The boat rocked a bit as he stepped onto the swaying gangplank. Ahead of him, a large black-on-white sign stared at him, informing him of the obvious: UNITED STATES PENITENTIARY ALCATRAZ ISLAND ONLY GOVERNMENT BOATS PERMITTED There was other text on the sign, but the rest of it did not matter. He was here. On an island, in the middle of the Bay in the Pacific Ocean, a long way from shore. One of the officers onboard the ship told him there were sharks in the choppy, gray waters, but MacNally did not care to look. It was an ocean; he did not doubt it. Ahead of him stood a five-story cream-colored brick structure—an apartment building, he guessed. To his right, a black steel guard tower rose from the dock. An armed officer stared down at him, a high-powered rifle cradled in his hands. Daring MacNally to try something. By the look on his face, his morning had been as exciting as the desolate waters around him, and a little action would be welcome. MacNally decided to move along as instructed and not give the hack any chance to relieve the day’s boredom.
