by J E Higgins
For passports, she would carry her British one bearing the name Marisa Ramsey. It was the name they already knew, and one Valikov had given her. Like the rest of her false identities, he kept them locked up in a safe at some unknown location. In a separate location, he kept duplicates that he would turn over to both the British and South African embassies in Ankara if she should ever try to run out on him. It was his way of ensuring control.
Though it had been only three days interviewing a total of twelve candidates, it still proved to be a long and arduous process. Sauwa had been right in her predictions. The men who had been found for them may have been former soldiers with extensive military experience and training under their belts, but they were also an assortment of criminals with police records in more than one country. Many, like Sauwa, were fugitives from the authorities.
The men were incredibly tight-lipped about their professional and criminal histories. It took extensive work to get them to finally open up. Others tended to be intent on reliving their heydays and talking themselves up as if they single-handedly built their respective military or intelligence services before they were dismissed. A few of them didn’t even make it through the initial stage of the screening. They were left at the bar without even being approached because of excessive drinking or loud behavior that drew too much attention or threatened a bar fight.
When the process was over, Carzona and Tarkov had settled on the four candidates they felt would work for the initial part of the operation.
Sauwa Catcher, going under the name Marisa Ramsey, had a background in intelligence and covert operations that was rare. Their other candidates predominantly hailed from military backgrounds, not intelligence. Tarkov had reservations about her legal circumstances and the unwanted attention an Apartheid war criminal might expose them to. However, Valikov personally recommended her and her skill set was greatly needed. As it would be his operation to run once they got to Cyprus, Carzona had given him full discretion for determining the hires. It still helped that the Colonel had voiced the same concerns and the same interest when it came to her.
The next choice was the Italian, Gino Sacchini. He had served for a number of years with the Commando Raggrupamento Subacquei ed Incursori or COMSUBIN, Italy’s elite naval commando forces. Though not as well-known as the more world-renowned US Navy Seals or the Israeli Sheytet 13, the COMSUBIN had a long history of producing excellent and highly trained commando units. While he had never been up against them personally, Tarkov had heard reports and stories from Naval Spetsnaz who had experience against them while trying to infiltrate Italian waters and facilities. The universal conclusion was they were a force to be reckoned with. In the case of Sacchini, he had insisted that while in the unit he had been part of the Incursori, the offensive arm of the unit, responsible for infiltration of enemy ships and ports and mastering techniques of demolition on commando operations behind the lines.
The next candidate was Jacques De’vor, a Frenchman who had cut his teeth with the Fusiliers Commandos de 1’Air, the French Air Commandos. Though generally, the Air Commandos have the responsibility of protecting French air bases, not necessarily the most suitable training and experience for this mission, De’vor had been with the Escadron de Protection et d’Intervention (EPI), a crack unit of commandos with the mission of attacking airfields. Like most other commando units, the EPI trains to operate behind enemy lines entirely on its own without any support. They also specialize in small raid tactics.
After De’vor, Tarkov chose another Italian Vincenzo Gorzo, formerly with the San Marco Marines and now, like the others a gun for hire. Like the COMSUBIN, the San Marco Marines train extensively in coastal assaults, reconnaissance, and sabotage. The Marines also trained extensively with the COMSUBIN at many of their schools, thus offering some degree of training integrity in the team. Being a naval commando himself, Tarkov preferred working with men of similar combat backgrounds which would make planning operations easier knowing he could work with such men.
They only had what the men told them for work histories, and it might have seemed as if they were bragging to puff up their resumes to get a job. However, enough of what they said coincided with the Russian’s own knowledge and experience of western commando operations and tactics that he was relatively sure of their qualifications. For the most part, Valikov had chosen the candidates well. Only a few of them greatly exaggerated their backgrounds and experience. What it boiled down to was finding men who were familiar with commando operations. It was important to get people who had enough knowledge of the underworld to know how to move about without the support of a government, how to keep a low profile, and how to bypass the authorities. Both Tarkov and Carzona knew their team would need all these skills as they developed plans for their mission.
Aside from Sauwa, the other men all introduced themselves under their actual names and assured their potential employers that the countries where they had issues with the police were in Africa or the Middle-East. Tarkov and the Colonel hoped they would have no trouble operating in Europe.
The van cruised around the winding driveway and pulled into the garage behind the house as it had done the first time. All lights were out when they arrived but, a few minutes later, a line of silhouettes came marching up the patio toward the house. One of the Filipinos slid the door opened and stepped back. The young man, Tarkov had come to know as Miguel, who had initially approached the candidates at the bar, came walking in followed by the sandy-haired Frenchman, then the two Italians and finally the young South African female. This time, Miguel led them into the main room where they were lined up as if preparing to enter a military basic training course.
Miguel stepped aside giving Tarkov the floor as he entered the room and deliberately assessed the group. This was done less to evaluate what he had already determined but to solidify in everyone’s mind that he was unquestionably in command. He was pleased that despite being out of the military for a period of time, all the mercenaries looked remarkably fit.
