Denne bloggen dreier seg om den merkelige og mørklagte verden av edle metaller. Innholdet sikter på å opplyse og avsløre og er ment for investorer, samlere, prepper, politikere og alle andre med kjærlighet og hat til sølv og gull.
Gull er verdifullt fordi vi tror det er verdifullt. 100 millioner får sitt levebrød gjennom det skinnende metallet. Men, det å grave ut og utvinne et nesten ubrukelig metall forårsaker menneskelig lidelse og økologiske ødeleggelser verden kunne vært foruten.
distance between the whitewater falls of Iceland and the polluted streets of
Oslo is a Galaxy. I have been in a white house and seen rainbows of gold in the
eyes of an economic expatriate.
- The Panama papers have given us answers, I
thought. Yet another crooked Islandic politician have been crucified by his own
greed. The word “Panama” is a native word for “abundance of fish”, and the revealing
papers hooked ravenous finance sharks. One of the obese, pale whites was pulled
bleeding out of the turbulent water by an investigating Islandic reporter and an
I came to the white, shabby house stuffed
with updated information about Islandic economy and the ousted Prime Icelandic Minister
Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson in my head. And, as expected, Gimli Sigurdtorsson
was without mercy when I kickstarted the interview about the current crisis in
his homeland. True to his Viking heritage he was brimming over with contempt
for the current political scandal and ruling party.
- Are there any politicians on Iceland that
are not corrupt? I asked in the hope of shaming the man on behalf of his countrymen.
I felt mean because I had wasted way too much time in the Dark Web tracking
down this gold prepper and smuggler.
- Very few, maybe three… no, two. But, the
Prime Minister is… Yes, just listen to him trying to get off the hook.
- Three honest politicians? Then you are
lucky. In Norway we don’t have any. The worst is the despot controlling The
Central Bank. He has transferred our Global Pension Fund to American speculators
and the manipulators in EU. Norway has become a vassal state…. And yes, I did listened to your Prime Minister on
TV when he was trapped shitting in his own nest. I was Rolling On the Floor
Laughing my head off. Something is rotten in the Republic of Iceland, Gimli.
two and 3D
Gimli nods sadly. He is a computer specialist
and a gold and silver prepper. He delivers whatever you can pay for within animated
advertising, information and propaganda. The Icelander converts his 3D
knowledge into Norwegian kroner as fast as he can earn them.
- A whole Brave New World is opening up for
designers with new ideas and the will to sell their skills to the highest
bidders, Gimli exclaims in broken Norwegian. - I prefer working for the government.
They need sophisticated propaganda designed to take attention away from what is
really important for the people. The right propaganda manages to twist our
perception of reality.
Art of Riding Two Horses
- Seems to me you are riding two horses at
the same time, I say looking at the water-cooled computers at his enormous
desk. –You are working for our government. And you dislike governments.
– A man has to live, answers Gimli with a
shrug of his shoulders. –You have to handle your own scoundrels yourself. –
Besides, I got a mission which justifies the means!
A Mission From Mammon?
- I lost faith in Icelandic politicians and
bankers in 2007 when Kaupthing, Landsbanki and Glitnir bank collapsed. I also
lost my savings, my customers, my house and SUV. That is why I now work in
Norway. As you know, the Icelandic government did not take over the banks to
shelter the rest of the economy. The State let the three banks fail and my
country was insolvent.
– But what has this to do with your
– As you know, quite a lot of people all
over the world are buying silver and gold. The Icelandic krone is worth next to
nothing today. Our krone has become the Zimbabwe dollar of the North. Our currency
is without value outside Iceland, and that makes it near impossible for us to
buy investment silver and gold in Iceland. My country has no market for
precious metals. People buy luxury items and don’t worry too much about the
future. However, we must buy foreign currencies if we want to reinvest in overpriced
silver and gold. Investment coins are
dead cheap in Norway compared to what I have to pay in Iceland. You Norwegians
don’t even have Value Added Tax on the coins.
– Yes, that’s a well-known conspiracy, but
what is your main goal? I ask
– My mission is to get as much gold and
silver into Iceland as possible! Legal and illegal. I convert my surplus
earnings to gold and smuggle the precious metals into Iceland whenever I visit
my family.I sell the 24 carat precious
metal, with a small profit, to trusted friends. We know that it is just a
matter of time before we get another financial crises and our Icelandic paper
money turns into colourful toilet paper!
