A Typically Atypical Day
Sunset had just touched the last vestiges of light and twilight was setting in on the town of Nanuet, New Brunswick. The Elsi's Trawler, a sleek blue 20 foot cutter, was moored at the wharf. Detective Smyth leaned back in the old hickory rocker on Cal's Grocer and Hardware, creaking as he rocked rhythmically. Cal's sign was the faded wood color of all the other stores, however, after 25 years they were definitely entitled to some marks of the past. Pungent smoke billowed from his cheap cigar, lighting his corpulent face with an ember like glow. Rolling the thick brown paper through his stout fingers he watched the smoke curl away from the smouldering edge. Movement caught his eye and the detective whipped his head to the docks, stringy hair flying. Leaping gracefully off of the Elsi was a handsome young man with blonde hair and a smirking expression on his face. It was a smirk that many had fallen for. Shadows shifted as a huge man dressed like a fishing guide walked out of the shadows near the Glen's Bait Shop. The grizzled guide was the image of a fisherman from his black knee waders to the brightly colored fishhooks festooning his hat. Meeting, the men began to converse quietly, their hands moving slightly to demonstrate a point. Detective Smyth's eyes were glued suspiciously to the two conversationalists. His grip tightened on the chair. Leon Wasil was up to no good, that much was clear.
Leon kept up the illusion of meaningful conversation as he signalled instructions to the bulked up man with him. Terry was undercover, posing as a fishing guide which was suitable due to the fact he adored fishing. He was a man of sheer bulk.
Smirking as he imagined a face-off between the fair detective and Terry, he continued to make discreet hand signals as he watched Smyth through the corner of his deep green eyes. The detectives glare was evident even from here, as Leon watched him scowl and run a beefy hand through his greasy hair. Detective Smyth had always tried to convict him of diamond smuggling and each time the detective failed. Leon knew that many considered the detective obsessive; he was obsessed with breaking up Leon's diamond smuggling cartel. He chuckled knowing that once again the dangerous game of hide and go seek was about to be played. Leon was at risk of loss of freedom; the detective- respect. He was well prepared though, thought Leon as he said his farewells and headed up the worn and dusty street to Gerald's Drink'n'Dine.
Smyth lay ensconced on the flat mattress, snoring gently as a chainsaw. Suddenly the sound ceased and the detective blearily opened his eyes. He had been having a good dream, a wonderful dream actually in which he confounds the police with the solution to the Elsi's smuggling runs. Showing them how the diamonds were concealed in the wood, the police chief had looked up at him admiringly as Leon was lead away in chains. Perhaps it was a sign, a symbol of sorts, he mused, Maybe I am destined to take down Leon Wasil today. As he got dressed he thought about the strange comment that was their only lead to the location of the landing spot of the Elsi. They knew it was on the African coast, but they needed a name. Otherwise there was several thousand kilometres of possibilities and it was impossible to pinpoint and stakeout each one. Justin finished tying his shoes and walked to the door. Today Leon Wasil would feel the wrath of justice!
Leon Wasil was already awake at the time the detective stirred in his slumber. Checking over his vessels paperwork and all other tasks necessary to keep a ship in tip-top shape, he watched absentmindedly as the portly detective waddled down the street in the direction of the wharf. He was so fat it appeared he would fall over at times. Futilely trying to make his approach seem imperialistic he instead resembled a drenched cat's semblance of dignity. "Leon! Captain of the Elsi's Trawler!
I have a very important warrant for searching your vessel! In the name of the law, I command you to come out and bring all necessary paperwork with you!" His voice was whiny and had a nasal twinge which was supremely irritating. Leon sighed as he gathered up his paper work and descended the gang plank.
Justin Smyth had the sensation that Leon was toying with him as he watched the lean blond captain swagger down the gangplank. A trickle of sweat snaked its way down his back as all the doubts and uncertainties were brought to light. What if he failed again? What if Leon fooled him yet again? his thoughts whispered. Involuntarily he gave a slight shudder. The glaring, burning sun, predicted to reach 20 degrees Celsius today, beat down on him like a sauna. His full police attire was festooned with many medals, all of which meant virtually nothing. A case like capturing a notorious diamond smuggler would be fundamental to furthering his career. Imagining the splendour of the celebrations and life after his promotion for the diamond cartel case, he imaged everyone in Canada knowing his name. "Detective Justin Smyth," they would say, "The one that recovered the legendary Diamonds of Africa-14 of the purest, clearest diamonds to ever be cut!" Lost in his fantasies, Smyth failed to notice the tall tanned sailor looking down on him with scorn. Recovering from his shock he brusquely asked to see the "legal documents pertaining to the ship Elsi's Trawler." as it said in the Detectives hand book which he dearly loved to quote.
"I am going to search your boat, Capitan Wasil," he bleated, "Please tell me beforehand if you have any illegal items like the Diamonds of Africa on board and your jail sentence would be greatly elevated." Another line from his dearly loved book that was designed to make criminals confess.
"I am afraid you will find no diamonds on board sir," sighed Leon dramatically, "All I was able to afford this trip were three coolers of fish that are not exactly equal to the worth of diamonds."
Justin felt his face flush at Leon's barbed comment. His information had only in formed him of three solid things: first, the location at which the diamonds were loaded was, in Leon's own terms "a black ballerina bringing French toast to the Elsi's Trawler." Next, he knew about the Diamonds of Africa and last he knew there were about a hundred pounds of diamonds on board the Elsi. He was determined to find them. Marching up the plank, he surveyed the deck. For all he had to say about Wasil, the man was a good sailor. Ducking down the hatchway he began his search by slowly surveying the coolers. Pulling out his knife the detective began he long task of the search.
Leon carefully sipped at his lemonade. The man usually took about and hour and a half to search the ship; therefore he could sail back to the drop off point easy enough. Cutting into his musings about time he wondered about the detective. He was only mildly concerned and that was mostly for his shipment of fish. He knew the detective slit open and gutted each and everyone looking for the diamonds and he was worried the detective would do a less than exemplary job. If he interrupted to early the man might get suspicious and stop gutting the fish. That would never do, then he would have to gut all those slimy herrings. He chuckled; the fish were certainly that - his red herring. Chuckling silently to himself he wondered at the detectives progress below.
Hot and sweaty, the detective was about to let the last cooler go unsearched when he saw a gleam. There, pressed into the flesh of a herring was a tiny chip. Not enough to prove anything but evidence that he was right. After that, he continued his search vigorously from prow to stern and deck to keel. He found nothing, and the despair of having not found the diamonds hit him again. He had taken a inventory and all there was only nautical equipment, herrings on a bed of ice in the coolers, repair equipment which he searched extra hard after his dream, and fishing supplies. He had cut open every fish and felt all the equipment, yet he had not found anything but a tiny chip that didn't prove a thing. Finally he came back above deck and declared that Leon was allowed to go. He had never felt as thwarted as he did now. How on Earth did Leon do it? Smyth groaned, he had no idea how the Californian was able to hide the diamonds. There must be something I'm not getting….
Leon whistled through his teeth. The day was beautiful and he must get to the drop off point. Smiling as he remembered the "a black ballerina bringing French toast to the Elsi's Trawler." comment. It was after all, very simple. The French and ballerina stood for Pointe, the black, Noire. The toast of London had recently returned from Conga. And Elsi's Trawler was backwards. "therefore," he proclaimed solemnly to the lemonade, "It is logical to find that the landing spot of the Elsi is Relwarts Isle, by Pointe Noire in Congo. Pure genius if I do say so myself." And in the silence following the statement, a diamond fell from the half melted ice.