A diamond smuggling plane en route to Miami is blown off course by a hurricane, Wrong Way Lenny, and crashes in the Jamaican Blue Mountains. A small team from the smuggling ring sets out for Jamaica with the cryptographic keys needed to open the state-of-the-art digital safes on board the plane. In an "it seemed like a good idea at the time” moment, the team leader gives a Jamaican teenager, Janet Martin, the bag with the keys to carry it through Miami International Airport security, in the hope of avoiding any suspicion.
After passing through security, Janet is attracted to the desk by an offer for two free tickets to anywhere in the world in exchange for giving up her seat on her overbooked flight. She excitedly accepts the offer, and leaves the airport for a hotel, as a guest of the airline, with the smugglers' bag. The next morning she catches her new flight home, and forgets the bag at the hotel. It takes the smugglers three months to find Janet. They want their bag, and they desperately want their diamonds.
Janet is kidnapped from a Jamaican hotel, and her parents are frantic. The Special Investigative Crime Unit, nicknamed the SIC unit, takes over the investigation, but Mr. and Mrs. Martin suspect something is wrong as the investigation stalls for spurious reasons. They turn to The Fixer for help, because they have nowhere else to go.
Kenneth is ex-military. A demanding taskmaster who leads by example. A family man, married to Jenny, with their union producing three children, two boys and a girl. Kenneth uses his military training to help keep his family and team together, leading them through this harrowing roller coaster story that is The Fixer.
Marshall is a roughneck, street hardened and streetwise. Marshall and Kenneth have been friends since high school, although it is a relationship that is shrouded in mystery and tension. But there is no doubting his loyalty to the cause.
Inspector George “Busha” Albert
The Special Investigation Crime (SIC) Unit of the Jamaica Constabulary Force reflects the character of their decorated leader, Busha George. The SIC squad is a powerful and very effective crime fighting unit that delivers excellent results in solving the hardest and worst crimes, but their unconventional and aggressive methods constantly raise concerns within society and the media.
One year earlier
Jean Michel Mbozi thumped the mahogany table with such force that the empty glasses jumped and those with water wobbled, prompting the owners to reach out and steady them. The soldier at the panelled wood door shuffled his feet, and then relaxed as he removed his hand from his side arm, resuming his At Attention posture.
‘I will not be spoken to in this way!’
‘You promised me a fair, negotiated settlement if I brought my people to the table…’
‘… and this is how you treat me?’
‘We are a sovereign country. We are not cow dung under your shoes that you simply scrape off and dispose of like…’
‘Will you shut up! God damn it, man.’
There was stunned silence in the room. Mr. Mbozi looked across the table with his mouth open, stalled in mid-sentence, his eyes wide open. The only audible sound was the hum of the fan, labouring in its task of futility.
Pye! The sound of the slap hung in the air before being carried away on the wind.
‘How yuh so fool fool? Eh?’
‘Ow! Yuh never have to knock me so hard.’
‘To blerdnaught! How much time me must talk to yuh? How de blerdnaught you figet de battery?’
‘Me no know.’
‘Nephew! De backup system work off de battery. How it mus’ work widout it?’
‘Me sorry, Uncle.’
In the fading light of dusk, Nephew looked down from their position at the top of the radio tower at their distant pickup truck parked in the small clearing amongst the trees and overgrowth below. His knees buckled for a moment, and he remembered that he was not supposed to look down, but a curious ambivalence overcame him as he closed his eyes and imagined himself falling, falling, falling, and then suddenly flying as the wind picked him up. The wind roared in his ears, and when he opened his eyes he was momentarily confused as he saw a cloudless blue sky, He could even feel the warmth of the sun on his face. Pye! Nephew shook his head. It was now dusk, the wind had a cold edge to it, and it had started to drizzle. ‘Nephew! Stop daydream. Is work we a do!’