Somewhere in the south pacific, Wendel was in a local bar, built out of thach and bamboo, and hardly resistant to the elements, it was more than enough for the locals to call their watering hole. He was shrouded in black, tucked into the corner, and waiting for his contact. The man he had been expecting, the man with the red hat, walked in. He waved his hand at him, but it was doubtful he needed to, as he stuck out like a sore thumb in this rain and sun beaten country. His complexion was pale, his physique slight, and his clothes did not look at all tropical. The man walked over to him immediately. "Do you have my package." 

The man tossed a set of brand new BMW keys onto the table. So new they still had the dealer key number tags and a rubber-band still on them. The man nodded. Working with lowlifes and thieves generally didn't produce much intellectually stimulating conversation, but it usually got the job done, usually. "Did you freeze it exactly as I instructed?" The man didn't respond this time. "You better have." It's possible he was just a courier and they had reached the limits of his english. In this kind of business, thieves generally didn't double-cross customers, because customers that could afford their fees generally could afford ten times as much to have them eliminated. Wendel waved his hand at the man, and by the time he had swept of the keys he was completely gone, nowhere in sight. 

--

The BMW was parked right in front, half on the sidewalk like the driver had owned the whole city and didn't give a damn. Wendel walked around to the trunk and opened it, bracing for the worst. He had paid over fourteen million dollars for this heist, so it better have been handled as instructed. Seeing the neat and tidy installation in the trunk calmed his worries. Not only was it a suitable freezer unit as instructed, wired into the car's electrical, they had added supplemental two supplemental batteries to the rear as well. Whoever had done this work was no theif-for-hire. For a moment he worried that it was work like this that could track them back to him, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He was only taking what he deserved.

Wendel had been one of the original investors in the discovery and cultivation of the mystical Rashja plant. He had been tracking the legends since before the research team had been established. When he heard about their work, he immediately got involved, on the condition that he would be given access to any knowledge and breedable specimens they cultivated. Shortly after they made their discovery, he tried to collect, and before he knew it, it he was cut off. He received an anonymous check, paying back his investment with a hefty 4x return. That would have been fine, if he were in it for the money. He'd spent every day since they searching and plotting to find a way to get what he deserved. Even when he found the resort, he wasn't able to infultrate it, and so he had bided his time. 

Bided his time until he heard about this farm transfer project. He knew this was his opportunity. He knew he had to act. He learned all he could, and then using the world's most universal negotiator, he had paid hefty sums to pull it off. Fourteen million for the thief was only the beginning. Paying off a member of security to handoff the carton had cost seven million more, and paying a weak member of logistics to falsify past records to make the disappearance look like a clerical error had cost a hefty five million. Five million dollars for someone to twiddle some data in an old spreadsheet. At least he had the plant. He briefly opened the container, recognizing the shape immediately, not sure what he next would be, but knowing how it could finally get him what he deserved.