Harder Than Diamonds

[penprick]

I am pleased to announce the launch of

Harder than Diamonds

starring:
penprick, Maid of Marvels, and Vikingstone

also:
Steiner, Drinking Cap, Jenn1982,
Snow-Guy, MrWolf and Miss Behavin'

This is a closed thread.
Go here for the accompanying OOC.
https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=332321​

 

[penprick]

The Setup

Flawless was anchored in a gap in the reef about nineteen-and-a-half miles off the coast of Curacao in the Dutch Antilles, one-half mile from international waters. Within the confines of sovereignty, no one would dare threaten the meeting. They were just far enough out for privacy. Simon aimed his binoculars back towards shore. A speedboat approached. Zooming in, Simon recognized Esteban's passenger. She had made it, finally. Decending from the helm to the cabin, Simon activated the random-noise oscillator. Any wireless transmissions within a furlong would be utterly scrambled and anyone determined enough would need some very sophisticated technology to watch the proceedings. Even then, lip reading would be impossible. Use of the oscillator also had the added bonus of arousing the curiosity of the indigenous sharks. Stepping out on deck, he inspected the waters below. Sure enough, two of the lethal predators, alerted to the disturbance, showed their form below the clear-blue surface and passed beneath the yacht. There would be more.

Esteban pulled the speedboat up alongside Flawless and Tatiana climbed the ladder as he cut the ignition and moored. Simon met her at deck level and offered his arm to help her aboard. The breeze played with the blonde-streaked strands that stepped out of order from her long braid. Her hair had grown, but she still had her tall, trim figure and deep blue eyes. Four years had aged her, but left her no less lovely. Not that he hadn't aged himself. His temples had greyed since they had last parted.

"You're late, dear," he calmly noted.

"If your handyman here hadn't left so quick I would have made the first trip.," she smirked. "I see you've lost none of your rigidity when it comes to such matters as these."

"Rigidity if you will," he replied. "This is business. And such business should be done properly or not at all." Donald padded her down for bugs with an electronic wand. Mr. Randall left nothing to chance.

"Simon really," Tatiana protested futilely.

"Everyone else gets the same treatment."

"Did you frisk yourself?" she inquired.

Simon, in his white t-shirt and khaki shorts, turned his attention to the group sitting about on deck. Donald and Esteban were his personal assistants. The rest were in on 'the job', well all but one. The middle-aged mustachioed rough-and-ready scotch-weilding gentleman was McTegaue. Andy and Simon went way back and knew each other well. Operationally, he was a great field general and right-hand man. Young Miles was a technical super-genius who hadn't yet met an electronic or computer system that he couldn't crack. He was quirky, but Simon knew that he always came through. It was always grape juice for him. At least a shot of vodka would have made it a greyhound. Eric, with his sleeve of guiness, was a world class infiltrator. His skills were raw but invaluable. Sanchez was a newcomer. He was supposedly a local of the ultimate destination of their quest and knew the territory like the back of his hand. he declined a beverage. Finally, there was Tatiana. As brilliant as she was beautiful, she was not only efficient in execution, but resourceful in planning as well. She was Simon's indispensible secret weapon. Donald brought red wine for her and Simon.

"Now that we are all here, we shall begin," Simon announced. "From now on, when we speak to each other in such private circumstances, we shall use aliases." He held his hand to his chest. "I am the King." Then he gestured to Tatiana. "This is the Queen." Then he pointed out each member of the group. Andy: "The Rook," Miles: "The Bishop," Eric: "The Knight," Sanchez, "The Pawn."

"Of course our quest needs a treasure," the Limey continued. "That is where things always get interesting and this time is no exception at all. We all know the story of the greatest jewel theft of all time. In 1964, Murph the Surf with two of his mates broke into the American Museum of Natural History in New York and stole the J.P. Morgan Collection. The main attraction being the world's largest sapphire, the Star of India. What you don't know is that the ending of the story is false." If he didn't have everyone's attention, he had it now.

"History would have us believe that the jewels were recovered in a Miami bus station locker, but it's not true. They've been missing ever since, but the museum and the government felt the need to save their yankee face," he grinned. "Thanks to some privy intelligence obtained by the Rook over a good bottle of Glenlivet, we have chanced to know that the museum's 'Star' is a fake. I've paid a recent visit to New York and done some digging. Since the theft, the 'Star' has never been weighed."

The Knight stretched out and the Bishop stroked his chin. It was an incredible revelation.

"And you know where the original is?" Tatiana asked rhetorically.

"Someone has been bragging in certain circles," Simon went on. "Someone that we all know. In fact, the Bishop has worked for him in the past. He's an American living in the mountains of Rio de Janiero, going by the name of the Condor."

"Jim Gabriel," Miles uttered somewhat nervously.

"The dot-com billionaire, indeed," confirmed Simon. "And I intend to pay him a visit."

