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Outed in the Sargasso Sea
During the year I spent off the coast of Hollywood, I was able to get a total of 54 videos of different celebrities engaged in some sort of sexual act. It was quite an impressive catalog of perversions and included many of the biggest names in Hollywood.
I sold the videos to a couple of different porn sites for a total of around $2.5 million. I was suddenly a wealthy man. I had enough money to buy a house in the Cayman's and live a modest life just playing with my electronic designs. Maybe I could find an island girl to love me. My life was finally looking good.
Naturally when all those videos hit the net, there was a media frenzy that made it seem like every A-list star had been caught doing dirty little things. It seemed like it was all anyone was talking about for weeks on the news. These videos contained exactly the kind of trashy stories about beautiful people that the press loved to play and replay.
I wasn't surprised that someone used the camera angles in the videos to find a few of the tiny cameras embedded in the walls. So that was all over the news too. And there were all sorts of conspiracy theories being published about how the recordings were made. Everyone thought that this had to be the work of a group that was well organized and well funded. There were even some theories that some foreign government might be involved.
I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it all. Most of the articles at least mentioned that this was a technical leap forward in surveillance. Some talking heads even said that this represented the arrival of "Big Brother" into the bedroom and that the world would never really have privacy again. There was certainly some truth to that, as others could now just copy my cameras and make their own. But, there was so much more that they would have to have: robotic birds, or some other device or procedure put in the cameras without being detected, transponders to encode and relay the signals, and somewhere to record and publish anonymously. There was no one else in the world that could currently do all that, although I knew that would change soon. I still felt so smart, and so superior to have been able to pull this off. I thought nobody would ever figure out who I was, and that I would get away completely free. It did bother me a little that I was anonymous, that no one would ever give me credit for my great inventions.
But what didn't bother me was the emotional havoc that I must have caused these celebrities. Somehow I thought it was OK to expose their deviant sex lives. I figured that they made millions off of their sex appeal, and most of the women amounted to little more than high paid strippers that never took it off. All the pictures and videos didn't do anything to ruin anyone's career, and some of them became more popular than ever. Perhaps if I was a better person I would have cared, at least a little. I'm sure that a lot of them felt uneasy about fucking or even getting undressed in their own bedroom, and that had to be really awful.
So naturally there were crackpot businesses that started offering services to clean the cameras from the walls of Hollywood homes. A couple of stars even had their houses gutted just to feel safe again, and had all sorts of very sensitive electronic monitoring equipment installed. It was silly, because simply painting the walls would have been enough to cover up the camera lenses, and most of the batteries had worn out by the time the videos went public. Of course, they had no way of knowing that I wasn't still out there somewhere recording. I actually thought about offering some device that would detect my cameras, but I figured that there was no way I would get away with that without being discovered.
I knew the videos would cause a lot of talk and investigation, so I had sailed south before I even sold them. I had gone through the Panama Canal and had my old boat sitting just off Grand Cayman Island. I was spending my days laying about or coming to shore to shop for a house. My money was safely stowed away in bank accounts in Panama and the Caymans.
I even managed to meet a waitress at a restaurant on the island, and had a few real dates with a woman that I had never spied on. And after some drinks one night she laid down and gave me sweet loving sex. I felt like pounds of stress and anxiety had been lifted off my body. Even when she dumped me a week later, I was still happy just knowing that it was possible to find someone to be with me of her own free will.
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Then a few weeks later, karma started to catch up with me.
Someone at my main bank in Panama fucked me over. I had an anonymous account, so it shouldn't have happened. My guess is that they probably got some money for outing me, and I should have seen it coming. ATM machines take a picture with every transaction, and I had been using my card from that account to get cash for years now. I of course knew that ATMs did that, and I was paranoid enough to wear a hat and sunglasses everytime I used the machine. Well except for a couple of times, when I was down and out in Mexico City. So someone found those three year old pictures in the ATM records, and those photos were published in the news.
They didn't have my name yet, and the photos were of poor quality, but they still were a decent enough likeness for me to be recognized. And besides they had to know that I had been using the ATM card in the Caymans. I was very lucky that the photos were sold to the media, or I could have easily been tracked down and arrested before I knew what was happening. I fueled up and quickly pulled out to sea hours after I saw that the pictures were published.
