Captured

Chapter 09. Visiting Monaco with the Ambassador.

Two weeks after Jen flew back to Texas I was thinking about the time we spent at Jazzfest. The festival was along a wide boulevard with very wide sidewalks that also overlooked the sea west of Tangier. The street lights there are very decorative and the pavement is also decorative, it's a very beautiful area. To the north is the sea and to the south are the lush green hills outside the city. There is a knee high barrier made of thick concrete you can sit on and face the street or the ocean, it's made to attract tourists.

If you sat on the wall and faced the ocean your feet were about fifty feet above the sand but there was a sloping rock wall between your toes and the beach.

I remembered Jen and I sat there watching the crowd of people walking up and down the stairs to the festival. The live music echoed off the tall rock cliffs along the sea and it was mesmerizing. I guessed at the time I sort of ignored what she said, but now I remember she softly (mumbled) said we should live together and get married someday. When she said it there was a city bus stopped taking on passengers, it drowned her out. I sort of chuckled at what she said and we got distracted watching people pushing to get on the bus and it was like she never said anything.

How's that for selective hearing? I always accused my parents of ignoring me.

I wish we'd discussed her statement face to face, hopefully she realizes I didn't really hear her at the time because of that commotion at the bus. I'm surprised she didn't say it again later on. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings, but she never mentioned it again loud enough for me to hear.

A while later, around the holidays we started emailing more often, she asked about winter weather here. I told her Tangier was about as far north as Santa Fe, New Mexico, but it's at sea level so it gets more rain but rarely any snow, maybe on the peaks of the Atlas Mountains. On average it ranges from mid 40s for lows and mid 80s for highs but the humidity gets high. The winters are often rainy, and summers are dry; it's important to remember Morocco is a desert and has been that for a very long time. I told her the ocean water is usually in the range of 60s to 70s which probably moderates the air temperature more than any other single factor.

"Think about it Jen, Morocco is a desert and there's a rainy season here but it never gets hot like Death Valley, so what makes Morocco a desert? I think it has something to do with the sun and Earth's orbit. They say the Sahara used to be vast grassland, like in the US. But it was over grazed and burned-off which decreased the rain and caused it to become desert. The primary culprit now is the sun. The sun is responsible for virtually all the weather conditions on Earth and all the inner planets."

"I guess that makes sense. Thanks for the lecture." She replied

"Why'd you ask?" I probed.

"There's a job posting for Madrid in our company."

"How's your Spanish?"

"Minimal, enough to order a beer."

"Uh huh, might want to fix that first." I reminded her. Her employer probably wouldn't accept her transfer request to Spain unless she spoke pretty good Spanish or was taking classes now. We took Spanish in high school but Jen and I were never in the same Spanish classes. I think I saw her in the language lab once or twice a week.

Christmas was on a Friday, that week I worked Monday through Thursday. On Monday I had a visitor, a guy walked-in off the street and slowly entered my little store, and I immediately recognized his Midwest accent. The man said he was an American, on temporary work assignment in Tangier; he was here for another month teaching at the university in Tangier. He said he was from South Bend, Indiana and was a professor at Notre Dame University, he taught world history and had a doctorate. He handed me his business card, it said he was Gordon King PhD. He told me he was at a bar in the old city and met a guy and got invited to his hotel room. Gordon claimed the guy drugged him, raped him, and how he had HIV but was put on drugs that might halt the infection since it's brand new.

I asked what he wanted from me.

"I went to the police and they actually laughed at me and said there was nothing they could do. I spoke to a lawyer here and got the same answer. As far as they were concerned it was fine for that guy to go around infecting people, it was okay with them since it was isolated to gays, which is illegal in Morocco anyway."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Stop him. You work for the State Department; can't you revoke his passport or something? Anything?" Gordon got tears in his eyes as he begged for help, and got very emotional. He repeated that someone has to stop this guy; he's a killer and a sociopath. He told me the guy is killing Americans.

I asked what information he had on the guy and he said he did some investigating and was pretty sure what he learned was correct. The guy that drugged and raped him and knowingly infected him with HIV was from New Jersey, his name was Kurt Thomas, he was 42 years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular, gay, and HIV positive. He said Kurt's here on an educational Visa doing research for the country of Morocco on red wheat rust mold; he claimed he was a botanist."

"Take any pictures?"

"Yes, this is us at the bar." He slid his cell across the desk and showed me a selfie they took hours before he got roofied and raped.

I looked at my watch, it was just before my closing time, so I asked him if we could go to bar and point him out to me, and Gordon said okay. We both stood. I slid open the drawer on my desk and grabbed my pistol and the tiny spray can. We left the office, I paused to lock the door and we started walking toward the wall.

It was about a fifteen minute walk, we chatted a little and I told him if Kurt was there he could point him out and if I was convinced it was the right guy I could possibly take care of Kurt but it might take a couple days.

I think we walked for another few minutes and came to a cluster of small hotels and cafe's inside the old city; we walked in and made a turn to the left to enter the cafe. Gordon waved at the hotel desk clerk, they recognized him I guess.

We entered the doors to the bar, the place was busy but still had lots of empty tables and as predicted, Kurt was at the bar talking to other guys, probably scoping out his next victim. It was two hours until alcohol could be served in Morocco but some places sometimes stretched the hours and had one clock set an hour or two early. If they got raided they could claim someone tampered with the clock again.

"You don't want to watch this." I told him after we ordered drinks at a small round table along the wall, near the hotel lobby entrance. But Gordon said, "No, I want to see him die."

"I'm not going to kill him that way, but he's gonna die soon after I'm done with him. I told Gordon to stay at the table or I wasn't going to stop the guy. I was sure Gordon saw me slide the pistol into my pocket and assumed I was going to shoot him on his bar stool. So I made up a bullshit story and got out my State Department tracker, the tiny thing that looks like an MP3 player, I told Gordon it emitted Gamma rays, a short but powerful dose that burned human flesh but it took hours until the patient felt anything, once exposed it was always lethal in a day or two. The good part was it was irrevocable, silent, and invisible.

The waiter returned with our beers and I guzzled half of mine and reminded him to stay seated at the table, I'd be back in a couple minutes. "If Kurt left after I zapped him, turn your face away, don't let him see you." Gordon nodded yes and I stood, took another gulp of beer, reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny spray can and got it positioned in my hand with my finger on the white plastic valve on top, aimed outward, not in my face! My heart was pounding already.