"The Star of India," Eric contemplated. "That's the size of a bloke's palm aint it?"

"Five-hundred-and-sixty-three carat," Miles recited savoringly from his encyclopedic memory. The Knight let out a whistle.

"I want that stone," Simon grinned slyly. "Of course, Mr. Gabriel has many more gems in his collection, The Transvaal Blue, The Zambese Tigress, over 300-million dollars worth, or so he makes it known. Well take all that we can carry. Anything large and non-fenceable shall be reserved for the Queen and I. The rest shall be divided up amongst the rest of you, save for the Pawn."

All eyes fell to Sanchez. He became nervous.

"Most of us have worked together, although not all at the same time," said Simon. "So we kno each other's roles, the Rook, shall help me with logistics in planning and in the field. As always, the chain of command runs from me through him," said the Limey. McTeague nodded. "The Bishop is our electronics expert. In these modern times, he's our 'security-cracker'. The Knight shall lead us up the Condor's mountainsides and estate walls. The Queen shall help provide background information for planning, as well as her wealth of on the job expertise."

Donald returned from the cabin and stood next to Sanchez who was leaning against the deck rail. Simon thought it quite convenient.

"The Pawn's cut has been determined by a special arrangement," Simon announced further.

"What about his role?" asked the Irishman, Eric.

"When I had enquired about his skills I was told that swimming was not among his proficiencies," the Limey explained. "That makes him perfect for his role of which he is about to fulfill."

Sanchez looked perplexed. Simon nodded at Donald and the powerful Dominican stepped into the Latino's shoulder, forcing him over the side. His fading wail preceded a sizeable sploosh.

"Donald, how clumsy of you," Simon remarked calmly.

"So sorry Mr. Randall," he replied in his deep Caribbean tone.

"Throw him a line," Simon ordered.

Donald casually tossed a life ring into the drink. It landed nowhere near Sanchez.

"Oh and in case anyone was wondering," added Simon. "The Pawn's pre-arranged cut was specially determined to be zero."

"¡Socorro, Socorroooo!" Señor Sanchez gasped from the water below as he thrashed about. The cries became shreiks as Simon approached the rail to inspect. By the time he peered down, Sancez had disappeared and a reddish stain hung in the bubbly drink. The life ring bobbed some ten yards beyond.

The Limey never worked with people he didn't know. When he had Sanchez checked out it didn't take long until the Condor's name came up. Simon could not think of a dish more fit for shark than rat. He was also not quite so certain that the enemy didn't have Flawless under some mode of video surveillance, no matter how poor quality it may be. There were a number of inconspicuous vessels within sight. If the enemy would play his 'Pawn', Simon would take it and defiantly make it known.

"Quite rude of Mr. Gabriel to send a spy if you ask me," Simopn quipped.

There was laughter.

"I will venture to garner an invite to the Condor's lair. A reconaissance run, if you will," said Simon. "I will contact you all again to update within the week. I believe this concludes the meeting." Simon deactivated the oscillator and gave instructions to Donald.

"Report the unfortunate shark attack to the authorities. Tell them we did all we could." There would be no investigation. The Limey knew the district prosecutor in Curacao, Mr. van Noort, and his mistress personally.

The guests, began to disembark to the speedboat as Esteban prepared to pilot them back to shore. Simon took Tatiana by the arm.

"You are welcome to stay," he said. "We could catch up on things and I could take you back to Willemstad later, if you wish."

 

[Snow-Guy]

Eric

Eric was a little unsettled. Not by the fate of mister Sanchez, he'd gotten off fairly lightly for being a tout. Back home, the boys would probably have taken a Black and Decker to the Pawn's kneecaps before tossing him to the sharks.

It wasn't the prospect of climbing a large, and unfamiliar, rock face, almost certainly at night and quite possibly with an amateur in tow. That actually sounded like fun, and he already had an idea on how to get down if things went pear-shaped.

No, the thing that unsettled him was that if the Limey hadn't called, Eric would probably be in New York right now. Murf was still haunted by his failure, he'd never admit it though, the he was trying to do good works. So it was doubly tough for the poor bastard - he had to live with coming *this* close then getting betrayed, and he had to pretend it didn't hurt. Eric was something of a sucker for noble failures (he was Irish after all), and, well, the man was a relative. Not a particularly close one, but the ties of Irish families are as lengthy as they are Byzantine.

"God hates the Irish, sure he does." Eric remarked to the world at large.

 

[Steiner]

"God hates the Irish, sure he does." Eric remarked to the world at large.

McTeague slid up behind the man as they crossed the narrow gap to the speedboat. "You don't have to fuckin' tell me that, paddy." he remarked as he slid away from the man and seated himself on the bench seat at the back.

