by J E Higgins
“It sure wasn’t a picnic. He’s angry, but I think we’ll pull through.”
“So, what now? Am I out of a job? Do I get thirty days to clean out my desk?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer to her question.
Leveran snapped out of his trance and shifted his gaze towards her. “You’re not fired,” he stated sharply. “They’re going to move against the Black Crow cartel based on your recommendations. Arthur Hechman, the Deputy Attorney General himself has taken an interest in your report and is taking the lead on reviewing the evidence in order to draft a request to the Mexican government for the extradition of Alvaro Gutiérrez.”
Darson looked both excited and concerned, but she knew there was still more to come. Leveran continued, “I not gonna sugar coat it. You made some powerful enemies with that little stunt of yours. Those enemies go right to the top of the food chain in the Justice Department. Make no mistake, little girl, there isn’t anyone buying your story that you handed over your report to the British as a simple professional courtesy.”
“So, then what?” she asked. “I don’t get fired, I just get sent to the black hole of the department never to be seen again?”
Leveran shook his head. “The opposite. The Justice Department wants a team on the ground working with the Mexican authorities to collect intelligence on the organization, assist in making arrests, and joining any operation aimed at deterring their exportation of weapons and narcotics. They want you to put together a team and lead it.”
“Me? I don’t understand. This has all come about because of their weapons trafficking. Shouldn’t the BATF be taking the lead on this?”
“That was the argument,” Leveran said. “After your briefing, everybody was squabbling over who should be leading this effort. It all boiled down to the fact that the DEA is the most knowledgeable about this group and so the boys at Justice Department made the call to have us take the lead; especially, since you have the best rapport with the British who will be liaising with us. But, as I said, Mr. Hechman was adamant that he wanted our organization and you specifically at the forefront. He wants an inter-agency task force, and he wants you to organize and lead it with the involvement of the British.”
“I can’t imagine this is going to go over very well with some of the other agencies. I mean, my recommendation was for this to be run by the BATF. I can’t imagine how they’ll take this.”
Leveran produced a sinister chuckle. “As I said, the ATF boys were more than a little humiliated that the DEA was explaining a major gun trafficking operation across the Atlantic instead of them. They definitely weren’t too happy the DEA was taking the lead on this after your presentation explaining this largely as a gun trafficking operation. But the Justice Department has spoken.”
“With all the friends I’ve made, I can’t imagine it will be very pretty trying to coordinate this.” All of a sudden, she felt a giant weight fall about her shoulders. “How does this come back on you?”
Leveran reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Well, to be honest, the idea that I let this happen on my watch makes me look either complicit in your little coup or simply incompetent for not keeping a better eye on your dealings with the British.” He looked at her and saw a sincere look of concern in her eyes. He smiled back. “I’ll survive. Things like this happen, and I just have to weather the storm.”
Darson still looked concerned. Leveran tapped her shoulder. “Right now, the important thing is organizing this task force. It’s going to take time to get it off the ground. You got your wish, though not in the way you intended. And with it you have a lot of eyes on you, so we need to make sure things go as smoothly as possible.”
“You’ve reviewed several possible candidates.” Trent Wurry began as he paced the width of his office. “Yet, you have found only three so far that you feel suitable enough for my purposes.”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” the sophisticated voice of the Contessa replied over Wurry’s cellular phone as it rested on his desk. Both of them had a lot of experience dealing in shadowy affairs. Each had figured out that the best way to protect their conversations was to hide who was having them. For the purpose of security, both had opted to use cellular phones registered under assumed names to deter anyone trying to listen in. With all the technology governments were investing in to monitor cyber and telephone communications, the vast number of people that interacted and the communications that occurred in a single day made it impossible for even an extensive government agency to track everyone.
The best way to hide was often to conduct business under the name of some random person. “As I said before when you wanted me to embark on this venture, this isn’t the old days when the whole industry was entirely in the black market. Even then recruiting was a dubious affair at best. The rise of private military companies has created a legitimate market that is preferred by the better-quality soldiers getting into the industry. That makes navigating murky waters trying to discreetly find people who have the ability to perform the services you need even more complicated.
“There are still plenty of good ex-soldiers out there for hire as independent contractors. It just takes time to find and verify them amidst the phonies and embellishers who are rather prevalent. We also must be careful about who we approach. There are a few part-time informants who, out of patriotism or earning extra cash, are quick to report their dealings back to various intelligence services. I doubt you want to draw attention to this mission or pay for an idiot who would waste your money before you figured out you were being cheated.
“You had a chance to listen in on the interviews of the three that did show promise, and you’ve been given a review of their histories, or at least what can be verified beyond idle gossip. What is your opinion?”
“From what I’ve seen so far,” Wurry began as he moved to his desk to review the files sent to him by encrypted email, “I must admit that your picks were well chosen.” He began looking at the worked-up summaries on the chosen candidates. “I was quite taken with the former SAS soldier. He has good credentials and a very good history of experience for this sort of thing; not to mention he sounded very much like a man who could take on the kind of people we need him to.”