“We have all met before; it is time I introduced myself. I am Sergei Tarkov. Like you, I am a mercenary who has been employed to lead this mission.” He looked around at the group. They all remained still with their eyes focused on him. “You have all been picked for this mission out of several other candidates. We have already discussed the basics of the mission ─ how long it should last and how much you will be paid for your services. We will discuss the operation on a need to know basis. For security reasons, you will be briefed on what you will be doing and who the target is when we have reached our destination.” He studied the faces of his new team. They all exhibited expressions of interest and sincerity as they watched him. “Also, for security purposes, you will remain here at this house until we leave ─ no phone calls, no outside contact. In one hour you will be briefed on where we will be going when we will be leaving, and how we will be getting there. After tonight you will know too much for us to let you out of our sight. So, if any of you have any reservations, now is the time to leave.”
He stood quietly for a time watching the mannerisms of everyone in the line. No one moved or showed any signs of wavering. Sauwa wanted to, but she knew what the consequences would be if she did. When he was satisfied everyone was resolved to go through with the mission, Tarkov continued. “Now you will be shown to your lodgings and where you can stow your gear, then you can get something to eat. Are there any questions?” No one spoke. “That’s all.”
Tarkov turned his attention to Miguel. “Go ahead and get them stowed away. They can take their meals in the kitchen.” With that, the Russian turned smartly on his heels, as if he were back in the military, and marched off.
Miguel took charge as he began directing the four mercenaries to grab their gear and follow him. All were traveling light and proceeded to follow him down the hall and eventually up a flight of stairs. Arriving at the first room, Miguel dispatched the two Italian men. “You gentlemen will find cots, bedding, and materials for hygiene.”
Nodding their heads, the Italians slipped into their room and disappeared. Waving the other two to follow, Miguel walked a few steps further and came to a second room. He turned to Sauwa, “I must apologize miss. Our lodgings are limited, so I’m afraid you’ll have to share with this man here.” He motioned toward the sandy-haired Frenchman. “Hopefully, you’re not modest.”
Accepting that she had no choice, she shrugged and walked inside a small room with no windows and bare cream-colored walls. There were two steel framed cots with rolled up sleeping bags and some white plastic bags. At the foot of the cots were two metal footlockers each with a lock and a pair of keys resting on top.
“This is home then,” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts and caught her by surprise. She turned and, for the first time, realized she was alone with the sandy-haired man. His accent was clearly English, but it was not his first language. From the way he sounded, she assumed he was either French or from a country where French was the predominant language. Since he had spoken in English, she presumed he was speaking to her.
“For now,” she replied as she walked over to the footlocker. She took the lock and keys and checked to make sure they worked. Opening the white plastic bag, she found it full of basic hygienic items ─ toothbrush, toothpaste, dental string, a few bars of anti-bacterial soap, some razors, and shaving cream.
Opening the footlocker, she dropped her knapsack into it. It fit perfectly with some room to spare. Throwing the plastic bag in with all the hygiene supplies, she locked it with the padlock and pocketed the keys. She turned to see the Frenchman busily storing his own equipment in his assigned locker. He was intensely focused on this activity, paying not the slightest interest in anything else.
She recognized the Frenchman but, if he recognized her, he certainly wasn’t displaying any sign of it. In fact, he wasn’t giving her any type of recognition at all. He was utterly indifferent to her existence. His initial behavior left her with mixed feelings. He wasn’t exhibiting the obvious crude displays of sexual perversion that she constantly encountered with most black market mercenary types. Yet, he had the stone-cold demeanor she commonly associated with closet psychopaths. They were the type that was one step up from serial killers and was in this business because they loved the chaos and death. Neither one was a person she could sleep soundly around.
Sauwa rose and began examining her sleeping bag. It was a black nylon model that looked like one of the tactical pieces being introduced into the modern militaries of the world. It wasn’t too cold outside and the house seemed to have ample heating. Still, she appreciated that they provided decent sleeping gear.
Finished examining her equipment and stowing it away, Sauwa stepped out of the room and started down the hallway. The Frenchman followed her, staying on her heels. They came down the stairs and made their way through the main room into the kitchen. An older man, another Asian-looking fellow, was standing over a stove managing an assortment of metal pots filled with boiling water and sauces. The counter was covered with bowls filled with vegetables and cutting boards heaped with the meat pieces and juices that had just been carved up. Whatever was being made smelled delicious. It also smelled different from the usual aromas associated with Turkish or Middle-East cuisine.
One of the other Filipinos ushered them both to the table stacked with plates and cutlery. They had just started to grab their dining utensils when they were joined by the other two mercenaries. The two mocha-skinned men greeted their new comrades with smiles and gracious pleasantries that were warm yet guarded. From their accents, Sauwa deduced they were both Italians. The two men slipped behind Sauwa and the Frenchman and quickly retrieved their plates and cutlery.
