Danes hardly noticed the scenery or buildings as they walked.Danes had never been to Grand Cayman before and
normally when he visited somewhere for the first
time, he would drink in all the new sights, sounds and smells with
enthusiasm. Not today. Today there were some whales flying around in
his gut, and not in the good way. Before he knew it they were
standing in front of a nondescript office building. Short and squat,
like most of the buildings around here, and made of concrete in the
brutal architectural style of the late '70s early 80s. The only
indications that it was a bank was a small plaque, maybe the size of
an A4 sheet of paper embedded in the concrete of the front wall. It
was stainless steel, engraved only with `Epicurus Industries Bank'.
Danes had bever heard of it before, though the same could be said of
any number of the hundreds of different banks, investment firms and
what-have-you that peppered the streets of George Town.
Most of the ground floor was like the rest of the building, weathered
grey concrete embedded every metre or so with a small-ish window. The
middle third of the ground floor, however, was fronted with reflective
glass panels, tinted slightly bronze. It was hard to see but there
was a small door handle protruding from the right-hand side of the
centre panel. All Danes could see was Himself, Matroska, and the rest
of the street-scene behind him reflected in the building's glass fa\c
cade. A narrow concrete path extended from the street running
straight to the glass door. to each side of the path was a graveled
aread interspersed here and there with various potted plants probably
designed by some long-gone landscaper to soften the stark corporate
feel of the space. It didn't work well, most of the plants were dead.
Still, despite the dismal state of the `garden' the building seemed in
active use. There was a semi-constant stream of suited figures coming
in and out of the building. Most of them fired up cigarettes as they
emerged and milled around on the gravel near the glass wall for a few
minutes as they sated their nicotine hunger, sometimes chatting with
one-another (if another smoker was present) in muted tones before
stubbing out the butt in a conveniently placed ash-tray on the ground,
and returning from whence they came to go about whatever banky
business they might be engaged in.
They had been standing on the path in front of the building for 5
minutes or so Danes guessed before presumably they were taken notice
of. Matroska had made no attempt to enter the building, or to
indicate in any way to any of the passing suits that they had an
appointment. He simply waited. Waited and watched. Yet another man
in a business suit emerged from the glass door. This one, however,
looked straight at them and walked over. He had obviously either seen
or heard of Matroska before as he didn't look surprised in any way at
his formidible appearence. He obviously hadn't seen Danes before but
was not surprised at seeing Matroska accompianied in this way. He
simply looked Danes quickly up and down before his gaze rested once
more upon Matroska.
He spoke, ``Ah Mr. Matroska, welcome,'' and turning to Danes, ``and
you must be Mr McKenzie?'' Danes nodded and the man gave a weak smile
before turning back to Matroska and continuing, ``They're waiting for
you upstairs.'' His voice was slimy and obsequious. Danes disliked
him already.
``And everything has been prepared as per my instructions?'' Matroska
asked in his low monotone, pitch black eyes focussed intently on the
man's face, as if probing his soul for imperfections (of which Danes
was sure there were many).
The man cringed slightly under Matroska's glare. ``Of course, of
course, to the letter. If you gentlement would follow me?'' He
turned and walked back towards the building. They followed.
The inside of the building was in much better condition than the
outside. It was cool and refreshing, obviously having good
air-conditioning is a critical requirement of a functioning office
environment in the Caribbean. The lobby looked much the same as every
other in the many office buildings Danes had had the pleasure of being
in. Opposite the door was a large counter, behind which was sitting a
slightly bored-looking woman, mid twenties and demurely attired.
Receptionist. On the wall behind the counter was a larger version of
the stainless steel plaque which graced the wall outside. Two large
potted plants flanked the door, an additional smaller one sitting off
to one side on the reception counter. Against the walls there were
several comfortable looking sofas for waiting guests, with coffee
tables placed conveniently near them. Everything was normal. Too
normal? What does that even mean? Danes didn't have time to
speculate as they were led around the wall behind the reception
counter, which did not extend the entire width of the lobby, but was
in fact the building's elevator shaft, with the elevator doors facing
the back of the lobby. He made note of a door in the rear wall of the
lobby which (if the sign on it could be trusted) lead to a stairwell.
It always paid to make sure of an alternative exit, and no one wants
to wait for the elevator when a quick exit is desired.
Surprisingly enough they didn't even have to wait for the elevator now
as it opened conveniently just as their host was about to press the
button to summon it. A short trip, up just one level and the doors
opened. They exited into a corridor which apparently ran the width of
the building with doors placed every few metres or so. They were led
to the first door to the right of the elevator as they exited.
Nondescript, like the other doors, their host opened it and they
entered what appeared to be a reasonably sized board room. The far
side of the room was the front of the building and Danes could see
people going about their business in the street a few metres below.
In the middle of the room was a long table with space for around
twenty people. Only two of the chairs were presently occupied, on the
opposite side of the table from the door, with two more suits standing
a respectful distance behind the seated pair. The rest of the room
contained only what one would expect in a modern office meeting room.
Projector screen on the wall at one end of the table, conference phone
sitting in the middle along with various cords sprouting up from a
hole in the table surface, ready and willing to be plugged into a
visiting laptop computer. Around the walls, various cupboards
containing Danes knew not what, but probably random office-type stuff.
Everyone was wearing a suit. What were suits to these people? Danes
had never got that. Maybe being a lower-level IT worker (back when he
did such office work) had exempted him from the great suit cult which
seems to permiate corporate culture. Danes hated them, yeuch,
uncomfortable and hot, especially in this climate. Still, the
building was well cooled so he supposed they were OK at least during
office hours. Matroska strode the couple of metres to the table and
sat down immediately facing the pair. He looked slightly comical
squeezing his mountainous frame into the office chair, obviouslt not
designed for one of his skyscraper height. It didn't seem to bother
him though. Danes took the chair to Matroska's left, sliding it out
from the table slightly to give himself a bit more breathing room. He
looked around again, their slimy guide had left the room and shut the
door. Only now did he get a decent look at the seated pair, and their
standing shadows.
Obviously the two behind were bodyguards. Who else would stand like
that in whatever type of business meeting or transaction this was? He
also thought he could detect the slight bulk of gun holsters under
their fancy armarni suit jackets. Also they way they eyed the
newcomers and seemed to be constantly surveying the surroundings for
potential threats. They seemed almost as aware of everything as
Matroska. No take that back, Matroska didn't \emph{seem} aware of his
surroundings, he just was aware of them. He didn't \emph{seem}
anything really, just was, like a rock.
The seated pair were clearly businessmen of some type. They seemed
important. Important enough to have bodyguards in any case. The one
on the right was thin but tanned, reasonably healthy looking with
black slicked back hair. Looked to be around forty years old and had
a snappy smile like a salesman. He reminded Danes of a lawyer he had
once met. The one on the left was quite a bit older and had obviously
let himself go in recent years. Balding and grey with a terrible
comb-over, the man was pudgy with fat cheeks and a rotund belly. Mean
fat, like Marco thought Danes, though obviously not of south american
origin. They both had on the same sort of dark-blue suit, slightly
pin-striped, which Danes found rather odd, but then again, what did he
know about fancy banking types?
