Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021) A BATEMAN (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📖

proud to hold such an esteemed position, and although the West spoke of their superior technology and advancement in submarine design, Pezhman knew that both he and his peers across the corps had one thing their Western counterparts did not have and that was faith in the Almighty, the one true God and it was Him who would see them prevail, because they were willing to give their lives if required and that gave them the biggest edge of all.

Chapter Eighteen

 

Geneva, Switzerland

 

There were many exclusive restaurants along the Quai du Mont Blanc. It was the same in most cities along a waterfront where bars, cafes, hotels, and restaurants could charge at least half as much again as their in-town rivals just for the view and the sound of sailboats bobbing up and down on the water, empty rigging blocks tapping away on masts. With views of the snow-capped alps, the Mont Blanc ridge and Geneva’s historic architecture – and not least the monied clientele this part of Switzerland appealed to – the eateries along the Quai du Mont Blanc could command a higher tariff than most places on earth.

Milo Noventa sipped his second espresso and read from a copy of the Financial Times. He had the look of a carefree man easing into another day, in no particular rush and not quite sure where it would take him. His black, slicked-back hair went well with the grey Armani suit and the gold chain he wore over his red T-shirt underneath. There was money there, a certain sense of style, but little class.

“He’ll have a ponytail for sure,” said Big Dave.

“Why so sure?” Sally-Anne Thorpe asked.

“He looks the type.”

“And that is?”

“Apart from slippery and slick, he looks like an arsehole. And if you lift the tail of a pony, or a man’s ponytail, you’ll always find an arsehole underneath…”

“Cute…” Thorpe smiled, keeping her eyes on the screen in front of her. The camera was rigged in the wing mirror of the van, enabling her to watch and control focus from where she sat with the laptop on her lap in the rear of the vehicle. Another camera was fixed between the two kayaks strapped to the roof racks to provide them with some cover. Big Dave controlled this one, and it took in the wide-angle view.

“He looks like a double-glazing salesman from the nineties,” Big Dave commented, adjusting the focus slightly.

“He’s pushing Bitcoin. How else was he going to look?” She watched as Noventa turned and watched a woman in tight leather trousers walk past. “Yep, you were right. A thin ponytail down his collar.”

“I think most Bitcoin dealers are arseholes, too.”

“That’s because you don’t understand it.”

Big Dave nodded. “And you do? I didn’t realise until this operation that Bitcoin was even a thing. I thought it was just a con.”

“I don’t have a PHD in computer software and mathematics, so no matter how many times I read about it, I’m still lost…” Thorpe agreed.

“It’s a decentralised digital currency without a central bank or single administrative body that can be sent from user to user on the peer-to-peer Bitcoin network without the need for intermediaries. Transactions are verified by network nodes through cryptography and recorded in a public distributed ledger called a blockchain. Bitcoins are created as a reward for a process known as mining. They can be exchanged for other currencies, products, and services.” Neil Ramsay paused. “What’s not to understand? Network nodes can validate transactions, add them to their copy of the ledger, and then broadcast these ledger additions to other nodes. To achieve independent verification of the chain of ownership each network node stores its own copy of the blockchain. At varying intervals of time averaging to every ten minutes, a new group of accepted transactions, called a block, is created, added to the blockchain, and quickly published to all nodes, without requiring central oversight. This allows Bitcoin software to determine when a particular Bitcoin has been spent, which is needed to prevent double spending. A conventional ledger records the transfers of actual bills or promissory notes that exist apart from it, but the blockchain is the only place that bitcoins can be said to exist in the form of unspent outputs of transactions.”

Big Dave glanced at Thorpe and smiled. “Thanks, Neil. Glad you could clear that up for me.”

“So, Neil, have you invested in Bitcoin?”

“Not likely,” Ramsay said mockingly. “I have a mortgage, teenage girls and a senior-leader salary. What little I have sits in a well-known bank. I don’t like any risk in my portfolio.” He paused, glancing over Thorpe’s shoulder at the screen. “My, he is a thoroughly unlikeable looking character, isn’t he?”

“He’s fishing for an assassin in the dark web, he was never going to be saint-like,” Thorpe replied.

Ramsay didn’t respond. Looking at Big Dave he said, “It looks as though he’s ordered another coffee. He’s not going anywhere soon, and there’s a seat free at the nearest table. Dave, go and have an espresso. Hide your earpiece and make sure your mic can pick up everything. He’s most likely waiting to meet somebody.” He paused. “And don’t blow it…”

***

“Big Dave is up,” Caroline said quietly inside the Mercedes hire car. She watched the man-mountain slide into the empty seat and sit with his back to Noventa. Although Dave Lomu was six-four and eighteen stone, he moved with a cat-like grace, agile on his toes and with good spatial awareness. Wearing cargoes and a body-hugging woollen sweater with a zipped neck, he looked fit and comfortable, and did not look like a typical tourist. Caroline watched as the man ordered, then sat back to watch the lake on his right, and the rest of the street straight ahead of him.

“He is a good man, no?” Gerrard Durand asked.

“Big Dave? The best,” she said. “Cool in