I raised my shirt to expose my pistol and checked to make sure the safety was off. Gordon stared at it with a look of fear, then l lowered my shirt and slowly walked across the restaurant (with the sprayer in my hand, without a cap it's nearly the same size as an AA battery), toward the Men's room. There was a walkway that ran across the entire cafe behind all the bar stools. When I got near Kurt, I walked even slower and paused to double check the nozzle faced the right direction. When I got behind him I spritzed the air over his right shoulder aimed it at the side of his face. I'd only get one chance at doing this and not getting caught.

I turned around and kept walking toward the men's room and saw Kurt move his hand around his right ear and turned his head and looked around behind him on both sides. I quickly turned around and moments later stepped in the bathroom, peed, washed my hands and face and left for the bar table by the entrance. While I was pissing I put the cap on and slid it back into my pocket. On the way back Kurt had returned to his normal behavior at the bar yucking it up with the tourists.

I made it back to the table and Gordon sat there with a look of fear on his face and turned out my chair, so I sat down and finished my beer. "What did you do to him?" He asked.

"I can't discuss it but he's a dead man now, he might have fun tonight but it's his last. In fact if his immune system is already compromised he might start to feel like he caught a cold before he goes to bed."

"What happened? I thought you were gonna shoot him."

"I zapped him but I can't talk about it. Let's just say he'll be gone soon."

"Like back to New Jersey?"

"No, more like the city morgue."

Gordon dropped his forehead to the small round table and said, "This is really weird, you're talking in riddles."

"Like I said, it's all in God's hands now. Have faith, you just got even and he won't be hurting anyone else, starting very soon. Look at him over there; he has no clue the Grim Reaper is standing behind his bar stool."

Gordon sat there and raised his beer glass and finished it then told me "Thanks, I guess."

After a few awkward moments while Gordon watched me closely like he was trying to figure out what I did, I told him I needed to go. He said he was going to stay for a while. I told him to keep far away from Kurt, believe me you don't want that." Then I looked in his eyes and said "I'm not kidding, don't go near him." Then I suggested he might want to fly home and find a specialist for new HIV exposures, sometimes they can be stopped if treated early on.

We shook hands and both of us left in different directions. I walked all the way to my apartment which was about 1.2 miles away, but it was a nice walk along the waterfront. It gave me time to think. On my long walk home I noticed how cold the air felt along the ocean. I wanted to stop and sit on one of the benches that overlooked the beach but I wasn't dressed for the cold.

Back in my apartment I took a shower and crawled in bed. I replayed mental images of walking across the bar, behind all the bar stools and slowing when I got near Kurt. I used my finger tip to feel the top of the white plastic spray nozzle; it has a triangle on top that points in the direction of spray.

The output is variable slightly, to the left and it sprays a wide mist cloud, to the right it's more of a narrower cone-shaped mist. To change the spray you slide your finger to either side of the spray top. When I got close I raised my arm and looked around to make sure nobody was watching. I slowed as if to let someone walk by in the other direction then raised my hand above his shoulder and sprayed at the side of his face a more directional mist, so most of it got in his cheek and forehead should easily reach his nose. I'm sure he felt something and turned to sniff the air, everyone does. If the bartender had been standing right there he would have been exposed too. There might be a random person or two that also get exposed, but the chances are low. When I got close I bent my elbow to hold the can up by my chin then quickly turned my hand and sprayed him then just as quick, I lowered my hand to my pocket and never stopped walking.

Then I sped up and made it to the bathroom and washed up just in case. The good news is I never smelled lavender. I thought he'd come after me but he probably assumed I was a guy wearing way too much Old Spice. If Kurt was flirting with the guy seated beside him he probably didn't want to abandon his next potential victim.

If Kurt was already HIV+ then his immunity should be down, so he might get sicker and die much sooner, he might be gone by lunch tomorrow.

I replayed the mental image of the spray, so I was sure I got the right guy in the right spot, but not the person sitting beside him. The air currents at the bar were minimal; the place had a thick smoke layer in the air that told me they had lousy ventilation.

On December 23rd I got a call at work from the City of Tangier, they had a dead American who needed a flight back to the states, could we provide transport. I did searches in his state records but found no relatives, so I called the city back and told them to dispose of the body per protocol. He'd be cremated and his ashes dumped in a mass grave for people that died in Tangier without a will or relatives. I never heard or saw Gordon again.

I wondered if Gordon stalked him just to make sure Kurt actually died. I think he suspected some kind of poison needle. From the way everyone was positioned my body blocked Gordon's view of what I did to Kurt, and there were other people walking around too. I think he was expecting to see a flash of light and hear a loud POP when I shot him. When nothing happened I'm sure he thought I was making it all up.

Imagine how different the movie Casablanca would have gone if police Captain Renault had the spray and used it on Major Strasser during his arrival at Casablanca. He could have walked up beside their airplane as they opened the passenger door and reached inside spritzed the cabin moments before the German officers exited the plane and walked through an invisible mist of Anthrax spores.

Remember, all it takes is one or two spores to be inhaled and implanted in your lungs and you're probably going to die. With each spray it releases hundreds of microscopic spores. The only people we know of who are usually immune to Anthrax are ranchers that raise wool producing animals. Other than sheep the other major wool producing animals are Alpaca, Llama, certain rabbits, guanaco, certain breeds of camel, and musk oxen (there are others). For some reason natural anthrax is commonly found with wool producing animals.

The day after Christmas I got an odd email from Jen. She wanted to know why of all the places I could have been assigned why I ended up in Tangier.

I wrote back and explained the city has long been a hot bed of scoundrels from all over the world looking for a place to remain anonymous, yet someplace they could feed their perverse sexual appetites and get high every day. In the past nobody would accept an assignment in Tangier and because of the ever increasing number of tourists that come here they needed a representative to open an office, but I was also available to run occasional Ops across in Morocco, Algeria, and Spain. I told her I felt there was a real need to help clean-up this ancient city. Tangier's reputation is part of the reason why the US Embassy is in Rabat, instead of Tangier where all the tourists go. Practically no US tourists go to Rabat or Marrakech. And once people figure out that Rick's Cafe does not exist in Casablanca they'll stop going there too!