Once they were all seated silence reigned. Danes suspected they were
trying some sort of psyche-out tactic on Matroska. How did they not
know that that wouldn't work?
An underling entered the room with a tray containing coffee
parephenalia and a small plate of biscuits which he set down in the
middle of the table and then left. Finally after a few minutes one of
the business men finally got uncomfortable enough with the silence and
spoke.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
With this post we are up to date with what I have written so far. Further posts will consist of only what I have written in a day (a few thousand words at most) and possibly some commentary on the same. Please keep in mind that this is all a rough draft probably full of spelling and grammar mistakes and all sorts of other errors. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't point them out though. Also, please ignore any Latex command embedded in the text. I can't be bothered to go through and convert them to HTML here (yes an automated tool would probably work, too lazy).
\emph{``Well that went well!''} thought Danes sarcastically as he
barged open the front door and ran out as fast as he could! He could
see the man that Matroska had thrown out of the window lying crumpled
on the dented roof of a nearby car. The man was groaning softly,
Danes suspected that he wouldn't make it. Being thrown out of a first
floor window is one thing, being thrown across a room and
\emph{through} a reinforced plate glass window, falling several metres
onto a car below by none other than Matroska the Prussian is another
thing entirely. Danes wondered how many time he had done it before.
His aim vas very good. However there was no time reminisce now when
he had some desperate escaping to do!
Everything \emph{had} been going well at first, or so it had seemed.
Perhaps it would have always ended like this even if things had gone
differently. No point in thinking about that now. The walk up to the
bank had gone uneventfully enough. The sun was shining, birds were
singing and the population of George Town was going about its merry
business, blisfully unaware of the trepidations racing through Danes'
mind, and the endless stream of encrypted binary-encoded arcana Danes
imagined to be perpetually racing through Matroska's eldritch
techno-grimoire of a mind. The only slightly concerning part being a
few minutes after leaving the jetty. Matroska cocked his head
slightly as they were walking, not losing stride, and said ``Someone
is following us.''
Danes looked at him. His face was impassive as ever, ``Are you sure?''
``It is of no consequence, we continue'' said Matroska simply. That
was the end of that. By now Danes was getting used to not being able
to get any blood out of this particular stone. If Matroska thought it
was OK then he guessed it was. Probably just some local street urchin
who saw them land wanting to earn a few dollars being of use to (or
stealing from) some clueless tourists.
\emph{``Well that went well!''} thought Danes sarcastically as he
barged open the front door and ran out as fast as he could! He could
see the man that Matroska had thrown out of the window lying crumpled
on the dented roof of a nearby car. The man was groaning softly,
Danes suspected that he wouldn't make it. Being thrown out of a first
floor window is one thing, being thrown across a room and
\emph{through} a reinforced plate glass window, falling several metres
onto a car below by none other than Matroska the Prussian is another
thing entirely. Danes wondered how many time he had done it before.
His aim vas very good. However there was no time reminisce now when
he had some desperate escaping to do!
Everything \emph{had} been going well at first, or so it had seemed.
Perhaps it would have always ended like this even if things had gone
differently. No point in thinking about that now. The walk up to the
bank had gone uneventfully enough. The sun was shining, birds were
singing and the population of George Town was going about its merry
business, blisfully unaware of the trepidations racing through Danes'
mind, and the endless stream of encrypted binary-encoded arcana Danes
imagined to be perpetually racing through Matroska's eldritch
techno-grimoire of a mind. The only slightly concerning part being a
few minutes after leaving the jetty. Matroska cocked his head
slightly as they were walking, not losing stride, and said ``Someone
is following us.''
Danes looked at him. His face was impassive as ever, ``Are you sure?''
``It is of no consequence, we continue'' said Matroska simply. That
was the end of that. By now Danes was getting used to not being able
to get any blood out of this particular stone. If Matroska thought it
was OK then he guessed it was. Probably just some local street urchin
who saw them land wanting to earn a few dollars being of use to (or
stealing from) some clueless tourists.
Es watched them go with a mischevious gleam in her eyes. She was too
excited. Where would they go? What would they do? It was all she
could do to contain herself until they had safely rounded the corner
of the resturant. She didn't like the tall pale man, he gave her the
creeps. Plus, his head was really long! Who had such a long head? It
wasn't normal. Was his brain that long too? Is that why his head was
like that? She couldn't tell if he was really smart or not. She had
only heard him speak a few times, and never to her, but she reckoned
that if his brain filled up all the extra head length he had, he must
be some kind of genius or something!
Es saw them emerge again from behind the building but this time they
were further away, across the road. She made sure that everything in
the dinghy was secure and it was firmly attached to the jetty before
stealing up the ladder herself. She looked back down at the dinghy,
softly bobbing in the waves. It should be OK. I mean, they always
just left it tied up like this and it had never been stolen before.
Still, if it was and Danes found out that she had left it, oh man, he
would be soooo mad! She had kind of made that story up about it
needing guarding as an excuse to come ashore with them. She had never
been to Grand Cayman before and she wanted to have a look around. Who
wanted to be cooped up on the ship, anchored in the harbour almost
within shouting distance of the shore? Boring! Plus, Danes and the
funny man were going on some sort of secret mission! She had no idea
where they would go or what they would do but it all sounded very
exciting. Danes going off on some sort of spy-adventure and making
her stay here with the boat? Es didn't want to leave the dinghy when
she had promised that she wouldn't, but, she would just follow them
for a bit, from a distance. Danes would never find out. She'd be
back here way before him. And what if something happened? They might
need some protection or she could call for help or something. She
could be his backup, like a sidekick. Totally awesome.
The sun was getting high in the sky now and it shone down brilliantly
on George Town, glittering off glass fa\c cades on myriad fancy bank
buildings. Yesterday when Es had asked Danes about this place they
were going, he had explained to her about all the banks and stuff
here. Something about rich people hiding their money here so
governments couldn't get at it. Es wasn't fully sure she understood
what exactly that entailed or why the governments were so obsessed
with running off with peoples' money. She knew this though, she would
be super pissed if some government dude came after her money! Right
now Es' life savings consisted of exactly 593 euros. She had spent
the last few years saving as much as she could of her pocket money
(Danes gave her 5 euros a week which she could spend on whatever she
wanted when they were in port) and doing odd jobs whenever she could.
One day she would use it to buy her own boat where she could be
captain and noone could ever tell her what to do, she'd be free! Or
maybe she would buy some land somewhere and build an awesome house.
Or maybe she would live on one of those awesome floating cities that
Danes had told her about (Seasteads he called them) but they had never
visited, yet. She figured there was plenty of time to work that out
later. Right now she had to make sure not to lose sight of Danes.
They were about 100 metres ahead of her, walking up a busy street. Es
guessed it was some sort of main street judging by the traffic and the
size of the buildings lining it. She had been following them for
about 5 minutes along the waterfront before they had turned onto this
street a few minutes ago. Every once in a while she lost them as they
rounded a building or walked through a large-ish crowd of people, but
she always caught sight of them again. She made very sure to stay
well back though, so as not to be seen and she was sure that they
didn't know she was following. The last thing she wanted was for
Danes to be mad at her, or worse, get grounded!
