Nassau has a slow customs procedure. I was in line nearly half an hour, right behind a young American man who was also traveling alone. We both wore dark jackets and formal shirts, whilst around us loud mouthed families in shorts and slacks and joggers made us look slightly conspicuous. We got chatting. He was here to visit a bank, some kind of work to do with the bank in London he worked for. I told him I was here to investigate the offshore business. Oh, that’s cool, he said, nodding earnestly, that’s cool. Are you a journalist? I explained as best I could. That’s cool, he said again, still nodding. I tried to get more information out of him, but he was having none of it. As we shuffled down the line he got more
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