The digital 3D-designer pulls the pen from
the holder and let it flow over the Intuos Wacom board. An animated golden eagle
takes flight from an American Eagle Gold Coin on the computer screen. The Eagle
soars like a miniature nova over the digital landscape in concert with the
designer’s smooth hand movements. Then he lands the eagle on the gold coin and
allows the bird to melt into the metal surface from which it took flight. – The
golden eagle morphing out of the gold coin and returning is for me a symbol of
the everlasting value of gold. The Icelander smiles smugly. He knows his trade.
I leave the bitter computer-wiz with the
feeling that Gimli’s philosophy is typical for many precious metal preppers. A
kind of fearful Zeitgeist, for the fearful few, hidden in the shadows of the Deep
Web. A fetid sub-trend which hasn’t broken into mainstream. We are not talking
about Doomsday and das Untergang, but unsaid fear of an upcoming economic
upheaval. A crisis Gimli is trying to guard against by buying silver and gold. He
himself has become a kind of symbol. When you are beaten hard and often enough by
greedy banks and unjust political tax systems, you will redefine what you are doing
with your hard earned money.
Best and Worst
Pseudonym: Gimli Sigurdtorsson
Profession: D3 Digital designer
Age: 35 years
Favorite prepper scenario
Yet another economic meltdown in Iceland
Favorite prepper tool
Worst prepper trap
Smuggling too much and getting caught
The worst being a prepper
Spend too much time thinking about gold and
silver prepping Would really have liked to
have A safe place to store silver and gold Favorite prepper item Any kind of 999/1000
– coins and bars
Norske minne- og jubileumsmynter utgitt av Norges Bank er like spennende som buken til en Arion vulgaris. Eller på godt norsk, Brunskogsnegle. Norges Bank har samme forhold til vår kulturarv som hageeiere har til vulgaris. Tråkk på den og se gørra flyte!
Norsk svarteliste er en oversikt over fremmede arter som utgjør en økologisk risiko. Man skulle tro at ledelsen i Norges Bank oppfattet spennende myntutgivelser som en økonomisk risiko for myntsamlere ved å tillate bare en ny mynt pr. år. 2016 ser ut til å bli kjemisk fri for minnemynt i edelt metall.
Myntsamlere og investorer i spennende mynter henvises herved til Perth Mint, Australia for et innblikk om hvordan Norge kunne ha markedsført landets kulturarv gjennom myntutgivelser i høy kvalitet. http://www.perthmint.com.au/
- I like the white, silvery shine of the metal, Dresden
grins, a serious prepper with a survival attitude. I have visited his modest hideout
in a redbrick building at Oslo east. Nightmarish dreams of economic apocalypse
are neatly stacked on shelves of army grey steel.
Fear in the Western World
feel the anger when I interview one of Oslo’s Preppers. I can’t quite pin point
his fears, but it is a mixture of unease, distrust and rage against the
political machine that rules Norway. He says he has taken the name of the German
city Dresden. Some might know that their allied air forces dropped 4 000 tons
of high explosive bombs and incendiaries on the open city. – You can’t trust
politicians, he snarls. - No matter what they are saying about social
consciousness, health-care, education and old people care…. It all boils down
to a single word. ME! Trust me! I know best… And… I am going to rip you off in
more ways than you can ever imagine. - Did you know that the bombing resulted
in a firestorm and more than 30 000 people were killed? I nod knowingly,
I’ve read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut.
2 + 2 = 5
not been an easy task tracking down Dresden on The Dark Web, and even more
difficult to convince him to meet me. However, preppers are like hackers; they
are proud of what they do. If they get a chance to show off their expertise and
spread their point of view they can’t resist doing that.
- I am
busy exploring my own place in this society and find ways and means to survive
different forms of economic and social collapse, or even worse… plague, war or
even Armageddon. I am not afraid of the latter, says Dresden. – However, many of
my prepper friends are Biblical convinced that a world encompassing, economic
collapse will happen in a foreseeable future. The World economy rests on the American
dollar and Wall Street. If something disastrous happens to the stock market and
the World’s reserve currency, the worst recession since 1929 will hit us with
gale force. I nod agreeable to the agitated prepper and encourage his train of
thoughts. - I have not forgotten the near economic meltdown of 2008, I say. -Then
the World’s economy was saved from total collapse by Federal Reserve Chairman
Ben Bernanke. He stopped the economic tsunami with mile high stacks of newly
printed dollar bills and bought valueless junk bonds from banks and the private
sector of finance. - Exactly!
