Into The Heat

  

       

~ Prologue ~

We were travelling down the White Nile towards Juba in South Sudan. There were ten of us, all from the 71st, elite squad. We were acting on intel gathered by our point person, Rick D’Angelo, that on the northern outskirts of the city, there was an Al-Qaeda encampment. Myself and a kid from Kentucky named Jessie McLintock were the snipers. The other eight were the ground crew.

We disembarked about one klik north of the encampment. Our pilot, Tembe, stayed with the boat and kept the engine idling in case we had to get our asses out of there fast, which was sometimes the case.

 Jessie and I moved east and stayed north of the encampment, scouting positions. The rest of the crew assembled and moved forward ten metres apart. It was early. The sun was not yet up over the canopy of trees, but the air was thick with humidity. 

Only two guards were patrolling the encampment, which looked rather small, with several tents in a circle around an open space with a large fire pit in the centre. Maybe thirty souls in all we figured. We were carrying silenced HK 416 rifles and managed to get ourselves within about eighty metres of the camp. Fish in a barrel distance.

On a signal from our CO, we drew a bead on each of the guards and waited. Suddenly, the perimeter of the encampment began exploding with grenades launched from the squad. 

We each took out a guard and then began picking off anyone who came bursting out of the tents. Many of them were in shock from the concussions of the grenades, so in a way, it was more like shooting cans on a log back home. After about a dozen of them went down, the rest of the squad moved in under our cover and rousted out those who knew what was happening but stayed in their tents. Another dozen more. They were all fucking kids. Idiots with their heads full of     Al Qaeda jive. There were no recognizable authority figures that we could see. 

We gathered the dozen or so who were left and then called in the locals, who took them away. Never wondered where they were taken. You could seriously fuck yourself up thinkin’ about that shit. We just got back on the boat and got our asses upriver.

This would be my last mission in South Sudan, and I was glad to see the ass end of that place. Heat and humidity off the charts. All kinds of bad guys everywhere. Lack of sleep because the humidity never really abated. And a population that was so beaten down by all the terrorist activities there that they just hated everybody, even the liberators, which we fancied ourselves to be.

Later that day, we were heading to Juba, where we would be picked up and flown to Germany. Some of us would catch a flight home, our tours up, and others would await   reassignment. It was the end of the better part of eight long years of either stinking jungle hellholes in Africa or scorching, barren hellholes in Afghanistan. 

There was no upside to American military activity back then. They were all losing battles no matter how the propagandists tried to spin it. 

I was also the unofficial squad photographer. Before I left I got the emails of everyone in my squad and promised to send them pictures, as soon as I got settled. But I never did. 

The last thing I remember about that period of my life was that one raid and then getting out of Dodge. The feel of the B-28 leaving the ground and the dull roar of the engines that lulled me to sleep.

~ 1 ~

My name is Bobby Granger. If you have anything to do with the fashion industry in New York City, you might know who I am. I’m a shooter and a pretty good one. Some people call me a poor man’s Helmut Newton. I consider that high praise. I work for Vogue, Vanity Fair and Bazaar … all the blue-chip fashion rags. There’s a lot of money in it and lord knows…other perks. One of them is lying in the bed behind me. Her name is Alicia something and I’m gonna make her famous. 

It was late summer in New York City. There was a heatwave coming in from the south. But the heat never really bothered me. In my past life, I had spent a lot of time in some very sweaty places in the employ of Uncle Sam. Mostly in equatorial Africa, cleaning up messes and making a few of our own. Hundred and ten-degree jungle heat in full combat gear will eventually make you impervious to it if it doesn’t kill you first.

One day, when the heat in the city, was on us big time, I was sitting at my computer reviewing some shots when the door opened. I wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not anyone from my old life. But there he was in the flesh. 

It was Rick D’Angelo. He was a private contractor attached to our unit in South Sudan. Got us into places we couldn’t get into ourselves. Got us out of those same places. Knew shit about the enemy that nobody else did. And nobody asked him how. He was a serious operator and though he was as corrupt as anyone I ever met, he was damn good at what he did, so we all respected him. 

It had been almost seven years since I’d last seen him, but that bastard hadn’t aged a day. I acted like I was glad to see him, but I was skeptical. Rick was one of those guys who brought weirdness along with him everywhere he went. There were a lot of stories about him and if even half of them were true, he was trouble on the hoof. 

I got out a couple of beers and sat down with him in the lounge area of the studio. We chatted a bit about the old days and he told me that he had moved way past that and now was back in the private sector.

“As you might have guessed,” Rick said. “I come bearing opportunity.”

“Yeah? You know I am one of the better fashion photographers in the country. Do I look like I need an opportunity?”

“Everybody does, Bob. It’s the nature of the beast. Tell me you don’t miss the old life.”

“Not one fucking bit, Rick.” 

“All right. I can live with that. How about a hundred grand for a few days of your time?” 

“OK. On a scale of one to ten, how illegal is this?”

“Not illegal at all. My clients are doing a business transaction and they want it documented, but candidly.”

“Must be some transaction for that kind of money.”

“Yeah, it is. And the best part is, no jungle.”

“No jungle where?”

“Nassau. A four-star resort. A couple of hours over two, three days and you’re out of there.”

“What kind of transaction are we talkin’?”

“Hardware.” 

“Oh fuck. What have you got yourself into now?”

“No, No, No, No, calm your ass down. No arms anywhere in sight. Just a couple of soldiers and a couple of buyers. Nothin’ to get worked up about, Bob. Just paperwork.” 

I started rubbing my forehead like my brain hurt because it did. 

“Come on man,” Rick said. “It’s a one-time deal. You’re in. You’re out. It’s a piece of cake, really.”

“So are you working for the buyers or the sellers?” 

“Well, a little bit of both. I’m the broker and get a commission on both sides of the sale. It’s a pretty sweet deal, and honestly Bob, I would never suggest that you come in on anything that had any sort of downside.”

“Where do the arms go once they’re sold to your people?”

“Don’t know. Don’t give a shit. Probably nowhere we’d ever want to go.”

Despite all his criminal tendencies, Rick had always been a straight shooter. And frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to another couple of weeks of blistering heat here. Because, even though I was used to it, that didn’t mean I liked it.

“When does this go down?” I asked. 

“Four days from today.”

“Who else do I have to meet to get approved?”

“Just one of the buyers. If you’re in, I’ll set it up.”

I sat still for a long time, just to see if Rick would get antsy or give me any other kind of tell. But he just sat there cool as a cucumber suckin’ on his beer. 

“All right. I want half up front and if I smell anything fishy, I will bail and the deposit is non-refundable. Set up the meet. Tell the partner to bring cash.”

Rick took one last swig of his beer, then got to his feet. I got up too and we shook hands. He handed me a card with just his name and a phone number.

“If the partner OKs you, we’ll be heading down on Friday. They have their own jet.” 

Rick turned and then turned back again. “Oh yeah. We’re gonna need this shot on film. No digital trail. You shoot as many rolls as you like, and we exchange them for your other fifty grand. These people are very cautious. Bring your digital camera too. I hear the place is quite photogenic and you might want to use it as a location for one of your shoots.”

I just nodded and Rick left the studio. I walked over to the window and saw him come out through the front door and then flag down a cab. 

I stared out the window for a while. Then I went back to the computer, but I was a little too buzzed to focus on the shots, so I climbed to the upper level of the loft which was where I lived. It was laid out quite simply and each corner served a different purpose. Food prep, eating, lounging and sleeping. In the far corner was a large bathroom with a compact sauna. Since I had no ongoing romantic attachment, this spartan environment suited me just fine. 

I walked over to the closet and opened the door at the end. In it, among other things, was a large aluminum camera case. I took the case over to the table and popped it open. Inside was a bunch of well-worn Nikon equipment. A couple of bodies, several lenses and a bulky motor drive. I pulled out one of the camera bodies and attached a long lens to it. I held it up and a surge of nostalgia swept over me. 

Most of the work I did these days didn’t involve holding a camera. I would build sets and use a remote to fire the shots. This allowed me to get into the shots and mess with any details I wanted and give the models instructions by demonstration. Then I could fire the shots that much more quickly.

But this, holding onto the camera, using it as an extension of your body, it was visceral and almost poetic. I sat down on the bed and stared at myself in the mirror for a while.

It was then that I decided that I would do this thing, if only to get a chance to take some real pictures for a change instead of just capturing highly art-directed images that got retouched all to hell anyway.

~ 2 ~

The next day, around noon the limousine was waiting at the front of my building as I stepped out into the blazing heat. The air was dead still. I broke into a sweat simply walking across the street. The driver saw me and got out to open the back door. As I climbed inside the cool air hit me like a smack in the face. 

Across the spacious interior of the limo sat a statuesque lady. She was dressed in a black linen skirt and white top. Her hair was long and halfway in between brown and blonde. She was quite beautiful, but there was a hardness to her face and the very beginnings of age lines. She appeared to be wearing no makeup.

“Mr. Granger. My name is Kari Armitage. I understand you have agreed in principle to be our photographer on this transaction.” She had a British accent. 

“I have.” 

“Well then.” She reached for a package on the seat beside her. It was a thick envelope. “Your downpayment. I assumed that hundred dollar bills would be adequate.”

I took the package, not bothering to look closely at it. I put it down at my side.

“So,” Kari said. “I would imagine you have some questions.” 

“Not really. Rick gave me the nickel tour of the project. Just wanted to make sure that the financial arrangement was acceptable. I’m sure you will brief me in more detail when we get down to Nassau.”

“I will indeed.” She said. After a couple of beats, she said. “I understand you’re an ex-marine.”

Yes ma’am. And I wake up every morning happy to have seen the butt end of that life.”

“We will be leaving from Newark Liberty at noon on Thursday. And we will be staying at the Atlantis. I will be happy to pick you up at 10 am.” 

“That would be great.” 

There wasn’t much else to say. We shook hands and I got out of the limo. I stood on the street and watched it speed away into the New York City heatwave. 

I went back inside the building and stashed the cash in my safe. I took out a few hundred for film, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, took a bottle of water from the fridge, went downstairs, grabbed my bike and my shoulder bag and headed out.

I preferred riding to cabbing or the subway in Manhattan. And owning a car here was more trouble than it was worth. I got on my bike and headed downtown to City Camera, where I picked up 10 rolls of Kodacolour film. I hadn’t used my film camera much since I got back to the States from Africa. It was almost all digital now, but City Camera and Kodak understood that some shooters would always prefer film.

A few minutes later, I was riding down 7th Avenue toward the park, when something caught my eye. It was Rick D’Angelo. He was walking the same way I was riding. I slowed down a bit to see where he was headed. He climbed the steps of a building and entered through the front revolving door. 

I wasn’t familiar with the building, so I pulled over and locked up my bike. I climbed the steps and entered the same way Rick had. Once inside I studied the directory. There were several Federal government agencies listed. I found it very strange that someone who was brokering a deal between arms dealers and arms sellers would want to be anywhere near the government. 

I left the building and headed home. Once I was showered and cooled down, I called the number on the card that Rick had given me. This was starting to smell funny. I left a message for Rick to call me and then went down to the studio where I took a close look at the Atlantis resort online. 

As resorts go, the Atlantis was one of the largest in the Caribbean, if not the world. As I surfed around various shots of the resort I quickly realized why they had chosen it. It was big and busy. There would be a lot of flexibility to conduct their business in public since there very much appeared to be people everywhere. And I could easily spy on them from any number of different vantage points. 

After about half an hour of staring at the images of the hotel, my phone rang. It was Rick.

