<p>Jon Rombach</p>

My job description as of last week was humble river guide. That all changed after I asked the gentleman riding in my raft what he does for work back home. He said he works for the FBI.

I asked to see identification. Weve all fallen for the ol fake federal agent routine at some point and after that last time I vowed to always ask for ID. Those two weeks in Helsinki changed me in ways Id prefer not to revisit and I still get uncomfortable when I see a set of jumper cables. But this guy checked out, although his cover story was laughably flimsy. He claimed to be on vacation with his old Marine buddy and suggested they were there simply to go whitewater rafting and kayaking. Yeah, right.

The Bureau might consider hiring an English major creative type to cook up at least halfway believable scenarios for agents in the field. FBI agent on vacation. Sure.

I figured he could use a hand on this mission, whatever it was. Lady Justice may be blind, but she still managed to find me floating down a remote river and clearly needed my help. This FBI guy may be in his element striding down the halls of the J. Edgar Hoover building, but wild untamed river canyons recognize a different law. River law. I deputized myself on the spot and swore to do everything in my power to aid the FBI. For justice. For America.

I needed to get him talking to learn the particulars of the case. To put him at ease and key him in that I was a sleeper asset, I briefed him on the Joseph bank robbery of 1896 and details of every other criminal activity I could recall reading about. I could tell he had advanced training by his use of misdirection, asking about rafting-related topics rather than crime. He was good. Real good.

He did perk up when I related details of how some friends were discussing how to pull off the perfect bank robbery. They werent really going to do it or anything, it was purely an intellectual exercise, but he wanted to know more. Like names and dates of birth and so forth. He said he might like to meet these friends of mine and I bet theyll be excited to meet a real life FBI agent.

My first stakeout went pretty well. I sat up all night and watched the rest of our camp snore. Not much to report other than snoring. I wished I had a styrofoam cup to drink coffee from instead of my plastic coffee mug. I feel like proper surveillance should have styrofoam cups so you can crumple the coffee cup at the end of your shift, turn to your partner and complain how the other team is always showing up late. Rookies.

Night surveillance started to take a toll by day three. Rowing a boat all day with a case of sleep deprivation made the days seem longer than usual. The sun was very hot and the gentle lapping sound of water against the rocking boat made it seem like a good time to review the facts of the case. I found that I could think better if I closed my eyes for just a minute, then return to rowing when the roar of whitewater and shouts from the FBI agent alerted me to rapids. We had some thrilling rides, taking routes I dont usually go down. The agent seemed to enjoy rafting because after a few of those routes he insisted on taking over the oars and doing the rowing himself. Normally I wouldnt surrender my boat because of jurisdiction issues, but he was pretty insistent and I thought some inter-agency cooperation might pay off as a good faith gesture.

Im afraid I cant reveal any details of the case beyond the fact that the suspects, motive and evidence of any crime happening remain unclear. So this may take some time. On the bright side, my partners cover story seemed to hold up and everyone outside the loop appeared to buy the ridiculous notion that he really was there just on vacation. Amazing how gullible some people can be.

Jon Rombach, code name The Boatman, is a local columnist for the Chieftain.