by J E Higgins
“Excellent,” Rhys replied with a sense of deep satisfaction. During the last few days, the team had been focused on developing a uniform operating procedure for their tactical movements. With four different militaries on the team, the training and experiences of such uniform development were important. The veteran mercenary had seen firsthand how badly things went on the battlefield when the same side employed different tactics based on too many extremely different experiences. It had been a gradual effort hashing out a solid tactical procedure for everyone to work together harmoniously.
The warehouse had been reserved by Managua to give Rhys and his people a place to train. The enclosed area gave them privacy from prying eyes, while the stacks of large crates gave them an environment similar to where they would be operating when they were at the port. In between, they spent evenings practicing their tactics at their beach house when the beach was deserted. They enjoyed some privacy to practice advancing on the house and moving through the rooms and hallways. Assuming that the operation could expand beyond simple port security, Rhys wanted to cover his bases and ensure his men could operate more expansively.
Yadav wiped his brow as he walked over to join his compatriots in their meeting. He had Mehendra switch roles between playing team leader and being an evaluator throughout the training exercises. In the beginning, there had been some difficulty within the ranks accepting two Asians in leadership roles. Some of the Greeks held the old attitude of superiority, known as the white professional. Like many European soldiers, they saw themselves as naturally superior to those who came from the third world. They didn’t take well to Yadav or Mehendra giving them orders ─ men like them should be learning from them how to soldier. It was a difficult hurdle to overcome.
After watching the two men in action during training, the military skills of the two Asians had gradually become apparent, impressing the Greeks who eventually allowed their racial biases to subside. It was perhaps easier for Yadav to gain acceptance from the ex-legionnaires, once they found out he had served not with some third world military but with the elite Gurkhas of the British army. It was a unit that held legendary status the world over ─ they had some of the fiercest and most talented fighters imaginable. Mehendra very quickly bridged the gap with a constant demonstration of his abilities.
“This was good,” Rhys commented as he paced while viewing his team. He had been pleased with how fast and well the training had progressed. He had expected a week with everyone arguing tactics and experimenting with different maneuvers before establishing some cohesive doctrine for the group. It had been Rhys’ experience that soldiers got set in their ways and liked to work with the familiar. He learned through his years as a mercenary that trying to impose your own tactics on those who were already seasoned fighters without regard for their own skills often resulted in unneeded conflict. In this case, the Greek and his two cohorts proved to have far better adaptability and gained everyone’s respect for their abilities and experiences. With only a few experimental runs, they had developed a tactical system that everyone felt comfortable with.
Rhys continued, “We have good cohesion, and everybody performed smoothly. Now, I want to give you a thirty-minute break. Then, I am going to turn off all lights except for a few at the end, so we can practice under the actual conditions.”
The men nodded showing a mixed look of self-confidence and exhaustion. Rhys walked away as the men broke and headed for the take-out food brought in by Managua from an Arabic restaurant.
“They are looking quite good, commander,” Managua said as Rhys started to walk past.
“Thank you. I’m glad to have an outside opinion,” Rhys replied. Managua shifted from the wall and proceeded to follow him.
“Will they be ready by the time the ship arrives?” Managua asked.
“They’ll have to be,” Rhys responded. “The schedule isn’t going to change for us. But, they are falling in line faster than I anticipated, so they’ll be worth something if they should be needed.”
“That is good to hear,” the lawyer spoke with a sigh of relief.
The sigh prompted Rhys to ask, “Have you got any new information on our potential threat?”
Managua shook his head. “Not yet. We are interested in a Miss Esmeralda Morayo. She’s a corporate attorney who specializes in international business dealings for Filipino businesses that have interests here in Europe. She’s well connected and is a known supporter of the President. She’s been in contact with enemies of ours who have just returned home after a trip to this part of the world. We suspect they were here setting up this whole operation.”
“That’s interesting,” Rhys said. “Though I don’t see a corporate lawyer leading a military raid on your ship. For that matter, I can’t see a corporate lawyer running a spy mission to find out about the operation.”
“You’re right, she wouldn’t be,” Managua explained. “But I have people investigating her, and I believe she’ll pan out as a means to finding our enemies.”
“Is that before or after I meet them in person while being attacked,” Rhys said in a sarcastic tone that still got the message across.
Managua shrugged. It was all he could offer as an answer. “As I said, we’re looking into her and, when we find something, we’ll update you first.
The New Zealander marched off to rejoin his men ─ his irritation was obvious.
Zeus’s Kingdom was something out of a crime noir. Situated in the less reputable part of the city, it was largely hidden amongst an assortment of like structures. The whole neighborhood was dark and looked uninviting. Messy graffiti lined almost every building and wall along the street. There were few street lamps lining the sidewalk, and the street was shrouded in eerie darkness.