The cook, noticing them waiting, beckoned them over with his hand. As instructed, they walked to the counter. The Frenchman led and was handed his meal. He returned to the table and began devouring his supper. Sauwa filled her plate and followed suit. She was starving and in no mood for social graces. Plopping into her seat she immediately commenced eating. They were soon joined by the two Italians who were both jabbering to each other in their native tongue. The familiarity with which the Italians engaged one another suggested this was not the first time they had worked together. By the way they eyed both her and the Frenchman, Sauwa figured they were both leery of her and her roommate. She noticed all three shot her an occasional suspicious look. Apparently, she was the one everybody was most concerned about ─ the lone female on the team amidst these hardened mercenaries. She imagined they were all viewing her as the inevitable weak link.
Tarkov entered the kitchen and quickly glanced over at his team before turning his attention to the main room. Sauwa and the other mercenaries concentrated on their meals. None of them knew quite what to make of their employers and were inclined not to say too much.
When supper was over, the four disposed of their trash in a bag designated for garbage. Miguel escorted them down the hall to the same room where Sauwa and the Frenchman had waited to be interviewed. Folding chairs were still set up in a neat line. A table with some documents on it had been added. Sergei Tarkov was standing behind the table. The man who had assisted in the interviews was taking a position in the far back corner. It was as if Sauwa was reliving the interview night all over.
“Please, take a seat,” Miguel instructed as he waved them toward a row of chairs.
Everyone slid into one of the seats. Sauwa found herself sitting next to one of the Italians who eyed her as if she had snuck into the meeting. She ignored him as she concentrated her attention on Tarkov. With everyone settled, Tarkov began.
“You have all been recruited to carry out an operation that will take place on the island nation of Cyprus.” The Russian paused to wait for their reaction. He figured these mercenaries had worked heavily in Africa and the Middle-East. He wanted to test their initial response after finding out they would operate outside their familiar stomping grounds. He saw a few eyes widen and exhibit some other gestures that denoted surprise at this revelation. For the most part, everyone kept calm and maintained a professional demeanor.
Confident he had a solid team, he continued. “We will depart at 1300 hours and drive to a port where a seafaring craft will be waiting for us. We are going by water to avoid the confinement of the airport and the strict security we would encounter. When we arrive, we will stop just short of entering Cyrus water space. At this point, we will be met by a trusted friend who will take us the rest of the way into the country via his fishing boat and end our journey at a tourist marina used by the local boatmen where security will be light. After we arrive, we will be taken to what will be our headquarters location for the duration of the operation.”
“If I may,” Sauwa interrupted, “What type of boat are we taking from here to Cyprus?”
Tarkov replied, “Why do you ask?”
“If we are going to Cyprus, we will be going into treacherous waters. It is only a few hundred miles away from the turmoil with Lebanon, Syria, and Israel. Cyprus has a history of terrorist groups headquartering themselves there and all sorts of illegal contraband are being moved around those sea lanes. Cargo ships get stopped all the time by naval ships from those countries looking for illegal cargo or wanted terrorists. If we get stopped and boarded, I assume we don’t have papers identifying us as merchant marines or commercials sailors. That will send red flags to any halfway competent naval inspector. If we’re going to travel, we need to be on something that won’t arouse suspicion in the event we are boarded and don’t have merchant papers.”
The other mercenaries nodded in agreement. They had moved out in other criminal activities and were aware of what they might encounter from patrolling naval vessels in international waters.
“We will be using a cargo retrieval boat,” the Russian answered, thinking it interesting that Carzona had raised similar concerns.
Sauwa and the rest of the team nodded agreeably.
Tarkov continued, “Just before crossing into Cyprus waters, we will
be met by a contact and a local boatman. We will change ships and sail in under a locally registered ship that will dock at a marina as opposed to a shipping port. The security and other bureaucratic concerns will be greatly reduced. Once there, arrangements have been made to get a false entry stamp placed on your passports. This will mitigate any situation where you will have to show your papers.”
The mercenaries were all listening as he looked around the room. He was relieved to see that no one was jotting anything down. It would have been a security risk if any notes were carelessly left behind or lost in transit reinforcing his perception that this hand-picked team was professional. “Once there, we will set up our base of operation. We will live and work out of this base, manage our resources, and maintain our physical fitness in this place. I don’t want to give away more details until we get there. Are there any questions?”
“Yes,” one of the Italians responded. “We’re all packing light for a mission you expect to take two months. What arrangements will be made for additional clothing and washing?”
Tarkov nodded, “You will be provided a modest budget for additional clothing both for your person and as the mission requires. It will not come out of your pay so long as you do not exceed your budget. We have also made note of laundry facilities in the vicinity that you will be able to use. Again, this will be part of your clothing budget so factor that in as well.”