Municipal Blondes
17
Flight
WE DIDN’T GET OFF THE GROUND until 4:00 a.m. and that was a miracle. The lights at SeaTac had flickered a few times and winds smashed into everything. An hour out of Seattle, the pilot announced over a million people in Seattle were without power and we’d been one of the last flights to leave SeaTac, which was now closed and without power. Taking off was like riding a rollercoaster, only not as much fun.
Where the action is
My original schedule showed a seven-hour layover at DFW but since our flight was five hours late, I had spent most of the layover time in Seattle. I’d managed to stay plugged in so I had a full battery in the little laptop and as long as I was on the ground, I had access to my VPN. The late takeoff gave me plenty of time to dig deeper into what was going on in Belize. Not only is Brenda there, she’s spending a bunch of money at local markets in San Pedro. It looks like she’s settling in for a long winter’s nap.
The emergency UPS system in the vault kept one server running out of the ten Dag set up. At least I can still do research.
So, Brenda owns property under the name of Ashley Lark in San Pedro. I booked a reservation at the Belize Yacht Club, even though I had to commit to a week’s stay at $165 a night. I also had to book a fifteen-minute flight on a local carrier to get from the airport in Belize City to Ambergris Caye. Typical of Brenda to choose the most touristy party of Belize.
I checked my voice mail remotely to see if any message came in from Jordan. Cinnamon had called from my apartment. She said the power was only out for a flicker on Capitol Hill, so I have power and she’s staying in my apartment. She planned to email work and resign since her CEO is also one of the members of the Committee. She planned to stay in my place until I call. I’ll do that after I’m settled in San Pedro.
I keep going back to the list of people who make up the Committee. I can’t believe some of these guys would stoop so low. They each have a shell company selling mobile phone services. One of the other companies subscribes to their service for the company phones. The shell company contracts to buy network time from the actual mobile operator at a base amount. Then they route the calls through privately owned carriers that markup the rates. Those carriers bill the service back to the mobile operator at an inflated cost. The mobile operator is getting five or ten cents a minute for calls and are being billed a dollar or a dollar-fifty. The big gouge is into the pocket of the operator but the shell companies are selling at a huge profit, as well. As a result, each company’s cellular bill is higher than if they just worked out an arrangement with the mobile operator directly.
These guys have sold services, not only to each other, but to eighty percent of the top 500 companies in the world. They’re raking in billions.
Time to board for Belize.
Beach time
Beautiful!
I wish I was here for pleasure. It was eighty-five degrees when I landed and now that the sun has set over the clear blue Caribbean, it is a perfect 72. My room on the second floor looks out over the water with a perfectly wonderful lanai where I can sit and have coffee in the morning. It’s paradise.
I landed right on time at three-thirty this afternoon and caught the shuttle flight to Ambergris Caye, the largest of the islands off the coast of Belize and just inside the Barrier Reef. The sand is perfectly white and so is the hotel. The room is spacious and comfortable. People are running all over everyplace waiting on you.
Once I was settled in, I did some shopping. I hadn’t packed for this kind of adventure but I did toss in extra wigs and my makeup kit. I bought a bikini (much to the surprise of the shop clerk until I told her it was for my girlfriend), a pareu, and sandals. When I got back to my room, I stripped off all my makeup and showered thoroughly. There’s no reason for me to pretend to be a boy here. Even if Jordan didn’t revoke the warrant for my arrest, he can’t enforce it here and he can’t stop me from traveling elsewhere.
On the other hand, Brenda knows me only as a blonde, which is why I also grabbed my short red bob when I was abandoning my apartment last weekend. It’s an easy look and with makeup that plays down my lips and cheekbones, I don’t look anything like I did when Brenda met me in Dag’s office. I’m now Riley Finn. I went to the hotel desk and told them my boyfriend instructed me to register with him and they took down my passport information. Now I could keep James Whitcomb hidden for a while.
I had a nice meal. It’s been so long since I actually relaxed and had a meal that I indulged myself at the Celebrity Restaurant. I had the BBQ Grill Chicken, Vegetables, Rice & Beans, and Chocolate Cake. It was all exquisite, even if a little pricey. I’m trying to figure out who I’m going to bill these expenses to. I might have to tap into Brenda’s bank accounts!
As I was leaving a man approached me and offered to buy me a nightcap at the Splash! Poolside bar. I was about to blow him off—he was old enough to be my grandfather. Then I realized it was Jonathan Reinholdt, CEO of Bio-Research Technologies. I’d just seen him at the Condo! I let him down a little more gently and suggested we take a rain check until tomorrow evening.
Reinholdt is one of the Committee. He’s staying here at the Yacht Club. I’m betting his wife isn’t here. I guess it’s time to go back to work.
Casing the joint
It was a morning for some serious shopping. The only girl clothes I had were the bikini and sarong I bought yesterday. That was adequate dress for most venues on the island but I didn’t want to be known for one outfit the entire time I was here. Saturday morning markets gave me everything I needed. The boutiques filled in the need for a decent dress in a gay print and I got a lot of accessories. It’s a little slinky but most of the clothes I saw don’t cover much. I plan to pump Mr. Reinholdt for information. He could be my ticket into Ashley Lark’s home. It would be a lot easier if I was invited in instead of breaking in. You can’t tell me Jonathan Reinholdt is on the island for any reason other than to visit Ms. Lark.
Remind me not to call him Mr. Reinholdt this evening. He hasn’t told me his name yet and god knows he might have an alias here, too.
I’m lathering myself up with sunblock and dressed in khaki shorts and a lightweight white shirt. I’ve been keeping the scar on my right side covered as much as possible. I’m planning on a little hike this afternoon.
The place is like a fortress except it doesn’t have a drawbridge. I don’t think the bridge draws up, at least. It crosses a tiny stream one could easily skip across if the bridge was raised. There’s a guard at the gate and another strolling the grounds on the beach side. That one stopped me when I crossed the stream down by the ocean. He just warned me that I couldn’t go above the tide line. The shore itself is public.
A huge yacht is anchored about a quarter mile offshore. Either it’s Brenda’s (which would explain how she got down here from Mexico without triggering an immigration alert) or it’s another visitor.
When Davy told me there was no meeting of the Committee at the Condo, I finally figured out they had to meet elsewhere. The whole Committee wouldn’t risk being seen together in one place in Seattle unless it was at some charitable event. Their companies have a reputation of being fierce competitors with each other. No one would raise an eyebrow at them all traveling south for R&R right before Christmas. Next week would probably find them scattered at various ski resorts.
If you added up the entire net worth of everyone in Seattle, more than half of it would be in the hands of these eight men. And that’s only the legitimate part Forbes reports on. It doesn’t include any of the hidden funds in Swiss bank accounts or offshore banks that aren’t required to report to the US Government.
It strikes me as odd they’d wrap up all their illicit dealings in one industry, though. I need to do more research on that.
I’m meeting Mr. Wrong for dinner at eight, so I’d better get made up and slip into the slinky dress. Wish me luck.
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