She asked who ran ops in Spain and Portugal and I told her there was another FCA duo in Paris that covered Spain and Portugal (Germany, Luxembourg, and Belgium too). I was sort of expecting her to write and ask if I'd quit State if she asked me. She also asked me what my long term plans were and I told her to be a successful True Crime author, but I didn't necessarily have to live in the States. From what I've seen I could do it from anywhere in the world. I also told her I liked Tangier, I also liked the Berber people and the weather was better than San Diego, they pay no income tax - only sales and import taxes, it's not a part of the EU and never will be, and the government puts the well being of their citizens ahead of everyone else, which is as it should be. In Morocco, the motto is Moroccans First!

I showed up for work on Saturday December 26th expecting to see a few stressed Americans that drowned their passports but nobody showed up, the phone never rang. I think even the INR was closed for the holidays.

Author's note: The INR is the State Department's own version of the CIA and NSA combined into one small agency. Several large agencies in the US gov't have their own intelligence agencies, not just State (DOD, HHS, TREASURY, ETC).

At work on Saturday I started investigating buying a used road bike instead of taking taxis. Riding a bicycle in Tangier could be risky so I'd only do it on roads with sidewalks. I wouldn't get a long distance bike, maybe just a ten speed with reinforced tires.

About every plant in the desert has needles that can pop a tire, so you really need to buy the new Kevlar tires that need 105psi or don't own a bicycle! State still wants me to photo every ship that lands in the port, with a bicycle I could easily ride there without paying for a taxi. I've experimented with holding the camera up to my binoculars and taking a super telescope photo that way and it worked but it's hard as hell to aim and hold perfectly still.

That week I decided to have Jen buy me a copy of Microsoft Office on a DVD from someone on Ebay and mail it to me, I was going to try writing my first True Crime Investigation novel. I collect crime story books but I want to write one about the investigator and how his job affects his life.

Jen emailed me on January 31st that she heard from Daniel, he was going to be paroled from prison soon and wanted to visit her, she agreed but hasn't set a date or location yet. I was curious to hear how he looked. She said she had not made up her mind yet if she wanted to see him or not.

We emailed about once a month during January, February, and March. In that time I captured five perps in Morocco and finally made it down to Marrakech. I also flew the Ambassador to Accra three times but stayed inside the hotel with him, no more beach walks. On our last trip he asked me if I could fly him to Monaco. I told him it was up to him because State had to approve it for reimbursement, but I could investigate the cost to park a rented jet at those airports for a day or two. He interrupted me and said, "Three nights, and its not State business, its personal."

"Oh wow. Well let me get prices and I'll let you know. Just so you know the price of renting a jet is the same per hour if it's flying or parked on the tarmac." I told him it would be very expensive to rent a jet for three days but those destinations should be well within range of the Citation. I've flown him several times so we were very familiar with the rented jet procedure and the costs.

Back at home I checked the rates and got a jet rental price, not including fuel of about $20k to live like a jetsetter, and the parking fee near Monaco was another three thousand just to park it on a secure tarmac. Steven said he wanted to do it! I still thought he was kidding because that's a lot of money to spend for a few days and it doesn't include a hotel room. For Monaco it could easily run $3k per day. So his trip to Monaco in the jet was going to run almost $50k not including bar tabs or tips.

He said he'd have someone in the embassy make some calls and see if rooms in Monaco near the casino were available, then he told me he'd get a two bedroom and a meal package too, so it wouldn't cost me anything but time. With a sense of excitement I agreed. It almost sounded too good to be true, a free trip to Monaco and all I had to do was pilot the jet? He could take the train to Barcelona and fly there first class on KLM! I think he really liked the private jet thing and avoiding the big airports and the lines. He could ride the train from Algeciras all the way to Monaco too! There is not always a first class car on trains in the EU.

At home I emailed Jen and told her I might be going to Monaco for a few nights with the Ambassador. She said she had to find it on a map first but the name sounded familiar.

She emailed me back an hour later and said: "Monaco is the #2 smallest country on Earth, land size less than one square mile. 80k population, most speak French, #2 is Italian. The country supports gambling and banking and welcomes wealthy celebs from around the world."

Two days later Steven texted me: Hotel de Paris Monte Carlo (three nights) March 1-3, reserve the jet. Depart March 1st early, return March 4th before sunset. You pilot just like our trips to Accra. World Baccarat Tournament. Steven.

Later that day he texted again: "Black tie the entire time, so rent three suits in travel boxes. I'll pay. Just bring your passport and badge, bathroom stuff, clean underwear, and your tiny spray can."

He got a room on the 4th floor overlooking the harbor and the little children's merry-go-round. It had a tiny balcony with chairs and two small bedrooms. It came with all the mod-cons, and 24 hour concierge and room service. Steven said as far as he knew I could order anything I wanted from room service, including: cocaine, heroin, beer, hookers, and a hot oil naked massage and it was included in the price.

I asked him why he was going and he said he enjoyed playing Baccarat and wanted to play with people that were good at it. Then I asked where he got all that extra money from and he said he actually just won the lottery back in Nevada and had some extra cash to blow on parties and cigars. The casino gift shop had a great selection of imported cigars.

I had to assume he read my employee files and knew I was autistic and not the most social guy. He told me all I had to do was keep my mouth shut and play along and find stuff to occupy my time and get him safely there and back. I wondered if he was going to smuggle something into Tangier since he could do almost the same trip by flying KLM First Class Club, and he said if you arrived in Monaco in a private jet people heard about it. Appearance was the reason for the jet.

I told him we flew into Nice, France and rode a helicopter to Monaco, there was no airport in Monaco and Nice is the closest one, but there is a helipad in Monaco. The country of Monaco is about the size of the airport in Nice. I also read that since they were so close most VIPS just took a stretch limo from Nice to Monaco. For the super wealthy there was a high dollar limo service available that used only Rolls Royce limos.

My next task was to find a place to rent three suits in Tangier, including shoes and socks and insurance. There was a high school and a university in Tangier, surely there was a tux rental place, right?

I also had to find out how to pack and carry three suits on a jet and helicopter. Steven said he was doing the same thing. The place I found was a store that sold/rented wedding gowns and never mentioned the word Tuxedo or suit on their sign out front. If their sign said it in Arabic... it might as well been in invisible ink! Steven texted me a link for a suit case that would preserve the suits enroute.

Now our trip was nearly 60 days away, I was so excited! I even posted a note on the office door with the dates the office will be closed. I sent a message to Jen to tell her too. She asked what I was going to do while the Ambassador was playing Baccarat. I confessed that I really didn't have any plan, but I might try to memorize images of all the international fugitives known to hang out in places like Monaco. Last time I looked there was something like 20 wealthy international fugitives that hung out with the billionaire class.