The city was pretty small that she could see. Nothing like Havana or
some of the huge American cities she had seen as they sometimes
cruised along the US coast. Es really wanted to visit America one
day, but Danes always said it was too risky. She hoped that she could
talk him into visiting Disneyland after this trip, but probably not.
Oh whale.
After about 15 minutes or so of following, she saw them finally stop
in front of an ordinary-looking office building. Or at least she
guessed it was an office building, not having much experience with
this sort of thing. In any case it was pretty similar to all the
buildings they had been walking by so far. Five storeys tall, grey
concrete with small-ish windows set every metre or so. Every once in
a while men in business suits carrying briefcases would walk in or
out. She always thought that people were stupid for wearing suits. I
mean, they must be so hot and they look like you couldn't run or climb
in them or anything, yeuch! You'd never catch Es wearing something
like that. She preferred shorts and a t-shirt, or when it got really
hot, a singlet. But still, they must wear them for a reason... Maybe
it made them feel important or something? Business men liked to feel
important she had noticed, especially when they worked for fancy banks
like the ones in the Cayman Islands. This didn't look like a fancy
bank though. It looked pretty dull. Maybe Danes wasn't going on some
adventure after all. Maybe he was just going to some boring business
meeting.
Danes and the other man didn't have to wait long before one of the
business men coming in and out of the building came up to them. It
looked like he was talking to the tall man but Es couldn't really make
anything out at this distance. After a minute or so the suit-man
turned and walked back into the building. Danes and long-head
followed them in.
Es looked around. The street she was on sloped slowly up hill from
the sea and she could make out the kill-9 lying at anchor in the
harbour. Glad she wasn't down there right now, being totally bored.
Although she wasn't having the fun adventure she imagined right now
either. There was nothing here but boring office buildings. At least
there had been more exciting down stuff going on down at the harbour.
It had been around 10 minutes since Danes and the other dude followed
the suit-guy into the building. At first she had gotten a little
closer to see if she could see anything, but there was nothing going
on that she could see. She had sat down on some steps in front of
another office building about 100 metres away to wait. It didn't take
long before she was thoroughly bored, sitting on some concrete steps,
sun beating down, nothing to do. Gah! She completely forgot to bring
her lunch with her. Stupid! Well she was hungry and hot and bored
now so she decided to go back down to the dinghy. This was not how
she thought things would be. Maybe Danes had not wanted her to come
just so she wouldn't die of boredom! Es got up and started walking
back down the street in the direction of the harbour.
All of a sudden there was a loud crashing sound! Es spun around in
time to see a man in a business suit (maybe the one she saw lead Danes
and face-man into the building, she wasn't sure) come flying out one
of the windows on the first floor! He arced downwards, surrounded in
flying bits of glass which sprayed everywhere when his impact
shattered the window. He seemed to hang in the air forever before
smacking with a sickening crunch into the roof of a parked car on the
street.
All Es could do was stare, slack-jawed at the aftermath. Holy shit!
This was more like it! But WTF was happening in there, and was Danes
OK? She didn't have to wait long for her answer as a few seconds
later her guardian threw open the front door of the building and came
running out, flat out, closely followed by Matroska, and after that
several rather angry-looking business-suit men carrying guns!
excited. Where would they go? What would they do? It was all she
could do to contain herself until they had safely rounded the corner
of the resturant. She didn't like the tall pale man, he gave her the
creeps. Plus, his head was really long! Who had such a long head? It
wasn't normal. Was his brain that long too? Is that why his head was
like that? She couldn't tell if he was really smart or not. She had
only heard him speak a few times, and never to her, but she reckoned
that if his brain filled up all the extra head length he had, he must
be some kind of genius or something!
Es saw them emerge again from behind the building but this time they
were further away, across the road. She made sure that everything in
the dinghy was secure and it was firmly attached to the jetty before
stealing up the ladder herself. She looked back down at the dinghy,
softly bobbing in the waves. It should be OK. I mean, they always
just left it tied up like this and it had never been stolen before.
Still, if it was and Danes found out that she had left it, oh man, he
would be soooo mad! She had kind of made that story up about it
needing guarding as an excuse to come ashore with them. She had never
been to Grand Cayman before and she wanted to have a look around. Who
wanted to be cooped up on the ship, anchored in the harbour almost
within shouting distance of the shore? Boring! Plus, Danes and the
funny man were going on some sort of secret mission! She had no idea
where they would go or what they would do but it all sounded very
exciting. Danes going off on some sort of spy-adventure and making
her stay here with the boat? Es didn't want to leave the dinghy when
she had promised that she wouldn't, but, she would just follow them
for a bit, from a distance. Danes would never find out. She'd be
back here way before him. And what if something happened? They might
need some protection or she could call for help or something. She
could be his backup, like a sidekick. Totally awesome.
The sun was getting high in the sky now and it shone down brilliantly
on George Town, glittering off glass fa\c cades on myriad fancy bank
buildings. Yesterday when Es had asked Danes about this place they
were going, he had explained to her about all the banks and stuff
here. Something about rich people hiding their money here so
governments couldn't get at it. Es wasn't fully sure she understood
what exactly that entailed or why the governments were so obsessed
with running off with peoples' money. She knew this though, she would
be super pissed if some government dude came after her money! Right
now Es' life savings consisted of exactly 593 euros. She had spent
the last few years saving as much as she could of her pocket money
(Danes gave her 5 euros a week which she could spend on whatever she
wanted when they were in port) and doing odd jobs whenever she could.
One day she would use it to buy her own boat where she could be
captain and noone could ever tell her what to do, she'd be free! Or
maybe she would buy some land somewhere and build an awesome house.
Or maybe she would live on one of those awesome floating cities that
Danes had told her about (Seasteads he called them) but they had never
visited, yet. She figured there was plenty of time to work that out
later. Right now she had to make sure not to lose sight of Danes.
They were about 100 metres ahead of her, walking up a busy street. Es
guessed it was some sort of main street judging by the traffic and the
size of the buildings lining it. She had been following them for
about 5 minutes along the waterfront before they had turned onto this
street a few minutes ago. Every once in a while she lost them as they
rounded a building or walked through a large-ish crowd of people, but
she always caught sight of them again. She made very sure to stay
well back though, so as not to be seen and she was sure that they
didn't know she was following. The last thing she wanted was for
Danes to be mad at her, or worse, get grounded!
The city was pretty small that she could see. Nothing like Havana or
some of the huge American cities she had seen as they sometimes
cruised along the US coast. Es really wanted to visit America one
day, but Danes always said it was too risky. She hoped that she could
talk him into visiting Disneyland after this trip, but probably not.
Oh whale.
After about 15 minutes or so of following, she saw them finally stop
in front of an ordinary-looking office building. Or at least she
guessed it was an office building, not having much experience with
this sort of thing. In any case it was pretty similar to all the
buildings they had been walking by so far. Five storeys tall, grey
concrete with small-ish windows set every metre or so. Every once in
a while men in business suits carrying briefcases would walk in or
out. She always thought that people were stupid for wearing suits. I
mean, they must be so hot and they look like you couldn't run or climb
in them or anything, yeuch! You'd never catch Es wearing something
like that. She preferred shorts and a t-shirt, or when it got really
hot, a singlet. But still, they must wear them for a reason... Maybe
it made them feel important or something? Business men liked to feel
important she had noticed, especially when they worked for fancy banks
like the ones in the Cayman Islands. This didn't look like a fancy
bank though. It looked pretty dull. Maybe Danes wasn't going on some
adventure after all. Maybe he was just going to some boring business
meeting.