“Hey,” I said. 

“I hear it went well with Kari,” he replied

“Yeah. There wasn’t much to it. She gave me the downpayment and agreed to pick me up on Friday.”

“So what’s up, Bob? You did call me.”

“Yeah. I was just wondering what it was you were doing in a Federal office building today around two thirty.”

Rick was silent for long enough that I knew I had hit a serious nerve.

“Who told you that?”

“I saw you, man.” 

“OK. I don’t want to talk about this on the phone. Can we meet somewhere, maybe have some dinner?”

“Sure. You’re buying.

“Fair enough.”

“And you’re gonna let me know what the fuck is going on and you’re gonna be straight up about it.”

“Not a problem, Bob.” 

We agreed on a place to meet. A pizza place on Second Avenue. It was crowded and noisy, just the way Rick wanted it. After we got our pizza and were half a beer down he started to talk to me.

“After South Sudan, and some of you guys had shipped out, I took a plane back to DC and had a long chat with Senator Gibbs, who was the guy who got me placed with your squad. I was gettin’ too old for jungle warfare and I let him know. He was appreciative of the service I had put in and referred me to some people over at the State Department who put me onto a guy named Roger Calloway, who ran his own intelligence group, specifically tracking underground arms movements. He was interested in Kari Armitage and her partner, an older smuggler named Damon Ramsay. Kari was the front end of the business, and Damon was the guy with a long-established network that could move arms from anywhere to anywhere else without leaving a scent. My assignment was to bring them a deal and get close enough to them to eventually catch them red-handed and bring them down once and for all or maybe even turn them. The agency had been trying for a long time without success.”

“So this is some kind of sting?”

“They think you are documenting this transaction for their protection, in case there’s any blowback or shaking down.”

“And why would that be?”

“Well, first of all, this deal is with a couple of Russian army officers who are as sleazy as they come. And secondly, they’re old-school pros and this is what they do. You will be asked to sign a non-disclosure agreement once we get down to Nassau. That is if you’re still interested in doing your country a service.”

I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me what was happening?”

“Come on Bob. You’ve got a good thing goin’ on here. If I had come clean with you off the top, you could have just told me to go fuck myself. So my strategy was to fill you in down there, and hopefully, you would have gone along with the plan, since you were already there and all.”

“Some fuckin’ strategy, man.”

“Yeah, well this opportunity came up quickly and I kinda had to improvise.”

“So this is a real arms deal?” 

“You bet your ass. These people are too smart to bullshit. We got the intel from a deep cover agent in Moscow who referred these Russkies to me. Even fucknut Putin doesn’t know this is going down.”

“So what are they selling?” 

“Just a lot of decommissioned stuff. There’s a whole network over there that takes the weapons that are supposed to be melted down and otherwise destroyed and puts them on the black market. People like Armitage and Ramsay buy them and resell them to rebels and armies in piss-ant countries. Take your pick. There are a dozen to choose from at any given time. Sometimes they get paid in heroin, sometimes coke, mostly gold, gemstones and cash. My job was putting the Russians and the buyers together and I did that. I’m just going down to make the introductions.”

“Ahhh man.” I kind of felt like slugging him. 

“Come on Bob. None of this changes your role in it. I’m just gonna need a couple of extra shots, digital or film it doesn’t matter so we have evidence when we take them down. It will also be a good bit of diplomacy because we can hip Putin to his bad actors, and he’ll owe us one. It’s a win, win Bob.”

“What’s the downside, Rick? And please, be brutally honest with me.”

“The only downside is that these people are all a little paranoid. All you have to do is play your part, get your briefing and do what you do.” 

“I assume that if I back out now, it just makes you look like some sort of asshole. So I want a get-out-of-jail-free card. In writing, signed by whoever has to sign that shit in your office downtown.”

“Done. I’ll get it to you first thing in the morning.”

With that, Rick got to his feet, slapped down some bills on the table, grabbed a slice and a napkin and left without another word.

I pulled off a slice and then left the restaurant a few minutes later. It was a nice evening. The sun was behind the big apartments along Central Park West. And the heat had abated a bit. I bought a bottle of water from a street vendor and headed across to the park. As I walked along I thought a lot about whether I was doing the right thing or not. I mean, the game Rick played was all about trust. He knew he could trust me because we had some history. Too bad I didn’t feel 100% the same about him. 

The park was busier than usual. Everybody seemed to be taking advantage of the respite from the heat. I got home well after dark, with a half dozen Gatorades in a plastic shopping bag. I had one whole day to get ready for this. And from what I heard on the weather channel, it was gonna be another scorcher.

~ 3 ~

The limo pulled up in front of my building at about two minutes after ten. The driver popped the trunk and put my suitcase and camera bag inside. I climbed into the backseat, said good morning to Kari and Rick and accepted a Starbucks iced coffee. 

We rode along mostly in silence, which was fine with me.

Then Kari spoke to Rick. “Have you heard from our suppliers yet today?”  

“They’re leaving in the morning tomorrow Moscow time which is about 2 AM our time. They’re taking a bit of a roundabout route because they’re paranoid so they won’t be arriving until Saturday around mid-day. We can have dinner with them and then you and Damon can have your formal meetings the next morning. If all goes well, by Sunday afternoon they‘ll be gone.”

Kari said nothing, but nodded and then took another sip of her iced coffee. She then turned to me and said “You and I should take a walk around the hotel once we get there. So we can find some suitable locations.” 

“Definitely.”

Kari wasn’t much of a talker. I sensed a bit of arrogance about her, like riding with an ex-marine and a hustler like Rick was somehow beneath her. 

“So you are a fashion photographer.” Kari finally said. “That seems an odd profession for a former marine.”

“Yeah, I guess it does. Believe it or not, it was something I’ve always wanted to do.” 

“How did that come about? “ she asked.

“Well, when I got out of the corps, I got a job as an assistant for a photographer in the fashion catalogue business. He taught me a lot and I got to use his studio, props and models to build my own book. After two years, I was ready to go out on my own.”

“You neglected to mention that it was Abagail James at Vogue who gave you your big break and introduced you to anyone who was anyone.”

“Touché. Abby is a real influence and a good friend. I see you checked me out.”

“I’d have been a fool not to.” Kari took another sip of her coffee and stared out the window, indicating that the conversation was over.

The Learjet was ready to go when we got to the airfield. We stashed our gear and got on board and in a few minutes, we were off the ground heading south. Rick and I sat together on the plane, while Kari sat up toward the front and worked on her computer.

We talked a lot about Africa and the world at large, which was pretty much in its usual mess. We both concluded that it was sad how being well on our way into the twenty-first century, the world was not much more than a bloody war zone and how the nature of US imperialism hadn’t changed except, of course, for the targets. We touched down on Nassau Island four hours later. There was a limo waiting to take us to the hotel.

Atlantis wasn’t so much a hotel as it was a strange modern-looking village that seemed to go on forever. The guests were all dressed like they made lots of money and deserved to be there. I had no idea what the rates were here but it all struck me as over the top. I think it struck Kari that was too. On the way up to our rooms, she mentioned that the Russians had suggested it, but that she found it a little garish for her tastes.

After checking in, unpacking and grabbing a shower, and with two hours before dinner, I decided to wander around on my own. I was blown away by the size and scale of the place. 

There were six separate hotels in the complex. It was so spectacular that they even offered day passes so that tourists could come and gawk. I was also amazed that there appeared to be no such thing as an ‘off-season’ for a place like this. 

I walked down to the beach and stared out at the blue-green Caribbean Sea. Then I turned around and looked back at the monstrosity behind me. All the while I was thinking about what I was doing here. Was I, in a very indirect way, contributing to the level of unrest that already existed in the world? Had I sold my soul for a few pieces of silver? I’m not sure what took me to that place, but there I was, thinking hard about it. 

Later on, Kari, Rick and I sat down for dinner in one of the many eateries in the complex. A few minutes later, Kari’s partner, Damon Ramsay sat down at the table and was introduced to me. Ramsay was quite a bit older than Kari, so I assumed they were not a couple but didn’t ask. Although he looked to be in his mid-sixties he had the wiry frame of a runner and the powerful handshake of a man who could take care of himself.

The dinner conversation centred around the garishness of the complex we were ensconced in. We all agreed that despite its sheer magnitude, it catered to what Ramsay called, the taste-challenged nouveau rich. The conversation was pleasant enough and had very little to do with either the business at hand or their business in general. 

Both Kari and Ramsay were extremely interested in Rick’s and my adventures in Africa. So it turned into more of a story-fest than anything resembling a business dinner. The only business that was done was my signing a fairly ironclad non-disclosure agreement. That came with a subtle hint that any failure to honour this agreement would be met with the harshest of responses.

After dinner, Kari and I took our walk around the complex and scouted some locations where they could meet with the Russians and I could photograph the meeting without anyone knowing.  After that, we wandered down to the beach. The sun had long since set, but several other couples were doing the same thing. 

“I was wondering,” I said, “If it’s not too personal, how you got into this business.”

Kari hesitated for a moment. “Well, you could say I inherited the position from my father, who was Damon’s original partner. Damon is like an uncle. He and my father are great friends. Served in British military intelligence during the Vietnam era, then went into the business right after that.”

“That’s interesting. But is it what you would have chosen if the situation were different?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I never really thought about it because I was able to walk into a business that was already quite profitable and running like a Swiss watch. I might have had some notion of becoming a concert pianist when I was younger. I loved the piano, still do, and play a lot when I’m home. And I have more than a passing interest in interior design.”

“Where’s home?” 

“Switzerland. In the mountains south of Geneva.” 

“Do you ski?”

“No, I always thought it was too dangerous.”

I chuckled. “You deal in arms all over the world but find skiing too dangerous? That’s ironic in the extreme.”

For the first time, Kari chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is.” 

“Is there a Mr. Armitage?”

“There was. But, well, I’m simply not built to make a real relationship work. You know, devoted wife and baby-maker. I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”  

“Well, I did sign a hefty non-disclosure agreement.” 

We both laughed. I could see she was warming up to me. But somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I thought of it more like a mongoose warming up to a cobra. At this point, we had reached the far end of the beach. We turned around and started walking back when suddenly, out of nowhere, a scruffy-looking black man appeared, brandishing what looked like an older Beretta semi-automatic pistol. He held the gun up to our faces and demanded that we give him all our money.

I looked at him closely and said, “Sorry pal, we’re not carrying any money. This is an all-inclusive resort. We don’t need money here.” 

He pointed his gun at Kari… “Gimme dose jewels you be wearin’.”

He had the look of a speed freak. His eyes were darting back and forth between us and his speech was rushed. 

“You don’t want to do that, pal.” I said.

He pointed the gun back at me. “How bout I blow a hole in you both and den jus take dem.”

“You’re gonna have a hard time doing that too, because the safety on your gun is turned on.”

He pulled the gun towards himself and dropped his focus on us. That’s when I shot a boot into his crotch. He immediately doubled over. I caught his gun hand while he was going down and snapped it, taking the gun with my free hand. He was on the sand in an instant not sure which hurt more his broken hand or his testicles.

I hunkered down and grabbed him by the hair. I stuck the gun in his face and gave him a third thing to be worried about. “The idiots always fall for the safety trick, so you must be one of them. I could blow your head off right here and walk away and I doubt anybody would give a shit. But instead, I’m gonna take your gun apart and toss the pieces into the sea. If I see you here again, I will make it my business to break a couple dozen things on you. Do we have an understanding?”

He nodded, because the pain he was feeling had gotten his tongue. I got up and looked at Kari. She was frozen in place. But it wasn’t from fear. 

