover the mainland shore. 

Ted arrives back on land six minutes ahead of the dispatched units, ditches the Whaler, near but not at, the rental agency, runs unseen to his car, and drives home. 

When he hears on the radio news about the witness, and the police coverage of the shore, he wonders about why he was able to get through ahead of it. Further up country, he stops at the Plymouth New Hampshire Diner for a fine second breakfast of Swiss and mushroom omelet with “very tasty” sausage.