Of course, I didn't always stay in the same hotel. there was a really nondescript one down the street, where the guests were West Indians, not Americans or Europeans, and anonymity was assured. Its amenities were minimal, but there was a rear exit to the beach, where one could come and go unnoticed, and an alley with an even more covert means of entry. Though there was a casino downstairs, it was unconnected to the walk-up hotel lobby.

The Dutch hotel did boast a nice restaurant, with a broad view of Great Bay beach. I would sit there just after dawn, sipping strong coffee, planning my day; just another boring American tourist, in shorts and a polo shirt, up early to go sightseeing. That was the idea, to blend in amongst the throngs of vacationers in Hawaiian print shirts.

The able hotel staff were just what the itinerant offshore professional needed; able to solve just about any problem. One time, when I was stuck with more cash than I could legally bring into the US, and I had to catch a flight, they graciously allowed me to store the funds in a hotel safe-deposit box between my trips to the island. I was, after all, a regular visitor, even during the off-season, when most hotels were largely empty. 

 Off I go,  over to the French side of the island, to the port of Marigot; and to a water taxi tied bound for Anguilla, then one of the most discreet offshore tax havens in the Caribbean. The passengers were mainly locals who worked in one country and lived in another, and a few returning expats. Boxes of consumer goods and foodstuffs filled the hold. We soon cast off, and the captain, a towering man who went by the nickname of Tall Boy, was soon racing the craft towards the opposite shore, only a couple of kilometers away.

Arriving at Blowing Point in Anguilla, customs took a quick look at the huge load of greenbacks in my bag, and whispered to me to close it up quickly, lest anyone see it. After all, I was one of the people responsible for funding a local thriving offshore financial services industry that gave fisherman good jobs as bank tellers, and their wives positions as secretaries and clerks. The government encouraged "flight capital" from all sources, and was conveniently blind to the source of funds.

These offshore tax havens never taxed my clients' ill-gotten gains, for most of those jurisdictions are very "user friendly," meaning:

• No personal income tax on local income of non-residents.
• No corporate profits tax for entities who do not do business there.
• No inheritance or estate taxes.
• No Value-added (VAT) or luxury tax for non-residents.
• US Dollar, or other foreign currency accounts are allowed.
• There are no restrictions on transfers of funds, repatriation  of profits, or reporting of cash withdrawals.

My regular taxi-driver waited for me at the car park. Wise and experienced, he had been ferrying money launderers into the banks for a long time, and he knew a $100 fare, with no problems, was climbing into his vehicle. A quick trip to the Valley, Anguilla's sleepy capital, and we were at the bank, located at the only shopping centre I have ever seen where nothing is for sale, you only see banks and related financial services companies. That's my kind of place.

As I have previously detailed, the funds go into a number of accounts, into certificates of deposit. Our local lawyer gets the receipts. Whilst I am in his office, I check on the progress of a number of UK commercial vessel registrations I am working on, and make a short trip to the registrar of shipping to deliver survey documents. 

On the way back to the port of embarkation, I pick up a beautifully-carved sailboat, which will look like I actually was a tourist when they ask me at US Customs what I was doing in the Caribbean. By the way, I generally pocketed my passport, and entered and left the tax havens using only my birth certificate as proof of nationality, so no incriminating  stamps are in the passport to get the attention of the customs inspectors. Back to Marigot, and home to Miami the next morning, my work complete.

Next Week:  Smugglers are arrested, and my world heats up.