I placed the call to his burn cell phone. I was a little surprised that he was still using the older one. "Peter, you need a new phone," I suggested."After this call, I'm going to the marina." he said."I didn't need to know that," I replied. Just to let him know not to trust anyone. "So what do you know?" I know that you are dealing with one miserable son of a bitch. He is one of the worst mother fuckers it has ever been my displeasure to run across. The family, that's who has the lease on the casino is one nasty bunch of assholes. The head of the family came to the USA after the fall of the Shaw of Iran. He took all the money he could smuggle out and ran. He knew the new regime would behead him as an enemy of Islam. He wasn't wrong either.So he came to the US with something like two million bucks on deposit in Europe. He invested in things that would make the most money. From night clubs and disco's to illegal back room casinos. The night clubs sold drugs and he took a cut.He married. It was a day off, midway through the week, and everyone else had gone on a shopping trip. We're lazy cows on holiday, and we decided to stay at the hotel and make use of the pool and the magnificent views. We had a cute little apartment too, not just a couple of dull over-furnished rooms like we'd had the year before. There were two bedrooms, a single and a double. We had tossed up for who had which when we arrived, and I had won the double. The sitting room looked right out over the Med, which glimmered behind the green hills in front of us. Quite idyllic. The hotel also had a trust bar, where you wrote down what you had taken, and helped yourself; a bit deadly for the likes of us, who like a good drink at the best and worst of times.We spent the morning at the pool. It was hot, we swam, sunbathed, chatted idly and read a bit, as innocent as you like. Midday came, and we had sandwiches, which needed to be washed down with something. We decided to eat in the apartment, and pick up a.
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