The term had become “Lloyds Looper” even though Lloyds was no longer the only insurer of freighters in the world.
“Keep an eye on it,” the deck officer said, shrugging. “If it stays there we’ll drop the data in the net and put up a Viking to keep an eye on it. Good eye, PO.”
“Thank you,” the young lady said, smiling. Then she got back to work. All the “Atta-girls” in the world could be erased by one “Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit,” Mike said when he looked at the invitation.
It was just after the rapid tropical dusk when he’d pulled up alongside the yacht. And the first person who confronted him was Anastasia with an open envelope in her hand.
The message was simple:
You are cordially invited to a small party onboard the White Line. Festivities begin at eight but feel free to turn up earlier. Casual dress. Up to seven invited.
“That’s Gonzales’ boat,” Mike said, blinking. He was sunburned and sore from being beaten around in a Cigarette all day. And now this.
“And it is nearly eight,” Anastasia said. “But I would recommend a shower.”
“If I’m going,” Mike said. “This guy may be connected to the people that shot up Vanner and Adams. And I need to be briefed in on what’s been going on. And why seven?”
“I asked about that,” Anastasia said, dimpling. “I met a very nice lady in the market, a local who sells baskets. She has much knowledge of the local customs and we’d chatted yesterday. So I dropped by after we got the message. The White Line is a noted party boat, yes? But only pretty ladies and the… better class are invited. And the better class… Well, they generally bring a guest, a partner, female or male, and a few… assistants.”
“Oh,” Mike said, nodding and chuckling. “I can bring up to five bodyguards.”
“Yes,” Anastasia said. “I would recommend Oleg, Shota…”
Either of the two could have been NFL linebackers.
“Telling me my job, are you?” Mike said. “Yes. Oleg and Shota. Tell Oleg I want him in shorts. Oleg, Shota… you, Britney and Greznya. Tell Greznya to get dressed, then head for my stateroom. Anything else?”
“Daria wishes to speak to you,” she said.
“Tell her to come on in the bathroom,” Mike said. “It’s not like she’s never seen me naked.”
“Kildar?” Daria said, walking into the large bathroom.
The Kildar was in the shower, soaping his short hair.
“Hey, Daria, whatcha got?” Mike called.
“I have found a land base,” Daria said, looking at her notes. “A villa on a private island in the Abacos. That is the area you wished, yes?”
“Yes,” Mike said.
“It has fourteen bedrooms, a private landing strip capable of handling a small jet and underground refueling tanks,” Daria said. “Also servants’ quarters. Enough room for the Keldara to ‘spread out.’ I have contacted a company to ensure they are fully fueled for both diesel for the generators and aviation fuel for the boats. The same company is delivering food and other supplies. The shipping company’s boat with the container has been diverted. I contacted Chatham Aviation and requested a Gulfstream and two crews.”
“That wasn’t on the list,” Mike said, sounding puzzled.
“You are probably going to be flying back and forth from here to there,” Daria pointed out. “A Gulfstream is faster than the Lynx.”
“You’re a gem, Daria,” Mike said.
“The boat has been reprovisioned,” she continued. “We have bunker fuel for a four-thousand mile run and sufficient provisions. I had a call from Vil regarding the boats he picked up, though.”
“How’s that going?” Mike asked.
“They are on their way,” Daria responded. “They have had some problems, but they are on their way. However, all of the boats are not set up for long range operations…”
“They need tanks,” Mike said, sighing and stepping out of the shower. He picked up one of the supplied towels, which was so thick it was almost a nuisance, and started drying off.
“Yes,” Daria said, turning away politely. She had, in fact, seen him naked several times. But right now she didn’t need the distraction. “I contacted a number of boat yards in the area and none of them could get free even when I suggested a large sum of money for a rush job. Apparently—”
“Nassau is awash in money,” Mike said, nodding. “And do you have a fix?”
“Possibly,” Daria said. “But it will require calling Colonel Pierson.”
“Fix it,” Mike said, shrugging. “Fast.”
“I will do so,” Daria said, making a note.
“Good girl,” Mike said, pecking her on the cheek and wrapping the towel around his middle. “I’m sorry I’m not bringing you to the party. I can dump Britney if you wish.”
“No,” Daria said, shaking her head. “I have been in the lion’s den. I do not wish to go back. Thank you. I will go take care of these issues.”
“Okay,” Mike said, striding out into the bedroom. “Thanks. Oh, hi Greznya.”
“Hello, Kildar,” Greznya said, blushing slightly.
“Hey,” Mike said. “Stay there,” he continued, walking into the closet and shutting the door. “Go.”
“I have a list of the probable people that are being invited to the party,” Greznya said. “Along with some background bio. Most of them are more or less legitimate businessmen or retirees. Mostly European but a few Americans. There are a few key members of the Bahamas government expected as well.”
“Not surprising,” Mike said. “I’ll look it over before I head over. Go.”
“I have had a brief conversation with Lieutenant Harder,” Greznya said, her voice slightly raised. “If your surmise is correct we should be getting some data. There is a carrier battle group patrolling the Florida coast. Only on their south end, though, do they get into the area where the freighter would probably be located.” She paused and looked at her notes. “We put the information about the two men into the law enforcement database that is being used for this mission. The current emphasis is on containers coming in. There is a note from CIA that that is the intended method of insertion.”
“Love to know the means on it,” Mike said, walking out fully dressed. “CIA usually can’t find their ass with both hands.” He paused and held his arms out. “What do you think?”
“What is that shirt?” Greznya asked, her eyes wide.
“It’s a Hawaiian shirt,” Mike said, looking down at the eye-searing monstrosity. It was mostly purple flowers with a red and yellow background. “It’s all the rage.”
“As you say, Kildar,” Greznya said. “If I am going with you, I had better change.” And put in some contacts, she thought. Eye shielding ones.
“Absolutely,” Mike said. “Meet us at the poop deck in ten minutes.”
“Why do they call it the poop deck?” Greznya asked, pausing.
“It’s where the poop heads used to hang out.”
Souhi was exhausted. He could barely think as he brought the cigarette up alongside the freighter.
The loop the boats were taking took nearly two days. Two days of constantly being banged around by waves, except the rare flat periods when they were interior channels. Run up from Nassau through the Abacos. Tank. Run up to the freighter, arriving under cover of darkness. Tank while riding alongside, not the easiest thing in the world. Pick up the cargo then run down the coast. Hope they had enough gas to make it to Nassau. If they were critically low on fuel they could stop at Nicoll’s Town, but that was an easy way to get detected. In Nassau they were given one night’s reprieve. Then they had to do it all over again.