“You need something?”
She looked up at him and smiled, “Yeah, you know anything about the so-called ‘White List’ as maintained by the Paris Memorandum of Understanding on Port State Control?”
Aw, fuck. She was pulling him into conversations about the flagging of this vessel.
“Ha! I can see on your face you have a clue.” She grinned like she just got lucky and was about to give him the monkey sitting on her back. She kicked a chair in his direction. That was a plain enough command. He grabbed it and sat down.
“Looking to see about registration of the boat?”
“Yup, got it in one. Well, this one and the other, at least. I’ve read enough to know that we will be operating them as pleasure only, not commercial. Well, I can’t see offering charters on these things, can you? Considering I’m planning on putting weapons and military gear on it, I can’t imagine the insurance costs if a charter blew up.” She smiled at that. The insurance on a three hundred million dollar yacht was going to be pretty significant.
This shit was going to eat into her income like crazy.
Good thing the veiled threat to the Saudi family went well. The family decided that selling the boat to her was the better decision out of the options which became available upon Robbin’s death.
Bethany Anne’s group had plans in place in case the Saudi’s had decided to try and blackmail them or renege on the deal.
Bethany Anne needed to see if there was anything she could do to make some money with this and the other ship. This yacht already had two landing pads and one could handle Shelly, she considered just selling the other.
“Have you considered if you need to rent time or provide assistance to another one of your companies? Having it flagged as pleasure only would likely open you up for questions, if not the effort to impound the ship until the questions get answered. Better to just go commercial optional from the beginning.”
She screwed up her face in disgust, he was making sense and threw out the porthole the little she had figured out from research so far.
He continued. “So, best choice is probably one from the Red Ensign Group. In particular, the Cayman Islands, Gibraltar and the Isle of Man. Probably close to 80% of big yachts are flagged and those three are the most often selected. Factors influencing your choice can include in no particular order prestige, tradition, history, international recognition of high standards and adherence to the Large Yacht Commercial Code. They have ready availability of a large number of qualified surveyors, good consular services and navy. They are known for their commercial confidentiality which would be pretty important for us.”
She started shaking her head in agreement. Bobcat was starting to warm up to the conversation. He knew it would be a headache and it only touched on the areas he usually dealt with. “The Red Ensign registry with the largest number of yachts is the Cayman Islands Shipping Registry, the are generally considered the best in service.”
She looked like she had made a decision. Great! He could be out of here in a few seconds. She looked over at him with that ‘cat just ate the canary look’.
“You know Bobcat, your just a wealth of information I didn’t know you had. I appreciate you taking over the review and research into this problem. Here, I’ll leave you the captains cabin to use while you track down all of the answers.” She got up quickly and patted him on the shoulder as she left the room and closed the door.
He looked around, she had left the monkey in the room with him. Fuck.
Jacksonville, FL - USA
Captain B. Thomas, always ‘B’ and not Bartholomew, was sitting on his sofa drinking a Bud Light. He didn’t even have the TV turned on. Hell, the sun was over the yardarm somewhere, right? He was frankly bored and ready to go crazy.
He was ‘released from Active Duty’ over two months ago and afterwards he had been given a recommendation to take early retirement.
He had made the mistake of voicing his feelings about the mentoring program that all four branches used to bring back high ranking officials for war games and other tasks. Some of those tasks included training at the military colleges.
All of that he could get behind. It was the fact that these guys (and one gal, to be fair) were also serving on the boards of large military defense contractor companies getting paid even bigger bucks. He had always felt it should be an either or situation. They should go for the consulting with the defense or the military.
He felt sure that most of the mentors probably policed themselves appropriately and honorably. However; the fact that NO ONE wanted a forced requirement to share just how much everyone was paid and fought hard to keep the knowledge from getting out was a serious problem. He felt, strongly, that either there was a problem, or others were wanting everything to stay the same for the future when they got there. That it was to ‘protect the existing opportunities’ seemed a crock of shit to him. What, these men (and woman) that put in so many years for their country were all going to fail to support the United States in the future? Not likely. They should all have the backbone to be up front with what was going on.
His telephone rang. He considered ignoring it. He didn’t need to talk with another salesman who wanted to sell him something useless. He listened to the second ring and looked at his beer. What the hell else did he have going on? He picked up his phone and hit the answer button.
“Thomas here.” His voice was commanding without being overbearing. It made you stand up straighter without realizing you were doing so.
“Mr. B. Thomas?” The voice on the other side of the phone was a older voice, but seemed to be strong yet. He also didn’t call him Bartholomew, that was a major plus already. He reached over and grabbed a pencil and marked a single line in the right column. At the top of the left column was his first name. The top of the right column just had the letter ‘B’. The left column had 27 marks, five groups of five and two extra. The right had the single, new mark.
“That’s right, what are you selling?” He took his second pad. It had five columns marked ‘land, stocks, medical, time share, and misc.’ He got ready to put a mark in the medical column. It was a fair guess with the seller sounding older.
“My name is Frank Kurns, I’m ‘selling’ a job with an elite agency as a captain for a significantly sized vessel and sea taxi. Crew to be pulled from Navy’s best. Interested?”
