Chapter 37 - Queen's Gambit II

   I did take Little Lightning down to the private beach. Me, her and Elise had pictures of us all oiled up, on lined up chaise lounges. Taking sun. Little Lightning, was definitely wearing a little leather string bikini. One that hid nothing except what would keep you out of jail.

   We made several short dancing videos of her, on the beach and in the surf. For one, she had a big sombrero on. One of the northern Brazilian presents Panic had picked up while there. She tossed her string bikini top at the camera, and did that thing where the girl dances, using the sombrero to artfully hide her tits. While she was doing what she called showgirl dancing doing that, we tossed her another one, like a Frisbee. She smiled and tossed her string bikini bottom now, and had the second sombrero to move around, and hide her down below region.

   I've seen this, when the showgirl is dancing with feather fans. She can hide both boobs, or one over boobs and another over the lower region. The dancing girl can turn, to show you her bare back, proving if only the thing in her hands wasn't hiding her? She's naked and dancing for you. You can see her butt wiggling suggestively, the same way.

   We finished with her string bikini back on, and she's standing, perfectly balanced on Teddy Ball. Panic knows that's actually the big one. Before we left, Light was doing the medicine ball standing and then walking. JG already knows, that the smaller the ball? The harder it is to balance. Lightning said it, while entertaining us all with the medicine ball.

   Me and Panic, and even Little Lightning herself know, that JG is in love with her. Its a matter of time. When it finally goes down, our plan is to sign the rest of her cutting house over to her. Some more for Junior as well. He keeps her computer network and server running, the signature tools of her workshop.

   With bait like this, we just can't miss. Free vacation in paradise. This, waiting for him when he gets here. His secret crush, that everyone already knows about, its no secret. JG doesn't know it, but I can just text my handler, his boss, Uncle Mikey. Hey Mike. I want JG for a little while. You mind? I've never been told no.

   JG was thinking about it. I told him to ask Mike. Turned out Mike was away from the office for a while. I asked what it was, and JG said even he didn't know. Its normal for Uncle Mike, who came the the FBI from military intelligence. The government shares resources, interdepartmental. Mike's a fireman, and he has a reputation for putting out fires. Someone, somewhere no doubt has a little shit-storm on their hands that blew up in their faces, and everyone's scrambling for raincoats. This is Mike's stock in trade. He'll jump on the shit tornado, and ride it out. Dragging it across a finish line so everyone can more or less live with the outcome.

   Junior doesn't take many vacations. As long as there's no fire to put out that he's on at the moment? He can easily get away. I texted Mike, who texted JG. Junior will think Panic had Mike's ear, when in fact it was really me as much as Panic. I texted him photos and information, to get his private jet ride. It will be a nice surprise for him, when he sees it.

   Panic hit him shortly after, with his toy list. Junior texted me back.

   LOL. And I thought you just wanted me. Should have known, you needed something. Don't worry. I have standing orders to help Panic out, when he asks. I don't have to check the toys out. Anyone asks? Training exercise. On an afterthought? I texted Uncle Mike again, who would text but not answer his phone. He must be in mixed company, whatever he's up to. Since Panic's here with me, can't Junior be meeting with an FBI consultant?

   Mike hit me back. Sure. Why not. Poor guy works too much. Like someone else I know. Glad everyone is finally getting the idea. You gotta relax, and smell the roses once in a while. Have fun.

   Mike forgot to ask where we were, and I forgot to mention it. No biggie. I texted Junior, and told him not to mention where he was going. Burners only. Working vacation, and you won't even lose any time off. He sent me back quick. Just kiss me before you fuck me. I couldn't resist. I texted him back.

   Little Lightning might have to handle that one.

   Vladimir has the pilots answering to him temporarily, on account of Francois and his wife are missing and presumed dead. Their yacht blown to smithereens and all, in a freak lightning strike, on a clear blue day. Everyone's tense and on edge, in their whole organization.

   The Bermuda police, were a whole lot less of a problem than anyone suspected. There's only a handful of real detectives. Practically the whole department is mainly beach police, for lack of a better term. The somber detectives, that would normally only come out to handle the rare rape or murder? Were interested. I mean, go figure. Panic's prediction? They'll want all the basic information. Short interviews. If they're any good at all, their guts will tickle them, that something isn't right, but... they'll get gentle pressure from on high.

   This makes us all look bad. This is paradise. Millionaires and even billionaires? Love to come here and relax. Look. Anonymous report, of lightning striking a yacht. A freak accident. Go figure, what happened then.

   Four victims, of a horrible freak accident. Francois and his wife. The two engine men, that man the yacht routinely. The only reason there's three survivors? Guests were scuba diving. One is a big investor's top assistant? Getting scuba diving lessons, from guys that were old hands at it.

   And what did anyone know. Well? We were about 45 feet down, having fun. We felt something. Felt like a big rock dropped nearby, but there's nothing to see. We came up a little later? Boat's gone. We control rising and falling underwater? By taking water into our float vests, or putting air to it, to rise. Setting buoyancy negative, positive, or selecting depth.

   We come up, the damn boat's gone. We put air in our vests, and what. We lock arms and float, until a passerby picked us up and gave us a ride in. We were miles out. After the short interview was over? The three detectives went off to the side, pow wow time. I can't hear them, but I can read body language. One's buying it. One clearly isn't. The middle guy? Brokering the other two. One called in to... probably home base.

   He gave his phone the middle finger after he hung up. More discussion. Finally? Shrugs and resignation. Gentle pressure from on high. Boys? You work for Bermuda. Bermuda? Is job number one. Bermuda did nothing, it was an act of god. We don't look good, we don't look bad. We issue statements, how we're doing all we can, to look into this horrible tragedy. Wrap this one up, professionally. We can't arrest god, for an act of god. God? Is out of our jurisdiction.

   I know this drill. Seen Uncle Mike do it on camera before.

   Junior was here in record time. I know how fast that sport jet can fly, when the throttles go all the way up, and the engines scream. I can hear Vladimir's instructions, in my head. Boys? Fuel is replaceable. Time isn't. Me and Panic picked up JG at the airport. Two bags full of clothes and gear, and a backpack.

   In time for dinner.

   Francois and his wife haven't been dead twenty-four hours yet.

   JG didn't even know who exactly he was having his nice dinner with, until Panic told him.

   He initially introduced him as Francis Green.