JOE WAS the 'jigger' guy who was assigned to spy on the Jamaican's cabins from the lake-house—he was now getting jejune. He chose to take cover by positioning himself by the kitchen window where True Bobs was shallow frying the turkey chunks; it was so that the Wesleyan can have his fun teasing their chef...
"Chief, are you done? Since crossing the time zones, I get early hunger pangs."
"Shut the fuck up and wait, you man-pig—turkey meat takes longer to cook."
Bob was still pissed that Reeves had not brought down the big moose earlier at the creek—he missed eating red meat since they had arrived at the lake in over the three weeks ago. Joe continued to needle him, and both nearly got into a spat...
"Are you slow dancing with the wolves? Yo, do you need any help over there, Chiefo?"
"What help can you give, you fat ass? You will end up eating more than you help—now stop dicking me and get the fuck out of my kitchen—or else I will dump your fucking dinner in the trash—and you will be eating your shit from over there tonight! "
**
After the standoff they had earlier that morning with the Jamaicans, Reeves had sought out Troy's engineering expertise—and they both had built a couple of homemade listening bugs from cell phone transmitter parts so that they can tap onto the communication in the Jamaican cabin—it was vital because most of the interaction and messages from Hajja and even Li Chi came to the Jamaicans first hand before they relayed the instructions to Reeves and his team.
They had a lucky break that afternoon when all the four noisome Jamaicans went to the lake for a swim and spent some hours there—the valiant Reeves and Troy skulked into the rivals' cabins and placed in the hidden listening bugs.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Moments later, the niche Troy Norton was configuring a translation software on his laptop while Reeves silently observed him with the Howdy-couple at the kitchen table. After some fine-tuning, the audio was heard on the Troy's laptop's speaker—Jamaican Patois was spoken in saturnine.
After Bob chased him out of the kitchen, the curious Joe came over to join them at the table. "Their language sounds so Yiddish."
Troy was tapping on keyboard keys, and he answered assertively to Joe...
"Hold on to your man-boobs—let the translation software kick in, dude."
Troy selected the options on the screen—Jamaican Patois to English translation and he clicked the okay-tab—the software pre-programmed voices substituted the Jamaicans' voices—and it also displayed the written text of the translation on the laptop screen...
The three of them overheard the robotic-like male voice of Busta with a British accent...
"The-sooner-the-fund-raiser-starts-then-we-are-back-in-business-until-then-it-will-get-boring-playing-baby-sitters-to-these-whities."
"Zinga-what-happens-if-it-takes-months-are-we-still-going-to-sit-around-here?" Another voice spoke through the speaker—they all assumed correctly it was Kujo.
"What-are-we-to-do? Hajja-has-put-us-on-this-screwed-up-situation!"
The translation software has substituted Zinga's voice into a woman speaker's mode. Derisive snort and laughter by Joe when he heard it—and he jeered out...
"Thick-lips Zinga sure sounds sexy!" Everyone at the table shushed Joe, and they listened to Zinga who continued to speak...
"I-am-feeling-very-jumpy-and-can't-think-straight-since-we-ran-out-of-our- marijuana-supplies. Day-by-day-that-Jensen's-attitude-is-getting-on-my-nerves. If-he-pulls-another-one-of-his-stunts-like-he-did-today-we-kill-them-all-and-return-to-base-and-we-tell-Hajja-that-they-all-drowned-in-some- fucking-accident-in-the-lake."
The smile in Joe's face vanished—and so did his appetite.