Danes and the other man didn't have to wait long before one of the
business men coming in and out of the building came up to them. It
looked like he was talking to the tall man but Es couldn't really make
anything out at this distance. After a minute or so the suit-man
turned and walked back into the building. Danes and long-head
followed them in.
Es looked around. The street she was on sloped slowly up hill from
the sea and she could make out the kill-9 lying at anchor in the
harbour. Glad she wasn't down there right now, being totally bored.
Although she wasn't having the fun adventure she imagined right now
either. There was nothing here but boring office buildings. At least
there had been more exciting down stuff going on down at the harbour.
It had been around 10 minutes since Danes and the other dude followed
the suit-guy into the building. At first she had gotten a little
closer to see if she could see anything, but there was nothing going
on that she could see. She had sat down on some steps in front of
another office building about 100 metres away to wait. It didn't take
long before she was thoroughly bored, sitting on some concrete steps,
sun beating down, nothing to do. Gah! She completely forgot to bring
her lunch with her. Stupid! Well she was hungry and hot and bored
now so she decided to go back down to the dinghy. This was not how
she thought things would be. Maybe Danes had not wanted her to come
just so she wouldn't die of boredom! Es got up and started walking
back down the street in the direction of the harbour.
All of a sudden there was a loud crashing sound! Es spun around in
time to see a man in a business suit (maybe the one she saw lead Danes
and face-man into the building, she wasn't sure) come flying out one
of the windows on the first floor! He arced downwards, surrounded in
flying bits of glass which sprayed everywhere when his impact
shattered the window. He seemed to hang in the air forever before
smacking with a sickening crunch into the roof of a parked car on the
street.
All Es could do was stare, slack-jawed at the aftermath. Holy shit!
This was more like it! But WTF was happening in there, and was Danes
OK? She didn't have to wait long for her answer as a few seconds
later her guardian threw open the front door of the building and came
running out, flat out, closely followed by Matroska, and after that
several rather angry-looking business-suit men carrying guns!
Matroska emerged from the main hatchway looking imposing as ever. He
didn't seem to have a bag or a change of clothing or anything really
that Danes could discern, except for that blacker-than-black coat he
eternally wore. He had never asked to use the laundry or shower as
far as Danes knew. Yet as Danes saw him walking towards him in the
early dawn light he looked as composed and fresh (if that word could
ever be used to describe Matroska's appearance) as he had the first
day they had met, deep in the forests of Colombia. He was indeed a
mystery. Danes didn't get any time to speculate further as Matroska
reached his side.
Danes spoke, ``The dinghy's in the water ready and waiting.''
Matroska nodded. ``Down the ladder at the stern, you first, be my
guest.'' Matroska said nothing, but complied. There was a loud
sputtering (TODO, what's it called?) followed by a low thrum as the
dinghy's outboard motor coughed into life. Es had taken the liberty
of climbing down into the dinghy and getting everything ready for
them. She was seated in the driver's position in the stern with her
right hand on the outboard tiller and left on the port gunwale. She
stared up at them with a meek look (or what she presumed a meek look
would be) on her face. ``And where do you think you're going young
lady?'' enquired Danes with a slight grin on his face. She was
nothing if not bold.
``Uh, I just though I could drive you guys to the dock you know?
You're the captain and a captain shouldn't have to drive himself
right? And that guy,'' she cocked her head in Matroska's general
direction, ``doesn't look much like he's into dinghy driving to me!''
Danes looked down on her, exasperared. What was he going to do? She
wasn't a child anymore (if she had ever been) and it wasn't like Grand
Cayman was the most dangerous place they'd been lately (not for her
anyway). She must have sensed that she was wearing him down since she
increased the meekness level on her face (trying hard to mask a grin)
even further and continued, trying hard to keep pleading out of her
voice, ``Oh please Danes, I'll stay with the dinghy I promise! You
need someone to guard it anyway, who knows what people might do around
here. Uh, not that there would be anyone dangerous around, I just
mean, a lot of theives, or...something,'' she trailed off, obviously
not sure if she'd blown her chance or not.
Danes sighed (this was becomeing a habit), ``OK, you can drive us, but
stay with the dinghy OK? No following us! And make sure you have
your phone with you in case of an emergency.'' She lit up and a broad
grin cracked across her face.
``Aye Cap'n! Won't let you down, already got everything I need.''
She looked very pleased with herself sitting there.
``We might be a few hours, go pack some water and something to eat. I
don't want you wandering off anywhere.'' Danes sounded more stern
than he wanted to really. He was just feeling so stressed about this
whole Matroska business. He hoped he didn't come off sounding too
harsh on her but he really just didn't want to risk anything happening
and couldn't spend time worrying about her safety when he should be
focusing all his attention on his own. She'd be OK though. He made a
mental note to send a text to Hans telling him to keep an eye on her
from the kill-9. Es grinned broader and nudged a small brown bag
under her seat with her foot.
``All here.'' she said. Danes couldn't help but return the grin.
Planned it from the beginning of course. She was turning out quite a
bit like him when he was young.
They seated themselves to evenly distribute their weight in the
dinghy, now getting a little crowded. Danes in the bow, Matroska,
clearly the largest, amidships, and Es driving in the stern. The
journey from the kill-9 to the shore was a short one. Only a few
minutes or so with the George Town skyline before them, lit up from
behind by the blazing Caribbean dawn sun. It was not a large town,
only around 30,000 people called it home, but it was certainly the
largest in the Cayman islands with around half the population residing
here. But the significance of this small town in the world of
international finance was huge. Due to the country's somewhat
favourable attitude taxation and business it has been used by
corporations and persons the world over as a convenient place to store
funds which they may not want the governments of their native lands to
know about. This applied equally of course to legitimate, and perhaps
not so legitimate businesses (and that line can be quite blurry at
times Danes had found out). It was for that reason that Danes
suspected that he had been sent here with Matroska. The Black Hat
Freelancers were suspected to control funds to the tune of trillions
of euros from behind the scenes. But they never wanted to be seen in
clear daylight, preferring the shadows. So one of them might want a
more discreet way to enter that country than a first-class flight in.
Surely Matroska or Hernandez or whomever had sent a little something
the way of customs as they certainly hadn't been bothered by them thus
far, and Danes doubted that they would be. That would make a nice
change, but it did nothing to assuage the knot slowly forming in his
gut.
They arrived at a small jetty in front of a fancy restaraunt. Even at
this early hour there were people out and about. Early risers going
about their morning errands. Es killed the motor and Danes made the
dinghy fast and climbed up a small ladder and onto the jetty.
Matroska followed him silently, as ever his face an impenetrable blank
mask. Danes thought he must have been sweltering under that heavy
black coat but he never once broke a sweat or gave any indication that
he was in any way uncomfortable.
