The Devil's Shadow: A Gun-for-Hire Thriller

by J E Higgins

  “I’m fine, Markus. I believe I have an appointment with your boss,” Crane replied.

  “You do. He is expecting you,” Markus replied, grinning. “Let me announce you.”

  “Are you sure that’s necessary?” Crane asked pointing to the bulb of the video camera posted up in the corner of the ceiling.

  Markus shook his head. “Probably not. But it is what the boss wants. He likes us to keep matters of business formal for the sake of appearances.”

  From the way Markus explained things, Crane assumed there was someone important inside. Markus spoke into a mike system he had around his head. A few minutes later the door opened revealing a tall, Caucasian man with bleach-blond hair. The man was athletically built and looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He was Christian Eicher, Lanier's chief of security.

  Eicher quickly assessed Crane before nodding for him to come inside. “Good to see you again, Markus.” Crane gave his last pleasantries to the Nubian as he walked past him and followed the blond man inside. Eicher stared coldly at Crane as he stepped past the door. Shutting the door with a hard thud, he continued staring coldly. “He’s waiting for you.” The man’s French was flavored with a heavy German accent. He then robotically turned and started walking with Crane following closely.

  Crane didn’t waste time with needless small talk. Eicher was not the kind of man who bothered getting friendly. As little as he knew of the man, he had discovered that much. Eicher was a former operative with the Grenzschutzgruppe 9, or Border protection group 9, better known as GSG-9 elite German counter-terrorist unit. He had been dismissed unceremoniously from the unit for excessive force. The details of which had never been explained.

  Like most who wound up in the profession, he left the unit looking at limited avenues of employment when he was recruited by Lahier. At the time, Lahier had survived a few close encounters with some unidentified enemies who had taken great pains in their attempts to kill him. These would-be assassins had never been found. The only thing clear in each case was the assassination attempts were carried out with careful planning and coordination.

  The assassins had proven highly trained and experienced. This fact led Eicher to strongly suspect that some of the mercenaries around town were involved, either as part of the hit team or having close ties to the groups that sent them. In either case, the former counter-terrorist maintained a healthy suspicion of men like Crane.

  The German led Crane through a short, narrow hallway that opened into a wide lounging area. Long leather couches lined the walls with some plush chairs placed on the opposite side of the room completing the circle. A long glass table surrounded by chairs was in an adjacent room. The chairs were plastic making it clear the long table was not for cordial get-togethers as much as for business.

  Maurice Lahier emerged from the meeting room. A thin smile spread over his face as he extended a free arm in a welcoming fashion while the other hand remained tucked in the pocket of his trousers. “Devon, glad you could make it.” He greeted Devon in his usual all business manner as he waved his hand signifying that he wished to get down to the point of the meeting.

  Lahier cut a dashing figure dressed in a dark pin-striped suit that had clearly been tailored. His salt and pepper hair was short and neatly lined his head and complemented his thickly lined face. He had the elegant demeanor of a refined upper-class man educated and sophisticated, but with the obvious fervor of a hardened soldier.

  Crane moved past Eicher who had stepped to the side to allow him by. Once inside, he encountered a woman. She said nothing, nor did she acknowledge him as he entered. She was dressed in a tailored grey pantsuit and, judging from the conservative manner in which she wore her hair and her light amount of makeup, she was certainly someone of importance. It made it all the more strange that Lahier seemed to ignore her as he took a seat in one of the plush chairs and fixed his eyes on Devon. Deciding it wasn’t important to know who she was, Crane focused his attention on the older man. He remained standing, feeling somehow that it just wasn’t appropriate to take a seat at this point.

  “Your mission was a success.” Lahier began. “The clients were certainly happy with the results.”

  Crane shrugged. “I’m not sure what good it will do in the long run. We didn’t get the ring leader. And honestly, whatever damage we did will be fixed within six months. They’ll be up and running again early next year at the latest.” Crane couldn’t help noticing that Lahier had chosen to conduct the meeting in English, a strange departure. These meetings were usually conducted in French. It was an easy deduction that it was for the benefit of the young woman.

  “Your objective was to deliver a strategic response that showed these pirates they don’t hold all the cards when it comes to hijacking ships.” Lahier folded his hands out in front of his body giving him a more domineering pose. “You accomplished that. Did you have trouble setting up a base of operation?”

  “No,” Crane replied. “Our contacts in the area were most helpful in helping us meet the necessary requirements. We also had no trouble from the host government. We entered the country by ship to first assess the general level of control the pirates had over the waterways. Then we were put in touch, via our local contacts, with people familiar with the village and the pirates’ operating area. This was somewhat problematic.”

  “How so?” Lahier interrupted.

  “In debriefings, we held with people indigenous to the operational area, we discovered the locals did a continuous business with the people we were going up against. We ran the risk of our mission being exposed if any of them were inclined to report to the target that we were asking about them,” Crane answered.

  “You took steps to mitigate this problem?” Lahier asked.

