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"Evetyone has diamond fever in Sierra Leone, but try ro show me how that has benefited the people. You can't eat diamonds," said Cobus. But even this simple idea and renewable resource were at risk now. Because of the war and the lack of infrastructure, pirates and poachers came from allover the world to drop their massive nets in Sierra Leone's aquatic breeding areas. They simply plundered the seas and vanished. Many would off-load their catch on factory ships just over the horizon, continuing unmolested for weeks. Entire tuna fleets fo llowed the lucrative tuna schools into Sierra Leone's waters, made their valuable haul , and disappeared with their frozen cargo. The difference between pirates and poachers? Pirates were unregistered boats that came in to steal fish and even link up with local traders to smuggle cargo; poachers were registered boats that fished in forbidden or controlled regions. Together, they virtually stole $10 ro $25 million worth of Sierra Leone marine resources every year. Some of Cobus's acquaintances might describe him as a dreamer, maybe even a schemer-not in a dishonest way, bur in a way that kept everyone happy and got the job done. You had to be that way ro survive in Sierra Leone, a country where people can starve to death or becomefat and wealthy by picking diamonds up off the ground. If you hold fast to Western morals, everything you own will be taken, conned, or stolen outright. I visited the tall bullet-scarred government building to meet with Okeri Adams, the minister of agriculture and marine resources, who had the numbers on everything Sierra Leone produced, from cassava to diamonds. He agreed with Cobus's estimates and explained how the government made its money. They expected more than $14 million in fishing fees the following year and percent had been tortured. Even outsiders had paid the price for adventuring into this country. In the last 24 months the toll of foreign victims included 500 UN troops kidnapped, 17 peacekeepers killed, 11 crack British troops nabbed, and 3 foreign war correspondents brutally gunned down. So what was I doing fishing? Fishing," said Cobus as he broke open the airport Scotch I'd brought him as thanks for staying in his house, "is the future of this country. " His logic was simple. "With the two-hundred-mile economic zone, there is as much ocean as there is land in Sierra Leone. People forget that when the rebels controlled the diamond areas, the only source of income to the government was from fishing." Cobus was a youthful man, 36, and looked like he would be a good runner. He had reddish brown hair, a twinkle in his eye, and a friendly, laid-back demeanor that belied his former profession in Sierra Leone. He appeared soft, smooth, and unweathered on the outside. On the inside was a lifetime of experiences in wasted blown-to-hell no-man's-lands filled with senseless death, cruelty, and lost causes. He had come here in 1995 as a mercenary to kill people for Executive Outcomes, a company that provided militaty expertise and weapons for clients who could foot the bill. There was nothing wrong or amoral about EO's former task here. Anarchy reigned in Sierra Leone, the future for the tiny coup-led government was dim, and the South African mercenaries were Sierra Leone's last hope. But for now, we talked abour fishin g. Big ships, big nets, government- sized fishing. The kind of fishing that would provide enough income ro pay salaries, keep the lights on, and turn the rusty wheels of government. Even short term, if the wealth of fish was managed properly it could yield an easy $27 million a year, and it would be a renewable, sustainable resource. almost twenty-four million when things had had a chance ro "quiet down." They allowed a limit of 150 commercial ships to fish, bur only 40 ro 60 managed ro pay the fee of $20,000 to $60,000 per ship, per year, ro fish off the coast of Sierra Leone. Adams expected that fishing would be the number two or number three provider of income for the country in the near furure. "People come and go with ideas and schemes," he said. "There is currently a proposal to provide a fleet of patrol boats in exchange for the exclusive rights to fish, there are people hawking fishing licenses on the Internet, and there is even a $200-million World Bank proposal ro tevive and protect the fish ing industry." The current action was a "maritime surveillance program" comprising a rusting navy patrol boat with only one of its four engines operating, a smiling skipper, and a lot of good intentions. And Cobus Claassens. Adams explained the unusual arrangement they had with Cobus. "He came to me with the idea of providing security and moniroring, and I said let's see your boat first and we'll talk." If the poaching could be sropped, then the pirates and poachers would be forced ro pay money to the government ro fish. So Cob us came up with a plan ro save the countty. It wasn't the first time. Cobus started patrolling the seas of Sierra Leone in December 1999. He bought his first boat and he was given a provisional letter. They drew up a contract, then the government issued a tender for the Marine Control and Surveillance contract and Cobus won, complete with a letter from the government confirming his new status. But somehow, in the time it took ro receive the letter and have the contract approved, the paperwork magically disappeared inside the Ministry of Marine Resources. It appeared that the Sierra Leone navy had offered to handle maritime security with the only boat allotted to it, the same craft that limped along with three of its four engines broken. I asked whether bribery was involved. Cobus's answer was a rueful shrug, but the question remained: Why was a perfectly capable, transparent operation never granted the necessary paperwork? Perhaps it was because Cobus was making a huge dent in the poaching business. In the half year that he was on watch, he busted forty-five vessels. Perhaps the Chinese and Korean fishing companies found it cheaper ro pay someone to shut him 49