The next thing I did was to go to the FBI web site and take a photo of one page of wanted posters and bio info on each one. Most of them are wanted for banking or money related crimes, theft being the most frequent. If you had several million bucks and a nice sailboat you could easily spend the rest of your life hiding out and fishing for your next meal and avoiding confinement. Lots of wealthy people that lived on boats drop anchor in Monaco eventually.

One week after we made our reservations a rather interesting woman walked into my office one rainy day. She stepped inside and collapsed her umbrella and leaned it against the door frame and walked over and held out her hand, I reached for it but I think she expected me to lower my head and kiss the back of her hand; instead I gently shook it and gestured for her to take a seat. The moment she started talking I could tell she was Italian. Once we were at eye level I could tell she's had way too much plastic surgery so I tried to not stare at her disfigured face, it reminded me of a character from the Batman movies.

"How may I be of service?"

"I was here looking at all the better shops that sell leather jackets and saw the US opened a little embassy office in Tangier, what a gorgeous idea."

"It wasn't my idea, just so you know. The credit goes to the US Ambassador in Barcelona since they were seeing so many passport problems in Tangier; we opened to speed-up the process so they could get home safely."

I paused for a moment and tried not to stare at her cheek implants and asked her if she purchased a leather jacket in the market.

"No, but I may have located someone willing to custom make one for my granddaughter, we are travelling here from France, we come here every year for the Jazzfest and stay for a week or two."

"Your voice sounds familiar Madame; may I know your name?"

The elderly woman leaned forward and said she was Sophia Loren. I told her "I am Alexander Ellis, I am from Houston, Texas, nice to meet you." We'd already done the handshake. I guess we got the entire greeting thing out of sequence.

"What brings you to this part of Tangier, is it the leather or the workmanship?"

"We could go to Hong Kong but the leather here and in Spain is so much better, I told her we simply must go to the Market in Tangier."

"You come her often?"

"I've been here dozens of times over the years and with the new fast trains in Spain it's much nicer and safer. There is high speed rail service now from London to Gibraltar, but the old cars were nicer than the new ones that are all plastic inside."

"I've been on that train, it is nice. Is your granddaughter next door being fitted?"

"Yes, she's there with her husband, they're both getting measured for jackets, we can pick them up next week. Leather takes much more time to cut and sew. They break many needles."

"May I ask, how much for a bespoke leather jacket now?"

The elderly woman laughed and said "For two coats, with removable liners, finished leather, pockets inside and out, and matching gloves they want twenty two thousand Euros for both, and it takes them ten days, today is the second fitting and they also made tracings of their hands for the gloves. Two tailors are working on them."

"Huh, sounds like a decent price, I suppose it would cost less than half that in Hong Kong." I commented.

"Yes, but the quality of the leather is much better here, genuine Portuguese hides. We demanded first quality so our leather was taken from the stock they normally used for Bentley interiors."

"Bentley, huh?" I replied.

"Yes, their interiors are the best, last the longest. My boyfriend drove a 1958 Alpha Romeo Zagato, a red two-door model we kept in my cottage in Castle Vittorio, France. You need a small car to handle those narrow roads in the mountains of northwest France. His car had a great Portuguese leather interior, all handmade."

"Who was that?

"My boyfriend, Cary Grant. He passed almost 40 years ago."

"You are full of names that I've heard but don't really know who they are, like yourself."

"You've not seen any of my movies? I'm a famous actress."

"I'm afraid not, but I've heard your name. Weren't you once considered one of the most beautiful women in the world?"

"Yes, this is correct, but that was years ago, I'm afraid my best years have passed."

Another woman walked in the door, I stood to greet her, but she seemed on a mission. "Come on Grandmother, we need to get back to the port to catch the Catamaran soon."

Sophia (if that was her) stood and put her large frame sunglasses back on, grabbed her umbrella and the two joined arms and left my office. A few feet from the door Sophia stopped and opened her umbrella, turned and waved at me. Standing at the door watching I smiled and waved back. 'Well, that was interesting,' I thought to myself. I wonder if that really was her. I think she was a real bombshell back in the 1950s. She was in a ton of movies and won all sorts of awards for having large breasts, shapely hips, and really nice legs.

The rest of my day was routine, I locked the doors at 6:02pm and took a taxi home. I checked my mail box and saw it contained another reward check from some agency in Germany for two fugitives I caught last month in Morocco. The money in my bank account is piling up again, the reward checks certainly help. I have more money in my account now than I ever have in my entire life!

That evening I wrote my actual flight plans for the trips with the ambassador, from the airport in Tetouan Morocco where I rent the jet. I fly to Rabat and land, the ambassador gets on board, then we fly toward Almeria, Spain, Valencia Spain, Marseille France, and land at Nice. For the trip back we'll go from Nice to the island of Palma Spain then to Valencia and Almeria and return to Rabat. After he exits the plane I return the jet to Tetouan and sign the invoice and take a taxi home. The direct line is about 1000 miles, we'll add two hundred miles by staying near land, but fly over the sea on the way back. Actually, the most expensive part of renting the jet will be parking it in Nice for 72 hours!

Flying time will be close to two hours either way, depending on winds at 32000 feet. That time of year the jet stream should be to the south so we should do two hours exactly. I suggested to him once since we had the jet we should do a little sightseeing and after we leave Nice fly low over Venice then Rome and head for home. He asked if we could circle over Rome and I said no. The city is actually smaller than most people realize and the airport is like 40 miles from the city center, it's a crowded airspace and they have two airports and fly a lot of helicopters too because of the traffic.

I thought about it and it still sounded weird that we're spending all that money to play cards and gamble on a card game few people understand. Baccarat isn't one of the daily games in Monaco; it's a special event that will draw players from around the globe. They even had to hire dealers from Macao just for this event.

I emailed Jen about the lady that came into my office with the Frankenstein face, she said it was possible but strange. She found a few pictures of Sophia taken in the last couple years and it looked nearly identical so she was convinced more than me. I really didn't care either way. Maybe they'll stop in again when they come back to get their jackets and gloves. Or maybe I could ask in the shop next door to see if they think it was really her. I had to read the Wikipedia article on Sophia to learn about her career, her fame occurred long before I was born.

Steven reminded me that Monaco is as far north as Boise, Idaho, so pack accordingly. Like Tangier it's on the ocean and has a milder climate but it still gets cold at night there. He said overnight lows around forty degrees and highs in the upper fifties.

