Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 14

greet them.
    â€œI see you found the place,” Harry said.
    â€œIt was easy,” Stone replied. “There’s only one mountaintop in St. Marks.”
    â€œYou have a point,” Harry said. “Come on in, and let me get you a drink.” He led them into a fairly large, comfortably furnished living room and waved them to seats. “Irene’s busy in the kitchen; she’ll be out in a little while. Are you still drinking those vodka gimlets? I made some.”
    â€œYou betcha,” Holly said. “It’s easy to sell this crowd gimlets.”
    Harry produced martini glasses and a frosty Absolut bottle, the liquid inside tinged with green, and poured for everyone. “Cheers,” Harry said, raising his glass.
    â€œWait for me,” Irene said from the kitchen door. She entered the room looking cool and well pressed, not like someone who had been cooking all afternoon.
    The men stood and greeted her, and Harry handed her a gimlet. “I’m afraid I had one too many of these last night,” she said, “but this time I didn’t get a head start.” Everyone sat down.
    â€œThis is a marvelous place,” Holly said. “How’d you find it?”
    â€œThe usual way, through an agent. Actually, Thomas Hardy was a big help. He knew that Sir Winston Sutherland had bought up here and that he was bringing in electricity and water. The place had been on the market for a long time for lack of utilities. There’s a large cistern under the house, and water was collected from the roof, and although the house had been wired in hope of power, it didn’t happen until the PM made it happen. Before there were just a small generator and a lot of oil lamps.”
    â€œSo, you got in ahead of the rise in property values that must have come with the utilities?”
    â€œThanks to Thomas, yes. I got the place for half what it would bring now.”
    â€œWhere is Sir Winston’s place?”
    â€œJust down the hill a couple of hundred yards, after what used to be the guesthouse for this one. I couldn’t afford the guesthouse when I bought, and an expat English couple bought it, but they seem to be rarely here. I’ve never met them.”
    â€œI’ve noticed,” Stone said, “that since the last time I was here the island has taken on an air of prosperity. Has St. Marks attracted some new manufacturing or something?”
    â€œOr something,” Harry said. “It’s called offshore Internet gambling.”
    â€œHow does that work?” Genevieve asked.
    â€œA business establishes what amounts to a casino, except it’s entirely virtual. Anyone with an Internet connection, anywhere in the world, can play, and winnings or losses are credited or debited to a credit card. There are half a dozen establishments here, and they are hugely profitable. Each of them employs a lot of people, many of them islanders. The managers and computer people are almost entirely from abroad—the States, Europe and Asia—and those people are buying property and building houses. Irene got in under the wire, but it’s getting harder and harder to hire construction people. I tell you, if I lived here I’d start a construction company.”
    â€œIs there any sort of regulation for the industry?” Dino asked.
    â€œNot really. The United States is trying to ban Internet gambling, but not very successfully. When they started pressing the credit card companies not to process charges from offshore casinos, the casinos just offered their own credit cards, through offshore banks. A gambler can go online, fill out an application and get a credit line in less than two minutes. The card is mailed to him within a week, and he can use it anywhere, like any other credit card.
    â€œThe U.S. has arrested a couple of casino operators when they passed through American airports, but as long as they don’t enter the States, they’re safe. The U.S. and St. Marks have no extradition treaty, and negotiations have been bogged down for years.”
    â€œIs there any local regulation in St. Marks?” Dino asked.
    â€œA government department has been set up to regulate the casinos, but rumor has it, the only enforced regulation is to pay Sir Winston Sutherland for the privilege of operating.”
    â€œSir Winston seems to have a finger in every pie,” Stone said.
    â€œIndeed he does,” Irene said. “There are