Dresden exclaims. – And what will happen when the incredible 45 trillion
dollars he called Quantitative Easing seep into the American economy at large?
The Central Banks don’t have the capacity to keep inflation in check. This goes
double for Norway, because the government spends more than ever oil money to…
he he… grease the faltering Norwegian economy. The money The Central Bank of Norway
is releasing into our society is circulating faster. My guess is that inflation
will hit five percent in less than two years! They steal from the population by
reducing the value of their hard earned savings.
Think organic and diversify
at the eight meters of neatly stacked goods on the steel shelves and ask why he
is prepping goods and not only precious metals? - I am busy exploring The Art of
Prepping and finding new combinations of optimal economic survival. One keyword
is diversification. I buy and store stuff which will become much more expensive
or impossible to get hold of when recession hits. I have a decent amount of
cash to weather a bank run. They closed the banks on Cyprus in 2013 and prevented
people from getting hold on their deposits. Finally, I have invested in silver
and a little gold.
A design with a purpose
to point out that it is important to find a good balance between the life as a
prepper and the real life. - Don’t let fear take control over your economy. It
is beauty in simplicity. Bauhaus is a
keyword of mine: "Less is more". Make a lot out of little.
the way Dresden has designed his modest hideout, and it is not difficult to see
that his professional experiences in Logistics are a huge pre. Dresden’s main
focus is on the demise of the monetary system as we know it today. He has a
triple approach to fuel his convictions. It is what he calls "organic".
Try not to get hung up in too many details, but try to see your prepping as a
whole. Try to get rid of a little of your ego and concentrate on uniting
creativity with knowledge. This is the strength of Dresden. He sees the
connections between prepping and real life.
Shine on you crazy Prepper
Dresden has his economic future orderly stacked in his Made in Germany steel
safe. He believes that the plastic tubes filled with American and Canadian
silver coins are his insurance. When economic collapse hits Norway’s shores and
wipes out digital and paper wealth alike, he hopes that silver still will be the
mean of exchange people are willing to accept as payment for whatever he wishes
to barter for.
Hard facts – Best and Worst
Education: High School with logistics
Worked in logistics for several multinational companies
Favorite prepper scenario
Favorite prepper tool
Worst prepper trap
Loosing control over stocks
The worst being a prepper
Lack of funds - Spending too much money on prepping
Would really have liked to have
A friend in the Central Bank upper echelons
Favorite prepper item
One ounce silver Canadian Maple Leaf investment coins
A million dollar gold coin A one in five chance. If you have a need
to show off your riches, why not get a million dollar gold coin for your
friends to admire. A million dollars are a decent sum of money for a minimum wage hamburger jocky at Burger Bar, but if you consider to invest in such a coin what is a measly million or five? Anyhow, this coin is really not
that expensive compared to many pieces of art you probably got in your art collection. However, there is no such
thing as a free burger. The coin is a 100 kg coin (3215 troy ounces) and
that means that you have to pay at least 4 - 4,5 million US$ for the
golden trophy..For more information check out:
He pushed the black suitcase lovingly towards me. – Don’t
you have dreams, Dresden? - Not that
kind of dreams, I answered. - That is too dangerous for a man like me. An
unpretentious man should have unpretentious dreams.
Oslo is a pleasant
city, especially if you got work and money. I hadn’t landed a job in ages, but
expenses were low and the social security money that tickled into my account kept
me going. You would not starve to death, but kept alive on the barren side of
the fence where the brownish grass is always wilting – never green.
still had enough money to enjoy a beer or five on Fridays. As was my habit, I
started at Aker Brygge, a vulgar, expensive tourist trap with an excellent
fjord-view and crowds of the filthy rich. I usually finished my weekly pub-crawl
in one of the brown cafes at the East-end! Pubs where the beer was cheap and
the view was faded prints on cracked plaster walls. And, to be honest… places I
could chat up one of the not so young ladies frequenting these waterholes for free
drinks and some easy going company for the night. I’m built like a wrestler and
uncomplicated by nature, but not without natural charm. And do you ask me where
I feel at home .… it’s in the company of
the tired, working class.