Among the candidates the Contessa had selected, there was a former British soldier named Gerry Beckem. He had served most of his twenty-five-year career with the renowned 22 Special Air Service, one of the most elite commando units in the world, before seeking his fortune in the private sector.
The second was a Welshman who went by the name Devon Crane. Crane had cut his teeth in the French Foreign Legion serving with whatever commando group they had. The final was a Malaysian, Anwar Razak, a former soldier in the Malaysian army where he had been with the Grup Gerak Khas (GGK) a Special Forces unit that specialized in unconventional warfare and other behind the lines operations including infiltration and direct action against hostile groups.
“I have to remind you,” Wurry continued. “Mercenaries and black operations are not my area of expertise. That is why I retained your services as my go-between. This is more your area of expertise.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” she replied.
“That said, you were also the one who sat in these meetings and saw these men face to face. I only heard them over a phone. I’m more interested in your opinion.”
“I understand why I was recruited for this project,” she stated curtly. “As for my opinion, Mr. Beckem was good. He is definitely a highly trained seasoned veteran from what I saw. He certainly is someone who could be of use in other fields of endeavor. However, I don’t feel he’s right for this mission.”
“He was trained by the SAS and has lots of experience,” Wurry reminded her.
Her sigh was deep and could be heard over the phone. She had endured similar conversations many times with such clients. “While such things are important, it has been my experience that one shouldn’t focus entirely on that. Beyond training and experience is the person’s perso
nality. No matter how good the training and how much experience one has, you still have to make sure the personality and mindset are conducive to the task.
“A SAS soldier would be a good pick for this sort of mission if we had one more versed in it. Mr. Beckem, I fear is not that man. He came across as an intelligent operator and mercenary who I do believe can carry out a dangerous and complicated mission. He was also a little cocky, rather too impressed with himself, which is forgivable. What concerned me was his obvious lack of knowledge or understanding of Mexican drug cartels. This lack of knowledge could also be forgiven if he hadn’t been so eager to race into action without gaining the proper information.
“During our first meeting, he was trying to explain to me what he saw as the problem and give me a brief plan based on his assumptions and ‘understandings’ of the enemy. One of the great dangers I’ve learned to be cognizant of when dealing with mercenaries is that many of them get set in their ways. Seasoned soldiers start to assume their experience can be universally applied to any situation with no consideration of the differences between battlefields. I fear Mr. Beckem sees Mexico and the cartels no differently than Iraq or Northern Ireland. He would approach this situation in the same way. I wouldn’t rule him out entirely, but I wouldn’t make him my first choice.”
Wurry grimaced. “Well then, that leaves us with the other two candidates. I can’t say that either one thrills me. Do you think this soldier from a third world military or this ex-Foreign Legion guy would do better? I have my doubts about some third world military being anything but a second-rate operation, especially for something of this magnitude. I don’t know much about the Legion but my understanding is they are at best rogue agents the French still keep on the payroll. I also understand they take misfits and criminals who are on the run; hardly what I call a ringing endorsement.”
The Contessa Selena de Alvarez gave another sigh, this time it was deliberately intended to express her exasperation. “You’re thinking about militaries is rather antiquated and foolish. The Malayans have a long history of fighting harsh unconventional wars. They’re GGK has operated in several hostile areas well beyond their borders with great success. As for the Foreign Legion, far from the Beau Geste image that they are often associated with, they have had an extensive history of being one of the best fighting forces in the world. They’ve carried out operations once thought impossible and have produced highly skilled units that have proven themselves time and again in conflicts all around the world.”
“All right, that speaks to the military background I guess,” Wurry stated, still somewhat skeptical. “But as to the men themselves. This ex-Legionnaire didn’t exactly impress me. To be frank, he didn’t even seem like he was all that interested. Neither did the Malayan for that matter.”
“That is exactly what I did like about them,” she countered. “They were both more skeptical and cautious than bravado and self-promoting. Both wanted time to do some research and determine what they were getting into. That demonstrates a cool head and logical thinking, a good sign of an intelligent professional. And both demonstrated a sense for discretion. They gave only as much information as was needed and asked only for what they needed to know. In other words, both were good enough to not make themselves a liability for us.”
“Okay,” Wurry said. He had begun pacing again. “You’ve sold me on your thinking. Now the question is, between them who do you think is best for this operation?”
“Razak has experience as a soldier, and he certainly understands covert operations,” she began, “but he has not been a mercenary for very long. He has limited experience working outside the support network of a state military. I fear that would be a serious drawback for him, and he has no background at all with South America or the Latin culture.
“If this operation were being conducted somewhere in Southern Asia, he would be my first pick. However, in this situation, I would have to say that he would be too far out of his element to be effective. That leaves us with Crane. He has experience in South America organizing missions and obtaining needed materials and support through non-government avenues.”
