Monday, March 5, 2012

Chapter Sixty-six

Hamilton, Bermuda
6:07 AM

Fibromyalgia reminds me how mortal I am.  I am exhausted. Pain shoots through my legs and my head is killing me. I hurt in places I don't even have.
Yet every fiber in my body was aching to kick in Walters' door and rip his spine from his worthless carcass.
The early morning air was heavy with salt.  The sun’s sliver of orange shimmered above the eastern horizon, making me wish I had sunglasses.  Yet, there we were riding in the back of a Bentley like it was just another day.
It isn’t.
Angus seemed oblivious to the exquisite details of the car. I, however, couldn't restrain myself and kept touching the burled wood inlay, the fine leather and the cashmere headliner.  This is how real money travels.  Angus wrote a note as he talked on the phone.
“Yes, thank you, Pinkey.  Yes, yes, we’ll definitely need to get that round of golf in.  And again, so sorry to wake you. We should be there in half an hour.”  He hung up the car-phone, sat back and stroked his stubbled chin.
“Roberts, would you be so kind as to carry us to …” Angus patted his pockets, looking for the card he had just written the information on.  “Where the bloody hell did …” he stopped, held up the note card.  “Ah, yes, quite.  Roberts, please take us here.” Angus handed the note card over the seat to the driver.
He’s tired, too.
Then he looked at me.  “Roberts is very discreet, Jake.  Served with me in the regiment in Angola.”  The  driver’s head nodded in agreement.  Angus continued,  “As you heard, I asked one of my bankers – another contact from the regiment - if he knew anything about Walters.  He did not wish to say much over the telephone but I suspect Old Pinkey has his ear to the ground and will have some solid leads.”
“Yes, he puts on the Lord.”  Angus sighed as he turned to face me.  He poured tea, yet again, from a beautiful silver set nestled astride a built-in cabinet.  I’d give anything for a Big-Gulp about now.
“Pinkey came from before the mast … our way of saying he came up from the ranks.  I think he had been a petty thief and was given the choice of service or serving time.”  Angus shrugged as if it didn't matter to him.  “The man, however, has a rapier-like mind of which SAS took extreme advantage.”
Angus blew on his cup then continued.  “Much later in my career I stumbled across Pinkey at our embassy in Belize.  Saville Row suit and very different accent.”  He settled his cup onto the tray.  “MI6 had picked him up and polished him to the nines.  Nice job, too.”
“Since then I have used Pinkey as a banker on many an ‘off-shore’ transaction.”  He looked out the window at coral and turquoise estates.  With a wry smile he finished. 
“In essence, he’s still a thief.”

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