It was late August
and one of the hot summer evenings only the City of Beggars can boast of. The
last rays of sun painted the diesel-fumes crimson as Night started to spread his
leather jacket over the metal roofs. The outdoor restaurant at Carl Johan was a
strategically place to capture stag parties tourists and pub-crawlers alike. I
enjoyed the sight of the painted, sleek animals which walked by the restaurant.
They had vacated their office pens for the weekend and were going to paint the
city with their fashion conscious hipsters lovers.
I was already
half-way on my Friday night-run when King Alcohol greeted me with a familiar
hello. I’m not quite sure, but after the sixth pint a man asked if he could sit
down at my table. All the other tables were taken, he said. Of cause I was
disappointed that he wasn’t a she, but when he offered to buy me a an expensive
micro-brew beer my sense of well being picked up. I like people buying me
drinks. More followed quickly on after another, and somehow I don’ remember
what happened. Probably we had a long chat about how difficult it was to get a
job for a man more than willing to work for a reasonable pay. Whatever else we
talked about went down the drain with the rest of the evening.
The grey fog of
memories lost did not clear up until noon next day. Everything was where it should be. The body
did not hurt, and when I checked my wallet my cash and card were still there.
They seemed to smile, and I smiled back with my best hangover grin. A yellow card
with a telephone number was also staring at me, and I guessed that the little
piece of cardboard belonged to the dark side of last night. I presumed that the
phone number had something to do with the big spender – Wasn’t it something about
a job? I asked myself. But since my burnt out shell of a braincase did not
bother to respond, I poured myself another cup of coffee hoping for the fog to evaporate.
Half an hour later
I heard the tiny click of my two brain-halves connecting again. The card was resting
on the kitchen table and without trying to think I grabbed my Galaxy and made
the call. I had nothing to lose. After four
seconds a unmistakable computer voice rasped a message: - Hello Dresden! Nice
evening yesterday!My assistant, Tiny,
will pick you up at three o’clock for your first run. As agreed on last night
the pay is ten grand. Ten grand! I had not seen so much money in years. I rose
a bit shaky and sat down again just as shaky. What in the world had we agreed
on? I couldn’t for the love of my life remember.
o’clock my doorbell rang. It was as if somebody nearly succeeded to force the
button through the concrete. When I opened the door, I stared directly into the
chest of a Norwegian clone of Hulk Hogan. He was not Tiny. He was Grizzly, a
human bear in disguise. I looked up and stared into a friendly face that opened
into a smile – Dresden! Are you ready?
The old Ford moved
law abiding out from the worn-down, concrete jungle where I lived in the
outskirts of Oslo and trundled towards the center of Beggar City. – Today we are going to make a pick up at the
Harbour-building. And, as you probably remember from the briefing you got last
night, we are usually two in the car. – Yes, I lied without blinking. I hadn’t the
faintest idea what the man talked about, but the thought of ten grand spoke for
itself. This was a job for Dresden, and I hoped the job didn’t break too many laws.
Tiny chatted about nothing and everything. How he had been driving for our
boss, Mr. Tony, for several years and that he made decent money from the jobs
he undertook. I asked if our work went with a certain risk, but he waved the
question away with the lazy gesture of a sleepy bear-paw and answered that safety
demanded two well-built fighting men. Besides, I hadn’t been picked because I
was good at lifting pints of beer, but because I seemed to be a motivated man
with muscles and brain. The way he said it implied that he knew about my past
as a security guard and bouncer.