Andy mulled over the wisdom of the comment - might as well get this out in the open and see who he was dealing with nice and early. After a long career that included some time in Northern Ireland, Andy was over the whole "Irish Question" - especially now that the war had settled down to one of words, mostly. But there were still those with a chip on their shoulder, and he'd have to work out if Eric was one of those - if he got banter back, he'd know who he was dealing with. If he got told to fuck off, he'd work out if the guy could be professional. If he got silence in return, he'd know there was some brooding there - and something would have to be done.

 

[Drinking Cap]

Miles

Miles sat down unsteadily at the back of the boat, trying to regain his composure. His grey suit jacket, white dress shirt and matching grey pants were clinging to his body and his face was drenched with sweat brought on by the glaring Carribean sun. Miles was a firm believer in Einstein's theory that deciding what to wear was useless clutter of the mind and, as such, the only thing in his wardrobe were seven identical Brooks Brothers suits. Miles idly wondered if Einstein revised his own beliefs for tropical vacations.

But it wasn't the sea sickness or the heat that had the pale, skinny young man sitting weakly on one of the speedboat's plush seats. It was a mixture of the fact that Miles had just seen Simon kill a man. Well, not kill a man but order his death anyway.

"Simon has gone fu-fu-fu" Miles shouted to no one in particular, the stammer that afflicted him on any job returning with a vengeance "Simon has gone fu-fu-fucking crazy"

The two men, McTeague and, well, Eric looked strangely at Miles who now had his head in his hands.

"Oh?" Mcteague inquired, a slight look of amusement on his face.

"St-stealing from Jim Gabriel? Jim fucking Gabriel? Number 18 on Forbes magazine's list of Wealthiest Americans? Number one on any sane person's list of billionaires who aren't to be fucked with? We're stealing from him? On the basis of some rumour about a fake legendary sapphire?" Miles was close to hyperventilating as he rattled off this list of questions. He composed himself and thought about the situation he'd gotten himself into.

The story of Miles knowing Jim Gabriel was a strange one. Before the dot com bubble had burst, one of the companies "The Condor" had bankrolled had been a firm offering digital encryption services to high tech firms who were concerned with corporate espionage. One of the people Gabriel had hired to manage the technical aspects of things had been Dr. Gregory Samuels. Dr. Samuels had been a professor of Miles' at MIT. Dr. Samuels soon found himself running into the practical aspects of applying one of his theories to the demands of Jim Gabriel. Dr. Samuels had suggested hiring Miles on as a consultant.

Cryptography was really more of a hobby for Miles. Something to divert his attention from his more serious work. He'd taken the summer job and applied himself. He'd developed a cryptographic algorithm that, to put it mildly, was groundbreaking. It was going to make every other mean of protecting sensitive data obsolete. Miles handed his notes over to Dr. Samuels who then promptly took credit for it. It was going to take Gabriel's company to the forefront of the industry. Make Dr. Samuels rich and make Gabriel richer.

Miles didn't care for money. There were any number of things he could do for money. But he wanted the world to know what he'd done. Miles watched as Dr. Samuels was invited all over the world to speak about the Algorithm that Miles had needed to explain three times to his mentor before he understood it. Miles hired a lawyer and made some noise about suing. Then, a few days later, Miles had been visited by several large men in suits who informed him, very politely, that people who made trouble for Jim Gabriel soon found themselves in a bit of trouble. Miles got the hint and reduced himself to attending Dr. Samuels lectures and asking questions that left the older man stumbling for the right words. Jim Gabriel got his nine figure IPO.

As the boat sped to shore, Miles realized that this was it. This was his chance not only to get back at Gabriel but at his mentor as well. Any kind of security Gabriel had on his computers would almost certainly be encrypted with Miles' own work. If Miles could break it....

But could he? It'd be designed to be an unsolveable problem. Constantly resetting and rebuilding. A question without a right answer. Miles racked his brain, to his knowledge nobody had presented a convincing case for any flaw with his work.

Then, slowly a smile grew on Miles' face. If it had been a cartoon, a lightbulb would have gone off in his head. From his breast pocket, Miles produced a small notepad and a pen and began scribbling furiously. Equations that only a small handful of people on the planet would have been able to understand.

This could work Miles thought as he jotted his notes down This will work

 

[Snow-Guy]

"You don't have to fuckin' tell me that, paddy."

Eric looked pointedly at the Rook and said "I mean just look at the neighbours he gave us." He grinned. It didn't take, well, the crazy maths that the Bishop was scribbling down, to work out that the Rook had been a soldier in the British Army.

Eric personally didn't give a hoot about politics. Sure, he'd thrown stones at the patrols before his parents sent him down South, but that was just harmless fun really. But the English were still, well, English, and deserved to be made fun of.

"I was just thinking about the ironies of life..." He let the sentence hang, not sure if he wanted to explain.

 

[Steiner]

"The Rook" grinned back at the wisecracking Irishman and leaned farther back in his seat. The guy sounded pretty well adjusted, and Andy knew that this was going to work out fine - something of a relief.