Danes turned and looked back down at Es, sitting quietly and
innocently in the dinghy. Perhaps a little too innocently he thought,
and hoped that she wasn't going to do anything dangerous. No thinking
about that now. Now is the time for focus. He took a deep breath and
let it out slowly. Here we go. ``We'll be back soon sweetie.
Shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours, ok?'' He had no idea how
long they would be, but it felt reassuring just to say it.
``No worries, I'll be fine. I'm 13 you know!'' She grinned and
added, ``Have fun boys!'' cheekily. Danes could see Matroska waiting
patiently (Or impatiently? Who could tell?) out of the corner of his
eye. She would be fine. She was more capable than Danes ever was at
that age, but he couldn't help but think of that fragile broken
creature he found in his engine room all those years ago. The
contrast was night and day. No trace of that former self here, but
still... He quickly turned on his heel and strode off down the jetty.
Matroska caught up within two strides and took the lead, his long
black coat sweeping out behind him in his haste.
didn't seem to have a bag or a change of clothing or anything really
that Danes could discern, except for that blacker-than-black coat he
eternally wore. He had never asked to use the laundry or shower as
far as Danes knew. Yet as Danes saw him walking towards him in the
early dawn light he looked as composed and fresh (if that word could
ever be used to describe Matroska's appearance) as he had the first
day they had met, deep in the forests of Colombia. He was indeed a
mystery. Danes didn't get any time to speculate further as Matroska
reached his side.
Danes spoke, ``The dinghy's in the water ready and waiting.''
Matroska nodded. ``Down the ladder at the stern, you first, be my
guest.'' Matroska said nothing, but complied. There was a loud
sputtering (TODO, what's it called?) followed by a low thrum as the
dinghy's outboard motor coughed into life. Es had taken the liberty
of climbing down into the dinghy and getting everything ready for
them. She was seated in the driver's position in the stern with her
right hand on the outboard tiller and left on the port gunwale. She
stared up at them with a meek look (or what she presumed a meek look
would be) on her face. ``And where do you think you're going young
lady?'' enquired Danes with a slight grin on his face. She was
nothing if not bold.
``Uh, I just though I could drive you guys to the dock you know?
You're the captain and a captain shouldn't have to drive himself
right? And that guy,'' she cocked her head in Matroska's general
direction, ``doesn't look much like he's into dinghy driving to me!''
Danes looked down on her, exasperared. What was he going to do? She
wasn't a child anymore (if she had ever been) and it wasn't like Grand
Cayman was the most dangerous place they'd been lately (not for her
anyway). She must have sensed that she was wearing him down since she
increased the meekness level on her face (trying hard to mask a grin)
even further and continued, trying hard to keep pleading out of her
voice, ``Oh please Danes, I'll stay with the dinghy I promise! You
need someone to guard it anyway, who knows what people might do around
here. Uh, not that there would be anyone dangerous around, I just
mean, a lot of theives, or...something,'' she trailed off, obviously
not sure if she'd blown her chance or not.
Danes sighed (this was becomeing a habit), ``OK, you can drive us, but
stay with the dinghy OK? No following us! And make sure you have
your phone with you in case of an emergency.'' She lit up and a broad
grin cracked across her face.
``Aye Cap'n! Won't let you down, already got everything I need.''
She looked very pleased with herself sitting there.
``We might be a few hours, go pack some water and something to eat. I
don't want you wandering off anywhere.'' Danes sounded more stern
than he wanted to really. He was just feeling so stressed about this
whole Matroska business. He hoped he didn't come off sounding too
harsh on her but he really just didn't want to risk anything happening
and couldn't spend time worrying about her safety when he should be
focusing all his attention on his own. She'd be OK though. He made a
mental note to send a text to Hans telling him to keep an eye on her
from the kill-9. Es grinned broader and nudged a small brown bag
under her seat with her foot.
``All here.'' she said. Danes couldn't help but return the grin.
Planned it from the beginning of course. She was turning out quite a
bit like him when he was young.
They seated themselves to evenly distribute their weight in the
dinghy, now getting a little crowded. Danes in the bow, Matroska,
clearly the largest, amidships, and Es driving in the stern. The
journey from the kill-9 to the shore was a short one. Only a few
minutes or so with the George Town skyline before them, lit up from
behind by the blazing Caribbean dawn sun. It was not a large town,
only around 30,000 people called it home, but it was certainly the
largest in the Cayman islands with around half the population residing
here. But the significance of this small town in the world of
international finance was huge. Due to the country's somewhat
favourable attitude taxation and business it has been used by
corporations and persons the world over as a convenient place to store
funds which they may not want the governments of their native lands to
know about. This applied equally of course to legitimate, and perhaps
not so legitimate businesses (and that line can be quite blurry at
times Danes had found out). It was for that reason that Danes
suspected that he had been sent here with Matroska. The Black Hat
Freelancers were suspected to control funds to the tune of trillions
of euros from behind the scenes. But they never wanted to be seen in
clear daylight, preferring the shadows. So one of them might want a
more discreet way to enter that country than a first-class flight in.
Surely Matroska or Hernandez or whomever had sent a little something
the way of customs as they certainly hadn't been bothered by them thus
far, and Danes doubted that they would be. That would make a nice
change, but it did nothing to assuage the knot slowly forming in his
gut.
They arrived at a small jetty in front of a fancy restaraunt. Even at
this early hour there were people out and about. Early risers going
about their morning errands. Es killed the motor and Danes made the
dinghy fast and climbed up a small ladder and onto the jetty.
Matroska followed him silently, as ever his face an impenetrable blank
mask. Danes thought he must have been sweltering under that heavy
black coat but he never once broke a sweat or gave any indication that
he was in any way uncomfortable.
Danes turned and looked back down at Es, sitting quietly and
innocently in the dinghy. Perhaps a little too innocently he thought,
and hoped that she wasn't going to do anything dangerous. No thinking
about that now. Now is the time for focus. He took a deep breath and
let it out slowly. Here we go. ``We'll be back soon sweetie.
Shouldn't be longer than a couple of hours, ok?'' He had no idea how
long they would be, but it felt reassuring just to say it.
``No worries, I'll be fine. I'm 13 you know!'' She grinned and
added, ``Have fun boys!'' cheekily. Danes could see Matroska waiting
patiently (Or impatiently? Who could tell?) out of the corner of his
eye. She would be fine. She was more capable than Danes ever was at
that age, but he couldn't help but think of that fragile broken
creature he found in his engine room all those years ago. The
contrast was night and day. No trace of that former self here, but
still... He quickly turned on his heel and strode off down the jetty.
Matroska caught up within two strides and took the lead, his long
black coat sweeping out behind him in his haste.
