Syracuse
Consul Balbi looked out over Syracuse's grand harbor. A luxury liner slowly put out to sea, its horn blaring to warn smaller vessels. He watched as a small sailboat casually and stupidly cut across its bow no more than 50 feet from it. He stood high above it on Pulpar Hill, leaning over a rail along a public walkway. It was a famous place for tourists and even locals to come to take pictures. He frowned as he looked and saw Nicosia's aging destroyer. The largest ship in commission since the 19th century. 'A waste' he thought as he sipped lemonade from a street vendor through a straw. Nicosia needed no blue water navy. He frowned again, realizing the lemonade was entirely too tart for his liking. He turned to see Rikold approaching. The Nordic man had lived in Nicosia since age 5 and somehow became one of the most vocal members of the legislature. Deeply tan with blonde hair, he was often mistaken for a tourist. His cheap suit made him seem like a low grade bank clerk. Balbi took Rikold's hand and searched his gray eyes for a moment. "They are never going to give" said Rikold walking towards the rail that Balbi had left. Balbi followed. "What do you mean?" said Balbi, pressing the issue and visibly angry. "The Orange Party wants you gone. Now, we both know we can't have that. Too much money involved" said Rikold, almost howling.
The two had been laundering charity money for years and now were stuck. If Balbi left power, they could both be exposed if loose ends were not securing tied up. "Well?" asked Balbi. "Simple, you hold on. Do what it takes. I can stall my party. I can even stall the King" said Rikold, a twinkle in the eyes. "How long?"
Rikold thought for a moment, taking Balbi's lemonade from his hand. He tried his and nearly snarled. Rikold looked at Balbi who shook his head and Rikold examined the bottle once more and threw it over the railing onto the rocky beach some 100 feet below. "2 weeks? 3?" guessed Rikold quietly. "I can't hide the money if I am not in power. It doesn't work that way" said Balbi, staring at the sailboat who had nearly been halved by the liner. Rikold was quiet. Neither spoke for a few minutes as they both continued to watch the harbor. Balbi nearly jumped into the air. "Eastern Cape" he said quietly. Rikold's eyebrow shot up.
"Nobody knows whats happening down there. What government they have is in total chaos. We could build a resort in the middle of every city there and nobody would notice for at least a weak" said Balbi, half jesting. "We send a reliable man down there" began Balbi as Rikold nodded, "we do it right. We open an office, staff it with some local secretary and our man. We have a charity office...something for kids. We funnel our money there. We do some really half assed PR thing there. Buy some school books. Our charity is on record there. We get it printed here..."Not Jounalio, they are too good" said Rikold, noting Jounalio did have a reputation for accuracy and could be a dangerous foe. "Right, not Jounalio. By the time I am gone from power, our money will be safely in the Eastern Cape. When thing's stabilize, our charity closes shop and moves its headquarters to Mozambia or some such. We put our money...or charity money in banks there. Give it some time and we close shop there. By then, the money is clear and we walk away clean and rich" said Balbi. He got no response except to see a large grin on Rikold's face.
Consul Balbi looked out over Syracuse's grand harbor. A luxury liner slowly put out to sea, its horn blaring to warn smaller vessels. He watched as a small sailboat casually and stupidly cut across its bow no more than 50 feet from it. He stood high above it on Pulpar Hill, leaning over a rail along a public walkway. It was a famous place for tourists and even locals to come to take pictures. He frowned as he looked and saw Nicosia's aging destroyer. The largest ship in commission since the 19th century. 'A waste' he thought as he sipped lemonade from a street vendor through a straw. Nicosia needed no blue water navy. He frowned again, realizing the lemonade was entirely too tart for his liking. He turned to see Rikold approaching. The Nordic man had lived in Nicosia since age 5 and somehow became one of the most vocal members of the legislature. Deeply tan with blonde hair, he was often mistaken for a tourist. His cheap suit made him seem like a low grade bank clerk. Balbi took Rikold's hand and searched his gray eyes for a moment. "They are never going to give" said Rikold walking towards the rail that Balbi had left. Balbi followed. "What do you mean?" said Balbi, pressing the issue and visibly angry. "The Orange Party wants you gone. Now, we both know we can't have that. Too much money involved" said Rikold, almost howling.
The two had been laundering charity money for years and now were stuck. If Balbi left power, they could both be exposed if loose ends were not securing tied up. "Well?" asked Balbi. "Simple, you hold on. Do what it takes. I can stall my party. I can even stall the King" said Rikold, a twinkle in the eyes. "How long?"
Rikold thought for a moment, taking Balbi's lemonade from his hand. He tried his and nearly snarled. Rikold looked at Balbi who shook his head and Rikold examined the bottle once more and threw it over the railing onto the rocky beach some 100 feet below. "2 weeks? 3?" guessed Rikold quietly. "I can't hide the money if I am not in power. It doesn't work that way" said Balbi, staring at the sailboat who had nearly been halved by the liner. Rikold was quiet. Neither spoke for a few minutes as they both continued to watch the harbor. Balbi nearly jumped into the air. "Eastern Cape" he said quietly. Rikold's eyebrow shot up.
"Nobody knows whats happening down there. What government they have is in total chaos. We could build a resort in the middle of every city there and nobody would notice for at least a weak" said Balbi, half jesting. "We send a reliable man down there" began Balbi as Rikold nodded, "we do it right. We open an office, staff it with some local secretary and our man. We have a charity office...something for kids. We funnel our money there. We do some really half assed PR thing there. Buy some school books. Our charity is on record there. We get it printed here..."Not Jounalio, they are too good" said Rikold, noting Jounalio did have a reputation for accuracy and could be a dangerous foe. "Right, not Jounalio. By the time I am gone from power, our money will be safely in the Eastern Cape. When thing's stabilize, our charity closes shop and moves its headquarters to Mozambia or some such. We put our money...or charity money in banks there. Give it some time and we close shop there. By then, the money is clear and we walk away clean and rich" said Balbi. He got no response except to see a large grin on Rikold's face.