"Yeah, well - somebody has to keep you people focused, or you just sit around drinking Guiness and writing bad poetry all the time..."

He himself had once had a problem with the Irish, but two tours out there had put paid to that and taught him that there was really not much difference between people at the fundamental levels.

 

[Vikingstone]

The Condor

Jim Gabriel rolled over and smiled as the first rays of the Rio sun peaked over the horizon. He tweaked the big, firm breast of his lovely bed-mate and grinned when she slapped his hand away. Alexandra simply could not fathom his need to get out of bed before 8 am when they had nothing planned and all operations were running without a hitch.

Gabriel stepped to the bedroom bar and poured himself a cup of the best coffee anyone anywhere was able to drink. The beauty of the scene before him never ceased to leave him momentarily speechless as he looked out the giant picture window to the east.

Bzzzz, beebeep.

Gabriel whirled as Alexandra leapt from the bed and disappeared around the corner to her private quarters and the remote command center. Gabriel could hear her establish the satlink and begin to speak into the Encryptron, the lovely toy that Dr. Samuels had stolen for him. That little program and the device that Samuels designed to utilize it for voice applications had been the cornerstone of The Condors' ability to stay a step or two ahead of everyone who'd like to finger, rob and or kill him.

Gabriel scratched his balls and turned back to the window to await whatever incoming missive Big Al might be receiving. A moment later he heard her footsteps padding along the mahoghany floors.

"Sanchez," Alexandra Kent said quietly, "shark food."

"Oh dear," The Condor mumbled as he lit his pipe. "A swimming mishap, I presume?"

"The Limey," Ms Kents' voice quivered with malice.

Gabriel was silent for a long moment as he puffed on his pipe. He wasn't accustomed to having his little schemes go awry. And if Randall knew that Sanchez was a mole, it was entirely possible that he knew who had planted him. That...was embarrassing.

"Tell them to hold for the moment, my dear...and then call the Spooks...and see about The Wolfs' arrival, Mr. Carmichaels' skills may be needed sooner than we anticipated." Gabriel spoke casually to Alexandra and she strode off.

The Spooks were a team of surveillance experts that The Condor had formed shortly before his stock swindle. Information was indeed the field artillery in this battle between crooked and straight and the Spooks had been invaluable in keeping him well versed in the movements and strategizing of his adversaries as well as his partners.

Oh, there would be retribution. Violent, humiliating, pitiless retribution. But first, Gabriel wanted to know exactly what that fucking LIMEY was up to.

"Alexandra baby?" Gabriel called out.

"Yes, Jimmy?" came her response as she poked her lovely face around the corner.

"Who was Sanchez advance man in Curacao?" Gabriel asked innocently.

"van Noort, the district prosecutor," Alex replied.

"Have him killed won't you dear...call somebody twisted, ok?" The Condor asked his Chief of Security, "but not before you have his whore raped to death while he watches?"

Alexandras' beautiful face twisted into a malignant grin, "Of course, hunny bunny."

 

[Snow-Guy]

"Yeah, well - somebody has to keep you people focused, or you just sit around drinking Guiness and writing bad poetry all the time..."

"Sure, if it wasn't for the Irish, the English language would only have that guy who died in a corner of a foriegn field and Shakespear." Eric paused to collect his thoughts, as fun as insults were, he did have some questions he wanted to ask. "So, you done any climbing... ya English bastard?".

Eric had quickly created his own nicknames for the team. Simon had been "the Great White Hunter" for a long time in Eric's mind, his girlfriend was "the White Witch", the geeky one was "professor Calculus" (a character from Tintin). Deciding on "The English bastard" for, well the english bastard, completed the set. If anyone asked Eric, he'd want to be "the gecko", but he doubted anyone would ask, they all seemed to like the chess names.

 

[Steiner]

Biting back the next retort in his long practiced series, Andy sensed the man was moving onto business and decided to play along.

"Climbing? Done a bit. Some buildings, some natural stuff. Not my forte, but I can do it. My speciality was vehicles, land vehicles. Oh, and counter insurgency.I understand from his Majesty that you can climb a nasty overhang using only your lips. I can't keep up with you in free climb, but if you get some pitons in, you'll find I move quite sharpish."

 

[Snow-Guy]

"Well ... oi prefer not to, it means I can't tell anyone how great I am while I do it." Eric grinned, the English bastard seemed he'd like a good fellow to work with.

"I'd be in trouble if I got caught using pitons by any of the guys I know, but I guess that's the least of my worries on this job. They're kinda slow and noisy as well." He scratched his head, there were still a lot of unknowns, but various plans were starting to come together nicely.

"But anyway, it's good to hear that you're not going to drop me when I'm on belay. I'll have to have a looksee, and would like to take you for a quick climb somewhere similar, if we have time, to work out what the best way of approaching it would be.