Thomas added an additional column and labeled it ‘Job’. He marked the column. Seeing how this was the first one in two months it seemed worthwhile to continue the conversation.
“With the Navy?”
Frank put as much emotion in his voice as he could, “I’m sorry, no. From my records the chance of you going back into the Navy is about the same as the Jacksonville Jaguars going to the Super Bowl.”
Thomas laughed, “Yeah, well, you have my attention now. That you know this means you are not who I thought you were.”
The voice on the other end of the line sounded amused, “Who did you think I was?”
“A telephone salesman selling medical insurance or something like that.”
It was Franks turn to laugh. “Ok, that’s fair. It wasn’t like I tried to get you through the normal means. However; I can assure you that we do have a good medical plan. Probably better than the Navy’s.”
“Oh, why is that?”
“Well, to be frank about it, our people probably need the best. This might be a non-governmental job, but I never said it wasn’t needed or safe. If you are interested, I have to get you to Miami for a private plane that is going to take you and five others to Nassau tonight.
Thomas looked at his watch. “What time? I can hit the road in 10 and be there by 5:00 PM at the earliest depending on traffic. The trip takes about five hours.” He might have given away a negotiation edge, but he was going crazy here and anything that needed good medical spoke of the possibility for life to be a lot more interesting.
“I’ll send your phone the address.”
“Not to be an ass, bu
t what is the pay and incidentals for this job interview?”
“You will receive $5,000 in cash when you get on the plane. The ride to and from Nassau will be paid for. The flight there is corporate jet. The flight back if you choose to pass on the job will be commercial on American Airlines. So, if you have a frequent flier card feel free to use it then. The money should cover any expenses and your one night in Nassau. We will get your account info on the trip over and deposit an additional $10,000 before you interview.”
Holy crap! Almost $15k for maybe a day or two? He got off the couch and walked over to the sink pouring his beer out and dropping the can in recycling. He walked back to his room and grabbed his go bag. Old habits die hard.
“Mr. Thomas?”
“Sorry Frank. I was thinking about what I needed to do for a second. I’m interested and if you will send me that address, you can plan on me being there by 5:00. Leave me a return phone number and I’ll let you know if I run into trouble.”
“Very good, see you this evening, Captain Thomas.” The older man hung up. Frank using his title didn’t sound frivolous to Thomas. It rather sounded like a promise.
He locked the door to his apartment behind him and took the stairs going down two at a time. Damn! It felt good to be living again. He was out of Jacksonville in ten minutes. He could have tried to get a flight, but American Airlines didn’t have a lot of scheduled flights and he didn’t want to dick with them. By the time he handled everything, he would be halfway to Miami.
If nothing else, Nassau would be fun to visit. However; he really hoped they had a job that needed doing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Miami, FL - USA
Captain Thomas wasn’t the only Navy, or ex-Navy, on the Gulfstream G550. The plane was very nice and there was a fairly exotic European lady welcoming him to the plane. When he arrived, they told him he could park his car in the hanger. There were three other cars in a line. He parked his BMW 330i next to a ‘Vette. That car had to belong to a pilot.
He was provided a nicely appointed seat done up in black leather and classy wood throughout the plane. The leather smelled brand new. The carpet was a darker grey and the lighting in the plane was subdued with classical music playing. Everyone in the plane wore street clothes, but Navy knows Navy. His contact on the phone was right about this. He must have been headhunting for a while to get everyone here in time.
The gorgeous lady greeted him as he came up the stairs. “Good evening Captain Thomas,” her smile was dazzling, “my name is Ecaterina and if there is anything I can do to make this trip a little more enjoyable, please let me know. Would you care for a drink? The flight time is about an hour or less and there will be a dinner aboard the ship.” He asked the lady what soda she had available. He loved her accent and just wanted to listen to her for a minute. She told him they didn’t serve Pepsi products as the owner of the plane didn’t care for Pepsi, one little bit. However; if he was willing to not tell a soul, she had a six-pack of Pepsi stashed on the side for her boyfriend for when the boss wasn’t on the plane.
She professionally provided an option while letting him know she was already taken. He told her he would be happy to keep her secret if he happened to find Pepsi in his glass and took his seat.
There were four other on the plane he had tagged as Navy, including the pilot he could see up in the cabin. There were two gentleman in the back who were not Navy, but one he had pegged as military or ex-military and the other was an older man. He was possibly his contact on the phone this afternoon. A few seconds later a Marine, if he was any judge, got on and was greeted by Ecaterina and offered a beverage. This was a very interesting flight, indeed.
Ten minutes later, the plane took off for Nassau.
Once the plane leveled out, Thomas noticed the military guy at the back stand up. At the same time, small LCD monitors folded out from above each seat and turned on. There was a logo with “TQB Enterprises” in red on a black background.
“Hello everyone and welcome to the Inauguration flight of TQB Enterprises corporate jet.” Half the people had to turn in their seats to see him. “You are the first to fly who isn’t already part of the company. However; you are the absolute first who have flown in it since the new interior was put in. Please don’t mess it up before the boss see’s it, ok?” There were polite chuckles at that.