“Are you all right?” I said as I gently took her arm. 

She started walking along with me. “That was incredible, what you just did.” she said.

“The guy was zonked out on something. It doesn’t take much to throw them off their guard.”

“I suppose you learned this in the Marines.” 

“Yes, ma'am, I did. You would not believe the number of drug addicts in need of a fix there are in the world.”

~ 4 ~

The Russians were powerful-looking men. They were dressed casually, but they had the bearing and movements of military men, no doubt about it. Both were in what looked to be their early fifties. But it was hard to tell with guys who have lived a hard military life. 

They arrived the following afternoon. I watched them check in from a bar adjacent to the main lobby, both wearing suits. They disappeared for several minutes then reappeared, dressed more casually and met up with Kari and Rick. I sat perched on a stool, with my camera on the bar beside me. They both took notice of me, as I’m sure they did every element of their surroundings.

I noticed that Kari was chatting away to them in Russian which sounded pretty authentic. They took a table by the window that looked out over one of the large swimming pools. I grabbed my camera, left the bar and wandered around the outside past the window where Kari, Rick and the two Russian soldiers sat. I stopped close by and pointed my camera at some kids playing in the shallow end of the pool. I then walked around the pool to shoot something else. The logic here was that the more I was seen as a fixture, the more invisible I would become to them. After a few minutes of fake shooting, I disappeared from their view and went back to my room. I ditched the camera, changed and headed down to one of the pools, where no kids were playing. Might as well enjoy this garish luxury while it was free for the taking.

Later that evening, I got dressed and wandered around some more. There was music everywhere I went in this place and a lot of alcohol was being consumed. On my walk, I spotted the two Russians in one of the crowded bars at the same time as they spotted me. One of them gestured to me and so I went over. They looked to be pretty drunk, but I assumed that, since they were Russians, they could hold their liquor and things wouldn’t get stupid.

“Mister photographer man. I am Nicolai and this is my comrade Yevgeny.” I shook hands with both of them.

“Yeah, I saw you guys earlier today. I’m Jake Morrison.” An alias I made up on the spot.

“You’re making pictures all over the place, yes?” Nicolai asked.

“Yes, I was hired by the resort’s advertising agency in New York. They like to keep a bank of images up to date for their advertising.”

“So you are professional photographer?”

“Yeah. Mostly I shoot fashion in my studio. But I have a friend at the resort’s ad agency who asked me to do this for them.”

“So you get free everything, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I just wander around shooting whatever looks interesting. What about you and Yevgeny? Long way from Russia, no?”

“Long way from Russia yes. We are soldiers. I am General. Yevgeny is Colonel.” 

“Wow. So you must know Putin.”

Nicolai laughed. “We stay away from that little shit…as far as possible.” They both laughed. 

“What are you drinking?” Nicolai asked. 

“Oh, I’m not a drinker, I’m afraid. Just came in to check out the bar. Maybe I’ll come back and shoot some pictures here.”

“This is big place. Many photographs. How long you stay here?” Nicolai asked.

“Just for a week or so. Listen, it was good to meet you both. Hope you enjoy your stay here.” The last thing I needed was to get too chummy with these characters. We shook hands again and I got the hell out of there. I did not intend to befriend these guys. But it was obvious that they were no dummies. And doing what they were doing no doubt made them suspicious of almost everyone.

As I was heading back up to my room, Rick caught the elevator door and jumped inside. 

“What the fuck, Bob.” 

“What the fuck what, Rick?” 

“Chumming with the Russians. Are you trying to blow this whole deal?”

“That was an accident, man. Pure dumb luck. I kept it short and sweet and got out of there as fast as I could. So don’t give me any shit about that. You need to lighten up. Go get a massage or something.”

“We just can’t blow this, man. I have a lot riding on it. Big things in my future if this goes well.”

“Sorry pal, but I’m not in charge of your spook career. Just remember who conned who into this deal in the first place.”

Rick said nothing as the door opened and I left the elevator. Right then, I thought seriously about just packing it all in and getting out of Dodge. Maybe I had underestimated the seriousness of what was going on here. 

I grabbed a Coke from the small fridge and stood on the balcony looking out on this vast plastic world unto itself below me. After a couple of minutes of beating myself up because I felt so stupid for getting sucked into this situation, I heard a knock on the door.

Kari Armitage was standing there. I stepped aside to let her enter the suite. She took a small bottle of scotch from the top shelf of the fridge and poured it into a glass. She then sat down on the sofa. I perched on the arm of a chair a few feet away. She was wearing a long dress that showed off her figure. She was obviously on her way somewhere.

“I understand you had a close encounter with our Russian friends this evening.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t be helped.”

“When I first heard about it, I was a bit shocked that you would have allowed that to happen. But then after I thought about it, it occurred to me it was a good thing.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, now they know who you are and why you’re here. Not the real reason, of course. So if they see you around with your camera, they won’t be suspicious, if they notice you at all.”

“I never thought of it that way. But I guess you’re right.”

Kari took a sip of her scotch. “So, I just wanted to share that with you….in case you were thinking that perhaps you had made some sort of blunder.”

“I wouldn’t call it a blunder, but yeah, I understand.” 

Kari finished off her scotch and got to her feet. She put the glass back where she had found it and turned to leave the room. 

“We will be meeting with them to do the transaction tomorrow at 4:00. Downstairs at location #3. I thought that would give you the best angle. Once the exchange has been made, I will come around and collect the film. Once we are back in New York, I will give you the balance of your fee.”

“Hmmm. No, I don’t think so. I’ll hold onto the film until we are all back in New York and we can do the exchange at that time.”

Kari stared at me, looking for some kind of crack to open up.

“If I’m holding onto the film, it will be a lot easier to explain to customs, since it will be in an actual camera case.” I said.

Kari thought about it for a bit. “That makes sense.” 

As Kari left the room, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure how she would take the news. She didn’t strike me as someone who would tolerate last-minute changes of plan.

I had just settled into watching a Yankees game on satellite TV when I heard a knock on the door. It was Rick. He skulked into the room and poured himself a drink. 

“So you’re holding onto the film till we get back.” Rick said.

“Yeah. Somebody had to think this thing through.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you getting to nail someone for whatever the hell this thing is.”

We’ll all fly back. Once we’re through customs I make some prints, give her the negs and the prints and she’ll give me the rest of my money. You can bust her any time after that. And I will be through with this fucking mess.” 

Rick wandered around a bit sipping on the scotch he poured. “You know you’re smarter than you look.” 

“So I’ve been told.”

“And suppose she had said no?”

“She didn’t. End of conversation.”

Rick set his glass down on the fridge and looked at me one last time. He started to say something but then thought better of it, then turned and left the room I went out onto the balcony thinking what the actual fuck. I thought about heading down to the bar but didn’t want to run into the Russians again. So I just hung out in my room watching the Yankees and Red Sox. 

At the end of the game, I took a shower and then laid down on the bed. I was reading a Daniel Silva novel on my Kindle. Silva had written more than twenty-five books featuring a character named Gabriel Allon, who was an Israeli assassin and spy. I had read half a dozen of his books so far and was amazed at how much the writer seemed to know about intelligence operations in Israel, and right around the world, for that matter. While I was reading about Mr. Allon, I thought of Rick D’Angelo being in more or less the same business, and it occurred to me that while he was as devious as your average spy, he was nowhere near as smart or cunning.

About ten pages into my reading, there was a rap on my door. I got up and opened it to see Kari with a bottle of Remy and two fluted glasses.

I invited her in and she gently brushed by me, putting the bottle and glasses on the dresser. She sat down on the edge of one of the two large beds.

“I enjoyed our little chat today. I thought I would like to chat a bit more. There aren’t many people I can talk to in the world I live in. So I take advantage of them when they appear. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I said, trying to figure out if this was some sort of come on.

“Damon and I had dinner with the Russians this evening. They are boorish pigs. Do you think all Russians are like that?”

I sat down on the other bed directly across from her. Whatever perfume she was wearing smelled great. “Well, they are military men and they are trying, I assume, to put one over on Putin. But no. I don’t think that all Russians are boorish. No more than Americans.”

“I guess you meet a few boorish ones in the fashion business.” 

I laughed. “Highly opinionated and very gay for the most part. The girls are all kind of aww shucks except for the European ones who have much more personality but tend to be bitchy.”

“Do you sleep with a lot of them?”

“No. It’s a bad rep to have in my business. But every once in a while though…”

Kari got up and poured some champagne into one of the glasses. She proffered the second glass, but I just shook my head. 

“I never have been a drinker. Just the odd beer on pizza night is about it.”

Kari sat back down on the bed. She took a sip of the Remy.

“What do you think of this resort?” She asked.

I thought about that for a moment. “It’s the kind of place that people who used to take their kids to Disneyworld now take them because they’re making more money and the kids are older.” 

“Yes. It really is a circus. But I have learned, over the years that the best sort of concealment is a busy place. So while it wouldn't have been my first choice, it’s well suited to our purpose.”

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure. I may not answer it, however.”

“Okay…I was wondering where the munitions you buy from these Russians are bound.”

Kari took another sip. “That’s an interesting question. To be honest with you, I simply don’t know. We have a division of responsibility that protects us from each other, Damon and I do. I handle the acquisitions and Damon handles the disbursements. This way, if anything should go sideways, the powers that be can’t use me to extort incriminating evidence on Damon.”

“That’s very clever.”

“Once our business is consummated here, I will go home and Damon will provide me with another lead or middleman like Rick, along with the particulars and I will put the deal together.”

“So why are you here now?” 

“Just to introduce Damon to the Russians. He’ll take care of the rest. I guess I’m functioning more as eye candy for these…officers.” Eye candy was right. She looked spectacular, all dolled up.

“So you’re not partners, in the traditional sense.” 

“No, I work for him. Damon and my father agreed on that when he brought me on board. They worked out the whole arrangement to protect me. The only other person besides Damon who knows where the arms are going might be Rick, because he brought the deal to me. There’s usually not a middleman. But there have been a couple.”

“And do you trust him?”

Kari chuckled and took another sip of her champagne. “My dear Bobby, I don’t trust anyone, except myself and Damon. But I do have a good feeling about you.”

I smiled. “Oh yeah, and what makes you so confident about me?” 

“Because we have been sitting here in your room late at night and you haven’t made a move on me.”

“And if I had?”

“I don’t like hypotheticals. They’re usually wrong.”

“Well, that certainly precludes me from making a move on you.”

“Never say never.” 

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

We continued talking for about an hour after that. She told me all about her life in Switzerland, her music lessons, her ballet lessons, her years at the Sorbonne, and the horse she rides in the Alps. It was like listening to a fairy tale. I had a lot of trouble juxtaposing who she was now and who she grew up being. Maybe she did too, because there was just the slightest hint of sadness in her voice as she talked.

Then she simply got up, gave me a peck on the cheek and left. I laid back down on the bed and thought about what would have happened if I had made a move on her.

But that thought faded almost as quickly as it had arrived.  Mixing business with pleasure is a very tricky proposition.

~ 5 ~

The next morning I dawdled around, not wanting to run into the Russians at breakfast. I checked out my gear, loaded my camera, and unboxed three or four rolls of film. The plan was simple. Shoot the meeting on film on my Nikon. Then shoot it again with my Sony single-lens digital camera which was very small but had a substantial zoom. It was pretty much a piece of cake as these things go. All I had to do was keep out of the way and work quickly.