The days went by slowly, I had my usual run of lost and destroyed passports to deal with and one American died, we got her boxed and flown home.

I stayed in touch with Jen, she almost sounded jealous about my upcoming trip but I told her it would be a mix of business and pleasure. Since I don't play cards professionally or gamble the casino has no interest to me other than to walk around inside and watch my boss lose money in a card game. I might drop a token in a slot machine once just to say I did it. Otherwise I might hang around outside and watch the tourists, maybe drink a few beers and do some people watching.

I think you have to pay a fee to even enter the casino and also pass the security check and the dress code check. That's why we rented suits. Steven (my boss) is going in a James Bond type suit. I'm going in a used rental. But I should look sharp as his pilot.

When we walked from the Hotel de Paris de Monte Carlo it's across the street from the Casino on a large paved town square. There are always large numbers of people walking around outside, it also attracts thieves from around the globe. I thought I'd stand outside at a lamp post and watch their escapades. To the side of the large patio (and small concert venue) outside the front door to the Casino Monte Carlo are two outdoor cafes with dozens of tables, and a partial roof for rainy days. In the center is a flower garden that is fenced-in. The place is very well maintained and the buildings look very old and well maintained.

While Steven was inside participating in the tournament I stayed outside in the fresh ocean air, the breeze was blowing toward the ocean so I was able to open a cigar and sit at the outside tables and ordered a glass of wine and a bowl of nuts and crispy fried fish sliced like potato chips in the USA.

I watched the local hoodlums stalk the elderly tourists as they came out of the casino. It seems a lot of people want to walk inside the casino at night and walk around and gawk but they don't allow that at night, only in the morning. The inside of the building is highly ornate and stunningly beautiful. The inside of the casino is more of a museum than a place to drop dollars into the gold plated slot machines.

It took about an hour for me to figure out the four methods the local thieves used to `lift' wallets, it usually took two or three young people, and one of them was a child who pretended to need bus money. Once the victim got out their wallet it was snatched and they all ran off, often ripping a watch or purse in the process. It was sad to watch innocent elderly tourists stalked and robbed with police standing around watching. When I saw an elderly woman drop to her knees and sob at being robbed I'd reached my limit. I knew from watching that they were walking to the far corner of the outdoor pavilion and gathering in the shadows to split the loot and toss the rest in the trash. They attacked again and again. I'd already scoped out the wind and knew exactly where to launch my attack.

I paid my bar tab and walked towards them in the dark area near the northwest corner of the casino property. So I pulled out my spray can and gave it a few shakes and held it as far up in the air as I could and gave it two long sprays and hoped nobody walked up from around the corner in the next ten seconds, they should all get a dose in the nose. Before I left to go inside I gave them one more long spray then put the cap back on and went back inside to check on Steven. The guard at the entrance to the card tournament recognized me as staff with the Ambassador, his personal pilot.

They gave him some kind of banner to wear from one shoulder across to his other hip that marked him as a dignitary. I saw a rather large pile of chips in front of him. For a few moments when the dealers changed he glanced around and saw me, I nodded and he nodded back and gestured with his head at the pile of chips. I guess his months of practice have paid off. Baccarat is an odd numbers game that requires quick responses and close attention depending on how they work the cards. Most casinos cannot re-use decks of cards from a Baccarat game since the players often destroy the cards trying to force better luck to arrive. But the house always wins, so don't feel sorry for the casino. Baccarat is the most expensive card game for the casino to host, which is why most casinos no longer offer a table. The world HQ for that game now is Macao, which is across the bay from Hong Kong.

Tournament play ended at 12:30am, and before that happened I spent an hour outside watching the gangs rob the tourists and isolated another group and sprayed them too, but these certainly looked like Gypsies, not fakers. I think I got about 23 thieves that night and hopefully no secondary victims. It won't make the news mostly due to the flu-like nature of the deaths. Most appear like a sudden pneumonia that leads to sepsis, fever, body aches, fever, cough, and eventually respiratory failure. Once the symptoms set in only God can save them.

I met Steven at the entrance to the tournament room and we walked together across the street to the hotel, across the lobby to the elevators and up to the 4th floor. I never mentioned using the spray on a bunch of hoodlums. We went to our rooms and called it a night, but on the walk he told me he really made bank. When we got to the room he reached into his pocket and pulled out bundles of Euros, he said he made $89k Euros playing cards! I congratulated him and to celebrate he ordered room service, I think it was a young lady with a few bottles of Champaign and she was included. Tournament play resumed at 7pm tomorrow.

To show me how happy he was Steven handed me a bundle of 10,000 Euros to play with.

The next day I walked to the heliport and paid for a helicopter tour when they first opened. It was a 30 minute flight over Monaco and the coastline nearby. The pilot said they had a car race in Monaco but I knew nothing about it and wasn't interested in racing anyway. I guess he assumed everyone watched NASCAR, perhaps he was a loyal fan.

After that I walked back toward the center of town and found a restaurant with a menu posted outside in English and saw a couple things I liked so I waited for a table indoors near the windows and had an early lunch. After my lunch which consisted of a half pound hamburger without cheese but all the traditional toppings and condiments, along with a large pile of steak fries and two beers I walked along the harbor to see all the yachts. Some of them were way over the top, conspicuous consumption taken to an extreme. But they were beautiful. I always wanted to spend time crossing the sea on one of those enormous pleasure yachts.

I suppose the thing that bothers me the most is the idea that the owners might own a high priced cable TV service in the states and people pay a premium price every month so these leeches can live this kind of life, literally on the backs of the uneducated poor. So I was in one way repulsed and yet still impressed by the beauty of these ships as long as a football field.

I got a text from Steven at 4pm he wondered if I wanted to go to dinner. I texted back and said I was out walking I'd be back in our room in 20 minutes.

I took a shower and we left in our suits we wore last night and walked east about six blocks and three blocks south to a place called Cipriani Monte Carlo, which was Italian family style dining. We ordered baked fish, steamed vegetables in sauce, coffee, and wine. It was a fantastic meal.

I must admit it was one of the best dinners I ever had, but I didn't care for the waiter becoming sort of a tableside entertainer. I wanted to talk to Steven but the waiter sort of took over when the food arrived and serving became a big show. I sort of wished he'd set down the bowls, filled our glasses and left but he was also doing stand-up at our table. He laughed at his jokes but we didn't because his Spanish wasn't great. I doubt I'd go back, but like I said the food was excellent. I go to movies to be entertained, I go to restaurants to eat and have someone else do the cooking and cleaning. Steven wasn't happy with the show either.

