Port Ludlow Golf Club 751 Highland Drive Port Ludlow, WA 98365
Whether you're a visitor or a native, a day of golf at the Port Ludlow Golf Club is sure to be rewarding. At the Port Ludlow Golf Club our 27 holes of championship golf wind through fragrant and towering evergreens, open up to wooded vistas and give you stunningly beautiful backdrops of Ludlow Bay and Hood Canal. It's no wonder that Esquire Magazine rated Port Ludlow Golf Club one of the most scenic in the World, and they consistently rate it as one of the best.
Directions
FROM SEATTLE VIA FERRY: Take Washington State Ferry from Seattle waterfront to Bainbridge Island. The ferry crossing is 30 minutes. From the Ferry terminal in Bainbridge/Winslow, follow HWY 305 for approximately 11 miles to HWY 3 interchange in Poulsbo. Take HWY 3 North to the Hood Canal Bridge. Turn left onto the bridge and after crossing get into the right lane to make a right turn onto Paradise Bay Road (approximately 1/8 mile from the west end of the bridge). Follow Paradise Bay Road for approximately 6 miles past the Golf Course and around The Resort at Port Ludlow Bay to the intersection of Paradise Bay and Oak Bay Road. Village Square Mall and Chevron station will be on your left. Make a right turn at stop sign onto Oak Bay Road. The Resort entrance is just under a mile on your right (waterside). Turn into the main entrance to the Resort and follow the signs to Registration.
FROM SOUTH OF SEATTLE OR TACOMA: From I-5 South to Tacoma take the Gig Harbor/Bremerton exit. You are now on HWY 16. Follow HWY 16 across Tacoma Narrows Bridge and continue on past Gig Harbor to Gorst. At Gorst HWY 16 flows into HWY 3. Follow directions on HWY 3 to Hood Canal Bridge. After crossing Hood Canal Bridge, get into the right lane and make a right turn onto Paradise Bay Road (approximately 1/8 mile from the west end of the bridge). Follow Paradise Bay Road for approximately 6 miles past the Golf Course and around The Resort at Port Ludlow Bay to the intersection of Paradise Bay and Oak Bay Road. Village Square Mall and Chevron station will be on your left. Make a right turn at stop sign onto Oak Bay Road. The Resort entrance is just under a mile on your right (waterside). Turn into the main entrance to the Resort and follow the signs to Registration.
[SSU]Hole in One
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
[SSU]Hole in One
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
The Meet
Black stood at the back of the Cathedral. Service was nearly over, confession was already under way, and he considered, briefly, taking the time to find absolution, but he knew Lynch was waiting, and even he had a limit to his patience. Black wasn’t sure how much Lynch really knew, but he was sure Lynch knew a lot more than he let on.
“Fine then.” Black muttered; turning he strode purposefully out of the Cathedral, lighting a Nic-stick he stood on the stone steps of Lord’s house. Exhaling a cloud of acrid smoke he reached into his shirt and gently brushed his fingers across the crucifix he carried with him since he had been eight-a summer that he still remembered as perhaps the best time of his life. Whatever Lynch knew he didn’t seem awfully interested holding it above Black’s head. Black descended the steps three at a time, in a hurry to get to the meet, but also to make sure he wasn’t around when mass let out. He wouldn’t ruin their happiness, their purity with his sins.
An hour later he sat in the passenger seat of Lynches truck, staring at the urban sprawl that was Seattle Lynch hadn’t said much since he had picked Black up, a few simple words of greeting, a few hundred nuyen in exchange for Black’s time, even though they both knew Xavier had little else to do. He was a stranger in this town. Lynch drove them North, finally stopping the truck in some sort of a park-Seattle was greener by far than any other Sprawl in the world, and a fact they took pride in. It was late afternoon, but under the late June sun he could see people picnicking, children playing, and men who flipped burgers under the glare of the sun while sipping their cold brews. He had been one of these people once. Lynch parked them near the boat ramp, and for a second Black wondered what the hell Lynch had up his sleeve.
“You ever launch a boat before son?” Lynch looked intently at Black.
“Once or twice.”
“good.” Lynch turned the king cab truck off, and swung one of his Jean clad legs out. “Well don’t just sit there, help me get her in the water. Beer is in the cooler in the back.”