I don't *have* to have a capable partner, with ascender gear, and maybe a set of rescue pullies, I can drag almost anyone up almost anything, but it's nice to have someone else doing a share of the work." Most people would have sounded like they were bragging when they said this, but for Eric it was just a fact of life.

Eric paused, giving the Rook a chance to comment.

"Are yi any good with parachutes?" He asked, seemingly out of nowhere, but a connection had been made somewhere in his brain and he wanted to get it out.

 

[Drinking Cap]

Miles

Miles finally stopped his scribbling in his note pad and examined his work. It was theoretical, it was groundbreaking and it would be hard as hell to apply to the kind of conditions the job would put them under but it should work. He let a brief smile flash on his face as the Speedboat pulled up to the docks that they'd departed from earlier in the morning.

Miles pulled his glasses from his face and dried them on the sleeve of his jacket. His thoughts drifted back to the details of the mission and he turned to the other men on the boat who were currently arguing about, who knows, rock climbing or something.

"Hey, guys, does it strike either of you two as though we're kind of being boned on the compensation on this deal? I mean, Simon's going to be taking some of the most priceless jewels in the world and we're getting what? Whatever can be fenced? I don't know about you guys but Jim Gabriel doesn't really strike me as the type who holds a lot of small, uncut stones."

Miles watched as his words sank into the two men.

"And anything else will be too risky to move. Like I said, Gabriel is not a guy to be fucked with. Nobody will want to touch anything of his. I mean, christ, Simon's got a seat on DeBeers, I think we should be getting either money or stones for this gig up front."

 

[Snow-Guy]

"Sure, aren't we just doing this for the fun of it?" Eric asked. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was a part of him that was just doing it for the fun - presumably, Eric has a rather warped idea of what fun is.

"I'm always surprised by what the Great White Hunter back there can fence. Besides, I've done well out of his deals in the past. I'm sure he'll see us right." Eric paused, and decided he may as well test the geek the same way he tested the Major.

"Sure, if you do decide to lay down the law, boyo, I hope you're a better swimmer than poor unfortunate mister Sanchez."

 

[Jenn1982]

“…Yes, you have free reign with this one. Feel free to experiment with all your demented desires, but only after you finish with her. We want him completely lucid and attentive when he watches that. …No thank you, call me when it’s done.”

Alexandra hung up the phone with a sigh of disappointment. She would much rather have done it herself but it just wasn’t in the cards this time. At least she could take comfort in the fact that it would be done well by a true professional and that van Noort would have neither a quick or painless death. That thought put her in better spirits and she whistled a short tune as she dialed the Spooks. The wealth of information that she was able to garner from them had prove to be invaluable and it was the kind of info that would have taken her months to get on her own.

Someone answered on the other end of the phone and it wasn’t long before she had what she needed. She hung up and headed back into Jim’s room. Neither she nor Jim had bothered to dress but that was normally the way it was when they were in their rooms and neither of them seemed to notice when they were focused on business. Knowing that Alex only drank coffee when she was forced to get up at these ungodly hours Jim had a cup waiting for her. She took a few drinks before she updated him.

“You remember when Lance Hightower was killed?”

“Yeah. Didn’t they only find parts of his body?” Gabriel asked.

“That is correct my dear and they were able to ascertain from some of the larger pieces they found that poor Mr. Hightower had been brutally tortured before being cut up. But my point in bringing all this up is that the same cruel and twisted individual who handled Hightower will be paying our dear friend, van Noort, a visit tonight.”

She gave him a bright smile before continuing.

“Now according to the Spooks and Michael Carmichael was scheduled to arrive within the next few days but they’re going to do what they can to contact him and encourage him to come today if possible.”

Alex walked over to the bar and finished her coffee before rinsing the cup out in the sink and turning back to Gabriel.

“Since I’m up I might as well get in an early morning swim before I get started. I want to make sure everything is running smoothly before Mr. Carmichael arrives. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

 

[Drinking Cap]

Miles

"Look, I don't know if you know much about Jim Gabriel but some of the things I've heard, look, I just don't know how eager I am to be fucking about with him for nothing up front and only vague promises of a payment." Miles was pacing nervously around the boat. True, he didn't like the idea but what the Irishman had said hit a chord with him. He'd never known Simon to just up and kill someone like that. He probably couldn't bring it up.

"I'm j-j-just saying that this job is fucking risky as all get out and we're doing it for peanuts. Not even peanuts. The promise of peanuts" Miles couldn't help the stammer or the flinching he was suddenly afflicted with. Despite his protests he knew he was in for this one. The chance to fuck over Jim Gabriel, Dr. Samuels and put his most recent theory to application was simply too appealing to let go.

"I mean, sure, I'm having s-s-serious doubts about Simon's sanity right now but he wouldn't kill any of us, would he? I mean, that's just crazy" Miles sat down on the boat and began breathing deeply and slowly. He could feel a wave of panic wash over him. He hadn't had a panic attack in months but he felt one coming on. He'd forgotten what it was like to be on the job.