  “Yes,” Crane continued. “Some of our contacts approached potential sources on our behalf and indirectly obtained the information through random small talk. This way we were able to get a rough idea of how the pirates were organized and how they ran their security. We obtained more in-depth information regarding their village setup and the locations of key assets from people who had extensive knowledge of the village and currently had bad relations with the targets. We were also able to send in recce teams who monitored the area and provided further intelligence to fill in whatever gaps we had. We then set up our base of operation in another country but in terrain similar to our objective location. We found a nearly abandoned fishing village that we could use for mockup exercises as we formulated our plan and conducted rehearsals.”

  At that point, Lahier finally turned his attention in the direction of the young woman. Crane turned in her direction also. With her finger pressed against her lips in a thoughtful manner, she lowered her eyes and gave a slight nod. Lahier abruptly rose from his seat and giving her a slight bow, he said, “I will leave the rest to you.”

  Then, he turned and walked out of the room through the glass door and onto his balcony. Eicher also disappeared quietly, leaving Crane alone with the mystery woman. Unsure what was going on, Crane decided it was best just to stand where he was.

  “From what I gather, it was a rather well-executed operation, Mr. Crane.” The woman’s voice was soft but firm. Her accent was slightly Spanish with the refined manner of her speech that clearly denoted years of a finer education. From her smart choice of clothing, she was either a high-end barrister or a corporate executive. In any case, whoever she was, she commanded considerable power by the way she was able to dispatch Lahier, a feat few others could perform.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m Contessa Selena de Alvarez.” She said lifting her finger from her face enough to see her lips move as she gave Crane an assessing look.

  “Strange. You’re talking to some mystery person in a clandestine meeting being held in a guarded safe house, yet you don’t seem at all curious.”

  Crane shrugged slightly. The woman was clearly no stranger to such meetings. He figured this line of questioning was all part of some assessment. “
Such meetings are not unusual for me. And, in situations like this, I find it wise to ask only the questions I need to have answered. People who seek out people like me do so because they need to have something done that they can’t afford to be directly connected to. In this line of work, it’s easy to become a dangerous liability if one gets too inquisitive.”

  The Contessa smirked, apparently impressed, or at least, satisfied with his answer. She leaned forward slightly bringing her hands up to her chin and lacing her fingers. “My understanding is that your military background is with the Foreign Legion.”

  “It is,” Crane nodded slightly.

  “Tough organization with a good reputation in the military world as an elite force,” she said.

  “We get the job done,” he replied.

  “From what I know, it is far more than that. I believe that you were part of their elite parachute regiment, graduating all the way to their premier commando unit.”

  He looked at her as if expecting more. When she said nothing, he said, “I’ve been around, and I’ve seen my fair share of action.”

  Despite the rather coy way she was speaking of the Legion and his military experience, he had the feeling she already knew the answers to questions she was asking. Early into the meeting, Crane had noticed that the woman’s cell phone had been set on the armrest of the couch right next to her. He figured it was on and someone else was listening to the discussion.

  “I’ll get to the point,” she said. “I need someone, a professional, to undertake a rather complex mission. One that is not only complex but has to be handled delicately as a lot of eyes may very well be on it. You come highly recommended as someone capable of such an operation.”

  Crane said nothing but kept his eyes fixed on her.

  She continued, “The mission is in South America and calls for neutralizing a threat that has become a serious problem for some people.” Her gaze turned hard. “For right now, the question I need to be answered is would you be able to organize and carry out such a mission in the Western Hemisphere?”

  “Without knowing more of the details, I wouldn’t want to give you a definite answer. But, in the basic sense, the answer is yes. I have the means to operate extensively in that region of the world. I’ve operated there before, and I have contacts there.”

  The Contessa nodded slowly as she absorbed his answer and looked him over. “I appreciate your answer.” She looked off into the distance, running the discussion through her mind. Finally, she turned her attention back to him. “Colonel Lahier has been most helpful in finding candidates that might meet our needs, so to speak. You are the one that comes the most highly recommended. After a few other interviews with some of your colleagues, I have to say I have been most impressed with you myself.”

  Crane wasn’t sure where this was going, so he stood firm waiting to hear more. The Contessa ruminated silently for some time before she spoke again. It looked as if she were wrestling with whether to discuss the matter further or not. Finally, she looked him straight in the eye. “The job is yours if you want it.”

  Crane waited to see what would happen next. She sat back then looked up at him. “Have you heard of an organization known as the Black Crow cartel?”

  “Only vaguely.”

  She compressed her lips. “It is right now a powerful and incredibly dangerous narcotics trafficking organization operating largely in Mexico but extends to several countries across the South American continent. Its activities have become more than what certain people can allow. Its leader, Alvaro Gutiérrez, has become unusually dangerous and out of control. We need to bring the organization into check and its leader taken out.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Crane responded as he started to slowly pace across the room.

  “I understand,” the Contessa said curtly. “As I have explained, this is not a job one takes lightly.”