“Her” was a twenty-foot pontoon boat that Lynch apparently owned. Between the two of them they managed to back the truck up, latch on, and back the boat in to the water. Loading a cooler full of ice cold brews-bottles, Lynch knew how to make friends-and a cooler filled with food they made their way out onto the lake. Lynch had obviously done this before, and he piloted the cumbersome pontoon boat as if it were a Coast Guard cutter, and finally they dropped anchor somewhere in the middle of the lake. Lynch tossed Black a beer, and asked, “You like steak?”
Black nodded. He was reclining in one of the rear most seats enjoying the view. It was a large clear lake, and people were obviously taking advantage of the days great weather and sunshine. He could see people swimming, and boating. Women in bikinis tanned, while chubby children with neon suits splashed and laughed with one another. As Lynch fired up the hibachi , and began to talk.
“I love this place, you can barely notice the Corporate Security presence. Reminds me of the stories my dad used to tell me about how the old US used to be.” He nodded towards a boat that was idling under a shady tree, and Black noticed the Security logo sprayed across the bow, and the hard looking men with pistols at their sides. “Not like things used to be according to Pap. Of course they didn’t have to deal with gas bag drones that could float a click over the lake with a rifle attached to it.” He flipped the steaks and sprinkled spices over them,. “ Of course Pap’s also didn’t have to pay fifty bucks a pound for real beef too.”
Covering the steaks, he retrieved a can of corn, and P38 style can opener. As he opened the can he continued. “So how have you been Black?”
“Good. Yourself?” Two could play this game, and besides it was nice out here-the beer was cold, and the steaks smelled really good.
“I’ve got some stuff that needs attention.” Lynch set the can on the grill, and stood up, shucking his shirt casually over the seat. Grinning he turned away from Black. “Of course you know that, so I guess I’d better get down to brass tacks.”
“Some people are going to be coming into town next weekend. Fourth of July is coming up, and lot of people still like their fireworks and hotdogs. These people are out of towners, and well to be frank-they just aren’t nice people. They are coming into town to play golf. You ever hear of the Port Ludlow Golf Course?” he waited for Black to shake his head, and smiled. “Figured not. Back when the tribal’s knocked the old US over and took the west coast
they had a few problems with deciding what they would do with all the white mans old stuff. If they trashed and burned too much of it, well the insurance companies would have shit fits and getting any sort of business done with the pink skins would be a real fraggin’ bitch. Not to mention some of it could end up turning a real profit for them in the long run.”
“One such example was golf courses. The Ludlow was a pretty damn nice course even before the Salish took over. The owners had always had an eye on how they affected the environment, which meant they were pretty much left alone when it came time to boot all the pale faces out of the land of the coyote. In the last thirty years they’ve really pulled out all the stops making Ludlow a real breadwinner. Real popular with the jet setting golf crowd. A lot of meetings take place over eighteen holes.” Lynch paused to flip the steaks one more time, and pull a set of metal camp-wear out for them to eat off of.
“Under your chair is a optical chip in black carrying case. The chip contains three dossiers. “ Lynch sat in the chair next to Black and spun around to face him. “I want you to take them out.”
“Fine then.” Black muttered; turning he strode purposefully out of the Cathedral, lighting a Nic-stick he stood on the stone steps of Lord’s house. Exhaling a cloud of acrid smoke he reached into his shirt and gently brushed his fingers across the crucifix he carried with him since he had been eight-a summer that he still remembered as perhaps the best time of his life. Whatever Lynch knew he didn’t seem awfully interested holding it above Black’s head. Black descended the steps three at a time, in a hurry to get to the meet, but also to make sure he wasn’t around when mass let out. He wouldn’t ruin their happiness, their purity with his sins.
An hour later he sat in the passenger seat of Lynches truck, staring at the urban sprawl that was Seattle Lynch hadn’t said much since he had picked Black up, a few simple words of greeting, a few hundred nuyen in exchange for Black’s time, even though they both knew Xavier had little else to do. He was a stranger in this town. Lynch drove them North, finally stopping the truck in some sort of a park-Seattle was greener by far than any other Sprawl in the world, and a fact they took pride in. It was late afternoon, but under the late June sun he could see people picnicking, children playing, and men who flipped burgers under the glare of the sun while sipping their cold brews. He had been one of these people once. Lynch parked them near the boat ramp, and for a second Black wondered what the hell Lynch had up his sleeve.
“You ever launch a boat before son?” Lynch looked intently at Black.
“Once or twice.”
“good.” Lynch turned the king cab truck off, and swung one of his Jean clad legs out. “Well don’t just sit there, help me get her in the water. Beer is in the cooler in the back.”
