The Hacker Who Becomes a Mafia-Consultant in the Caribbean After a Diamond Coup in Bangkok

by Stieve Adams

well-behaved men came to eat their breakfast too. They carried heavy bags and a number of automatic weapons. On the back of the jackets, the FBI was in big letters.

  "They are not looking for us," says Sir Randolph, looking uncertain. There should be no reason why the FBI would be interested in us. But you never know.

  We at least finished the breakfast, checked out and searched for the harbor captain, a powerful and sunburnt American with southern state accent. Randolph's new boat was at the hotel on the small bathing island just outside the harbor. Raffe signed a few documents and got keys to the boat which was a powerful double-ketted catamaran, which should make at least 40 knots in good weather, according to Raffe.

  To make us accessible, I got a cell phone that worked on the American continent. My European that worked well also in Asia could not be used here. Americans have their own technology, both in terms of television and mobile telephony.

  The harbor captain got my new phone number if someone would ask us, we said we were on our way to Florida, to possibly get one of the bad pursuers on red herring. I called Valery's answering machine and left my new phone number there too.

  We returned to our boat, m / s Maxine with home harbor Nassau. A young guy looked curious at us. I was kidding him and he praised our boat. When we started unloading the tampons to get us away, the guy asks:

  "Do not you wait for your friends?"

  "What friends?"

  "There were three guys here just asking you."

  "And how did that look?"

  "There were three little yellow guys who spoke strangely."

  I thanked the guy and gave him 10 dollars. He became very happy and ran straight towards the glass booth.

  "You heard what he said, Raffe?"

  "We can examine the boat from top to toe, at least from keel to mast," suggests Sir Randolph.

  "We start right now and lay behind the island before we start. They are sure to be under surveillance and in that case they may not suspect we suspect something."

  Raffe manages the big boat to a bay a few distance minutes away. Then we are looking for bombs or radio transmitters or what they are likely to hide from us. At the same time, I think of what they want us, probably they do not want to lower us.

  "Do you miss something?" Asks Raffe who thinks in other paths as well.

  I miss something. I miss my computer. The one that contains my orders for computer exploitation, but also a word document where I at the beginning of this adventure drew conclusions about longitude and latitude from a paper that Bjorn forgotten at Valerie. That's the paper, so to say, initiated my involvement in this soup.

  It was not good. Not because I needed the document, but it gave our friends from Bangkok the information they might need to come to the same conclusion as I did.

  It probably meant that they did not leave anything on the boat, but we could calmly settle for St. Kitts.

  Suddenly I hear a melody playing in my pants pocket. I first thought that someone put a pin box there but remember that it's my new cell phone that can play happy melodies instead of ringtones.

  It is Valerie who belongs. We are corrected by the situation and she gets ridiculously happy when she hears that our greed has settled on us and that we are heading for a big nice boat.

  We ask her to fix some equipment we may need to complete the expedition.

  "We meet in Basseterre," said Valerie attracting.

  30. It goes together

  Valerie has made a hotel room for us. That is, to me she has reserved a whole suite.

  "This is the headquarters of the expedition," she explains. So we meet in my suite to plan. Now we have boats and equipment to go to Mosquito Bay where we suspect the diamonds are available.

  Nobody has seen Jens or Björn. We also have no control over Thai or Mexican people. Although we have some firearms we can not measure with other groups in the field of firepower.

  "Here is the list and imagination that applies," as Raffe expresses.

  "If we've got all the equipment on board, I think we're sneaking out of Basseterre at night," I suggest.

  "Just my opinion," agrees both Raffe and Valerie immediately.

  "I wonder what's been going on in Mosquito Bay meanwhile we've been away?"

  "I may tell you that. There are two engineers out there circling around Booby Island, but they seem to be waiting for something, otherwise they would be active in some way. "Valerie is in control of the local coastguard.

  We leave the harbor without any incidents at two o'clock at night. It's no moonlight so it's possible to get out of the harbor without anyone seeing us.

