My family has suspected me of working for the CIA ever since I moved to France in the 1980s. Friends have announced accusations of my association with ‘the Company’ at parties and dinners. Everyone gets a good laugh out of matching my absence from America with dubious espionage misadventures. I have denied any ties to this country’s intelligence community and have a rejection letter from a Leon Woodcock of the CIA recruiting wing stating that the agency has no need for a person of my skills at that moment.
The year was 1980.
I was working at an illegal nightclub in New York. Our main investor was a KGB renagade selling religious icons to the FBI. I moved to Hamburg two weeks before the Continental was closed by G-men. They wanted to speak with me. I had left no forwarding address.
At the beginning of the month I traveled to Thailand to see my precious son, Fenway. Barack Obama okayed the assassination of Osama Bin Laden several days after my departure. I don’t think that OBL had anything to do with 9/11, but I pumped a fist in the air. Obama showed that unlike GW Bush that he had the balls to defy the Al-Quada leader’s supporters in the CIA, ISI, and the Mossad.
The reward on OBL’s head was $25,000,000.
No one was claimed the price.
No one is willing to risk the reward. They fear the revenge. Not me, I’ll take the $25 million in a sec, because having lived in Pattaya, the last Babylon, I know how to spend money of the 77 virgins.
Oh yeah.
And I sleep like a baby, because I had nothing to do with his death no matter what my friends think.