is a monument over Oslo’s rich, proud past. The building reeks of money and
Tiny told the security guard that he would like to see Mr. Parsons. The guard
put on his most arrogant smile and answered that all kind of people wanted to
see Mr. Parsons, especially after he had become the CEO of a successful oil
company. He personally believed that it would be very difficult for us to meet
him, if we knew what he meant. Tiny leant over the man, stared down at him and
growled: - Call him up, tell him that the movers from Bankers and Stocks are
here. Or should we help you move this desk? The massive oak wood whimpered as Tiny’s
huge fist applied a human jackhammer pressure. I have never before seen a
frightened man dial a number that fast. Besides, we experienced a certain
pleasure when Mr. Parsons himself showed up in less two minutes. The oil-man
came smiling with extended hand and guided us up to his office. He was long
past his prime but he still looked like he knew what he wanted to wring out of
this world. An expensive leather case with a steel code lock rested on his mahogany
desk. – Please give me the agreed upon code so that I can verify that you are
who you say you are, he asked softly without moving his calculating eyes. Tiny
scribbled a number on a yellow card of the same kind I had left on my kitchen
table, and pushed the card towards Mr. Parsons. The man nodded and indicated
that Tiny should pick up the small, but apparently very heavy case. – I rather
not hear that the delivery ended up in the wrong hands, he said with a hard
smile - Take good care of my golden babies.
The security guard
at the entrance got busy looking the other way when we walked out of the
Harbour-building. The recipient in a luxury suite at Plaza hotel gave Tiny a
new code and when Tiny handed over the leather case the smaller man tipped
forward under the weight. Even I could guess that the case contained heavy
metal of the non-musical kind.
In the secluded
car park under Plaza Tiny handed me a white envelope: - You don’t have to take
the Underground home now. You can afford a taxi! he said with a grin. - I call
you in the beginning of next week. Mr. Tony wants us to move something for a ship-owner
at Bygdøy. I believe the billionaire lives in the same area where the King has
his resident. I nodded, got out of the car, watched Tiny drive away and put the
money in my wallet. They warmed my heart all the way home.
We drove people
and did not ask who they were. We moved discreet and small, but very heavy, attaché
cases and did not ask what were in them. The goods we transported were too
evaluable to be moved in a taxi. They cases were what one called…. sensitive….
if you know what I mean? Tiny insisted that we did not move drugs, but
valuables the rich did not wish to pay tax on and moved to and from safe houses
in Austria and Switzerland.
I had become a
well paid security tool. I was always sitting in the passenger seat when we
were on the job. Once and awhile I looked inquisitive at Tiny. I don’t think he
noticed in the stickysweet noise of C & W he loved pumping out of the
speakers. This was the only downside and a small miracle that we didn’t get
deaf. Anyhow, driving through the streets of Oslo listening to Hank Williams
and Dolly Parton worshipping the simple life in the country was surreal. And looking
at the giant behind the wheel, I was happy that I was with him and not against
One day we
transported a beautiful blond and a slender brunette from a well known street
address in Oslo west to the best hotel in town. Then we transported several
small cases of heavy metal from one storehouse to another. Pleasant, simple
One week I come to
realize how lucky I was with Tiny as partner. We moved another beautifully crafted
leather attaché-case from Mr. Parsons. Tiny drove at a leisurely speed towards
Hotel Plaza, when a red car suddenly streaked out from an ally and blocked the
street. Behind us, a car with tinted glass blocked any attempt to back up. Tiny
did not hesitate. He pushed the gas pedal almost through the floor.
To my surprise the
old Ford pasted the red car effortlessly against the nearest wall. The doors
were crushed and could not be opened from inside by probably well paid henchmen.
Then he backed the Ford into the car behind us. Then another forward lightning
fast maneuverer past the broken red car. The tinted glass did not attempt to
follow. It is difficult to chase anything with your front wheels thirty degrees
out of alignment.
comment was – There are more horsepower under the hood than you can imagine,
Dresden, but we have to repair the scratches and give the Ford a makeover.
Apparently, somebody has figured out that this car is moving valuables, but
they don’t know what. Then he turned up the volume another notch. A sure sign
that he was satisfied with himself.
The remark made me
wonder what other custom-made surprises were built into the chassis. Two days
later I got the answer. Once again we transported the two young, beautiful
ladies when a naked man with a shotgun came running out of the house they hurriedly
had left but moments ago. A naked man with a shotgun in his hands is no less
dangerous than a well-dressed man. The buckshots hammered into the car door and
windows when Tiny without apparent haste passed the shooter so close that I
could see the blue anger in his eyes. Not one of the shots had penetrated. – Bulletproof car, Tiny? I asked while I
still hang on to my safety belt. – Ummm, he murmured and smiled to the girls in
the mirror. – You are in safe hands, girls. I was also glad that I was in his
huge, safe hands.