We had to take a taxi back to make it to the tournament on time, he raced into the hotel, showered again and got in #2 suit, and I did the same and boxed up #1. While Steven got signed in to the tournament I went outside across the square and grabbed a table and an espresso and started watching for the thieves to return.

The gangs never returned but some younger men worked the square trying to snatch purses. The wind tonight was faster but out of the same direction, and it started to rain. But I saw this guy walk into two women and reached into their purses and lifted wallets so I finished my coffee and roll and went after him. But this guy pulled a new trick, he walked about a block away and went in the side entrance for a coffee shop, put on a hat and apron and was suddenly working in a coffee shop making espressos. So I sat at the bar and watched his routine carefully to look for vulnerabilities. I was too far to spray him directly and the air currents were too diffuse because of ceiling fans. I finally got an idea.

The antique espresso machine he operated was directly across the counter from me so the guy's butt was often no more than 2-3 feet from my coffee cup and a small napkin dispenser on the counter ahead of me. I noticed that every 20 cups of coffee he made he had to refill the bean holder on the machine and when he did that he always washed his hands and used the towel he had tucked into his belt on the back of his pants and he always wiped the sweat off his forehead.

I came up with a plan and got the spray can from my pocket and took off the cap and ordered another espresso, which is one of the few things I can say properly say in French. I closely watched the guy beside me; he also seemed to be wasting time like I was. I set the tiny spray can near the napkin holder and when he got to the 19th espresso I had to act, so I reached for the sugar and deliberately knocked his coffee over when I reached. At the same time the thief had to pour in more beans so I grabbed the spray can in my left hand and when he bent over to get the bag of beans from the cabinet under the espresso machine I leaned forward (while the guy beside me was mopping up the coffee from the counter before it dripped on his slacks) then sprayed the towel of the thief in front of me. He poured in the beans and put the large bag away, pulled the towel I just sprayed with anthrax off his waist in back and wiped his forehead and face (it was hot working the espresso machine) and stuck it back under his belt. I finished my coffee, put the cap on the tiny spray can, and stuffed it into my pocket, left a tip and left the restaurant for the square outside the casino to try to snag another thief.

It was raining and cold outside, a nasty night so instead I went inside and checked my coat and showed security my ticket and walked around the 2nd story observation deck with a Birdseye view of the tournament. It took almost five minutes to locate Steven at the table, but his bright red royalty banner certainly helped.

I finally spotted him and like last night he had stacks of chips and a smile on his face. I think facial expressions are very important in Baccarat since it affects gambling and bluffing. I noticed his drink glasses were all empty so I went downstairs and carefully worked my way to his table and whispered in his ear: thirsty?

He asked me to get him a tall glass of 7-up with just a little ice, so I grabbed two empty glasses and went to the bar and ordered. Five minutes later I returned with his drink and set it on a used drink napkin beside him and left turned to leave. "Ellis!" he mumbled. So I turned around. He handed me a stack of chips and told me to put it on 17-black on the Roulette wheel.

I've never even seen an actual Roulette wheel before and had to ask what to do, the man running the wheel said to wait briefly. He shouted 'Red-27' and they cleared the board and it was time for the next bets so he told me to place my chips on whatever square I wanted, I put the entire stack on 'Black-17' and he threw the ball onto the wheel, which never stopped turning slowly.

The ball raced around the golden wheel in a groove for almost fifteen seconds then slowed and dropped onto the wheel and bounced around and came to rest on one square. When it started to slow the man (with a French accent) proclaimed, "Seventeen!" and they used a long pole that looked like a coffee bean rake and slid all the chips toward me, so I asked for a tray and picked up the chips and cashed them in at the window, it was $23k Euros, but I didn't ever hear how much the initial bet I placed was. I think it was around $900 Euros.

I pocketed the cash inside my sport coat and walked around the room until I was nearly straight across the room from Steven, maybe he'd see me between hands. When he looked up to take a sip of his 7up I gave him a thumbs-up and headed for the room to drop off the cash. By the time the cash was in my room I checked the time, it was 11:49pm, so Steven had another 70 minutes left. I went back outside and watched for more pickpockets but there was almost nobody outside because of the rain and wind, it was nasty outside, it felt and smelled like winter!

Since it was almost the end of the tourney for today I sat in the lobby of the casino and waited for Steven. I heard applause and music when the tournament ended at 12:30am and watched for Steven to walk out. After he cashed his chips we walked across the street to the hotel. I told him how I did on the wheel and said the cash was in his room. Steven sounded almost upset and told me that was my share, it was my winnings. When we got to the room he gathered the cash I left on his bed and brought it to my door and knocked. I took the cash and thanked him, we both turned-in for the night. I took a shower and went to bed. I forgot to ask how he did on the 2nd night but it was safe to assume he ended in the black.

So the Ambassador was sent to law school right out of high school, it must have been terribly stressful. I heard from other kids raised by parents from India they were given the choice in Kindergarten: lawyer or doctor. So he had no choice really, short of shooting his parents or running away from home. I can't say that I know him personally but the time we've spent together I'd say that I mostly trusted him. There are not too many people I've said that about. But he is good at Baccarat; I've never even seen the game except on some James Bond movie once or twice. Maybe it was Sean Connery?

The next morning it was our last full day at the hotel, the tournament was over early tonight. It started at 5pm but ended at 10pm. As of this morning Steven was way ahead and so was I. We ordered breakfast as room service and sat outside in the morning sunshine but it was cold outside, overnight the rain and clouds left and the wind calmed down too. At least the sun felt warm.

Steven talked about last night and told me he started up then lost for almost a straight hour then things started to turn around when he was down to his last few chips, so he bet heavily and won some pretty big hands. He told me so far he was about $190k Euros ahead, which was enough to pay for the jet, the hotel, the suit rentals, aviation fuel, and meals.

For lunch we found a nice coffee shop that was also a basic bakery that served small sandwiches so that's what we had for lunch. We got back to the hotel at 2pm and hung around in the room watching TV and looking out the window and chilling out on the nice furniture. The room was similar to my old apartment in the men's dormitory in Barcelona except it was brightly lit and had much nicer furniture. We talked about Morocco and the State Department, he said he might quit and use his doctorate to make some real money, then he asked if I was interested in moving to Rabat and taking over some of the embassy operation but I quickly told him no, I loved Tangier and wanted to stay there.