The meeting wasn’t set till 4:00, so I continued to wander around the complex. Then I went down to the beach and found a quiet place to sit and stare out at the ocean, watching the para-sailors fly. 

At 4:00, the large dining room was almost empty. Kari and Damon Ramsay came in and took a seat at the table we had discussed earlier. I was nicely positioned over their heads and at a right angle to either side of the table so I could have both sides completely visible in every shot.  

The Russians entered the dining hall from below me and walked to the table. They looked around carefully, but I had anticipated that and backed off. Kari got up and walked around to their side of the table. I was able to get frontal shots of them with both cameras as they exchanged that weird three-kiss thing that Russians do. Smart girl. Once they settled in, I shot off the rest of a couple of rolls, and also did about a dozen shots with my digital camera as documents were produced and signed. Damon Ramsay worked on some sort of tablet obviously transferring his deposit into whatever account the Russians had set up.

It was all over in about fifteen minutes. I could tell because everybody had relaxed. Including me, because my work was done. As I got to my feet I became visible and caught Kari glancing up. She gave a slight nod. I gave her one right back. Easiest hundred grand I had ever made. 

A waiter appeared at their table with a bottle of Vodka and four glasses. The General poured out shots for everyone. They all toasted and slugged back their shots. 

I headed back to my room. I grabbed another Coke and sat down on the bed. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. It was Rick. He was carrying a small laptop. I hooked up the digital camera and transferred the shots into the computer for him. 

“I know you’re gonna take these people down.” I said. “I’m curious as to exactly how you’re gonna do that. I mean all you have here is some people sitting at a table.” 

Rick sat back in his chair. “Nobody’s takin’ anybody down, Bob. That’s not what this is about. You forget what we are, which is Spooks International. Busting these people would be a no-win situation for us. We don’t want them out of business at all. What we do want is them in business and workin’ on our behalf.”

 “So how the hell do you manage that?” 

"Well, it's pretty simple actually. When we get back to New York, they will be detained. The pictures you shot will be the carrot we dangle in exchange for their ongoing cooperation.”

“You think that will work?”

Why not? They get to keep on making millions, we get to arm the forces we want them to arm.”

“You people really are fucking devious.”

“Yes, we are Bob. The more devious we can be, the better it is for the worldwide balance of power.”

With that, Rick got to his feet and slapped me on the shoulder. “Your country owes you a debt of gratitude. Which means nobody will be coming after you for taxes on that hundred grand.”

Rick straightened up and headed for the door. “I’m going down to the bar to get drunk. You’re welcome to join me.”

“No thanks. The further away I stay from all of this crap, the better I will feel. But I have one last question. What happens if they tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Well, in that case, they become the opposition. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I have all my conversations with them recorded. I’m sitting on them for now. But if I need some more ammo, I’ve got it.”

Rick left chuckling to himself. I flopped down on the bed and spent a few minutes trying to digest what he had just told me. He basically owned these people. They would be controlled by the CIA until they were no longer useful and then what? I had kind of gotten to like Kari. Once the pretences dropped away she was alright. The phone rang. I picked it up. It was Kari. She invited me to one of the restaurants for a drink.

They were sitting out at a table on the far side of one of the many terraces in the hotel. There was a bottle of champagne chilling on a cart beside the table. Damon Ramsay rose from his chair as I approached.

“Ahh, Mister Granger.” he said as he extended his hand.

I shook his hand. “Good evening, sir.” 

“Please sit, and do have some champagne. We are celebrating a very successful venture.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d much rather have a beer. Never developed a taste for champagne.”

We both sat. Damon summoned a waiter. I ordered a Red Stripe, a pretty decent Jamaican beer.

“I trust the shooting went well.” Damon said.

“Oh yeah, got them covered front and back.” 

Looking at Kari and Damon across the table, I realized I was sitting with some very classy-looking people. Kari was wearing a simple black dress and it very much looked like that was all she was wearing. 

“I have to say that looking at the two of you together, I would never in a million years have guessed what kind of business you were in.”

“We get that a lot.” said Damon. “We try to maintain a certain amount of decorum. It’s not always easy when you consider the roughnecks we have to deal with. But we soldier on.”

“I’m curious as to how you got into this business in the first place.”  

“Well, we don’t get that a lot.’ Damon said. “I come from a foreign services background. British Special Forces intelligence. Kari’s father, Charles, and I served together in the late seventies in the Far East. The Americans have this rather wasteful habit of leaving arms behind whenever they decide to withdraw themselves from certain conflicts. And who could blame them? The country has more money than god. We just pulled a few strings with some of the highly placed locals and between the abundance of product and the connections we had all through the Far East, Central Asia and Africa, we just found ourselves in a very lucrative situation. We simply carried on after we left the service. Divided up the responsibility. Charles sought out the sellers. I found the buyers. And in the immortal words of Mr. Tony Soprano…badda boom…badda bing.” 

We had a chuckle over that as the waiter placed a bottle and glass in front of me.

“So, Kari, you never did say what happened to your father.”

Kari took a sip of her champagne. “He had a small heart attack, about six years ago now. He’s still with us, but under strict orders to avoid tension and exertion. Anything that would raise his blood pressure. He has a small hobby farm in the south of England. Very close to where he was grew up.”

“So you took over his part of the business.” 

“Indeed. Damon is the closest thing I have to a relative. I have known him all my life.”

“And your mother?”

She died when I was about twenty,’ Kari said. “Which would have been some fourteen years ago now.” 

“Lovely woman,” Damon said. “Quite beautiful. Kari inherited her beauty.”

Kari smiled and blushed slightly.“And what about you, sir? We’ve spilled all our secrets. Your turn.” 

I took a long sip of my beer. “It’s not much of a story by comparison. I grew up in Minneapolis. My dad was a cop there. A detective. But he was also a sportsman and taught me how to use a rifle. When I was a teenager, I won a few shooting competitions. Got interested in photography, another kind of shooting, I guess. Went to the Minneapolis School of Fine Art, got a degree. Then joined the Marines, as a photographer, and also got some sniper training before shipping out. Ended up doing a two tours, Africa and Afghanistan. Lots of conflict there.”

“Indeed.” said Damon. 

“When I got home, I decided to move to New York. Worked in a large catalogue studio for a couple of years. The owners let me use it on the weekends. So I worked with some of the catalogue models and created a fashion portfolio. Eventually got some representation and after a while had enough work to open my own studio in midtown Manhattan. Been doing that for the past eight years or so.” 

“His work is very creative,” Kari said to Damon. “He’s like a young Helmut Newton.”

“Helmut Newton is an idol of mine for sure. Not sure I’ll ever be that famous. But the magazines seem to like my stuff. That can turn on a dime though. So I’m always looking to see if I can figure out what’s coming. I have a few designer friends who send me the kinds of imagery they think is hot and current.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, it seems like quite a leap from soldiering to high fashion.” Damon said.

“Yeah. I guess it is. But I just work hard on following my instincts. I trust them.”

Damon finished off his champagne. He got to his feet.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning to organize this purchase, so I will bid you goodnight Mr. Granger, and thank you for your service to us. I trust we can count on you again.”

“It all depends on schedules.” I said trying to sound as diplomatic as I could.

“We’re flexible in that regard. The main thing is that Kari trusts you and there are very few people in this world we can trust. We’ll make it worth your while and will not monopolize your time, I promise.”

With that, we shook hands. He leaned over and gave Kari a peck on the cheek. “I’ll come and see you next week.” 

Kari smiled. And Damon walked away. I sat back down and took another sip of my beer.

Kari said, “He’s a good man, Bobby. We’re not in the most reputable of businesses, but he treats everyone fairly. And that ensures their loyalty.”

“I was thinking about that. There must be quite a network involved in this business.” 

“Damon and my father own their own small shipping company, water and land. And he works very hard to make sure that the munitions are being provided to pro-democracy forces. At least that’s what he tells me. I guess it doesn’t get any more honourable than that.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know, Damon is a very nice man, and I think you’re pretty special too. But I’m not sure about the idea of a working relationship here. This was basically a one-off and I did it more for Rick’s benefit than yours or Mr. Ramsay’s. I guess I’m just saying that I’m not 100% sure, at this point, if I can commit to something like this.”

“No pressure, Bobby. But as Damon said, it’s a fluid market and we pretty much control the timings.”

“All right, let me think about it. Hey, it’s a beautiful night. You want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.” Kari rose up from her chair. Her body was quite sensuous, all draped in black. I found myself thinking well, Bob, the job’s over now so there’s no conflict to deal with. I felt like slapping myself upside the head.

~ 6 ~

Long story short, we walked. I kissed her. She kissed me. We came back to my room and had the best sex I have had in maybe forever. I won’t say I was falling in love, but this woman was something else. Gorgeous. Cultured. Smart. Sexy. Dangerous. My opinion of her was a far cry from the way she struck me in the beginning. And yeah, maybe she was seducing me to get something that she wanted, which was my participation in this arms business. But lying beside her early the next morning, it felt like something more than that.

“Have you ever been in a serious long-term relationship, Bobby?” she asked. 

“Long time ago. I had a high school sweetheart. But left her behind when I left Minnesota.”

“Did you love her?”

“Who knows what that is when you’re eighteen? You think it’s love, but if it really was, I would have stuck around, I suppose.”

“Love is overrated.”

“Says the divorced rich girl who lives in Switzerland.”

Kari laughed. “You know I didn’t take a penny in alimony. And he wasn’t poor.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. It felt like it was somehow devaluing the relationship we had. It was very good, right up until it wasn’t.”

“How long do you think we would last?” I asked.

“It all depends I suppose.” she said.

“On…?”

“On how much you want it. I am a couple years older than you. I get to go grey and slow down first.”

“I don’t know, I’ve got a lot of miles on me. And it’s true that men age less gracefully than women.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Granger.”

“Let’s hope so.” I took a deep breath after I said that. Then I decided to change the subject. “So I guess we’re leaving today, I suppose.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said.  “We have the rooms for a week. I could send Rick to New York with Damon. We could hang out here and see what happens. Unless, of course, you have to get back for anything.” 

I leaned over her and picked up my phone on the end table. I opened it up and checked my messages. I then checked my calendar. I had a shoot later in the following week and a pre-production meeting, mid-week. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything pressing.”

She picked up her phone. “Hello, Damon. Listen I am going to stay here for a few more days with Mr. Granger. He’s interested in photographing me. Yes. So you and Rick can take the jet, and I will fly home commercial. Yes. No, I’ll just get a money order for him and bring the film with me. I’ll be safe coming through the Geneva terminal. Have a safe trip.” She hung up the phone. “Nothing pressing at this end either.”

She rolled over onto me and we were back into the other world. 

~ 7 ~

The next morning, I woke up around nine to a pounding on my door. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist and opened the door. Rick D’Angelo stormed past me into the room. I closed the door and yawned. 

“What the fuck, Bob. What the actual fuck!” 

“You obviously have an issue here, Rick. Could you maybe explain it to me ‘cause I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“You and Kari. That’s the issue, Bob. And it’s a fuckin’ doozy. Are you just an idiot or what?” 

I took a deep breath, sat down on the edge of the bed and massaged my temples. “Me and Kari, what? Spent some quality time together last night. How does that have anything to do with you?”

“It has to do with me because I’m leaving in two hours with Damon, flying to New York where he goes on to wherever the fuck he’s going. He’s not even leaving the fuckin’ plane and you’re staying here with Kari. So it all adds up to what we in the spook business call a goose egg. Meaning nobody to detain. No attaboys for all my hard work. No promotion to a decent part of the world where I can fuck women who aren’t hookers. No nothing, except maybe an ‘I told you so’ from my bosses.”