  “I gather.” He sank his hands into his pockets as he started to think over the broad strokes he could see coming into play for such a mission. Now he could understand the need for such elaborate secrecy and the probing questions. This was not fighting some guerrilla group in some third world country or hitting a group of pirates upsetting a region of the third world.

  Latin American drug cartels were powerful organizations that possessed considerable financial resources and political connections. Far from the punks and backward peasants that filled the ranks of many African guerrilla organizations he dealt with, cartels could afford to hire quality for their security. It was understood that many South American cartels were inclined to hire former Israeli commandos as enforcers and assassins in addition to an assortment of other equally seasoned and highly trained professionals.

  He knew that combating drug organizations in Latin America has for decades been a major focus of the US government. They had devoted billions of dollars fighting these groups, not to mention the considerable military and intelligence resources they’ve pumped into their campaigns. There was always a serious risk that they would discover any operation he attempted. Given, their level of interest, they would certainly get involved one way or another if they found out about him.

  “I say again, this is a tall order, ma’am. These groups have a far reach and have some dangerous people they can call upon.”

  “I realize this. My decision to have this meeting with you did not come lightly. As I mentioned, you have a good reputation amongst your compatriots, and you come highly recommended for this sort of operation. And, I might add, this is of significant importance to some very powerful people.”

  Crane’s initial instinct was to bid her goodbye and quietly walk out the door. However, he didn’t like being hasty. Despite the fact that she was no soldier, the cool manner with which she carried herself indicated she was no stranger to this type of situation. That she was able to have such a private meeting arranged by Lahier caused him to hesitate before answering, reminding himself that she held considerable clout.

  It was a logical deduction that he presumed she might be British MI-6 or a go-between for some other highly powerful intelligence agency. In either case, she was no different than the spies and ex-spies he saw hanging around the Danjou looking for mercenaries to do a job that some intelligence agency needed to be done off the books.

  “This is important,” she pressed noticing his hesitancy, “and it requires professional skills.”

  “Professional skills require not acting hastily,” he reminded her. “Before I agree to anything, I first need to see if the job is even feasible. In any operation I undertake, I judge the feasibility by the level of intelligence I’m able to obtain. In this case, I want to take a few days to do a little research on this Black Crow organization to see exactly what I’m getting into.”

  “Of course, I would expect nothing less. You wouldn’t be the professional I need if you just blindly jumped into this job.”

  “I’m glad we agree.”

  “My other concern is the ability to find people for this job,” she continued. “I looked at a few in my search for men who were up to this task, and, to be quite frank, I was not impressed with many of them. Will you be able to recruit enough good men for this job?”

  “Good question,” Crane replied. “Again, it boils down to feasibility. Skilled professionals aren’t going near a job that has too much of a possibility for disaster. If a viable plan and method for operation can be produced, then I should be able to attract who we need. I should warn you they won’t be cheap.”

  The Contessa nodded. “Then I guess until you’ve had a chance to review everything, we have nothing more to discuss.”

  Crane turned on his heels and started to leave. “I imagine I can contact you through Maurice when I’ve made my decision.”

  “You can.” She leaned back in her chair as she watched the mercenary take his leave.

  “You’ll hear from me in about two days,” he said as he disappeared around the corner.

  Chapter 9

  Special Agent, Rain
n Darson, felt her palms sweat as she nervously waited outside the office of the Deputy Administrator’s office. Several weeks ago, she had submitted a revised report outlining the rising danger of the Black Crow cartel in which she had added the recent murder of British intelligence officer Martin Rankin. The report had been sent to the DEA headquarters in Washington DC. A few days ago, she and her boss, Dan Leveran, had been summoned to headquarters.

  Earlier that morning, she had given a briefing to a meeting of the hierarchy of the Drug Enforcement Administration, representatives of the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms, and the US Justice Department. The report, which had somehow found its way into the hands of the British Ambassador, had stoked a serious fire. She’d spent the morning delivering her briefing in person and answering a grueling series of questions from professional bureaucrats who had not been pleased with the embarrassment her report had caused, and they had been none too delicate in letting their anger be known.

  Now, she waited outside the office of the second most powerful figure in the DEA as if she were a student waiting to see the principal over a disciplinary matter. The Deputy Administrator had made it quite clear that he wanted to speak only with Dan Leveran, and that she could wait outside. That the deputy’s manner had been deliberately cold and overtly hostile was worrisome.

  It had been nearly an hour since her boss had disappeared behind the big oak door. She was getting more apprehensive by the minute, like a prisoner on death row the moment they were walked to the place of execution. Everything told her this stunt was the nail in her coffin. The Justice Department would finally act against the Black Crow cartel, but it would be at the cost of her career.

  The door blew open and Leveran emerged from the office looking winded and pale. He gave his parting courtesies as he closed the door behind him. The meeting had obviously not gone well. Darson rose to her feet. Not knowing how badly her actions had blown back on her boss, she wasn’t quite sure what to say. “How bad was it?” Were the only words she could think of.