 

[Vikingstone]

The Condor

Gabriel took a moment to sweep the splendidly naked form of his chief of security. From pretty feet to raven tresses her well-muscled, yet feminine body filled him with twisted yearnings.

Alexandra loved to be admired and lusted after and the heated look in her employers eyes caused her body to tingle with anticipation. She simply couldn't help displaying herself provocatively before his gaze, preening and posing, stroking her firm body from strong thighs to upturned breasts and presenting an attitude of sexual invitation a developmentally disabled blind person could have recognized.

Their kindred sensiblity regarding sex had been something of a surprise to both of them. Very late one night, Gabriel had been perusing a dispatch from The Spooks. An issue he regarded as a potential security fault caught his eye and rather than waiting until morning to consult with Ms Kent, he absentmindedly wandered down to her lower level suite, something he had never done in the past. Her door locked, he knocked and then called out for an override, still examining the data from the Spooks. As the door slid open he began to speak and then looked up to find Ms Kent, naked and sweating, a spreader bar strapped to her thighs, a large wet dildo stuffed deeply into her vagina and a horrified look on her reddened face. The enormous television opposite the bed displayed video of what were apparently two very naughty girls receiving some much needed comeuppence.

Within a few seconds Alexandra had extricated herself from her apparatus and turned off the video leaving them bathed in the blue glow of the blank screen. They silently looked into each others eyes for several long moments before Gabriel took a step toward her and reached out his hand. He slowly gripped her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and waited. Her response was to cast her eyes downward and bow her head. Gabriel smiled wickedly and pinched Alexandras' nipple...hard. Groaning piteously, she sagged toward him but kept her feet, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Gabriels' grin twisted into a maniacal smile. He pulled her to him and spun her body, using her tortured nipple like a tether. His arm came up and clamped around her throat, the other around her body just below her breasts.

"Who's been a bad girl?" Gabriel growled malevolently as he gnawed Alexandras' earlobe.

"I have," she whimpered in response, pushing her hard, round ass against the large erection she could feel under his thin robe. A month later work began on an addition to the upper level of the stronghold.

"There is always something for you to do for me, Alexandra my pet," Gabriel said his voice dripping perverted suggestion. "But the one I'm thinking of right now starts with my cock and your throat and ends with you tied face down on the bed, 'catching' as it were."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for such pleasantries," The Condor sighed as he enfolded Ms Kent in his arms. "Mr. Randall has spit in my in espresso one too many times. Sanchez was certainly not indispensable but he was a valuable member of the team and his ignominious demise must be reconciled."

Gabriel bent his neck and kissed each of Alexandras' pale nipples in turn. Then bowing deeply before her he sloppily licked her always freshly waxed mons before rising and sweeping her into his arms and waltzing her grandly around the enormous bedchamber.

"Call Mina in Brussels and have her prepare to plant a little story about a possible deal that might be taking place here...nothing specific, just a rumor." Gabriel spoke haughtily as they danced. "Let it be known that we will be having a little reception down at the beach house to celebrate this grand collusion and a few friends will be invited to attend."

Gabriel bowed to his security chief once again and turning her 180 degrees, spread the globes of her smooth bottom and deeply french kissed her anus. Alexandra moaned loudly and pressed back, causing Gabriels tongue to delve yet farther into her clenching hole.

He stood and back-handed her left butt cheek soundly calling after her, "Stir the fuckers up my dear but wait until we have confirmation on Mr. van Noorts' untimely passing."

 

[Steiner]

Andy watched impassively whilst the accountant slowly wound down. Jim Gabriel a seriously bad dude? This mans sense of perspective was very messed up.

"The target isn't a dangerous man, mate. He's got an overinflated idea of his own self-worth and enough cash to buy a couple of tasty hitmen. He probably had a business rival snuffed once, and ran around with a hard-on for the next 6 months. So he does it again and again and he gets a reputation - but that doesn't mean he's all that. You worry far too much - the reason we're taking all these precautions is to stop from getting caught, not because we couldn't do the job quickly. The King has his sense of neatness and pride - some outfits we would have just gone in the front door with a couple of shotties and balaclava's and taken him out. Essentially, only little fish go swimming like our dearly departed "chum" Sanchez. None of us are little fish, so chill out."

Andy sat back. There was a certain element of risk in what they did, he knew. Some did it in spite of the risk and others because of it. He imagined that the one would never be comfortable around the other.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Tatiana

She had finally returned the call to Simon after leaving them unanswered for over two weeks only to get a recorded message with a date, time and place. How like him, she'd thought at the time, but in light of the bits of info gleaned over the past few days, she could hardly resist.

Tatiana listened to the palaver without saying much, details would be worked out later as she well knew, and barely raised an eyebrow when Sanchez decided he'd "do lunch" with the shark. Pawns were always expendable... and fools even more so. Sanchez being the latter.

