Sly Cooper 5: Promises Made By Thieves

Chapter 52: Branwell

There are certain things I hate not knowing.

When writing a story for journalism, I hate when I forget to ask something to someone I interviewed or it's too hard for anyone to answer the question. But those problems seem tame compared to what we're doing now. Someone named The Panda King and his daughter got us new identities within a few days and we flew off to the Caribbean, only on the ride there we were notified how unrest in Haiti was going to lead to a lot more restrictions. Once we all arrived we saw how police were monitoring even the waters. We then paid for snorkels, air tanks, goggles, and water-proof backpacks at a scuba shop, significantly far away from the now-closed-off border and wearing touristy clothes to make us obviously look like we were buying these for...far less illegal activity. I noticed Sly looking at them funny when he saw the price, even though Bentley, Murray, Carmelita and Dimitri were dividing most of the cost. I also saw him eyeing different people's pockets, and by the time we left the store, with no money that didn't belong to us in any of our hands, it looked like some of his pride got tanked.

Dimitri instructed us on the way there what it feels like to breathe through an air tank and how to not hold your breath unless you don't want bubbles to emerge, and to not flood the tube. Dimitri's special gear had a communication device in it, and he was using it to keep up with whoever his contact was. We agreed to swim out when it was dark, because Haiti was apparently now a slimy police state, both in the water and out of it. I had to ask McSweeney to keep an eye on me. This is my first sort of caper and I realized upon hearing the plan I was making my debut in the den.

But it goes smoothly. We swim out far enough that we're invisible underwater, staying close together because the dark and sandy water is a little hard to see in, even with goggles.

The only iffy part of this plan is getting Bentley around. He had to get off his wheelchair and have him hold onto McSweeney's tanks with one hand and his retracted gadget of a chair on the other. It makes the operation a little slower than otherwise.

Dimitri guides us to the shore, and when I emerge and take a mouthful of fresh air, someone in the darkness guides us with his arms up a hill, and he's running quite fast.

It's also now so dark out, the only thing emanating light are the flashlights of the patrols around us, who fortunately haven't noticed us yet. Whoever helped us is as tall and muscular as McSweeney and Murray, and he stops at a giant boulder, rolls it a few feet to his right, and gestures us into this hidden cavern. I object to none of it. The new guy is the last person to come through and pushes the rock back, then we're plunged in utter darkness. Until a white-light lamp is turned on. It is in the center of this room.

"Dimitri," says the guy. I now see who helped us. A slightly dark turquoise ogre, shirtless like McSweeney and wearing a knapsack with a spiky strap. Dimtri gives him a handshake and pulls himself in for a man-hug, though he does an effort to avoid the spikes. They don't look only for design. Smart of him to be careful.

"Thank you for getting us in, Mister," says McSweeney. "What's your name?"

"Thornel Kaz. You all must be Dimitri's sidekicks."

"Yes, we - huh?" exclaims Sly. "Sidekicks?"

"Thornel here's one of my old friends from Blood Bath Bay," Dimitri points out before the contradiction can muster. "We'd been in touch since then and last I heard he was now a bodyguard for hire here in Haiti."

"A bodyguard. That's cool," says Bentley as he's able to get himself back on his chair after Murray gets it out of the bag and sets it back up. "Who do you usually protect?"

"Was pretty decent with celebrities back in the day," says Thornel. "But my preference is being there for local friends who find themselves in a situation where they'd be more comfortable with me around. Sadly these days there's not more folks like me willing to work for pennies."

"So, do you spend your days cooped up in this cavern?" asks Carmelita.

"Occasionally. I have a house just above us, though. You can see a trapdoor just on the ceiling over there. I stay down here in case things become dicey."

"Maybe you can explain more of that to us," I point out. "What happened here recently?"