“Her” was a twenty-foot pontoon boat that Lynch apparently owned. Between the two of them they managed to back the truck up, latch on, and back the boat in to the water. Loading a cooler full of ice cold brews-bottles, Lynch knew how to make friends-and a cooler filled with food they made their way out onto the lake. Lynch had obviously done this before, and he piloted the cumbersome pontoon boat as if it were a Coast Guard cutter, and finally they dropped anchor somewhere in the middle of the lake. Lynch tossed Black a beer, and asked, “You like steak?”
Black nodded. He was reclining in one of the rear most seats enjoying the view. It was a large clear lake, and people were obviously taking advantage of the days great weather and sunshine. He could see people swimming, and boating. Women in bikinis tanned, while chubby children with neon suits splashed and laughed with one another. As Lynch fired up the hibachi , and began to talk.
“I love this place, you can barely notice the Corporate Security presence. Reminds me of the stories my dad used to tell me about how the old US used to be.” He nodded towards a boat that was idling under a shady tree, and Black noticed the Security logo sprayed across the bow, and the hard looking men with pistols at their sides. “Not like things used to be according to Pap. Of course they didn’t have to deal with gas bag drones that could float a click over the lake with a rifle attached to it.” He flipped the steaks and sprinkled spices over them,. “ Of course Pap’s also didn’t have to pay fifty bucks a pound for real beef too.”
Covering the steaks, he retrieved a can of corn, and P38 style can opener. As he opened the can he continued. “So how have you been Black?”
“Good. Yourself?” Two could play this game, and besides it was nice out here-the beer was cold, and the steaks smelled really good.
“I’ve got some stuff that needs attention.” Lynch set the can on the grill, and stood up, shucking his shirt casually over the seat. Grinning he turned away from Black. “Of course you know that, so I guess I’d better get down to brass tacks.”
“Some people are going to be coming into town next weekend. Fourth of July is coming up, and lot of people still like their fireworks and hotdogs. These people are out of towners, and well to be frank-they just aren’t nice people. They are coming into town to play golf. You ever hear of the Port Ludlow Golf Course?” he waited for Black to shake his head, and smiled. “Figured not. Back when the tribal’s knocked the old US over and took the west coast
they had a few problems with deciding what they would do with all the white mans old stuff. If they trashed and burned too much of it, well the insurance companies would have shit fits and getting any sort of business done with the pink skins would be a real fraggin’ bitch. Not to mention some of it could end up turning a real profit for them in the long run.”
“One such example was golf courses. The Ludlow was a pretty damn nice course even before the Salish took over. The owners had always had an eye on how they affected the environment, which meant they were pretty much left alone when it came time to boot all the pale faces out of the land of the coyote. In the last thirty years they’ve really pulled out all the stops making Ludlow a real breadwinner. Real popular with the jet setting golf crowd. A lot of meetings take place over eighteen holes.” Lynch paused to flip the steaks one more time, and pull a set of metal camp-wear out for them to eat off of.
“Under your chair is a optical chip in black carrying case. The chip contains three dossiers. “ Lynch sat in the chair next to Black and spun around to face him. “I want you to take them out.”
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Target 1
Paul Provenza
Nationality: Italian-American
Race: Human
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210lbs.
Hair: Black
Eyes: Chrome
Age:35
Sex: Male
Known as Cardiac on the streets, Provenza is a hit man for the Luciano Family, who earned his street name from a target that was so scared by running into Provenza, that he had a heart attack. Provenza is trim, fit looking man who is obviously in his early thirties. He has done time for Assault, Breaking and Entering a two-year bit for Parole Violation, but is a suspect in at least fifty assassination style murders, and a half dozen gangland wars.
Family History Provenza is the seventh son of Leon Vincent Provenza, a self admitted junkie and mobster, who served life in prison for 1st Degree Murder when Provenza was 14. His mother is a resident of New York City. (See attachment H)He has five brothers and two sisters, and Provenza is the youngest. Provenza does not claim any abuse or family difficulties, stating “I had a good childhood.”
Mr. Provenza denies paternity, and does not claim any dependants.
Education and Employment History Provenza completed High School, and a two year degree in the Arts was obtained during his brief prison sentence for Parole Violation. Mr. Provenza does not claim any additional training although this reporter would like to denote Mr. Provenza almost certainly has some sort of weapons training as demonstrated by his greater than average skill with the rifle, and his aptitude testing reveals he has an innate talent with mathematics and mechanics.
