Bright reflectors lit up on the edges of the makeshift airport. A field edged by dozens and dozens of ten-ton granite slabs brought up from the quarry. A private jet descended onto Hogg island at 7:30 cautiously touching down on the cleaned grass and reclaimed tar runway.

The FBI, Maine division was waiting behind the rocks. The plane sat silent, but a boat could be heard near the island's edge, a big cat engine roaring in.

Just as he had figured a lobster boat was incoming, and its operators up to no good, noted Marco Matter to himself as he took out a night vision zooming device. The boat in Hogg harbor was a small fishing vessel now docked far below them. Zooming in again…! A man was coming up the aluminum ramp from the dock. It looked like a white ski mask blurred the face pixelated in the night. The Plane door also now opened, revealing stairs. Nobody had gotten off yet.

The group of FBI suits shivered as the wind pushed through paths in the rocks. Out onto the runway sped a golf cart pulling up to the private plane from which two men departed. The FBI leader nodded at his subordinate tucked behind a little spruce tree who had a high tech hearing from a very far away device. The golf cart had been loaded with sacks, and Marco could see green poking out with his nightvision. It was a stash load of cash.

Two imposing men dressed in fur lined puffer jackets and snow pants had come out of their plane to greet and do a transaction in the dark.

"Dah I see you have money" said one in a thick eastern european accent. The man dressed in a worn 100% cotton winter gear nodded. "Blyat, we have your drones here fresh from black market" barked the other.

"Great! bring them out and the cash is yours" the white man gestured at the plane with his lit cigarette. The Russians went back and forth, carrying down drones. Then they took the cash while one stayed to shake hands.

“Dasvidaniya,” he said, pulling out an American gun.

"FBI on the ground! You've been stung!" yelled Marco.

Marco Matter and the rest of the waiting FBI: Maine rushed out just as the fake Russian prop was zipper loving the suspects hands and feet together with plastic ties. The suspect whimpering on the ground, Marco Matter fished out his wallet from behind: it was "Felt".

"Look at them dreadlocks," said one agent as he lifted off the ski mask.

Marco was face to face with his former friend's semi famous influencer son.