by Vince Milam
Revolutions and coups attract strange players. Spies, mercenaries, “advisors.” I did require the services of a helicopter, and one merc who’d arrived with his chopper was willing to perform side gigs when not flying incumbent military folks around. And yes, just as in The Suriname Job, I had to seek him out in Paramaribo’s best bordello. Not my finest moment.
The New Guinea Job
What a strange place. A massive jungle-covered island with 14,000 foot mountains. As tribal a culture as you’ll find. Over 800 living languages (languages, not dialects) making it the most linguistically diverse place on earth. Headhunting an active and proud tradition until very recently (I strongly suspect it still goes on).
I lived and worked deep in the bush—up a tributary of the Fly River. Amazing flora and fauna. Shadowed rain forest jungle, snakes and insects aplenty, peculiar ostrich-like creatures with fluorescent blue heads, massive crocs. Jurassic Park stuff. And leeches. Man, I hated those bloody leeches. Millions of them.
And remarkable characters. In The New Guinea Job, the tribesman Luke Mugumwup was a real person, and a pleasure to be around. The tribal tattoos and ritual scarification across his body lent a badass appearance, for sure. But a rock-solid individual to work with. Unless he became upset. Then all bets were off.
I toned down the boat driver, Babe Cox. Hard to believe. But the actual guy was a unique and nasty and unforgettable piece of work. His speech pattern consisted of continual f-bombs with the occasional adjective, noun, and verb tossed in. And you could smell the dude from thirty feet.
The Caribbean Job
Flashbacks of the time I spent working in that glorious part of the world came easy. The Bahamas, American Virgin Islands, Jamaica, San Andres, Providencia—a trip down memory lane capturing the feel of those islands for this novel. And the people! What marvelous folks. I figured the tale’s intrigue and action against such an idyllic background would make for a unique reading experience.
And pirates. The real deal. I was forced into dealing with them while attempting work contracts. Much of the Caribbean has an active smuggler and pirate trade—well-hidden and never posted in tourist blurbs. Talk about interesting characters! There is a weird code of conduct among them, but I was never clear on the rules of the road. It made for an interesting work environment.
One of the more prevalent memories of those times involved cash. Wads of Benjamins—$100 bills. The pirate and smuggler clans, as you can well imagine, don’t take credit cards or issue receipts. Cash on the barrelhead. Benjamins the preferred currency. It made for inventive bookkeeping entries.
About Me
I live in the Intermountain West, where wide-open spaces give a person perspective and room to think. I relish great books, fine trout streams, family, old friends, and good dogs.
You can visit me at www.vincemilam.com to learn about new releases and writer’s angst. I can also be visited on Facebook at Vince Milam Author.