He looked at me funny and said, "I've heard several people say that about Tangier, it gets a hold on you and won't let go. If ever there was a city that was haunted it's got to be Tangier."

He reminded me after the next presidential election it was possible all the ambassadors could get fired, along with senior staff, so my little office in Tangier was not permanent. The cost to operate it comes out of the budget for embassy operations in Morocco. He told me that little store front costs more than I'd realize.

I interrupted him and told him tomorrow morning I had to leave early and take a taxi to the airport in Nice so I could pre-flight the jet so it was ready and refueled when he arrived, I told him to give me a two hour head start so he wasn't sitting there wondering how much longer it would take. We agreed he'd handle my cases, since that was actually all done by the bellboys and the limo drivers.

We both took showers at 4pm and got ready for our last night at the casino. I was afraid to say much so he didn't think I jinxed him somehow. He told me he was in fifth place of 41 professional Baccarat players on twelve tables. Before we booked this trip he told me he watched a video on how to play Baccarat then used a computer based training program to practice until he rarely lost due to his mistakes, then he decided to try his luck.

"You started training how long ago?" I asked.

"About nine months ago, before that I never saw the game, now I'm #5 in the Free World." He boasted.

I mumbled, "Well you are pretty smart."

But Steven corrected me, he said he wasn't a genius but he was persistent about most things he did, that's how he survived UCLA. I was going to make a link between autism and persistence but decided to not say anything.

We walked together out of the hotel, across the street, and into the casino. On this walk he recognized several faces he remembered from the tournament, I saw a young man in black street clothes walking toward Steven so I darted in front of him and shoved the guy out of the way, they were on a collision course. He landed on his ass on the ground and Steven thought I'd gone crazy attacking someone for no reason, I told him the guy was going to take his wallet but at first he didn't believe me. I shouted at the guy as he got to his feet I'd be back outside in a minute, but I said it in Spanish, I doubt too many people here spoke Spanish. Monaco was mostly French and Italian. I reached down and offered the young man a hand and when he got to his feet I pointed toward the sidewalk and the poorly dressed young man walked away. I told Steven he was homeless and would try to grab his wallet because of how we were dressed. We headed for the entrance to the casino and went inside.

Steven signed in and got his banner; I smiled, saluted him and made a bee-line for the front doors to go in search of the pickpocket. While walking down the steps outside the casino I pulled out the can and pocketed the cap and turned the nozzle to a more directed spray. To the best I could recall he came from the east toward us approaching from the stores, so he must have been near the covered outdoor tables, I turned and headed that way and walked slowly once I got away from the casino crowds.

It was warmer out and starting to get dark outside, there were patches of blue sky but clouds were moving in, it might rain again tonight. There were lots of flags and pennants flopping in the breeze, it looked like the wind was coming from the northeast again which was a good direction for me. I went two blocks east of the large paved area outside the casino main entrance and hung out watching for the guy to return, I was sure he'd be nearby smoking some meth, maybe in a Porta-Potty nearby.

This was such a busy area they had lines of Porta-Potties that were where a lot of criminals hid waiting to spot their next victim through the door vents. It may stink inside but it gets them out of the cold wind and rain when the weather sucks.

Thirty minutes later I saw the guy again. I caught a glimpse of him just as the street lights all started coming on and the clouds started to sprinkle a few tiny drops on the sidewalks.

I had to stay behind him so he was downwind all the time and he rarely looked behind. When there was nobody near us I caught up and kicked his right leg into his left and he tripped and almost fell forward. He spun around with fist drawn back ready to smack me as he leaned back to get some weight behind his swing I sprayed him directly in the face. He squinted his eyes and shook his head; I guess it stings if you get a bunch in the eyes. I stepped backwards and put the cap on the can and pushed it in my pocket but he started to move toward me after he tried to wipe off his eyes. I opened my suit coat to flash the holster on my right side, I saw his eyes glance down then he turned and ran off across the wide open area and disappeared around the corner of the casino heading toward the waterfront. I closed my sport coat and casually walked inside the casino and sat at the bar and ordered a beer, then another, and another. At 9pm I checked on Steven, he was smiling and had lots of chips in front of him so I left and went back to the bar and ordered a toasted Italian Hoagie and ate half of it and took the rest to our room and put it in the refrig. Then I took a shower to sober up a little and made it back downstairs for the final ten minutes of the tournament.

But they had already stopped and were counting winnings for the entire tournament and announcing the top five players. Steven got third place, he surrendered his red banner and took his award trophy, which was a golden pair of hands holding some cards with a nearly perfect Baccarat hand, and they said they would mail him the name plate.

We left the casino and walked across the street to the hotel and got changed into PJs and got ready for bed. Steven was very happy with his playing skill and said maybe someday he'd have the money to do it again. He said he earned enough to cover all our expenses and he'd go home with nearly $90k in Euros after paying for everything.

I was coming home with over $20k for just watching and getting rid of career criminals around Monaco. I wonder if anyone would notice. Perhaps it's difficult to notice you vacationed in Monaco and never got robbed.

We both got up early the next morning. I left at 8am and went downstairs to get a taxi. I was wearing office clothing and had my passport and wallet and pistol and spray and got a taxi to the airport in Nice. After checking in at the general aviation terminal I walked to the plane, opened the cabin door and got out the pilot's handbook and started the 10 page pre-flight inspection. Forty five minutes later I was halfway done I walked into Pilot's Services and filed the return flight plan, so they'd have enough time to get us into the system so we'd be on the radars and properly registered. They gave me the outbound transponder code number to program into the transponder for ATC at Nice and Gibraltar, which was ATC for the western Med. Once those were finished I completed the pre-flight checks. This jet was a 2006 Cessna Citation CJ2+.

Two hours later I caught a glimpse of another black Mercedes limo stopping outside the general aviation terminal and Steven got out and had the driver carry our cases into the general aviation terminal then they ended up on the tarmac twenty minutes later ready for loading. By then I was nearly done with pre-flight and the fuel truck was on the way. So I went outside and loaded the suit cases myself, as the fuel truck drove up. I checked his paperwork to ensure I got the correct fuel, 495 gallons. This jet took the same fuel as the passenger airlines, but not the fuel used by propeller aircraft. He hooked up the hose and pumped in the amount I requested based on my flight plan (Nice to (1010miles) Rabat to (140miles) Tetouan). Steven appeared standing near the wing with a smile and he looked like he was ready to go home.