"You are welcome to stay. We could catch up on things and I could take you back to Willemstad later, if you wish."

Simon's invitation had not been unexpected. Tatiana had been mulling over what their first conversation after four years would be like. They'd parted badly... sadly... madly... Pointing fingers... laying blame... calling names. She hadn't even bothered to pack. Whatever she left behind she meant to replace with new... including him.

It hadn't worked out quite the way Tatiana intended. She signed herself into the Betty Ford Clinic, got clean and straight and then buried herself in work. Brilliantly, it seemed. She garnered two awards over the following three years, one of them a second Pulitzer, but she never replaced him. That was one addiction no clinic, no shrink, no amount of work in the world would ever liberate her from.

Tatiana turned her back to Simon, watching while the others left the Flawless. No one asked if she was joining them. Perhaps they didn't care. Perhaps they just... knew better. Tatiana Lukianov was "The Queen", after all.

In a way, she thought to herself, they were all addicts. Whether they believed it was the thrill of adventure, the promise of mega-cash or even some macabre sort of hedonistic death wish, it was a whole body orgasm same as a needle in their arm, a few lines up their nose, or that all too familiar crackling sound as they inhaled. Bottom line? Simon Randall was their undeniable and sometimes deadly addiction. As he was hers.

Tatiana didn't turn to face Simon again until the speedboat had become a mere speck on the water's surface, looking directly into his eyes for the first time since she'd come on board. "Long time... " she whispered, touching her fingertips to the unfamiliar gray at his temples.

 

[Steiner]

Something that Paddy had said seeped in as the speedboat swept on its long curve back to the mainland.

"Parachutes? Yeah - I'm quite good with those. Done HALO, LALO and so forth. Why?"

Andy narrowed his eyes. Climbing was okay as a means to get from A to B quietly and stealthily. But he hated packing heavy gear and untrained people up a mountain - and he REALLY hated fighting at the end of it, and trying to escape back. His idea of a complete nightmare was a night paradrop to the foot of a mountain so that he could climb it and fight. With passengers.

 

[Drinking Cap]

Miles

"The target isn't a dangerous man, mate. He's got an overinflated idea of his own self-worth and enough cash to buy a couple of tasty hitmen. He probably had a business rival snuffed once, and ran around with a hard-on for the next 6 months. So he does it again and again and he gets a reputation - but that doesn't mean he's all that. You worry far too much - the reason we're taking all these precautions is to stop from getting caught, not because we couldn't do the job quickly. The King has his sense of neatness and pride - some outfits we would have just gone in the front door with a couple of shotties and balaclava's and taken him out. Essentially, only little fish go swimming like our dearly departed "chum" Sanchez. None of us are little fish, so chill out."

Miles put a hand to his forehead and wiped some of the sweat away. He often had a problem like this on heists. People looked at him and because of his youth, his obvious lack of military training and his bizarre afflictions people tended not to take him as seriously as they could. He turned to the Englishman with a harsh look on his youthful face.

"Listen, Rook, I'm sure you look at me like I'm some geeky kid who learned how to change his grades over the internet while the cool kids were in the back seat of their Parents SUV's getting to second base but that's really not what I'm about" Miles was surprised at his tone and at the fact that his stammer had subsided.

"I got two PHD's from the world's most prestigious Technical Institute by the time most people my age were trying to figure out how to use fake ID's to buy shots of Jaegermeister. I'm the worlds leading authority on Electromagnetic Wave Theory. My work in Cryptography was about ten years further along than anything anyone else was doing in the field. If I ever decided to teach, the world's most prestigious Universities would fall over themselves naming labratories after me so that I'd work for them."

"When I say Jim Gabriel is dangerous it means that Jim Gabriel is dangerous. I'm not given to exaggeration or hyperbole. Does that mean he's going to be personally smacking us around? No, but it means we'll probably have to contend with the best, or worst, examples of hitmen, security systems and physical impediments that money can buy."

Miles stopped talking for a few seconds and caught his breath. He watched the boat pull up to the island.

"I think we should be doing it for something more than vague promises of jewels, that's all."

 

[Steiner]

"Listen - I've worked with King for something like 8 years, on and off. In all that time he's never screwed somebody out of what was coming to them. And you can interpret that anyway you choose. You're making some big assumptions about me, if you think I'm amateur enough to judge you entirely on first impressions. Now - whilst I didn't manage to pick anything up beyond the degree in International Relations, I WAS cracking physical security that was among the best in the world while I was 18. So when I assess ANY gun for hire as moderately dangerous at best, it's because I used to run with the big dogs."

Andy gestured expansively at the scenery.

"Yes, it's going to be dangerous. But WE'RE planning, WE have the initiative, and we're the best at what we do. Of course I know you're shit hot in your field - because King wouldn't have anything to do with you unless you were. This isn't a pissing contest - but you have to know that we're ALL as good as you are, just in our own fields. Now, factoring THAT little assumption in - how do you rate our chances?"