“Oh, okay. Well, this was your harebrained scheme in the first place. From my point of view, I just picked up a lovely woman and made love to her all night. You’ve got the evidence, what the hell else do you need?”

“I need them both on American soil for at least a day so I can detain them get a warrant and arrest them. Then make the deal we talked about. And from what I hear, Kari’s planning to stay here and bang your bones for the rest of the week and then fly home to wherever the fuck she lives in Europe.”

Rick was pacing around like his future was in jeopardy, which I suppose it was.

“Well, I had a talk with both of them last night, you know, before we got to banging bones, and I’m no lawyer, but what it looks like you have is a case of entrapment at best. Besides, you can’t use Kari to spill her guts about where those weapons are headed because she doesn’t know. These people didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, Rick. They have been dodging people like you for years.” 

“Wait a minute. What do you mean she doesn’t know where the weapons are headed?”

“Damon never tells her. And guess why? So she can’t get coerced into telling people like you anything more than that you came to her with a deal and she facilitated it. She only knows about one side of the deal and your hot button, as you explained it to me, is making sure the right people get the weapons. Well, she never knows who they are.” 

I got up and started to get dressed. 

“You know,” I said, “I used to think you were a pretty smart cookie down there in South Sudan. You thought things through, and you pulled off some amazing shit. But this project, man, you have blown it out your ass. Maybe you’re just not cut out for this spook business.”

“You didn't say anything to Ramsay, did you?”

“I didn’t have to, Rick. In case you hadn’t noticed, these people are professionals and very smart. I would be amazed if they hadn’t made you from the get-go.”

Rick sat down in one of the designer tub chairs. If he was feeling like he looked, I felt sorry for him.

“They told me about their setup when I met with them last night.” I said. “I figured you already knew that since they were pretty open about it. I also figured that it would be OK to, you know, fool around a bit with Kari, ‘cause you were really after Ramsay.”

I walked to the door. “Good luck getting Ramsay into an interrogation room.” I said.

Rick was sitting in the chair looking dejected but I could see he was thinking hard about how he was gonna pull his ass out of this ringer. 

“Make sure the door’s locked when you leave. Have a safe trip back. And Rick, the favour bank is closed.” I left the room. 

As I closed the door I heard Rick scream 'FUCK!'

~ 8 ~

Kari and I spent the next three days swimming, lounging, eating, drinking and being merry all night long. We watched old movies. She was a big Bogart fan and thought To Have And Have Not was the greatest movie of that era. As time went by, I was having trouble taking this affair that we were having lightly. She was fascinated by my experiences in Africa and Afghanistan and, as it turned out, I wasn’t a half-bad storyteller. 

On the last day of our stay, we sat in the large dining hall of our hotel and ate breakfast. Kari handed me an envelope. In it was a money order for $50,000. There was also a small card with her cell number. I handed her the two rolls of Kodacolour, that I shot at the meeting and a couple more I shot of her over the past few days and told her she had missed her calling as a model.

We both got up and she kissed me, very gently on the cheek. Then she turned and left.

My flight wasn’t until later that afternoon, so I wandered over to one of the bars and got another cup of coffee, I sat back down in my chair and looked out over the Caribbean, thinking pretty seriously about what life would be like in Switzerland, and right there, I made up my mind to find out.

~ 9 ~

The heatwave was over by the time I got back to New York. It was just plain summer hot. People were out on the streets again, with their bottles of soda and other drinkables, pizza slices and falafel wraps. 

The studio got busy for six solid weeks. The time screamed by. At the end of October, I looked at my schedule and saw a hole of about ten days. I bought a burner phone, because I was a bit paranoid about Rick and his spook agency. I called Kari and gave her the date I could leave, and she was delighted. So I booked my flight to Paris and went back to the grind for another week.

The day before I left for Europe, I spent most of the morning doing my billing and sent it all to my accountant/financial manager, Ollie Krantz, who ran everything financial about the business. He took care of my investments as well, not that there was a ton. But he knew the safer funds to deal with, and over the time I had been on my own, my stash was into the low seven figures. The only perk of being a true workaholic.

I had quite literally shut down my computer for the next ten days when the buzzer sounded. I walked to the intercom. 

“Sorry, the studio is closed until early September. I said.”

“It’s Rick. Can I buy you a beer?”

I buzzed him in and went back to my chair. Rick came walking in carrying a paper bag. He went to the kitchen counter and unpacked a six-pack of Michelob. He brought two over, handed me one, then took the seat next to me.

“So I assume you didn’t manage to nail Damon Ramsay.” I said. “Did you get shitcanned?”

“That’s not how it works Bob. They don’t fire you, they just find a hellhole to send you to. And you go and do your penance until they deem you worthy of another A-game.”

“So I assume that because you’re not stuck in a hellhole, you have a new game on.”

“I do.” 

“But if you’re here to ask me to do you another favour, you can seriously forget it.”

Rick took a long slug of his beer. “No, I’m not here to ask you for anything. But I am here to give you a heads up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s about the hellhole they sent me to. I won’t say where because that’s classified. But the reason I was sent was to do what I could to prevent the government there from being put out of business. Which is unusual so quickly after we got them installed there in the first place. They were doing a good job for the country and they were an important friend to us. They sent me because I knew my way around. But by the time we got into place, the fuckin’ damage had been done.”

Rick took a slug of his beer. “None of this was pretty, Bob. The insurgents took as many casualties as the government, and a lot of equipment was blown up. We managed to get out before they knew we were there. But our recon guy got shots of some of the abandoned rocket and grenade launchers, and we traced them back to guess who…good old General Nikolai and Colonel Yevgeny, the boys you met in Nassau.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” 

“This is the shit we do well, Bob. So yeah, one hundred percent.”

“So what does this mean?” 

“It means that your girlfriend and her Dutch uncle are now officially bad actors and have a price on their heads.” 

“Does anybody know how to find them?” 

“No, they cover their tracks very well. They do all their correspondence via VPN. All their transactions are through online corporations. All protected by firewalls a mile thick. They know what they are doing and have made themselves invisible.” 

“So how did you find out about them originally?” 

“Through an ad they placed on a dark web site called Battle Ready. Our geeks follow all those sites. I set it up by email. We traced it after the Bahamas. No luck. Like I said they’re fuckin’ good.”

“And again, I have to ask… what does this have to do with me?”

“It could have a lot to do with you, especially if you’re still in touch with Kari. I’m here to warn you, if you are, you could be in for a world of hurt that you’ll never see coming.”

“And suppose I am?”

“Well here’s the thing. This pair are gonna go down sooner rather than later. My people can make it later.”

“So I guess you never got Ramsay onto American soil.”

“No flies on you,  Bob. The the fucker flew me to Montreal and let me off to take a flight back to New York. He wasn’t takin’ any chances.”

“Sounds like he made you.”

Rick ignored that and carried on. “So are you, you know, still connected? But before you answer, know that you should always know that us spooks never ask a question we don’t know the answer to.” Rick was bluffing, but I didn’t know that at the time.

In just five short minutes, this had turned into a monster. I’m no big fan of government, but I know how nosy they can be when they set their minds to it.

“So you’ve been hacking my phone and computer.”

“Yeah, and I know you’re off to Paris tomorrow and I have a pretty good idea why.”

I had blown it by making the flight reservation online. “I have a shoot coming up over there. I’m scouting locations and reserving equipment. You know, doin’ my job. I have no idea where Kari lives. We talked about getting together at some point but nothing definite. Tell you what. I will mention this to her if I hear from her. I’ll tell her to get hold of you. That’s the best I can do.”

Rick finished off his beer, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “You do that Bob. Because if we find out that you have been deliberately misleading us here, it won’t go well for you and you will have zero bargaining power.”

After Rick left. I went back over what had just happened, looking for some sort of trap door. The only one I had was simply to not go to Europe and let Kari and Damon fend for themselves. Not sure why I didn’t take that option, but I didn’t.

I called Kari again on my burner and told her that I would be driving from Paris to Geneva and what my timings were. I also asked for a good place for us to meet. She texted me back a map of a sector of downtown Geneva, with an x marking the spot. Low-tech clandestine stuff.

~ 10 ~

My flight landed at Orly airport and I picked up my car at about 7:00 in the evening. I drove out of Paris, which took quite a while and made it to a town called Malun, where I had reserved a room at a bed and breakfast. The next day I drove the remaining 500 kilometres to Geneva. I got there with about half an hour to spare before meeting up with Kari. I filled the gas tank and found a coffee shop where I quickly downed a triple espresso.

Kari was waiting in the parking lot of a steakhouse called Jolli’s near the airport. She told me that one of the things no one knows about her is that she is a voracious carnivore, and Jolli’s was the best steakhouse for miles around. We ate our steaks, then I drove to the airport, dropped off my car and got into her Mercedes. We drove south through Geneva and into the countryside, through a town called Annecy and into the hills about 10 kilometres south of there.

Kari’s house was a magnificent glass and wood structure that looked more like it had been sculpted than built. It was not overly large, but beautiful in every detail, with massive windows and nothing but trees and water to look at through them. The back of the house had a beautiful terrace with a large awning and a pool. The backyard was bounded by hedges that looked almost impassable and rolled down to a large lake. Across the lake, the Alps rose up to kiss the sky. She assured me the hedges were all equipped with motion detectors. But in the four years she had lived there, she never heard them make a sound. Though there was a light sprinkling of snow on the ground and the temperature was quite cool, the area around the pool was bone dry and the pool itself was giving off steam. 

“I like to swim all year round”. she said.

We made love in the pool, and then just floated around for quite a while as the evening faded into night.

“You live like a queen.” I told her.

“We do get by.” she said.

The next morning, we sat out on the glass enclosed terrace and drank the best coffee I have ever tasted and ate croissants. Kari noticed my consternation and the kind of faraway look you get when you are trying to figure out how to give someone bad news.

“What’s on your mind, Bobby? You look worried.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s Rick D’Angelo. He’s not who you think he is. In fact, he’s not who I thought he was either. He’s CIA.” 

“And?”

“And he came to see me before I left, which is kinda why I took a safer route to get here.”

“And?”

“Well, it seems there was an insurrection somewhere in Africa, he wouldn’t say where, and some of the weapons the insurgents used to carry out this insurrection traced back to the two Russians you met with in the Bahamas.”

“Alright. So what was his point? I mean, that’s what we do.” 

“Well this time, Damon sold the Russian arms to the group that took down a regime the CIA had put into place there a couple of years ago.”

“Hmmm. Yes, I can see how that would be troublesome for them. But he brought you on board. And you didn’t know he was CIA.” 

“In all fairness, I did. But he told me he was doing this as a freelance thing. Then, when I found out it wasn’t, I thought that if I could persuade you to stay and let him take the plane to wherever he was going, that we could conclude our arrangement and you could fly straight home. As it happened, you suggested it and saved me the trouble. Believe me, this pissed Rick off severely.”

“You don’t know this, but Damon had Rick figured out after their first conversation. He wasn’t about to let Rick have any sort of advantage.”

“I kinda figured that, you know. Rick’s not the best at faking anything.”

“Does he know I live in Switzerland?” 

“Not that I know of.” 

“And so you took this all upon yourself to engineer a situation that would keep me out of Rick’s clutches?”

“I was pissed off at Rick for conning me into this and then you and I met and then things got strange. I wasn’t playing with a full deck. My judgement was clouded, I’m afraid, and you were the cloud.”

Kari took my hand and kissed it. “That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bobby.”