Chapter 3 - Bank
The passage from Turbo to Grand Cayman went smoothly enough, unless
you count a minor malfunction of the fu{\ss}ball table which almost
caused a mutiny led by Es. Table quickly fixed by Frank, no bloodshed
ensued and peace restored. Matroska stayed in his cabin the whole
journey, only emerging to use the head, collect one meal a day (a
restriction enforced only by himself). One time he took a quick turn
around the deck before returning quickly below without saying a word
(his usual demeanour). A fair easterly breeze blowing 20 knots
average the whole way meant that the kill-9 made the roughly 700
nautical mile journey in just under 3 and a half days. Arriving at
dawn the ketch sailed smoothly into George Town harbour and dropped
anchor just as the first brilliant beam of light exploded up from
behind the line of buildings on the shorw, reaching a line of fire to
the sky. Danes watched the spectacle from his vantage point, perched
on the tip of the bowsprit, holding fast to the forstay, and hoped
when all this unsavoury business with Matroska was done, he would
still be around to see and appreciate such beauty He still didn't know
for sure why he was here, the note from the Hernandez had been short,
to the point, yet wholly unsatisfying to his curiosity. He was sure
he would never get anything more out of Matroska, due to the absolute
paranoia which is the hallmark of his black-hat freelancers. Given
where they were sent, however, he suspected that there was a pretty
good chance it had something to do with money. The Cayman Islands are
well known for their delightful banking industry, and their
well-developed abilities to look the other way when large amounts of
lucre, filthy or otherwise passes through their hands.
``Anchor's down and holding skip,'' Danes turned at the report. Hans
was standing on deck, a few metres behind him, dawn sunlight
illuminating his ruddy-blonde hair to a dull glow.
``Word, thanks Hans. Can you fetch Matroska? I want to get this
whole business over as quickly as possible so we can sail on the next
favourable tide.'' Danes had been able to do nothing other than
speculate about what his ``assistance'' to Matroska might entail. He
had already decided that Matroska was here to conduct some sort of
high-level transaction, or possibly make a deposit in one or another
secret bank accounts. What else would he be doing here? Not to get a
tan surely! Danes chuckled to himself at that one. A nervous laugh
to be sure.
``Aye, aye skip'' said Hans and disappeared down the nearest hatch in
search of the long-faced man.
``Watcha doin'?'' came a curious voice from behind him. It was Es.
He could never hear her coming these days. Danes turned around to
face his ward. ``Goin' on shore right? Gotta let that weird tall man
off? Can I come? Can I come? Please, I'll be good! Man this place
looks awesome!'' She managed to say all that in about 3 seconds (or so
it seemd to Danes) before he could get any word in edgewise.
``Sorry Es, can't take you this time. Matroska has some important
business that he asked me to help with.'' said Danes with a
sigh. ``You just stay here and hang out with Frank and Hans and I
promise that as soon as we're finished with Mexico we can go wherever
you like, OK?'' He sure hoped that he could deliver on that promise.
He wasn't too worried, most of the times things like this went OK, but
still, there in the back of his mind he couldn't quite seem to quiet a
little voice telling him to get the fuck out of there now! No matter
how it went though, Es would be fine. Frank and Hans would take care
of her, he was sure about that. There was nothing more heart-breaking
he could think about than his little Estrid having to go back to the
life she came from. The life that he had spent the last four years
trying his hardest to help her forget. Most of the time he thought he
had succeeded, but a few times he had accidentally disturbed her when
she wasn't expecting it (far less often these days) and thought he had
heard her sobbing. He never saw anything of course. She was too fast
for that. To fast and too careful. Never show weakness. That was
the law where she had come from. The weak get consumed by the strong.
Danes had worked hard to try and shift that attitude, though the more
he thought about it, the more he realised that that was pretty much
how the real world worked. Children were not supposed to know that
though. That was something that you learned later, after you had had
a happy childhood in the fantasy world constructed by good parents.
Es it would seem had the fortune of skipping that part. Danes pushed
those thoughts out of his mind. This was not the time. Right now all
he had to do was to focus on the mission at hand, whatever the fuck
that turned out to be!
``Awwww, I always stay with the boat! I want to go with you on one of
your missions. I can handle it, I'm 13 you know!'' Danes chuckled to
himself. She's got spunk, that's for sure.
Danes tried to put on his most placating, but hopefully not
patronising tone. ``Your time will come sweetie, soon enough, but
this mission is not going to be fun. Like I said though, when we're
done, anywhere you like.''
A grin slowly spread on Es' face. ``Anywhere eh? In the whole
world?''
``Well, within reason,'' said Danes. God, where was she going to
suggest?!
``Alright, I want to go to Disneyland!'' Her grin cracked open into a
beaming smile. She had a knack for using that smile to get anything
she wanted, or so it seemed to Danes sometimes. But Disneyland? It
wasn't too far away to be sure (he presumed she meant Disney World in
Florida not the one in California), but if he was reluctant to step
foot on Grand Cayman due to its stron US ties, he was much more
concerned about the US mainland. Still, she had dropped hints before.
A few months ago she had read ``Down and Out in the Magic Kindom'' by
Cory Doctorow and ever since then she had seemed slightly obsessed
with Disney World. Still, it would be a nice break.. Later he could
think about how to make it happen.
``Let's talk about it when I get back, OK?'' Danes said perhaps a
little more dismissively than he intended, for at that moment he had
noticed Hans emerge from the main hatch with Matroska following
behind. ``But right now, we have to get the dinghy in the water.
Wanna help me?''
Es looked a little forlorn, ``Yeah, I guess, '' she said with a
dejected look on her face. The dinghy was located at the stern of the
kill-9, hanging off a pair of sturdy davits. It was reasonably large
as these things went, 3 metres long with a 10hp outboard motor on the
back. Enough to get you around when you needed it. They lowered it
down to the water and made it fast to the back of the boat next to the
ladder.
The passage from Turbo to Grand Cayman went smoothly enough, unless
you count a minor malfunction of the fu{\ss}ball table which almost
caused a mutiny led by Es. Table quickly fixed by Frank, no bloodshed
ensued and peace restored. Matroska stayed in his cabin the whole
journey, only emerging to use the head, collect one meal a day (a
restriction enforced only by himself). One time he took a quick turn
around the deck before returning quickly below without saying a word
(his usual demeanour). A fair easterly breeze blowing 20 knots
average the whole way meant that the kill-9 made the roughly 700
nautical mile journey in just under 3 and a half days. Arriving at
dawn the ketch sailed smoothly into George Town harbour and dropped
anchor just as the first brilliant beam of light exploded up from
behind the line of buildings on the shorw, reaching a line of fire to
the sky. Danes watched the spectacle from his vantage point, perched
on the tip of the bowsprit, holding fast to the forstay, and hoped
when all this unsavoury business with Matroska was done, he would
still be around to see and appreciate such beauty He still didn't know
for sure why he was here, the note from the Hernandez had been short,
to the point, yet wholly unsatisfying to his curiosity. He was sure
he would never get anything more out of Matroska, due to the absolute
paranoia which is the hallmark of his black-hat freelancers. Given
where they were sent, however, he suspected that there was a pretty
good chance it had something to do with money. The Cayman Islands are
well known for their delightful banking industry, and their
well-developed abilities to look the other way when large amounts of
lucre, filthy or otherwise passes through their hands.
``Anchor's down and holding skip,'' Danes turned at the report. Hans
was standing on deck, a few metres behind him, dawn sunlight
illuminating his ruddy-blonde hair to a dull glow.