A couple of days later, the FBI linked my name to the pictures by making an automated match to my defense clearance file from Cheneytek. Suddently I was a major news topic for a couple of weeks. My screwed up life story was published, and they linked me to the paintball incident at Candlestick Park.
A rent-a-cop at a security group looked through old surveillance videos from Tom and Kate's mansion, and found video of one of the crows drilling a camera into the location that it was found in the wall. That was simply linked together with the fact that I had been an engineer at Cheneytek and worked on a team that produced robotic flying weapons. ATM and billing records showed that I was in and out of Tijuana on a regular basis during the time the videos were taken. So there were still some gaps, but most of my plan was published to everyone.
I didn't like it of course, but I figured it was fair. It was stupid of me to think that I could get away with it all completely clean and anonymous. I could wait for the story to die down and still live out my days offshore somewhere. By now, my ship was through the Caribbean and I was headed out in to the open Atlantic. I figured that getting lost in the middle of the huge ocean was probably the best thing for me right now.
This turned out to be a very smart move as I read an article over my satellite link about a week later that Interpol had issued a "Red Notice" for my arrest. I was wanted for counts of computer crime, money laundering, and a link to organized crime (they obviously didn't understand yet that I worked alone). The Cayman Islands are a cooperating member of Interpol, so I could easily have been extradited and ended up in the U.S. for trial. Suddently I wasn't feeling so good any more. There weren't many countries now that weren't part of Interpol, and I definitely didn't have the kind of money necessary to bribe an entire government to look the other way while I lived there.
Things managed to get even worse. The news wires ran stories of two contracts being put out for my death. One was from some goofy Director claiming that he was going to get justice by having me killed. The guy was fat, had a small little dick, and had not looked at all good in the video I sold of him screwing a young hot actress. That death threat I figured was just a lot of hot air. But the second one that made my blood run cold. It turned out that I had sold a video Jose Malrone with Christina the Tranny. I had no idea who he was when I filmed it, but I sold it just because I thought that he looked kind of funny with Christina's dick in his mouth. It turned out though that Jose Malrone was the son of one of the most powerful figures in the Malrone drug cartel. The father had billions of dollars, and was evidently deeply offended by having pictures of his son blowing Christina all over the internet. So now there was a 10 million dollar contract out for my life. I knew I had better stay hidden or it was a matter of time before someone cashed in on that one.
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The Sargasso Sea consists of thousands and thousands of square miles of stinking seaweed. It sits squarely in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, so there is no beach, or even a shore. It's a vast place, uninhabited by humans, except when they are trying to get from one side of it to the other.
I was now the only permanent resident of the Sargasso Sea. I figured it was the best place to hide. I turned off my satellite feed, and all my communcation instruments, because I knew they could use those to track me down. I shut down the engines to save fuel and stopped the boat at a spot out of the shipping lanes. I drifted slowly and aimlessly, day after day.
Since my cover to be near L.A. was seasteading, I did actually have a way to produce potable water. I also could produce a small amount of electricity from solar panels. I had already made fish traps that worked, and quickly learned how to cook the stinking seaweed. I had small garden beds that I had put in as a cover for my seasteading, so I could grow vegetables until I ran out of seeds. Overall, I could stay out to sea for years.
I was a man and an island. I was finally wealthy, but couldn't enjoy any of the money. I was in a miserable prison of my own making.
I couldn't believe that I had been so stupid. How could I have not seen that a plan to record videos and sell them anonymously was doomed? Things were just too tight now. There were cameras and security everywhere. Celebrity pussy is the most valuable stuff on earth. There is no way to get at those women, even to take pictures, without getting caught. Even while living far off in the ocean and working remotely by robot, I should have known that I couldn't do everything perfectly. I should have just stayed with my quiet fishing business in Cancun. After a few more years I probably could have even slipped back into the U.S.
I needed a new plan or I was going to go crazy out here.
Next Story: Map 3 - World Domination - Adrift
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