“My name is Dan Bosse, and until recently I worked with a very clandestine agency within the US Government whose budget was so small the DOD probably spent more to procure toilets each year. My position was as an Ops Team lead and I was an ‘Agent’ in that operation for decades and lead for fifteen years. I did not leave the agency because our mission was over, rather it is just as bad or worse than it had been in the last thirty years. I left because I met the owner of this jet on my last op in Florida. She showed me that instead of waiting for the bad guys to do something in the USA, she was taking the fight to them. I’m tired of playing defense and I’m happy to be on offense, now.”
He pointed to the older looking man to his left. “This gentleman is Frank Kurns. Every one of you spoke with him on the phone today. He assures me that regardless of how you left the Navy, every one of you have personal ethics that set you apart. I know your security levels in the Navy, and the Marines.” With this he nodded to the last person to join the flight. “However; when you break op-sec in the Navy you get the brig and maybe a court martial. In my area of operations, you usually die.”
Thomas noticed everyone sitting up a little straighter. Those that had to turn in their seats adjusted themselves again to make sure they could see better.
A female two seats ahead of him spoke up, all Thomas could see was dark curly hair over the seat. “A question, sir?”
“Yes, Gunnery Officer Dukes?” The older man, Frank, was busy writing in a notebook beside Dan.
The woman hesitated, forgetting that every one of them was probably hand picked and the Ops Manager would know everyone. She got over it quickly. “What kind of action are you talking about?”
Dan nodded at her question, “Good question. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you the future because we are writing it right now. I can only tell you of one episode that has no bearing on what my team did before. Does everyone know about the Terrorist attack at the Southwest Financial Center in Miami a while back?”
Thomas certainly did. It was news to everyone and the biggest question he and his friends talked about over beer was what team took down the terrorists. The FBI was stumped and the CIA wasn’t speaking a word.
Thomas noticed the marine lean forward in his chair. Officer Dukes just said, “Sure.”
“This will never be admitted by me or any of my team outside of this company, but my team, lead by my boss, put paid to the terrorists.” There was a general level of excitement with that announcement.
“Why was everyone killed?” This lady didn’t have much of a filter between her curiosity and her mouth.
Dan smiled. “My team has only one rule of engagement. That rule is kill or be killed. It seemed that no one thought about that when asking for our help. Since no one is familiar with our group, they wouldn’t know to ask. Wasn’t that just a splendid result?” His open smile let everyone understand where Dan Bosse stood on how to treat terrorists.
A couple of the other people were grinning. The Navy had been hit a few times by terrorist assholes including the USS Cole and the Chattanooga incident. Not too much sympathy in the Navy for terrorists, either. Hell, he found himself grinning. He wanted to shake the hands of the team that worked that operation.
“But we digress, so I’ll have to continue. I’m going to introduce each of you. You will have to stand up and turn to face around. This is the worst designed plane for meetings, let me tell you. Let’s start with you, Gunnery Officer Dukes.”
Thomas saw a shorter woman of hispanic origin stand up. She had curly black hair cut about mid length and her skin was a lighter color. A little pudgy, she was a strong woman who could probably b
lister the paint off the bulwarks when she got cross with anyone.
“Everyone, may I present Gunnery Officer Jean Dukes. She is late off of a Ticonderoga class Cruiser out of Florida. Like every person here, she opened her mouth and the Navy felt it would be better if she should choose to stay quiet, or quietly leave the Navy. Do you care to explain your disagreement, Officer Dukes?”
Her eyes became alabaster, she wasn’t over this disagreement apparently. “No problem, sir. Our ship was on a long patrol when two of the officers went on the town during a three day stay. I was out stretching my own legs heading back to the ship. I cut back between two bars and I heard a woman pleading. I found two officers in a compromising position with an unwilling participant. I kicked their asses. This was made infinitely easier since their pants where down by their feet. I got called to the Captain’s Office the next morning when these two jackoffs made some shit up. I was able to find the lady who corroborated my story and the Captain had a real problem on his hands as these officers were high ranking and liked by the crew. My group liked me, but not too many Gunnery Officers are female. I don’t believe in bro’s before ho’s, sir.”
Dan smiled, “Neither do I, Jean. You will find that my boss will like your response. Although, to be fair she would have put them in the infirmary for sure, possibly the morgue. Thank you.”
Jean sat down. She had been holding this chip on her shoulder for over four months now. She knew that her time in the Navy was done when she got called up to the Captains cabin. That she was able to find the woman and she was willing to press charges was the only thing that saved her.
Jean had gone out on a couple of job interviews and people respected her military time. However; personally she needed more excitement than a desk job in a corporate environment. She had her doubts about this gig, but the ten thousand she was going to receive for this job interview plus the fun of flying on this sweet corporate jet was too much to pass on. Now, she was going to meet the crew that took out the Miami terrorists. With all of these people around her, she was letting herself feel a little optimistic that she might have another home. One that didn’t permit assholes like Nelson and Williams on the team.
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