So far, I had had
no future contact with the man Tiny called Mr. Tony. I had a clouded memory of
the man who had treated me innumerable glasses of foaming beer. The money
envelopes showed that he was satisfied with my modest role, and when we one day
once more sat face to face, he confirmed my thoughts. – I am satisfied with
you, he said with a voice like a purring cat, rubbing his fingers slowly
together. – You have shown the necessary cool and discretion we appreciate in
this profession. I mumbled something about Tiny doing most of the work, even as
I could not hide that I was flattered. – It is not often I meet my hard working
transporters personally, said Mr. Tony and studied his nails as if they were made
of diamonds. – But the next transport coming up is very important. Tiny and I
looked at each other; Wasn’t all the jobs we did important? – One of our
customers has certain problems with one of his former business associates. Tiny
has reported that you have run into them at an earlier occasion. The goods you
shall transport is the most valuable you have moved so far. I do not have to
remind you that you are both responsible for a safe delivered to the right
The building where
we picked up the suitcase was not as luxurious as the Harbour building, but the
art-designed interior spoke softly of exclusive money. We went through the
usual meaningless exchange of niceties and the exchange of codes went smoothly.
Shortly afterwards we sat in our repaired Ford. Tiny drove only a couple of
minutes before he suddenly turned into an alley. He had a strange smile on his
face. A mix of something dreamy and greedy. – I have to have a look this time!
Aren’t you curious too? Without waiting for an answer he manipulated the code
locks and opened the case slowly. Even before I saw what was inside the golden
rays bathed Tiny’s face.
He turned the
suitcase towards me: - Haven’t you sometimes dreams, Dresden? – Not this kind
of dreams, I answered. – That is too dangerous for a man like me. An
unpretentious man should have unpretentious dreams. – But I don’t, barked Tiny,
lifting out one of the gold bars. – For five years I have been driving “goods”
for the ultra- rich. I am tired of being
their errand boy. I am tired of knocking on kitchen doors. – Close the lid, I
said quietly. – Drive on! Tiny closed reluctantly the suitcase and turned the
ignition key. A little further up the street I saw how his face suddenly
hardened. – I want this gold. And you can have a share of the dream if you wish.
I have two seats for Bueno Aires. If you do not accept you leave this car
headfirst! Tiny had planned for this.
I was surprised at
my own reaction. In a split second my hands twisted the wheel to the right.
Tiny did not use a safety belt, and his head kissed the windshield, but I did
not waste time wondering how hard Tiny’s head really was. My legs took control as I grabbed the suitcase,
hit the street stumbling and got almost killed by a passing car. Took three halting
steps with the way too heavy case before a bloody ham-fist closed around my
neck. Then Tiny spun me around and what felt like twenty kilo of grizzly bear
knuckles connected with my face.
When I regained
consciousness I had a headache that was the twin brother to the one I had after
the night on the town with Mr. Tony. My head felt like a cage filled with
ferrets sharpening their claws on my cortex. However, that wasn’t the worst. A
hand was swabbing my forehead with a cold cloth. Not the dainty hand of a
nurse, but a hairy grizzly bear paw.
I opened my eyes
and stared straight at the bandaged head of Tiny. I tried to get up, but to no
avail. – I’m sorry, he said in a friendly voice. – But I hit the windshield a
little bit too hard and lost my temper. I didn’t mean to! You are the first
that have managed that. – By all means, I said meekly. A new figure glided into
my field of vision. Mr. Tony smiled broadly. – We are very satisfied with what
you did, Dresden. - By all means, I answered a second time. All other answers
had been scraped out of my cortex the last minute. – You passed the test with
flying flags. You were not tempted! You even tried, with great courage and no
regards for your own safety, to save our clients’ investment, smiled Mr. Tony.
Apparently, he found what had happened amusing. – Didn’t I play my role well,
Dresden? rumbled Tiny. – No shit, I said and fainted again.
When I regained
consciousness once more, only Tiny filled the room. – Mr. Tony told me to give you this.
The envelope was considerably thicker than the ones I used to get after each
delivery. –Mr. Tony said that this was probably the best bandage you could get.
Tiny drove me home
in the good, old Ford, which thanks to me, needed another paint job. – Let’s hope
there is nothing serious. Custom made cars are really expensive to repair.