Only the large electric pink neon light flashing above the entrance distinguished the club from all the twin-like structures surrounding it. Despite everything, the club seemed to draw a sizeable number of patrons with a line that extended from just outside the door to the next building. The liberal flow of human traffic entering through the doors at a steady pace rarely slowing down.
Entering the club, Sauwa found it just as ominous as the street. It was lowly lit with dark-colored neon lights providing just enough illumination for one to get around, see what they were drinking, and make sure the person they were picking up was the right gender. The rest of the place was enshrouded in a cloak of darkness that served to mask whatever nefarious activity was being conducted. She looked around and got glimpses of the customers who passed by her and saw an assortment of those she would dub criminals. There were gangsters, mercenaries, drug dealers, and others pushing different types of illicit business. The club was set up as a place for those wanting to conduct affairs privately could do so. It was probably the club’s primary allure.
She meandered around slowly getting a feel for the club’s setup. It had a general walkway that went above the main room full of tables and a large dance floor that was being used by the younger patrons. On the walkway, there were booths along the wall that were built in a circular fashion making it easy for the occupiers to sink deeper into the shadows for more privacy. She was sure on her journey past the booths, there were more than a few sex acts taking place, as she heard the soft feminine moans and male grunts.
The walkway took her on a path that led around the circumference of the establishment. After walking past a lengthy bar, she found her target and veered toward the stairs that led her directly to the dance floor; another walkway led her to several double doors that served as exits. She pushed open one of the doors to test how hard it would be to open it in the event she needed a fast getaway. She checked the outside terrain. A quick glimpse let her know it led to a nearly empty street in the back.
She stepped back into the bar and started moving. She was concerned that some bouncer or a lucid patron would notice her and get suspicious. Her concerns soon subsided when she saw a couple of other intoxicated ladies making the mistake of thinking it was a way t
o the restroom and jokingly backed away in a similar fashion. Sauwa figured she looked like just another ditzy woman with no sense of direction and proceeded to make her way back to the bar.
Prokopis was in the center of the bar sitting in a leather-covered high stool amidst a number of patrons packed together against the counter. He appeared to be sitting alone. While everyone around him was loudly talking to people in their own little groups or trying to get the attention of one of the pretty young ladies tending bar, he was nursing a small glass of some libation, eyeing the place. Every so often he would be greeted by someone passing by.
Assessing his facial expressions, Sauwa figured the man’s conversations ranged from pleasantries with club regulars to more serious discussions with business contacts or potential business contacts. From a dark corner, she was able to disappear and watch what went on with Prokopis. He never left his perch and his conversations were always quick and to the point. When she gained an understanding of his pattern, Sauwa turned her attention to the bar itself.
The patrons were largely crammed into seats that ran along the counter. They were all packed in tightly, completely involved in their own little spheres. They were entirely ignorant of the world around them including the person right next to them who was not part of any immediate conversation. None were the slightest bit interested in her target. She checked carefully for any possible signs that some of them might be bodyguards or someone else was taking an interest in the same person. She saw none. The barkeeps, young women clearly working a money job, showed interest only in those patrons who were throwing money around and responding to each served drink with a sizable tip.
Confident she had an established pattern to work from, Sauwa made her move. Walking up to the bar in a slow, casual manner, she came right up to Prokopis. He ignored her completely. His attention was directed at the dance floor and the young beauties dancing in short skirts and dresses with their young male lovers. She allowed her eyes to wander as she looked around for signs of security cameras. She didn’t expect to find any in an establishment such as this. Nor did she think they would capture much in such a low lighted setting. Still, she had learned early that people were unpredictable. A quick glance showed nothing. Even if there were cameras, they would have shown only a young woman, dressed in slightly baggy party clothes and wearing a large, knit beret with all her hair sliding down covering half her face. For good measure, she had taken to wearing a large pair of dark glasses that wrapped around the upper portion of her face. They weren’t so dark that she couldn’t see, but dark enough that they distorted her appearance.
Having seen everything she needed to see, Sauwa slowly retreated from the bar back into the safety of darkness. She began to walk through the crowd back along the gallery of booths. She walked past the features being presented as the inebriated patrons engaged in various forms of bizarre rituals and behaviors. She continued rambling, taking her time studying the specimens, all of whom paid her not the slightest interest. It was when she came upon a table that housed about four men that she saw her opportunity.
