The last anyone had ever heard the Poacher was on July 29, 2008. Based out of Cyprus—that was figured out when a few amateur radio operators did some direction finding and triangulated it—it was thought to have been run by the Brits. It went dark for reasons unknown, but here it was again.

3 1 7 2 5. 3 1 7 2 5. 3 1 7 2 5…

I jerked myself out of my excited funk when I realized that I was not recording it. I randomly darted my hand out to grab one of the hundreds of audio cassettes that were haphazardly strewn about the table next to the radio, jammed it into the cassette deck, and pressed “Record”.

9 1 3 4 1. 9 1 3 4 1. 9 1 3 4 1…

I got on my laptop. Bill was on Skype, so I broke the news. He asked for the frequency, which I supplied, and responded quite enthusiastically. He asked if I’d told Marianna yet. I replied that no, I hadn’t, but that I would when she was on. He signed off, promising to tell anyone he saw from our group.

6 8 1 4 6. 6 8 1 4 6. 6 8 1 4 6…

Things were about to get busy.