“Do you think he’ll take the job?” Wurry asked.
“Difficult to say,” she replied. “Until they’ve had a chance to assess the situation, making any assumptions would be futile.”
Chapter 10
Devon Crane ruminated as he stared at the computer screen. In the days following his meeting with the mysterious Contessa, he had been making regular pilgrimages to the city library. There at a cramped work station, he poured over everything he could find online relating to the subject of drug cartels; news articles that could be translated into French or English along with whatever scholarly work or government reports were available. He augmented his knowledge with whatever books he was able to find to fill in information gaps. Being thorough, he had started his search looking at the cartels in general and then gradually narrowing his focus to the Black Crow organization.
It was a week later when he contacted Lahier and asked for another meeting. Crane assumed that the Contessa had been waiting for his call when only two days later he was invited back to the same apartment where they had met. When he entered the room, it was as if nothing had changed. She was sitting in exactly the same spot and wearing a pantsuit nearly identical to her last one. The only difference was this time Maurice Lahier showed no signs of leaving as he welcomed Crane and then positioned himself on the couch on the opposite end from the woman. They both behaved as if they were expecting some sort of briefing to occur.
“So, Mr. Crane, you have decided to take the job?” The Contessa spoke in a tone that made it difficult to tell if she was asking a question or making a statement.
Crane remained standing. “I’m interested.” He looked her squarely in the eye, then shifted his gaze to Lahier to study the man’s body language and facial expressions.
“But?” She pressed the question.
“This is an extremely tall order.” Crane shifted his gaze back to her. “What I’ve learned is interesting. Black Crow is part of the new wave of drug organizations, dominated by ex-military, mostly Special Forces types, from various Latin American militaries. Up until a few years ago, the group hadn’t even existed and then, strangely, it just appeared out of nowhere to become a serious player that cut through a lot of the old vanguard.
“This has all been done under the leadership of Alvaro Gutiérrez, a former Mexican soldier, who has frequently been described as a modern form of Pablo Escobar in the comfortable way he employs extreme violence. Unlike Escobar, Gutiérrez pursues his mission with tactical military precision and methodical planning. He often hits his rival’s strategic operating points and assassinates the key leadership in quick, well-executed attacks that leave them crippled before they even knew what was happening.”
“You’re quite right, Mr. Crane.” Her tone remained indifferent. “Where is this educational lecture leading?”
Crane tightened his lips as he formed his next words. “If I’m hired for this job, what is my overall objective?”
“Our interest is solely in the elimination of Alvaro Gutiérrez.”
“It won’t be easy,” he said.
“That goes without saying,” she replied. “The people I represent understand this very well. This is the reason we have gone to such lengths, and why we are willing to pay a great deal of money to finance this operation and make it worth your while. Assuming you’re inclined to take the job.”
Crane turned back towards Lahier, who had been quiet the entire time. The older man’s face was a mixture of concern and peaked interest. He eventually nodded his approval towards Crane.
“I’ll take it,” Crane answered, “but it won’t be cheap.”
“Such missions never are,” the Contessa commented. “Fortunately, those I represent know this as well.”
“It will be around eleven million a month with contingencies for additional funds if the needs are justified.” He looked
at her firmly expecting her to be stunned and argue. There was none of that. Instead, she remained perfectly calm.
“Sounds about right,” she replied.
Crane was a little taken aback. Normally the issue of money became a long and arduous negotiation with clients who knew nothing about military operations and insisted on trying to get the job done as cheaply as possible. This would be made even more complicated by the fact that intelligence operatives tended to think of themselves as tactical experts in their own right and, therefore, felt inclined to second guess the combat professionals they were trying to hire.
“And, it won’t be done overnight,” Crane stated flatly. “Someone like Gutiérrez doesn’t make himself an easy target. This will take careful planning and coordination. At least a few months.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she said in the same calm manner, that Crane again found unusual. “A professional such as yourself doesn’t survive in your business by making rash moves and racing wildly into danger. I expect a certain amount of time to plan and organize your operation as long as it is reasonable.”
The way she so easily capitulated, the woman could have been a foolish amateur trying to play the role of a professional, assuming that this was all how it was done. Either that or she was far more versed in this sort of business than he had initially assumed. From the way she seemed to anticipate all his demands, his veteran instincts told him he was dealing with the latter.
The Contessa Selena de Alvarez gracefully rose from her seat. “Thank you for arranging this meeting,” she said to Lahier.
She then walked over to where Crane was standing. “Masseur Lahier has information on an accommodating banker. He has been authorized to provide you with up to five million euros in cash. That should be enough seed money to recruit a team, arrange for transport, and pay for any other arrangements that need to be handled here in Europe. I imagine you will be doing most of your recruiting here and not in the adversary’s backyard.”