Luckily we got nothing but a few scratches ourselves. He pointed at our
bandages. – I call you in two weeks’ time. Mr. Tony has treated us with a
vacation. All expenses covered. He dropped me off outside where I lived.
My reward for my
loyalty was a kind of freedom. I was give my own custom made car in the
disguise of an over the hill Volkswagen. I had become a trusted employee with a
very decent pay. It felt nice to sit behind a steering wheel of my own without
Tiny and his ever-present Country music. It turned out that Tiny had not had
real dreams. Nevertheless, what he and Mr. Tony did not know was that MY dreams
were growing for each new attaché-case I safely delivered, and for every lithe woman
in the back seat. Temptation was reaching critical mass much faster than I had foreseen.
It had happened
ten minutes ago. On the seat beside me, a beautiful burgundy red calf-skin
attaché-case lay opened. A case Mr. Parsons had taken out of a vault in his
office and given to me with a knowing smile. – I have been informed about your
promotion by Tony. He told me how you fought valiantly. However, I have to
point out that the transport you are about to undertake is of greatest
importance. Nothing must go wrong. A few years ago one of our top politicians
was caught by mistake, by an overzealous custom officer, with diamonds he “forgot”
to declare. Ever since that unfortunate happening, I have had the profitable
pleasure of helping powerful friends to avoid similar unfortunate accidents. I
scratch their back, they scratch mine with favorable oil concessions. As one of
Tony’s now trusted employees you are my safety line between this office and the
recipient of this attaché case. If you, against all odds, should be stopped,
you pretend you know nothing. You are just a delivery boy! Nothing, but a well payed
I was sure that
Mr. Parsons had been drinking, for otherwise he would not have hinted at the
nature of the valuable content in the attaché-case. Some of the superrich feel
the need to show off their superiority to poor people by bragging. I still felt
his damp handshake when I drove towards Gardermoen Airport. I knew that the
tracking computer at Mr. Tony’s headquarter would show that I was slightly off course,
but I hoped it would have not been noticed yet. Things happen, and 99.99 times
company alarms were triggered due to traffic jams and other naturally occurring
irregularities. However, this small anomaly would also as a matter of routine
trigger a reaction. Just in case something unforeseen had happened one of the
transporters, or as in my case had been tempted to disappear with the goods. My
pulse jumped still another notch when I parked the car at the airport. I could
almost imagine Tiny’s huge fists around my throat. Feel how his fingers bored into
and crushed my windpipe.
The last minute
check-in to Buenos Aires went smoothly. The attaché-case was now filled with a
few magazines and a book. The diamonds, which I by now should have handed over
to one of Norway’s better known Labor Party politicians, were casually resting
in my pockets in the company of sticky Fisherman’s Friends. I had also brought a
decent amount of cash and had gambled successfully on getting through airport security
without being caught. Diamonds are easy to hide and now I could only hope to
get away and erase my tracks completely so that Mr. Tony’s men would never find
I found my seat in
the middle of the plane and stared at the still rising sun. The Airbus took off
and I felt satisfied with the boldness of my actions. The seat beside me was
not taken and I rested the attaché-case there. I had made it! The glorious
diamonds were mine and mine alone.
Then a polite
voice interrupts my train of thoughts. – I guess this is my seat. The voice is
so familiar that if instant ulcer had been possible I would have gotten two.
Tiny handed me the attaché-case and sat heavily down in the cramped economy seat.
– When the alarm at headquarters gave a first indication that you were
diverting from your preassigned route, I guessed what you were up to, Dresden,
he said rubbing his fingers.
I stared at him and started to sweat. Would I have
an unfortunate heart attack there and then or would I meet my death, Tiny’s
death, in Bueno Aires? – I did not believe you when you once told me you had
unpretentious dreams. I know that your dreams are much like my own dreams. I
deactivated Mr. Tony’s alarms, reported your delivery as successful and got
into my car. By the way… What do you estimate the value of the diamonds Mr.
Parsons entrusted you? He leaned against me. – Mr. Parsons babbled something about
fifty millions, I hoarsely answered, and felt the diamonds cut into my thighs.
– Good, answered Tiny and stretched so the seat threatened to rip the bolts out
of the floor. – That should be enough for my unpretentious dreams as well.