Chapter 1

Yep, there was more than only the sea under it. I heard the crying first, then again a minute later. Nope not a gull, or a dog, not any animal that I might think of and it was too early or maybe too late in the season for a romantic tourist tryst. The crying sounded more like a sob now.

One thing I learned at least was what to expect in places like this, Jersey, Maryland, Virginia. Georgia, Florida, they were all the same. Thinking some, I recall being happy it was not a ‘jumper’. You can’t really do much reasoning with a jumper. The thought was strange since the sound was definitely coming from below, not anyone like a jumper I could see on the pier. I decided to ignore the sound below me. It was none of my business after all; I was there for totally another reason, a recovery of sorts.

I was not a nice guy, certainly not some Samaritan or a ‘do-good-er’. I mean I’m not a ‘bad’ guy only the kind of life I lead is not conducive to many people that would consider it as a rewarding career. I do the things others will pay me to do, things they can’t or won’t do. Some are simple collections or security. The pay for those is not great but it gets you known and in this business, the big money jobs come from a referral.

What constitutes big money you ask? They usually fall into two or three categories. One is investigation for things like a divorce, insurance claim or validation of one’s or that of a target’s, security, be it home, office or auto. For $1-2,000 a day plus expenses a few of these a month pays the bills. The next step up is recovery. That might be some stolen priceless object (Not insured usually) or even a kidnap victim. Price to be agreed upon, but normally 10% of the value or ransom with $100,000 as a retainer plus expenses each week or month. One success on something like that a year or two is what everyone wants.

The third type is a bit awkward to try to explain. Why? Because it is usually unclear which ‘hat’ your client is wearing. Let me give you an example. Daddy wants his runaway daughter back. He says she is being ‘brainwashed’ by some religious fanatic, fell in with a biker gang or is being drugged and does not know what she is doing and wants her ‘rescued’. Depending on her age, the phrase ‘Danger Will Robinson’ as the old TV series would warn might apply. What the client says is not always the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

It is easier to judge right from wrong when there is some ‘Provenance’, like a rare coin or painting, to go by. Oh, right, what else. Well that ‘what else’ might be a thing some folks call ‘Justice’ or ‘Revenge’. These can net you $5,000-$150,000 if they are not time-sensitive. A broken arm or leg, a few days in the Hospital, a car blown up, you know, the simple reminder for the target to constantly be looking over their shoulder from now on or settle the ‘debt’.

Unless ... if the precise degree of ‘incentive’ applied is to the extreme it could even cause one to call it a ‘Hit’, a ‘Contract, Confirmation or a Communion’. If you are from the New York, Boston, Cleveland, Kansas City, Detroit, Chicago or LA area you probably can relate to those names. In Vegas, ‘He Sleeps With The Fishes (Not a food group) or it may be better known as; ‘May He Rest In Peace’ most everywhere else. If the mark is in the car when it blows up that makes a few grand difference to get done.

A very few of these assignments rarely are ‘high profile’ endeavors with a long-term effect; such as St. Valentine’s Day, Jimmy Hoffa’s ‘vacation’, last supper at Umberto’s, the Pope’s, what was his name, exit but ‘any-who’ try $1-$25 million for that type of work; avoid them though. Prices over $200 mil for a ‘Big Name Hit’, one like Papa Doc, Idi ‘Da-da’ Amin, Gadaffi/Qaddafi or a Saddam for instance are dicey jobs. You might retire, or be retired yourself doing one of those. C’mon man, get serious, do you really think you will get paid and ‘live long and prosper Captain’? Those kind you definitely want to avoid, they are bad for your health. If it sounds too good to be true, it most certainly is not true.

So, getting back to the story on the pier. My client was ‘shy’ maybe or careful or I was being ‘set up’. I hated rain, rather getting wet, watching rain is Okay if I’m warm and dry. I hate cold and snow too, and that may influence where I choose to live. No it is not the desert, it gets cold at night there and if you ever tried diving into a pool that was 112 degrees it is no fun. Same no-no with Gators, Snakes, Sharks and Jellyfish. Oh, I hate there being a lot of people around too. Does not leave a lot of places near an airport to choose from does it?

There will be a reward if I use your suggestion about somewhere on your list. Right, also forget them ‘Creepy-Crawlers’, bugs, Piranha, Lions, Tigers, Predatory females and most Widows. (They already got rid of at least one guy)

Right now ‘Jimmy’s place’ (Kingston, Jamaica) is an alternative but the Marina at the British Virgin Islands is too (Look for the sloop ‘Tom and Jerry’, there; used to be at Bahia Mar) it is great for 179 days a year and is my first choice followed by San Diego (long sail to go there) or Savannah. St. John (Costa Rica), Buenos Aires (Argentina), Malaga (Spain), were Okay but a might dull for the long term.

The client was a ‘no-show’ for a recovery job, as I said, so 1.5 minutes after the appointed hour I exited ‘Stage Right’ as ‘Snaggle’ would say (US old cartoon).

I was now wet, hungry and pissed for having to wait for nothing. It was at times like this that it gave me pause to consider having a ‘cut-out’ or even using a ‘broker’.

At first, when younger, I was like most red blooded boys. I loved fast cars and even faster women. Had the toys, ‘65Cobra (Too small), ‘67 Corvette (Sting Ray), ‘72 Porsche but never got the Ferrari) and I do not even want to discuss what those ‘Bastards’ wanted for insurance. More costly were a couple of mistresses, a few ‘SOs’, and couple of wives. I then settled down a bit and got a Mercedes 500 Sedan. Got my very first passport at 17 and spent most of my life places on assignments, other than where I lived.

I finally figured out that no one ‘trusted’ me very much. Some did with money, some with their small ‘jobs’ or to ‘negotiate’ a deal for them; not with those women and girls around them though. I guess they were too smart or had a feeling about that. I never tried to hide who my friends and associates were. In-fact a few times I even brought coffee and doughnuts to the FBI guys tailing me. No problem, they were just doing their job.

It was a good life for a bit, a Mafia Princess at breakfast (Wife then), FBI tail (Two of them), Lunch with a ‘family’ Enforcer No. 3 man), drop in to ‘borrow’ ammo from the safe at the FBI office (We shoot together from time to time) or see if the CIA guy (He was just there as a ‘relay) was in his FBI office, usually not. Ice crème with ‘Jimmy H’s” bodyguard at night in Detroit or Cleveland (He was big at 6’, 8” 350 pounds) and dinner at some ‘Family’ place (Lot of them). The only way you do those kinds of ‘stupid’ things is to keep them ‘compartmentalized’ and never try to hide anything from anybody.