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so happy that you’re not pissed off at me. You’re the first woman I have ever really felt close to lately and I don’t want to lose that.”

“Damon and I have been at this for several years together. He is astonishingly prescient when it comes to the law, mainly because we live outside it. I can assure you he had no intention of setting foot in the US after a deal like this.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I said, and it genuinely was.

 “So what was Mr. D’Angelo’s big idea?”  

“Well, he was going to offer you both immunity in exchange for directing your sales to regimes that are supported by the US.” 

Kari laughed for a few seconds. “Oh is that all? You know, one thing you learn about Americans when you look at them from across the ocean is that they are the most arrogant group of people on the face of the earth. So sure they are always on the side of right. Commissioned by God to spread capitalism and democracy far and wide. It’s laughable when you consider that the country has been involved in one war after another virtually since its inception.” 

“So I take that as a declined offer.”

“That’s a rather nice way to put it. I like that. Yes, I respectfully decline. I’ll get a message to Damon and we’ll see what he says, but I seriously doubt he would be willing to capitulate. At this point in his life, he has more than enough money to retire luxuriously in the non-extradition country of his choice, and to be honest so do I. I would much rather he close this entire operation down than collude with the Americans…yourself excepted. I intend to collude with you all week long.”

After a bit of morning colluding, Kari explained to me just how carefully and completely both she and Damon Ramsay were hidden under layers of false identification, with EU passports in several different names and addresses. Her house was owned outright by a numbered corporation and her bills were all paid automatically online through that same corporation. She explained that it would take a team of hackers several months to break the encryption that kept her and Damon hidden and anonymous. They changed phone numbers every four to six weeks and never dealt with anyone who hadn’t been fully vetted. 

I asked about how Rick D’Angelo managed to penetrate their network, and she just shrugged and told me that his identity and background checked out, so there must be at least a few smart people in the CIA.

Everything she told me was conveyed in a very matter-of-fact tone. This was her business after all, and for whatever reason, she didn’t seem to mind explaining it to me at all. 

The week glided by and became almost dreamlike. The lovemaking was incredible, the mountain air was rejuvenating and the food was outstanding. I was starting to like the idea of living this way and spent quite a bit of time thinking about how that could be accomplished. Then one day, while we were sitting by the pool and feeling an unusually warm November sun, I kinda popped the question.

“Let me ask you something. How would you feel if I said I’d like to make this relationship…more permanent?”

Kari thought about that for several seconds. “You mean by moving here? Because I certainly wouldn’t be able to live in America.”

“Yeah, moving here. I’ve been thinking about it and it really wouldn’t be rocket science. I could probably keep my connections in New York and commute until I built up enough business in Europe.”

“So you really have been thinking about it.”

“Listen. I’ve never met a woman that I am as comfortable with as I am with you. I think I would be a complete idiot to just say goodbye. I understand that your life is complex and that you live outside the law. But that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that I love being with you and I would like to be able to do that as much as I can.”

“Bobby…I would love nothing more than to be with you. I really would. But I do worry about how safe you would be. I deal with some pretty strange animals.”

“I spent seven and a half years trampling around in the world’s five-star hellholes. A few crooked soldiers or their minions don’t scare me much at all.”

Kari said nothing for quite some time. Then she turned to me and smiled. “As long as you know what you’re getting into here.”

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. It was almost like she was trying to find my soul and merge our spirits. And to be totally honest, it worked.

~ 11 ~

Two days later, I slept late. When I came down to the kitchen, Damon Ramsay was sitting at the counter staring at an IPad and sipping coffee. 

“Good morning.” I said.

“Hello, Mr. Granger. Nice to see you again.”

“Where’s Kari?” 

“Oh, I imagine she’s out shopping. She left about an hour ago.”

I walked over to the counter and poured myself a coffee. 

“So I guess she’s told you the whole story.” I said.

“Yes, I have been fully informed. To be honest, it didn’t surprise me that it was a setup. Truth be told, I have had various intelligence services after me for the past thirty years. Kari’s father was the one who built all the layers of protection we enjoy. That was, is still, his genius.” 

He took a sip of his coffee. I sat down on the opposite side of the counter.

“Intelligence services,” he said, “Are only as smart as the people who run them. And frankly, America’s intelligence apparatus is and always has been run by heavy-handed cretins. Your associate, Rick, is a sterling example of the mentality I’m talking about. Cleverness without real intelligence. I knew what he was. I knew what he was looking to do. And I let him try because I knew he would not succeed for the simple reason that our protection is more formidable than his ability to break through it. And since there was money to be made, well I am a businessman after all.”

“Kari said you were thinking about packing it in anyway.” I said.

“Yes. I’m afraid I have fallen victim to the game of golf. Do you play?”

I shook my head. 

“Wildly addictive game. I could play it every day, and frankly, it’s something I have been thinking seriously about for the past few years. I just wanted to make sure that Kari would have enough in the bank to never have to work again.”

“The way she talks about your business, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has enough for several lifetimes.”

“Touché. But the main reason I’m here is to talk to you. Even if we are closing the business, so to speak, there are still people out there, who, well let’s just say, might harbour some ill will towards us.”

“I can well imagine. You’ve probably dealt with some pretty bad actors in your time. But I have a question.” 

“Ask away.” 

“The group you sold the Russian hardware to?”

“Ahh yes”, Damon said with a chuckle, “I can imagine your American friend would have been quite beside himself about that. The group we dealt with are working to topple a puppet regime installed by the Americans. Evidently, the country is rich in un-mined rare earth metals. And as the world transitions to electric vehicles, the Americans and the Chinese are fighting for control of the African mineral belt. The insurrectionists are patriots who want the best for their country. And right now, that is not the desire of the current regime who are, what’s the expression, in the pocket of the United States. Hopefully, the nationalists eventually win and can create more benefit for their people.”

“I have to admit I never really thought of it that way.”

“Of course not. You’re American. You’re ex-military. You love your country and probably believe they have nothing but good intentions all around the world. But when you are a pan-national like myself, American propaganda is seen as just that. They are looking out for their business interests. So are the people of the pro-democracy insurgency in Gabon. I could have sold these munitions in several places. I chose Gabon to send a message to imperialist governments. And when I conclude a deal to sell my connections, it will be to someone with the same point of view. Selling weapons for the sake of prolonging conflict is a pointless mission. There needs to be a higher purpose, otherwise you’re just in it for the money, and it was never about that for Charles Armitage and I. We were both already quite well off.”   

“Well, that sure as hell answers my questions.” I said.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I have a great deal of respect for America. They are the most powerful country on the planet in many ways. But they are conflicted about their own way forward just as most so-called democracies are these days. I like to think that everything I have done, especially over the past fifteen years, has been in the service of helping create peace where only war and hardship existed.”

“But the wars rage on don’t they?”

“Indeed they do, Mr. Granger. But they shall have to rage on without Kari and myself. But one thing I wanted to say to you before we went off on a tangent, is this: If you choose to be with Kari, you will not only be a companion, Mr. Granger, you will also be a protector. There are many people who do not share our views on freedom and liberty, and some have long memories and deep resources. We are well hidden in plain sight, but you just never know.” 

“Understood, sir. That comes with the territory, as far as I’m concerned.”  

“Good. Well, I must be off. The golf links of the world beckon.” With that, he got to his feet, shook my hand and said. “Take good care of our girl, Mr. Granger. She means the world to me.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Yes, I think you will.”

Damon Ramsay strode out of the kitchen and out the front door of the house, a few seconds later I heard a car start up and move down the drive. I poured a fresh cup of coffee and walked out the back. I sat down on one of the lounge chairs by the pool and started to think things through. There was a lot to do. But I was in love, maybe for the first time in my life. And I wanted to make it work.

~ 12 ~

I drove back to Paris and flew back to New York four days later. I then went methodically about the business of closing down my studio. It only required a couple of phone calls. The first was to my landlord, who was a bit too happy about the fact that I was giving up my space since I had a couple of years left on my lease. His happiness resulted in my not having to pay a penalty for breaking the lease. This only meant that he had a waiting list for the space and could up the rent like any greedy capitalist would. He was further overjoyed to hear that I would not be taking any furniture and offered to rebate me $3000 for it, which I gladly accepted.

The second call was to an assistant I had worked with and who I thought was ready to step out into the fast lane. He jumped at the chance, and we agreed to meet up in the next couple of days to discuss the details. I was only planning to bring the 35 mm cameras, which were my babies. Anything else I needed I could rent or buy over in Europe.

I then spent the next two days biking around to the various magazines I worked for and having a lot of coffee with the art directors, a few of whom were overjoyed that I would be in Europe and were happy to give me references to their British and European counterparts and friends in the business.

I told them that I was going to be working exclusively in Europe and North Africa, so if they had any ideas that were suitable, I’d be happy to help them out. But I was non-committal about coming back to the US. 

At the end of the next three days, I had sold most of my studio gear, and my landlord agreed to liquidate the rest of my furniture or include it as a bonus to whoever took over the space. I also had a pile of references in Paris, Milan, Hamburg, London & Madrid. 

I had everything packed into two large suitcases and a camera case. Amazing how you can compress your life if you really just apply a little logic to the process.

When I had finished packing, I sat down on the bed and took a last look around. I decided to head out for an early dinner when the phone rang. It was, of all people, Rick D’Angelo. He told me he needed to see me. I told him I was heading out of town the following day, which was true, so if he was in the city, we could meet up at Patsy’s on First Avenue at 118th Street. He said he’d be there in half an hour.

It was mid-afternoon, so Patsy’s wasn’t all that busy. Rick was there when I arrived. He had even ordered me a beer. I sat down and took a slug.

“How’s the spook business?” I asked.

“That’s history Bob. You might say I took your advice and finally realized it just wasn’t my cup of tea.”

“What happened, Rick?”

“Well, I uh…you know…there were just too many differences of opinion between me and the powers that be. Especially after the Bahamas thing. I tried to pick up their trail. But…anyway I got snookered. So I put in my papers.”

“You want to know something? I always figured you as more of an operations guy. You know, out there opening doors, arranging to keep other people alive. Maybe you could do logistics for the Wagner group.” I said.

“I’m not ready to defect to the far right mercenary side just yet.”

“You’ll land on your feet, man. I’m sure of it.”

“So you said you were going out of town tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ve decided to move to Europe. Going to Paris to scout out the fashion market there. Gonna stay in an Air BnB and I have a few people to meet with.” 

“So gettin’ out of  Dodge.”

“One of my clients suggested that they would love me in Paris. And I have a lot of time for her, and some tax-free money I made in the Bahamas.” 

Somebody from behind the counter called out Rick’s name. He got up and retrieved the pie. 

“I remember you like green pepper, mushrooms and pepperoni.” 

“You remembered that? Wow.”

“So let me ask you something. This move to Europe… would it have anything to do with a certain lady we both know?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“No reason, other than that our little propellerheads tracked your credit card purchases over the past while and saw that you already took a trip to Paris, rented a car and dropped it off two days later in Geneva. Then your trail went cold until ten days later when you flew back from Paris.”

I took a deep breath. “So you have been following me?”

Rick just shrugged and then grinned.

“What the fuck. Are they still tracking me?”

“I don’t know. But I can find out. I’m on my notice period so no new info comes my way. But I still have enough residual clout to get them to back off if they are tracking you.”

My head was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Rick. I do you a big favour and this is how you repay me, with a little blackmail. What do you want?”

Rick took a bite of his pizza and took his sweet time chewing on it. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I was getting out.” he said “And the only two people who know about the tracking are me and a geek there who owed me a favour. I can make it go away just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “But, where’s the sport in that? I believe you are in a position to do something for me. Because I believe you are still screwing the lovely Kari, and I believe you are moving to Europe to live happily ever after with her.”