 

[Snow-Guy]

"Parachutes? Yeah - I'm quite good with those. Done HALO, LALO and so forth. Why?"

[/QUOTE]

"Parachutes, why they are part of my cunning plan so they are." Eric paused for effect and then explained "I was planning on jumping off our friend's cliff once the party was over, and was wondering if yi'd like to come with me."

Eric wanted to let that idea sink in, so he turned to the Bishop. "You're not an idiot are you?" The rhetorical question looked like it temporarily stumped the geek - obviously he didn't think of himself as an idiot. Quite the opposite in fact, he almost certainly knew that the rest of the world were intellectual cripples when the Bish compared them to the his own mighty brain.

"You've got a real job, you invented some crypto-whatsit, you're smart enough to invest well or hack Wall Street or something, basically, I'd say you've got a bit of money in the bank and no worries about where it's coming from. Even Oi've got a five figure rainy day account, and I piss most of my cut up against a wall.

Fact one - you don't really need more money, unless you're a greedy bugger like our target and fact two - the king has never screwed his partners in his life. Fact three - you don't like Gabriel and want to get revenge on him and a good way of doing this would be by stealing his precioussess.

Given these facts, can your super-sized brain figure out why exactly doing this job for vague promises of jewels is a problem? Because I sure as fuck can't.

Let me tell you a secret. I'm scared shitless at the start of every big climb. Every good climber I know is. If you're not scared you're an idiot. The secret to climbing, and life is knowing when the fear is right, and knowing when you just have to trust yourself and your skills, and those of your mates, swallow back your puke and make the first move. Once you've done that, bad fear goes away, leaving just that little good fear that keeps you sharp."

Eric finished his speech and stood there, a little embarrased and annoyed that he'd had to explain things to the worrywart.

 

[Drinking Cap]

Miles threw his hands up and adopted more of a conciliatory tone. He knew his nerves were getting the better of him and he was coming off as sketchier than he should.

"Look, guys, I'm not saying I don't have confidence in you or what you guys do. And I know Simon to be a good guy, I do." Miles backed off from them. He didn't want them to think he qas getting squirrely this soon, and it wasn't really about money, just that Simon had been short on details and that bothered him.

"But neither of you two were with him on that fuck-up to end all f-f-fuck-ups in Chile. I know first hand that we can have all of the skill and expertise in the world on a job and people can still end up with bullet holes in them or rotting away in some South American prison."

"And I may only know what I read in the Times but South American prisons make American ones look like trips to a day spa."

Miles shook his head and stepped out of the boat onto the dock.

"Look, I'm in on this one, it's just, well, I tend to get a little jumpy before a job." Miles gave a weak smile. His nerves had always been bad but now, his first job since Chile, it seemed as though they were bouncing around a rubber room. What the Irishman said had hit home. He held 43 seperate patents. He didn't need the money. Screwing over Jim Gabriel was enough for him.

"Look, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot" He said to the Irishman before turning to the Englishman "Or feet. Why don't we go get a drink somewhere. My treat."

The two other men in the boat looked at him strangely.

"C'mon, we can discuss my theories on password-authenticated key exchange protocols"

 

[Steiner]

" You're nuts, aren't you?"
Andy shuddered - hanging under a parachute at the mercy of the prevailing wind, and having to pray that nobody on the away team was tasty with a scoped rifle. Unable to move, unable to hide - it made his skin crawl, frankly.

As the conversation flowed around him, he grabbed the shoulders of the two men.

"Fear not - we are the white knights, and we shall prevail. Chile was damn bad luck - and also, Chile didn't have us, did it? As I understand it the whole thing was thrown together too quickly, and King had to use local muscle. No offence Bish, but I could turn you into a more effective soldier than that 'orrible shower in about a week."

 

[Miss Behavin']

Her body tensed as the speedboat pulled into the slip and he jumped to the dock followed by two others. It would be tricky, but there were no rules in this game.

Adrenallin quickly replaced the blood coursing through her veins as he finally came within range. Now!!

Her motions minimal, she held her arms close to her body and jumped, but he was already moving. Turning slightly, her right leg up and extended, her foot connected with his ribs rather than his solar plexus. Even so, it was just enough to take him off balance and allow her to regain her footing before grabbing the arm that automatically sought her kneecap to jerk his body close, the heel of her hand under his chin, shoving his head backward -- and his own fingers stabbing against her windpipe.

She released her grip slowly, innately aware that there was something she'd done wrong. Something that had alerted him. "Damn!" she finally managed with a sheepish grin as they faced each other.

McTeague, red-faced from the effort of holding back what would easily have been a "kill", nodded. "Perfume. How many times... "

Celeste groaned, still shaking as the adrenallin rush began to dissipate. "Good to see you, Andy. Been missing you."