``Word, thanks Hans. Can you fetch Matroska? I want to get this
whole business over as quickly as possible so we can sail on the next
favourable tide.'' Danes had been able to do nothing other than
speculate about what his ``assistance'' to Matroska might entail. He
had already decided that Matroska was here to conduct some sort of
high-level transaction, or possibly make a deposit in one or another
secret bank accounts. What else would he be doing here? Not to get a
tan surely! Danes chuckled to himself at that one. A nervous laugh
to be sure.
``Aye, aye skip'' said Hans and disappeared down the nearest hatch in
search of the long-faced man.
``Watcha doin'?'' came a curious voice from behind him. It was Es.
He could never hear her coming these days. Danes turned around to
face his ward. ``Goin' on shore right? Gotta let that weird tall man
off? Can I come? Can I come? Please, I'll be good! Man this place
looks awesome!'' She managed to say all that in about 3 seconds (or so
it seemd to Danes) before he could get any word in edgewise.
``Sorry Es, can't take you this time. Matroska has some important
business that he asked me to help with.'' said Danes with a
sigh. ``You just stay here and hang out with Frank and Hans and I
promise that as soon as we're finished with Mexico we can go wherever
you like, OK?'' He sure hoped that he could deliver on that promise.
He wasn't too worried, most of the times things like this went OK, but
still, there in the back of his mind he couldn't quite seem to quiet a
little voice telling him to get the fuck out of there now! No matter
how it went though, Es would be fine. Frank and Hans would take care
of her, he was sure about that. There was nothing more heart-breaking
he could think about than his little Estrid having to go back to the
life she came from. The life that he had spent the last four years
trying his hardest to help her forget. Most of the time he thought he
had succeeded, but a few times he had accidentally disturbed her when
she wasn't expecting it (far less often these days) and thought he had
heard her sobbing. He never saw anything of course. She was too fast
for that. To fast and too careful. Never show weakness. That was
the law where she had come from. The weak get consumed by the strong.
Danes had worked hard to try and shift that attitude, though the more
he thought about it, the more he realised that that was pretty much
how the real world worked. Children were not supposed to know that
though. That was something that you learned later, after you had had
a happy childhood in the fantasy world constructed by good parents.
Es it would seem had the fortune of skipping that part. Danes pushed
those thoughts out of his mind. This was not the time. Right now all
he had to do was to focus on the mission at hand, whatever the fuck
that turned out to be!
``Awwww, I always stay with the boat! I want to go with you on one of
your missions. I can handle it, I'm 13 you know!'' Danes chuckled to
himself. She's got spunk, that's for sure.
Danes tried to put on his most placating, but hopefully not
patronising tone. ``Your time will come sweetie, soon enough, but
this mission is not going to be fun. Like I said though, when we're
done, anywhere you like.''
A grin slowly spread on Es' face. ``Anywhere eh? In the whole
world?''
``Well, within reason,'' said Danes. God, where was she going to
suggest?!
``Alright, I want to go to Disneyland!'' Her grin cracked open into a
beaming smile. She had a knack for using that smile to get anything
she wanted, or so it seemed to Danes sometimes. But Disneyland? It
wasn't too far away to be sure (he presumed she meant Disney World in
Florida not the one in California), but if he was reluctant to step
foot on Grand Cayman due to its stron US ties, he was much more
concerned about the US mainland. Still, she had dropped hints before.
A few months ago she had read ``Down and Out in the Magic Kindom'' by
Cory Doctorow and ever since then she had seemed slightly obsessed
with Disney World. Still, it would be a nice break.. Later he could
think about how to make it happen.
``Let's talk about it when I get back, OK?'' Danes said perhaps a
little more dismissively than he intended, for at that moment he had
noticed Hans emerge from the main hatch with Matroska following
behind. ``But right now, we have to get the dinghy in the water.
Wanna help me?''
Es looked a little forlorn, ``Yeah, I guess, '' she said with a
dejected look on her face. The dinghy was located at the stern of the
kill-9, hanging off a pair of sturdy davits. It was reasonably large
as these things went, 3 metres long with a 10hp outboard motor on the
back. Enough to get you around when you needed it. They lowered it
down to the water and made it fast to the back of the boat next to the
ladder.
This cabin was usually vacant. Being the farthest cabin away from the
centre of gravity it moved the most with the motion of the ship as she
sailed and subsequently none of the permanent crew wanted to make it
home. It was kept vacant and ready in cases such as this, when they
might have to take on an unexpected passenger, ironically
(!!??REALLY??!!) enough, just those who had most need for gentler
motion than it supplied.
Danes knocked. No Response. He waited a few moments and knocked
again. Still nothing. He gave up (like he needed much excuse) and
began to turn when the door slowly opened with a slight squeeking
noise. He turned back and found himself face to face with the
hunched, pale figure of Matroska. The ceilings in any boat can be low
due to the usually cramped nature of smaller vessels, but Danes prided
himself on having a relatively comfortable ship with generous headroom
all over (except some smaller nooks and various holds and other spaces
under the main living deck of course). Even so Matroska was such a
towering figure that he had to bend over a not insignificant amount to
move about in the cabin. Danes figured that Matroska probably wasn't
going to have much fun on this voyage, though by looking at his blank
face you'd never be able to tell anything about his comfort level or
emotional state.
Matroska said nothing, just stared with those black-hole eyes,
seemingly sucking all life out of the surrounds, sucking everything
in, down past the event-horizon of those swirling irises, down into
the depths, never to return. Danes started to speak but suddenly his
throat felt thick and he couldn't form any words. He cleared it with
a cough.
``Sorry if I'm disturbing you...'' Danes waited for the customary
polite denial that any wrongdoing had occured. None came. He
continued after a slight pause. ``...Uh, I read the note from
Hernandez. I presume you know it's content?'' Still no
response. ``May I come inside? I have a few questions.''
Matroska continued to stare for several more seconds before
responding. Some sort of psychological tactic Danes was sure. He
remained mute, but turned and walked back into the cabin and sat down
on the small stool which stood in front of the tiny wooden desk wedged
into a nook in the wall. This had apparently become his office and
contained his small laptop and several papers, all blank that Danes
could see. As Matroska had left the door open, Danes took this as an
invitation to enter, and did so, closing the door behind him. Danes
perched upon the edge of the bed, the only other place to sit in the
small cabin.
Again, nothing but that blank void-stare. This dude really was
serious. So Danes would be doing the asking he guessed. ``You're
aware of our little detour?'' queried Danes.
Matroska finally spoke. It was the same unearthly cadence as
before. ``Your detour perhaps, always my planned destination.''
Danes continued, determined to see what he could get out of Matroska,
now that he had begun. ``But you must be aware of
the, difficulties, this puts on me and my crew?''
``You, your crew, and your possible `difficulties' are no concern of
mine. You made a deal with Hernandez and you well know the
consequences for displeasing him. Not on an unrelated note, you must
understand that should you decide to sail elsewhere than the location
indicated in the message, I would be rather \emph{inconvenienced}.''
Matroska said nothing that might imply a threat per se, but the way
that the last word was uttered (if it was possible to be even more
unsettling than the way he usually spoke) made it quite clear that
\emph{inconvenienced} was somthing that Matroska did not like to be,
and being the one who imposed any such \emph{inconvenence} on him
would almost certainly ruin your day in ways you would do best to not
to try and imagine.