“Un-fucking-believable. So what is it that I’m supposed to be able to do for you? If it has anything to do with Kari or Damon, you should know that they are folding up their tent and will be blissfully enjoying their retirement.”

“I know. Before I put in my notice, our contact in Moscow told me the General tried to get hold of Damon to arrange for another shipment and was told that he was no longer in the business.”

“OK, so you have driven them underground and into anonymity. What do you want?” 

Rick took a slug of his beer and set the bottle down firmly. “I want the fucking business, Bob. And I want you to set up a meeting so that I can talk to Damon and work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Almost involuntarily I started laughing. This was a joke. Or a scam. I wasn’t sure which. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“No Bob, I’m dead serious. And I really am gone from the agency. In a month I’ll back in the private sector and rarin’ to go.” 

“You know, you’re makin’ my head hurt”. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I couldn't see an immediate way out of this pickle, so I decided to play along. “Tell you what. Leave it with me. Call off your little computer dweeb, so I can travel without being tracked and I will see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, but I will do whatever I can to get you a meeting.”

In customary fashion, he threw down some bills on the table, grabbed a slice, then got up. “Let me know when you have something for me.” 

“No guarantees. Just get off my ass, OK?”

“Done and done. Have a safe flight.” 

And he sauntered out of the restaurant. I looked at my watch. It would be about 11:00 in Switzerland.

I used my burner to call Kari collect. I started a long-winded explanation of what had just happened with Rick and explained that I wasn’t quite sure what to do. My stuff was all ready to be shipped. And I was too. She took it all in and then after a few seconds of silence started speaking again.

“Ship your stuff to Geneva and take a flight to Paris. Only use your burner phone to book it. Back up everything on your computer, personal phone, even your iPad then reset them right back to the factory settings. Don't open anything until you get here. It won’t be very entertaining on the plane, but nobody will be able to track you that way. Also, stop using your credit card. Go get enough cash to get you here.”

“You obviously don’t trust Rick.” 

“Darling I don’t trust anyone.” 

“OK. I’ll do all that ASAP and let you know my schedule as soon as I have confirmed it.”

“This will be fine. I will get a message to Damon and let him know what’s happening. He may want to have a call with Mr. D’Angelo, and he will certainly know if anything smells off.”

I went back to the studio and spent the next three hours backing up everything onto one of my remote hard drives. I cancelled my cable and internet services, backed up and stripped my computer, iPad and phone. 

Once I had done all that, I called and reserved a seat on the next Pan Am flight to Charles DeGaulle in Paris, then called Fed Ex to have them come and pick up my suitcases and ship them to the Geneva Airport. 

It was early evening by the time I finished backing up and resetting my hardware and packing. I was bushed. I sat at the top of the stairs and looked out at my studio. Some crazy shit had gone down here over the years. But I now had a great portfolio and the kind of experience only a decade in New York could have given me. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a whole different kind of life. In a whole different world. 

~ 13 ~

Rick sat on an uncomfortable office chair next to his hacker, Joshua Mack. Mack was banging away on the keyboard and grunting. He wasn’t happy. 

“Your boy knows what he’s doing, Rick. He’s killed every signal trail I had been using. He is, as they say in the cop movies, in the wind.”

“Fuck.”

“There’s nothing I can do to trace him other than with his credit card and he’s probably cut that up too and is just using cash. He’s obviously no dummy.”

“Or he’s getting help from someone who knows how to hide.”

“Anyway. I’ll keep the tracker on his credit card for all the good it will do.

Rick got up.” OK Josh. Thanks for your help.” 

“So this makes us even, right.”

“Right.” And with that, Rick turned and left the office. He walked down the hall to the elevator and took it up to the fifth floor. He entered his office and sat down then swivelled and looked out the window. There was nothing he could do but wait to hear from Bobby.

~ 14 ~

Kari was waiting for me at Charles DeGaulle. It was good to see her and I let her know. We stayed at a suburban hotel outside of Paris and the next day, we drove to the Geneva Airport to pick up my cases. 

I explained to her that I had done everything she had instructed me to and that I was reasonably certain that Rick could not be tracking me. When we got back to her house, she brought out a frequency scanner to see if there were any bugs planted in the systems of my phone, laptop and iPad. Everything came up clean. So, as far as she was concerned, I had made an expert getaway.

She also told me that she had talked to Damon about Rick, and though he was skeptical, he agreed to have a conversation with him. 

I sent Rick a text from an untraceable text program on Kari’s computer. I gave him the number where he could reach Damon, and have his conversation, and intimated that this would be the end of our contact. The text came back with a thumbs-up emoji. And all I could think of is what kind of world have we created where people have to jump through hoops of fire to keep from being tracked. 

“We’re at the end of the tunnel now, Bobby.” she said. 

“Let’s hope so. This is not my idea of a good time.” 

“Well then, we’ll have to change that, won’t we.” 

I took a couple hours to unpack. Kari suggested I have my own room, for everything but sleeping and other stuff, explaining that she simply didn’t have enough closet space in her room.

The next day we drove into Geneva, where Kari leased a Mercedes SUV for me. 

We also went into her bank where I met her banker, Dieter Krauss, opened a current account, gave him my account number in New York and authorized the transfer of funds in the account as well as any money that came in from the recent jobs I had completed. 

Dieter, a young man with a very proper bearing, handed me a card and told me to make sure to mention his name any further transfers from Ollie in New York transfer. This was all handled with the ruthless efficiency the Swiss are famous for. I was even issued a cash card with a Visa card that I could pick up in a few days time,  so I wouldn’t have to lug tons of Euros around with me.

Kari then took me to a local business supply store where I bought a new colour laser printer, and a supply of the ink and paper I would need to print new portfolio pieces. I also found a great work desk and a very comfortable office chair and lamp. Finally, we went to an Apple store and bought a new SIM card for my iPhone with an unlisted Swiss number. I would also create a new Gmail account and send it to my accountant and all my contacts in New York.

By this time, it was about 7 PM and my brain was fried. So we went to pick up the SUV and I followed Kari to Jolli’s steakhouse and we had dinner. Kari was treated like royalty in this restaurant. The chef himself came out to say hello. Obviously, she was a regular and valued customer. 

I followed Kari home, unloaded the car, and we both collapsed into bed. This had been a crazy couple of days. But Kari was like me in that she liked to get stuff done as quickly as possible. 

The next morning, after some fooling around and a light breakfast, Kari led me down into the basement. It was divided into two parts. One was a small gym with a sauna in the corner and a shower right next to it. The other section was accessible through a rather plain door by the stairway that opened into an unfinished space, which served as a kind of storage room and a place for her washer and dryer. She took me over to the corner and reached behind a shelf filled with boxes. Suddenly, the cinder block wall opened up, revealing another room. It was basically a panic room. It was equipped with running water, a shower, toilet and sink, a large bed, a table, a few chairs and a closed-circuit TV system which, when she turned it on, showed 12 different views of her property inside and out. In the far corner of the room was a tall steel box with a keypad. She went over and punched in the numbers and the box opened up to reveal a small arsenal. Two Accuracy International sniper rifles with scopes, a pair of H&K 9 millimetre handguns, a couple of heavy-duty knives and a small stack of 9 millimetre and 30 calibre clips and ammo boxes for both the pistols and rifles.

“Damon had this room built for me. The weapons and the ammunition are all clean.” She said. “So far, I haven’t had to use any of it. But I wanted you to know about it because you just never know.”

“You do realize that your rifles will quite literally blow somebody’s head off.

Kari looked at me and flashed a brief smile. “Well, isn’t that the point? Anybody who shows up looking for me isn’t coming for tea and crumpets.”

“I assume you’re trained on it?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m quite proficient with all of it. I thought the rifle would kick a lot more than it does.” 

That pretty much did it for me. I was definitely in love. Before she closed up the locker, I took one of the 9mm pistols and a couple of clips. Better safe than sorry.

Kari had convinced me to take a couple of weeks off before starting my search for work. When I asked her what she was planning to do with all the leisure time she would now have, she told me that she could finally try some interior design and that she was going to re-design her house as her first sample. I said that I would be only too happy to photograph it for her, even help with the painting.

So we were off to a rollicking good start. For the next couple two weeks, we took day-long and overnight trips to various places that she wanted to show me and also get ideas for room settings and possible shoot locations. It honestly felt like we were living in some kind of movie. I was amazed at how relaxed we were with each other. I had been to Europe a couple of times on shoots but never really got to look around at the actual countries themselves. The best thing about Switzerland was that you were smack in the middle of the most stunning countryside you can imagine. There was a real feeling of solidity here, especially in the towns we visited. There was a lot of respect shown for older buildings and the heritage they represented. The more I saw, the more I became convinced that Europe made almost everything in America feel garish and, for the most part, tasteless. 

I brought my digital camera and shot all kinds of pictures, ideas for Kari and potential locations for me to shoot fashion, if that should happen. At that moment, I didn’t feel any sense of urgency to get back to work. And Kari never mentioned it. I think, honestly, I had lost all track of time.

Kari reprogrammed my phone, MacBook and iPad and connected them under her formidable firewall. I have to admit I was not doing things at my usual gung-ho pace. But at the same time, I didn’t feel at all guilty about it. I was really focused on Kari, and she loved all the attention. The only thing she did with any sense of regularity was work out. She swam at least 100 lengths of her pool every day and had a half-hour routine of light weights and board exercises that she did every evening. We also bought a pair of road bikes and went on excursions through the hilly countryside at least a couple of times a week once spring had sprung.

The spring rolled by. Then one day a couple of weeks into April, Damon Ramsay showed up out of the blue. We sat at the kitchen counter, which is where the newspapers got read and the crosswords got done.

“Ive had a couple of conversations with our mutual friend, Rick,” Damon said. “I usually have a good sense of direction when I am evaluating people. But this time I am perplexed. I need you to do me a favour if you would be so kind.” 

“Sure, Damon. Just name it. I thought you would have wound things down by now.” 

“I have to admit I have been on a golf tour of the world and really haven’t thought much about it. Plus, these things generally take time. I had several commitments to fulfill, so I put Mr. D’Angelo off for that reason. But I’m back on my home ground now and would like to get this over with. Which brings me to my favour. I’d like you to go to New York and make certain that he is the free agent he is telling me he is. You really can’t be too cautious in these matters.”

“Not a problem.” I said. 

“As I recall, he told you he would be free as of the first week in March. Well, it’s now five weeks later, and I just want to know that he’s not still in the employ of Uncle Sam” Damon said.

Kari just nodded. “I’ll drive you to Paris.”

“I’d be much obliged and I will certainly make it worth your while, financially.” Damon said.

“We’ll worry about that later. I’d be very interested from my perspective, because if he’s lied to me, well…”

“Just find him, then track his movements for a few days. That’s all it should take.” Damon said.

“Consider it done, Damon.”

I packed a small bag and reserved a direct flight to New York. On the way to Paris, we stopped at the bank and I got a few thousand US dollars. No way I was using a credit card there.

I got to New York in the afternoon. I took a cab to the bus station and stashed my bag in a locker there. I then walked over 2nd Avenue and staked out the entrance to Rick’s building. I found a comfortable place to sit, grabbed a warm pretzel and a can of Coke from a street vendor and hunkered down to wait. 

At about 6 PM, my patience was rewarded. Rick came out of the building with two other men, older and dressed in suits. I followed them to the Hyatt on Lexington, where they went into the bar and sat down. 