  We add with our yacht at Banana Bay, where we launch two rubber boats. Instead of lurking gasoline engines, we have provided them with small electric motors, it's Minnkota engines from Minnesota, USA. They are powered by a regular car battery as fully charged, allowing the electric motor to run six hours at full speed. Well, the speed is not scary, a good rowing rudder hurts. It is intended for trolling fishing, that is, to glide over a calm sea lane with a dragon hanging after the boat. Very nice employment in calm weather, I have pulled up numerous perch and pike in this way at home in Scotland.

  With two car batteries in each boat we can ferry back and forth to Mosquito Bay, provided it does not blow too much headwinds. We stay close to the beach and the engines are just heard as a discreet mosquito bite. Outside the bay we see two motor cruisers lying anchor only about 500 meters apart. Strange, here are the owners of diamonds in a boat and in the other the likely thieves. If I were the robbery that way, I would feel like throwing bombs and grenades on the other boat.

  The last time I was here I carefully took out one line to Booby Island and a point on Nevis which makes me feel pretty sure to find the cave, the one who was so hard to see in beautiful weather. I do not doubt the other groups found the cave, but they should have abandoned it after a thorough investigation.

  We slide into the cave that is just above the waterfront at high tide. Everyone has dark clothes and soiled faces just like commando soldiers. Besides Valerie, of course, she already has the right camouflage color. The soiled faces are one of Sir Randolph's contribution to the project, apparently he has a past from the British coastal hunters.

  As quiet as possible, we take off the rubber boats. Raffe, the old coastal hunter, is commissioned to reconnaissance to ensure that the cave or surrounding areas are not obsessed with any of the others. One of the boats in the bay lights a strong headlight and directs it to land. It sweeps across the beach and we become dazzled and lose darkness.

  "Down - lie still - face to the ground!" Commander Sir Randolph. As good soldiers, we will be hearing immediately. Someone talks on board, but there are no upset voices. It may be just a normal measure for guard solutions.

  After a couple of minutes the headlight goes off and after a while we start to touch. Raffe creeps very carefully up to the cave opening. After a while he gently eels back and announces whispering:

  "There's somebody in there! Long into the cave, the glow of a fire is visible! I go in and harm them, if anyone comes out you'll take care of him! "

  Raffe creeps in and I take place at the cave, prepared for the worst. Half an eternity later, that is, after about five minutes, I hear a subdued swear word and hear someone who crawls fast at the exit. It's a small figure, probably one of the Thai people, I'll think before I throw over the scrambling individual and push him to the ground at the best rugby maneuver. He also seems to be camouflage-targeted, but the curly hair seems familiar in some way.

  "Hold him!", Raffe grinds out a few moments later.

  "Drop him!", Valerie whispered immediately behind me.

  "Well?" I burst out.

  "That's Boy!" Explains Valerie.

  "Oops"

  When I think about it, I had actually missed Boy in preparation. Considering how intensively he participated in his previous visit, it was strange that he had not appeared in Basseterre. We had so much for us that I forgot to ask Valerie.
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  "What's the amateur trying to overcome?" Asks Boy, "he's like a razor."

  "Quit everyone and into the cave!" I interrupt.

  We drag in rubber boats, electric motors, heavy car batteries and all other equipment. When we get in behind the first bend in the cave we dare to light a shielded flashlight. The cave ends with water, there is a small underground lake in the middle. Only after that, after a lot of scratch and swearing in the dark, we hit camps.

  "Now we are sleeping for a couple of hours until it gets bright outside," I insist. "I'm going to the cave and taking the first guard."

  "How much have you been sleeping tonight?", Asks Boy. "I watch because I'm execute. Sleep good uncles! I wake up at dawn. "

  I need to go for a course in leadership, my ordering does not seem to work.

  Thankfully we sink into the sand and fall asleep. Boy pours us at dawn, in fact, we do not notice any difference because we are far into the cave, at the shore of a small lake as said. From the point of view of light, we had not had to wait for dawn, but a couple of hours of sleep did not feel completely wrong.

  We would now use the dive equipment we left with to get into the lagoon. According to our theories, this was like Jens dumped the bags with diamonds. Both Sir Randolph and myself are diver on amateur level so the exploration of this little lake would not be a big problem. When I tasted on the water, there was salt, not water from any source without sea water.

  Raffe and I singled about who would jump in first. I won and rigged the equipment and followed the