Danes cleared his throat yet again. He didn't like the way talking
with this man-mountain disturbed him. Usually he was cool in pretty
much all situations and he considered himself reasonably eloquent and
persuasive, but there was just something about this man which shook
even the most steadfast of wills. ``Indeed, be assured that I am not
willing to endure those consequences and neither would I \emph{dream}
(Matroska seemed oblivious to the slightly sarcastic tone used here)
of causing you any \emph{inconvenience},'' Matroska's expression
remained unchanged, ``I simply wanted to make sure that \emph{you}
were aware of my situation''.
``I am aware, of everything,'' and with that Matroska did something
Danes had never though he would see, he smiled. Well, a smile perhaps
is not the right word for it. It wasn't quite a smile in the sense of
the word as we know it. The corners of Matroska's mouth curled up
ever so slightly and as he delivered the last word the intensity of
his glare increased (if such a thing were possible) and for a moment
Danes felt displaced, like he was being drawn into the black-hole
gaze. It lasted only a split-second and then the face was back to its
same expressionless mask.
Danes gave up. It was clear that he would get nothing more from
Matroska today, if ever. He sighed. It seemed like he was doing that
a lot lately. He resolved to stop lest it turn him into an emo, a
fate worse than death in his eyes!
``Very well then. If there's anything you require, just ask,'' said
Danes and stood up from the bed. Matroska gave the slightest nod from
his head before turning to his laptop and presumably continuing with
whatever arcana he was engaged in. Danes left the small cabin and
closed the door carefully behind him. He continued up on deck to get
some fresh air, passing the galley on the way he made sure to retrieve
the fortified coffee Frank had made for him earlier. FSM knew he
needed it! As he emerged he looked up. The black sky was pin-pricked
with thousands of gleaming stars shining down their light on him. Now
that they were further away from the coast and its light pollution he
could see them in all their majesty. This sight never failed to calm
him, and FSM knows he needed it! Four days to Grand Cayman, maybe a
bit less. Better enjoy the peace while it lasts he thought...
centre of gravity it moved the most with the motion of the ship as she
sailed and subsequently none of the permanent crew wanted to make it
home. It was kept vacant and ready in cases such as this, when they
might have to take on an unexpected passenger, ironically
(!!??REALLY??!!) enough, just those who had most need for gentler
motion than it supplied.
Danes knocked. No Response. He waited a few moments and knocked
again. Still nothing. He gave up (like he needed much excuse) and
began to turn when the door slowly opened with a slight squeeking
noise. He turned back and found himself face to face with the
hunched, pale figure of Matroska. The ceilings in any boat can be low
due to the usually cramped nature of smaller vessels, but Danes prided
himself on having a relatively comfortable ship with generous headroom
all over (except some smaller nooks and various holds and other spaces
under the main living deck of course). Even so Matroska was such a
towering figure that he had to bend over a not insignificant amount to
move about in the cabin. Danes figured that Matroska probably wasn't
going to have much fun on this voyage, though by looking at his blank
face you'd never be able to tell anything about his comfort level or
emotional state.
Matroska said nothing, just stared with those black-hole eyes,
seemingly sucking all life out of the surrounds, sucking everything
in, down past the event-horizon of those swirling irises, down into
the depths, never to return. Danes started to speak but suddenly his
throat felt thick and he couldn't form any words. He cleared it with
a cough.
``Sorry if I'm disturbing you...'' Danes waited for the customary
polite denial that any wrongdoing had occured. None came. He
continued after a slight pause. ``...Uh, I read the note from
Hernandez. I presume you know it's content?'' Still no
response. ``May I come inside? I have a few questions.''
Matroska continued to stare for several more seconds before
responding. Some sort of psychological tactic Danes was sure. He
remained mute, but turned and walked back into the cabin and sat down
on the small stool which stood in front of the tiny wooden desk wedged
into a nook in the wall. This had apparently become his office and
contained his small laptop and several papers, all blank that Danes
could see. As Matroska had left the door open, Danes took this as an
invitation to enter, and did so, closing the door behind him. Danes
perched upon the edge of the bed, the only other place to sit in the
small cabin.
Again, nothing but that blank void-stare. This dude really was
serious. So Danes would be doing the asking he guessed. ``You're
aware of our little detour?'' queried Danes.
Matroska finally spoke. It was the same unearthly cadence as
before. ``Your detour perhaps, always my planned destination.''
Danes continued, determined to see what he could get out of Matroska,
now that he had begun. ``But you must be aware of
the, difficulties, this puts on me and my crew?''
``You, your crew, and your possible `difficulties' are no concern of
mine. You made a deal with Hernandez and you well know the
consequences for displeasing him. Not on an unrelated note, you must
understand that should you decide to sail elsewhere than the location
indicated in the message, I would be rather \emph{inconvenienced}.''
Matroska said nothing that might imply a threat per se, but the way
that the last word was uttered (if it was possible to be even more
unsettling than the way he usually spoke) made it quite clear that
\emph{inconvenienced} was somthing that Matroska did not like to be,
and being the one who imposed any such \emph{inconvenence} on him
would almost certainly ruin your day in ways you would do best to not
to try and imagine.
Danes cleared his throat yet again. He didn't like the way talking
with this man-mountain disturbed him. Usually he was cool in pretty
much all situations and he considered himself reasonably eloquent and
persuasive, but there was just something about this man which shook
even the most steadfast of wills. ``Indeed, be assured that I am not
willing to endure those consequences and neither would I \emph{dream}
(Matroska seemed oblivious to the slightly sarcastic tone used here)
of causing you any \emph{inconvenience},'' Matroska's expression
remained unchanged, ``I simply wanted to make sure that \emph{you}
were aware of my situation''.
``I am aware, of everything,'' and with that Matroska did something
Danes had never though he would see, he smiled. Well, a smile perhaps
is not the right word for it. It wasn't quite a smile in the sense of
the word as we know it. The corners of Matroska's mouth curled up
ever so slightly and as he delivered the last word the intensity of
his glare increased (if such a thing were possible) and for a moment
Danes felt displaced, like he was being drawn into the black-hole
gaze. It lasted only a split-second and then the face was back to its
same expressionless mask.
Danes gave up. It was clear that he would get nothing more from
Matroska today, if ever. He sighed. It seemed like he was doing that
a lot lately. He resolved to stop lest it turn him into an emo, a
fate worse than death in his eyes!
``Very well then. If there's anything you require, just ask,'' said
Danes and stood up from the bed. Matroska gave the slightest nod from
his head before turning to his laptop and presumably continuing with
whatever arcana he was engaged in. Danes left the small cabin and
closed the door carefully behind him. He continued up on deck to get
some fresh air, passing the galley on the way he made sure to retrieve
the fortified coffee Frank had made for him earlier. FSM knew he
needed it! As he emerged he looked up. The black sky was pin-pricked
with thousands of gleaming stars shining down their light on him. Now
that they were further away from the coast and its light pollution he
could see them in all their majesty. This sight never failed to calm
him, and FSM knows he needed it! Four days to Grand Cayman, maybe a
bit less. Better enjoy the peace while it lasts he thought...
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