I watched from the lobby. This was an after-work drink. There was no seriousness in their body language. One of the suits was regaling Rick and the other suit with a story of some sort. A lot of oohs and ahhs and laughter. But the thing I knew for sure was that Rick has lied his ass off to me and to Damon. He would therefore be seen as a threat and avoided. But if he kept pushing, well, he would have to be dealt with.

I got my bag from the locker at Grand Central and headed uptown. I grabbed some Thai food on the way and paid cash for a room at a hotel close to my old studio. Early the next morning, I got a cab downtown to Rick’s building and staked it out again. Around 10:30, he came sauntering up 2nd Avenue, with a coffee in his hand, and entered the building.

I took a cab back up to the hotel, grabbed my gear and headed out to JFK, where I hung out for the better part of the afternoon till my flight to Paris was called. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I had no desire to hang around the city where I had spent the last ten years. It was like that chapter in my life was done and all I wanted to do was get on with the new life I’d found over in Europe with my beautiful, retired merchant of death.

~ 15 ~

Three days later, Kari and I met with Damon at a hotel near the Geneva airport. He was on his way to St Andrews in Scotland, where he had evidently wangled an invite to play with a former client. 0He was quite excited by the prospect of playing on one of the world’s most revered courses. I knew nothing about golf other than Tiger Woods, but Damon was almost giddy at the prospect of playing there.  After a couple of drinks, I was ready to discuss the Rick D’Angelo business.

“Well, your instincts were correct. He is still very much gainfully employed by the CIA. At least as far as I can see. I caught him leaving one day and entering the next.”

“That’s too bad.” Damon said. “He talked a very ambitious game. Do you suppose he’s just hedging his bets and would leave the CIA if I were to make him an offer?”

“If you want my honest opinion, which I am sure you do, I would not trust him as far as I could throw him,” I said.

“Very colourful. But your point is well taken. Kari?”

Kari had been daydreaming, because I noticed her willing herself back into focus. “I agree with Bobby. He lied about being out of the intelligence business, which means he probably lied about wanting to take over our business, which means, he’s just a fucking liar and we have no reason to trust him.”

Damon looked over at me. “I’ll give you the pleasure, Mr. Granger, of breaking Mr. D’Angelo's heart. Rather sad really, because, well, he does know his way around.”

I sensed that Damon was having second thoughts. 

“It may very well be that he’s keeping himself employed, you know, to keep his rent paid and all.” I said.

“Yes, well. Let me think about it some more. In the meantime perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to confront him about it.”

“I can do that.” I said.

Damon sort of nodded. “Very well.” Then he looked at his watch. “I have to check out and catch a flight to Scotland. I’ll stay in touch.” 

With that Damon got up, leaned over and gave Kari a peck on the cheek and patted me on the back. “You make a very handsome couple. Mr. Granger, take good care of Kari, the next few months might be a little bumpy.”

The next day I sent Rick a text and arranged to have a video chat with him. I timed it so it would be around three in the morning his time, figuring that I might as well make him suffer a sleepless night for lying to us. At 9:00 our time, Rick sent me a Google Meet code and we connected. 

“OK, Rick, so first of all, I will tell you flat-out the answer from Damon is no. Period. And I will tell you why, if you are interested.”

“I’m all ears Bob. Fire away.”

“It’s real simple, Rick. you’re still working at Spook Central. You lied to us all about that.”

“And you know this how?”

“I know this because I went to New York last week and watched you strut out of the building with a couple of suits and back into your building the next morning. So you can see how we would find that a bit disconcerting. You’re beating a dead horse, Rick. There’s no way that Damon would want to have anything to do with you. Because, you know and I know that their business is based on trust, and that is something that they will never have in you.”

After a long silence, Rick said. “Come on Bob, did you honestly think I was gonna quit my job and wait around for you guys to make up your minds? I do have to live, you know. But I will tell you that if Damon wanted to bring me on board, I will be out of there inside a week.” 

“Ahhh Rick. The one thing I always admired about you is how you can make anything sound like the real deal”.

“Yeah, it’s a gift.”

“Trouble is that everybody over here is having a really hard time believing you about anything.”

“Tell you what. If Damon agrees to bring me in, I will quit tomorrow.”

I have to admit I was stumped about how to play this. Kari reached out and pressed the mute button on the keyboard. “Tell him we’ll think about it and get back to him in a couple of weeks.”

I switched off the muting. “We’ll take it from here. If you’re on the level, we’ll bring it up with Damon and let him decide.”

“Fair enough.”

We disconnected. All this bullshit was exhausting. But Kari seemed to be energized by it.

“You know, I’d feel really bad if Rick was being straight with us.” I said.

“There’s no way to know that with any certainty. You just have to go with what you feel. But I have to admit he’s starting to feel like a pesky mosquito in the tent. I’m afraid things will not end well for him.” Kari said, and I knew exactly what she meant.

~ 16 ~

The next two weeks were spent not thinking about anything very much. I was amazed at how quickly I got used to making love, sleeping late and eating great food. 

We contacted Damon and filled him in on our conversation with Rick. We decided that we would wait before getting back to him and Damon would do that. He proposed a solution that didn’t involve any of us. He would send Rick directly into the lion’s den and see if he was bullshitting or not. He would give Rick the name of a contact in Angola who was looking for anti-aircraft weapons and another contact in Latvia who had them for sale. Damon was not fond of the Latvian contact, who was essentially a lunatic. The Angolans were just hoods who would auction the weapons off to the terrorist group with the most cash. Damon called it a baptism of fire, because unless Rick was able to convince them he was on the level, they would simply kill him, and take their chances with any American-made retribution. It would also save us the trouble of having to get rid of Rick ourselves. After that, if Rick was still in one piece, Damon would bring him on board and educate him on the finer points of the business. 

Later that evening, after a few glasses of champagne and a beer for me, Kari said. “You know, I have more than twenty-two million Euros in cash and investments. This house is paid for, as are my cars. If you were to choose to delay going back to work for an extended period, I would not mind at all.” 

I thought about that for a moment or two. “You know, that’s a nice offer, and I appreciate it. But I have to tell you, part of the reason, maybe just a small part of it now, is that I wanted to see if my work would be good enough to build a business here. I love that you have made me this offer, and it’s tempting as hell. But I need to find this out first.”

Kari smiled. “That’s so American. Any European man would have just toasted his good fortune.” 

“Well, I’m glad I’m not one of those.”

Kari leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I am too. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along on this journey.” 

“Not at all. One thing I was planning to do was create a separate company that would handle all the financial transactions and be my public identity over here. I was thinking of calling it Europa Foto. The only place my actual name would appear is on the incorporation documents. I assume that you know a place where I can do this confidentially.”

“All we have to do is tell Dieter that and he will add it to your account information and create a separate business account for you. The more you do with the bank the less anybody knows.”

“What about taxes?”

“Eventually, yes. But Dieter will recommend an accountant.” 

“Sounds like bankers here are a lot more than bankers.”

“This is one of the reasons I live here, Bobby.”

~ 17 ~

Over the next few months, I was right about something and wrong about something else. I was right about my style fitting nicely into the European market. It wasn’t long at all before I was doing work for Paris Vogue, and a couple of the top ad agencies in Paris, Brussels and Milan. Kari jumped right in and gradually took on the role of production manager, and my rep. She likened it to what she used to do except without the weapons and the unsavoury characters. I could see her point. 

What I was wrong about was Rick. He jumped at Damon’s offer and took to the weapons brokering trade like a duck to water. So in the end, I guess everybody got what they were looking for. Despite his overtures by text, I was not about to let Rick, and the world he had become part of, into my life. And Kari agreed. So I guess you could say that this story had a happy ending. Which, when you consider how many guns and slime buckets were involved, was a refreshing change.

But of course, there’s always something.

~ 18 ~

It was a warm summer evening. We were sitting by the pool after a swim, enjoying the evening air, and sipping margaritas, which we had both taken a liking to. After a few minutes, Kari got up out of the lounge chair, gave me a peck on the cheek and told me she was going in for a shower. I was thinking about another swim and had just gotten to my feet when I heard a voice behind me.

“Nice digs, Bob. Up here in the Alps with the chipmunks and the deer and your ex-gunrunner honey.”

I turned around and there was Rick, all decked out in a Saville Row suit, looking very prosperous. 

“I guess it was just a matter of time before you found us,” I said. “But from what I understand you’ve taken the business over from Damon and are on your way to becoming fabulously well-to-do.”

Rick sat down and the table and poured himself a Margarita from the pitcher. I sat down opposite him. Then, surreptitiously, I reached under the table and flipped the switch on the wireless intercom. 

“So…to what do we owe the pleasure, Rick?” 

Rick took a long sip of the Margarita. “Oh, that’s good. To tell you the truth it’s a character flaw of mine. I’ve always been anal about making sure my ducks were all in a row. Not being able to find you, when that was job one in my job jar, you know it just stuck with me. I had to prove to myself that a fashion photographer and a lady gunrunner couldn’t outsmart me. Maybe you’ve had that same feeling about a shot you were doing. Sometimes you just can’t let it go until you’ve got it.” 

“I’m curious about how you found us.”

“I had some time. You get a lot of spare time in the gunrunnin’ business. So I did some research. You know, spook stuff. The rest was kind of kismet. I was in Paris when I happened upon one of your shoots. I noticed that beautiful black Mercedes SUV of yours, so I bought a digital tracker and stuck it under your rear bumper. Then I followed you here. Easy peasy.”

“Just to be sure, there’s nobody else looking for us, right?”

“No. Just me and my jones to find you.” 

“And so, now that you’ve done that, what are you gonna do about it?” I got up and walked to one of the lounge chairs and grabbed a towel. I could see some movement from within the house. I sat back down and started drying my hair,

“Do? Oh, no, I’m not gonna do anything.' Rick said. 

“My assumption is they’ve probably already back-burnered your girlfriend and her uncle Damon and have their attention set on me. I don’t know that for sure, but it’s a pretty fair guess. You see, I’m nowhere near as honourable as Mr. Ramsay was. It’s strictly the highest bidder who gets the goodies. I don’t give a rat’s ass about geopolitics. 

“And that brings me to the real point, Rick. I’m dealing with thirty different kinds of scum out there and it occurred to me that I might need a little insurance, maybe in the form of a good sniper to make sure that my ass is covered while these deals are being consummated.”

And you want me to be that protection? What the fuck,  Rick, haven’t I already done enough for you?” 

“Apparently not. There’s still a price on the gunrunner’s heads, Bob. And it wouldn’t be rocket science on any level to flip that switch and get them nabbed. But you can prevent all that just by saying yes, amigo.”

That was the last thing Rick would ever say. Because just then, there was a loud crack and Rick’s head virtually exploded from the force of a 30-calibre Mercury-tipped bullet hitting it. There’s nothing quite like that sound. 

I turned toward the house and saw Kari standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She was wrapped up in a towel and holding the rifle, smoke trickling out the end of the barrel. She stared at me for a good thirty seconds, shook her head and went back into the house.

Kari, of course, knew a guy who could, for a certain amount of money, get rid of the body, and return Rick’s rental BMW, no questions asked. And that was pretty much the end and Rick, the pesky mosquito, was erased from our lives. And, that’s the story. 

But the lesson here is that there are pitifully few people in this world that you can really trust. The best advice is to trust no one who hasn’t proven they love you. Because if they don’t love you, they will use you and keep on using you until, one day, you’re all used up.

That’s how it is. That’s how it goes. And it never changes. 

FIN