Mr. Provenza claims to be self employed with tax returns showing a very impressive six digit net income over the last five years, however in light of his recent indictments under the RICO act, it may be safe to assume at least some of this income was illicit in nature. Mr. Provenza claims to be a security consultant, and not other employment history to date.
Substance Abuse History Subject denies using drugs, alcohol or chips.
Nationality: Italian-American
Race: Human
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210lbs.
Hair: Black
Eyes: Chrome
Age:35
Sex: Male
Known as Cardiac on the streets, Provenza is a hit man for the Luciano Family, who earned his street name from a target that was so scared by running into Provenza, that he had a heart attack. Provenza is trim, fit looking man who is obviously in his early thirties. He has done time for Assault, Breaking and Entering a two-year bit for Parole Violation, but is a suspect in at least fifty assassination style murders, and a half dozen gangland wars.
Family History Provenza is the seventh son of Leon Vincent Provenza, a self admitted junkie and mobster, who served life in prison for 1st Degree Murder when Provenza was 14. His mother is a resident of New York City. (See attachment H)He has five brothers and two sisters, and Provenza is the youngest. Provenza does not claim any abuse or family difficulties, stating “I had a good childhood.”
Mr. Provenza denies paternity, and does not claim any dependants.
Education and Employment History Provenza completed High School, and a two year degree in the Arts was obtained during his brief prison sentence for Parole Violation. Mr. Provenza does not claim any additional training although this reporter would like to denote Mr. Provenza almost certainly has some sort of weapons training as demonstrated by his greater than average skill with the rifle, and his aptitude testing reveals he has an innate talent with mathematics and mechanics.
Mr. Provenza claims to be self employed with tax returns showing a very impressive six digit net income over the last five years, however in light of his recent indictments under the RICO act, it may be safe to assume at least some of this income was illicit in nature. Mr. Provenza claims to be a security consultant, and not other employment history to date.
Substance Abuse History Subject denies using drugs, alcohol or chips.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Target 2
Elliot DeWinter
Nationality: American
Race: Human
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 245lbs.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: blue
Sex: Male
Age: 56
Mr. DeWinter is a fifty six-year-old male human, who stands before the court accused of racketeering on four separate accounts. Mr. DeWinter is Mr. DeWinter is an obese white male who claims to have Italian heritage. Mr. DeWinter's crimes are detailed under the Authorities description of the Offense (Subsection 8h) but it should be noted Mr. DeWinter is a twice-convicted felon whose outlook is not positive in this reporter’s opinion.
Family History Mr. DeWinter has refused to cooperate with authorities, but records indicate he is an only child, whose parents are deceased foreign nationals. Mr. DeWinter has at least four children, and maybe more. Mr. DeWinter is definitely married, but refuses to provide official documentation. Mr. DeWinter’s attorney seems singularly successful in blocking this reporters attempts to complete this PSI.
Nationality: American
Race: Human
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 245lbs.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: blue
Sex: Male
Age: 56
Mr. DeWinter is a fifty six-year-old male human, who stands before the court accused of racketeering on four separate accounts. Mr. DeWinter is Mr. DeWinter is an obese white male who claims to have Italian heritage. Mr. DeWinter's crimes are detailed under the Authorities description of the Offense (Subsection 8h) but it should be noted Mr. DeWinter is a twice-convicted felon whose outlook is not positive in this reporter’s opinion.
Family History Mr. DeWinter has refused to cooperate with authorities, but records indicate he is an only child, whose parents are deceased foreign nationals. Mr. DeWinter has at least four children, and maybe more. Mr. DeWinter is definitely married, but refuses to provide official documentation. Mr. DeWinter’s attorney seems singularly successful in blocking this reporters attempts to complete this PSI.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
"I don't like it when La Costra Nostra, the Vory and the Tongs start talking shop on the back side of the fourteenth green. It makes me plenty nervous in fact. See I'm more than just a business man, I'm also a community minded individual Black. I know that may be hard to believe, but I think whatever they have planned isn't going to be good for Seattle, or us." Lynch grinned, which gave him sort of a deaths head appearence, and speared the steaks, slapping one on each of the two large plates he produced from somewhere. He used a steel spoon to serve some corn, and handed Black his plate. "This won't be your ordinary job however. Not in any sense of the word."
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Universe Man
- Tasty Human
- Posts: 16
- Joined: Tue Nov 25, 2003 2:21 am
- Location: Michigan
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
"Three days from now, but there is a catch. I want you to use a specific rifle-A Winchester Model 70 Stealth chambered for a .308 round explosive round. The shots you'll be taking will be from at least five hundred yards-maybe even more."