The fuel truck got his signature and Steven got in the same seat as he did on the way here. I called ground control for permission to taxi and while they responded I went outside and removed the wheel chocks and got inside and closed the door and made sure he was buckled-in and our cases were strapped down.

I started both jets and let off the brakes and slowly started to crawl away from the airplane parking area and out onto the taxiway, around the commercial aviation terminal, and across the airport per ground control instructions. Air traffic seemed very light at that moment, there was nobody else waiting to take off, it seemed briefly I had the entire place to myself. I was cleared to proceed and cross runway 4L and taxi to runway 4R and hold short. They had construction going on and had people with flags to prevent me from turning early and driving onto their fresh concrete at the end of 4L. After crossing 4L I had a sharp turn to the right then taxied to the end of 4R and stopped before entering the runway. I leaned over to look out the windows for approaching aircraft but the airspace was empty. Winds were coming down from the hills so my takeoff would be toward the northeast. After wheels-up I'd make a climbing turn to the right and contact departure control but I already knew the route and had it programmed into the auto pilot. In fact, I programmed the entire route to Rabat into the autopilot before I started the trip across the airport.

The takeoff checklist was done, all the avionics were set and ready, the instrument panel had no warning lights so I looked out all the windows again and called for permission to roll onto the active runway for takeoff, the tower confirmed, to begin my roll then switch to another channel and received departure clearance. I re-checked the flaps and the instruments and slowly pushed the throttles forward and we were both pressed hard into the seatbacks.

About 14 seconds later we lifted off the runway and I started my turn to the south and climbed to 5000 feet and called departure again and was given clearance to 32000 feet and told to call Gibraltar Control for further. At that point the autopilot was green and already flying the plane, so I relaxed back into the pilot's seat and lowered my hands and feet and let Mister Cessna do the flying for the next two hours.

I turned my headset to intercom and announced a couple landmarks to my only passenger and used my fake pilot's Alabama accent, very low key with lots of vocal fry. I heard Steven laugh loudly from the passenger compartment six feet behind me. From 32000ft it almost looks like you're barely moving but we had a groundspeed of about 475mph. I think he got up and made himself a drink of some sort, but there was no booze on the plane. I think there was ice and cans of pop in the tiny galley.

One of my rules as the pilot is all passengers must keep seatbelts on when in their seat, it's safer for everyone if you wear the belt all the time.

We flew over Palma, Ibiza, Mercia, Almira, and then we crossed the Aboran Sea and entered Moroccan airspace. Our next turn was about ten miles out to sea to a spot north of Rabat. Their airport was three miles from and parallel to the coast. To minimize jet noise you fly out to sea turn and fly toward one end of the runway while losing altitude. The prevailing winds there were north to south so we anticipated landing northbound (northeast actually). By the time we flew over the coast the auto pilot was off and I had hands on the controls, one on the wheel and one on the throttles.

We were down to 5000 feet when we flew out over the ocean and started our turn to a point about 5 miles south of the runway where all there was on the ground was farm land, by then we were down to 1500 feet, I lined up with runway 03 (their only runway) and practically glided to the big white lines when I heard/felt the wheels touch, then the front gear touched and I reversed thrust, flaps up, air brakes deployed, and slowed quickly to 40mph and taxied to the general aviation terminal.

Someone ran out and chocked our wheels and I made the jet safe and left the cockpit and opened the door then got his suitcases and carried them outside to the waiting push cart. Steven met me beside the jet and shook my hand with a big smile he thanked me for an excellent flight. This was the tenth time I've flown him in this jet. It's one of the few rental jets available anywhere in Morocco. We had to shout because the jets were still running.

As soon as Steven was clear of the tarmac I gestured to the ground services guy to remove the chocks and I called for taxi permission back to the south end of 03. I really liked the way they painted the taxiways in Rabat, it was an easy taxi from the terminal to the end of 03 where I stopped and reviewed my checklist again, and we had plenty of fuel for 130 mile trip to Tetouan. I carefully examined the airspace, it was empty. I was given permission to roll onto the active runway and take off and follow the established route to Tetouan at 6000 feet.

Flaps checked, instruments all green, fuel plenty, and I pushed the throttles forward and in about 15 seconds I lifted off the runway and quickly went to autopilot, raised the flaps and wheels.

It's a 20 minute flight to Tetouan, then a ten minute taxi on the tarmac to where this jet was stored. If they wanted it in a hangar they move it themselves.

When I landed on runway 06 there was nobody else in the pattern. Then I had to turn around and taxi back to the start of the runway to taxi to the aircraft rental place which is also the only flight school in Morocco (that I was aware of). The paperwork took a while because someone had to get the hours and other data (like fuel level and hours) off the jet, so I always end up sitting around waiting on them, then I get a receipt and had to sign the second copy so State gets billed but when the bill arrives in the embassy in Rabat Steven Sravan will pay out of his own pocket. The company that leases the jets will never know who actually paid. He paid by the hour for the entire trip, even if the jet was parked on the tarmac overnight. But he made enough playing cards to cover everything, which is really cool.

In case you never heard I must say that all of Morocco operates on what is commonly called 'Island Time,' which translates into: nobody shows up for work on time, nothing is done in a hurry, and the entire population is okay with that attitude. Their national anthem should be: My Way by Frank Sinatra.

With two large suit case boxes in my arms I got a taxi ride to Tangier (30 miles) to return the suits and sign for the credit charges, but once she told me the cost I paid in cash, she ripped up the charge slips. I made sure I removed all the cash from the suit boxes. Then I took a taxi back to the apartment and got out all the cash and counted it. I also put the spray can on the gram scale to weigh it, that way I'd know how much was left, if any. I used it several times kinda hard and it showed it was nearly empty so I went online and ordered two more. They come by certified courier and must be signed for with ID displayed.

My final count of cash was $24,510 Euros, I left home with $200 Euros! So like Steven said, the trip wouldn't cost me anything and I'd come home in the black. He was right, but if I'd damaged the jet it could have cost a lot to cover the deductable but the jet was returned in pristine condition, just 4.6 hours on the jets.

One of my favorite places in the living room is in front of the two big windows that looked north, toward the beach and the port. Then I opened the east facing window and made sure the camera was working properly and took two telescopic shots of the ships by the pier, then checked my email, sent one to Jen that I was home, had a great time, made some money, more later. Then I fell face first onto the bed and hugged the second pillow to my chest and wished it was Jen. Minutes later I was asleep.

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