They were all heavily intoxicated ─ half were passed out and the rest following closely behind. The rubbish, consisting of a small pile of bottles and vomit, told the story of their evening. It was here that she saw what she was looking for. During their wild activities, they had managed to break more than a few glass objects, and they were scattered around on the table. It was difficult to see with the limited visibility, but she was able to make out the outline of a beer bottle that had been broken and left with some sharp jagged edges. Using a paper napkin she had grabbed from the bar, she retrieved the bottle and began to walk away.
One of the first things she had been taught going through training in the Civil Cooperation Bureau was that anything was a weapon in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. She had learned that smuggling weapons to assassinate someone was always a complicated affair, especially when the weapons proved impractical for the situation. Instead, she had been trained to assess the situation and look for normal objects within her sphere that could be used more pragmatically. These were known as weapons of appeared innocence. So named because no one thought of them as weapons making them easier to utilize against someone who is unsuspecting.
With the same casual pace, she made her way back to the bar. The crowd had grown making the walkway more crowded. Sauwa kept her arm at her side to keep the bottle out of sight. She found her target sitting in the same place and just as oblivious. Sweeping the area one last time with her eyes shifting from side to side she hatched the next steps of her plan.
Moving to the far end of the bar she stayed on the opposite side of the dance floor. Prokopis’ attention was still focused there, and he wasn’t attending to his drink. She kept her attention shifting between her target and the trail leading to the exit doors. She wanted to ensure no one would prove to be a barrier between her and her escape route when it came time to move. Aside from some small groups of people tightly clustered together, she found that the sea of human partyers was thick enough to disappear into but light enough that she wouldn’t be too hindered. She also kept a continuous eye out on the people at the bar, checking to see if any had diverted their attention to her or were paying any attention to Prokopis. Confident he was of no interest to anyone she proceeded forth.
Now, less than a few meters away, she began to tighten the grip on the head of the bottle, feeling the napkin firmly in her fingers. She continued to keep the weapon at her side as she neared him. At one point, a few large men got in front of her trying to get the get the attention of one of the bartenders using exaggerated arm waves and shouts over the loud music. They provided another piece of cover shielding her from her target as she snaked around them.
With nothing in her way, she started to walk past Prokopis while his attention was still on the dance floor. Raising the bottle until it was at chest level, she drew back her elbow just enough to charge her arm. With precision and one powerful burst of force, she thrust the jagged edges of the bottle straight across the right side of the man’s neck just below the angle of the jaw into the soft tissue cutting his jugular vein and the carotid artery. With a good amount of force, the long sharp edges tore into his jugular as if it were tissue paper. She let the bottle drop to the floor as she continued moving past him.
The whole operation lasted less than a half second. She barely caught sight of the man reaching for his throat as she continued walking by. Even in the darkness, she could see blood spraying wildly in all directions. She continued walking in an unassuming manner as she made for the door. She assessed the situation by watching the patrons ahead of her. They all danced happily to the music with absolutely no sign that they were the least bit aware of what had just happened. She had hit him just right and believed that in such an atmosphere, with everyone only semi-alert, it would be quite a while before anyone realized what was happening. Prokopis, himself, wouldn’t have realized what had happened, and he would look like some drunk losing his balance. Even if someone had noticed, it would have taken some time for someone to get the lights on and get control of the place. Meanwhile, she had disappeared in just a few short seconds into the sea of gyrating human flesh with absolutely nothing on her person connecting her to the murder.
At the first exit, she pushed the door open and stepped out onto the open street. Aside from a few intoxicated patrons leaning up against the building, the street was deserted. She strode down the road and ducked into a side street.
Out of sight, she began to undress. Pulling off her loose party clothes, she was now in a T-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants. Her black combat boots had gone unnoticed by the bouncers at the door. Throwing off her old clothes, she removed the large beret to free up her hair. Now, she looked like a completely different person. The new image would help her be more easily dismissed by any passers-by. Taking a moist towelette packet from her pocket, she wiped her face from the forehead down to her neck. Using a small hand mirror, she quic
kly scanned her face to see if there were any readily identifiable blood spatters. It was hard in the limited light, but she managed. She bundled the party garb into an unobtrusive wad and continued down the road.
A few blocks away, she slipped into a small alley and walked until she came to another road. She had to assume the police would search a fairly wide area once the investigation got underway. That meant they would search garbage cans on side streets to see what may have been left. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell if the clothes had any blood on them. Since it was clearly attire worn by a female, it would be enough to help the police narrow their list of suspects.
She walked a couple of miles taking care to bypass the first several bus stops. Police would likely check the nearest bus stops in the vicinity of the murder. Sauwa figured it was wise to stay on foot for a while and get a bus or cab a good distance away. After weaving through a maze of dingy streets, she finally made it to a main street that was more heavily populated. Moving out into the human traffic she continued on. She found the sea of tourists made it easier for her to vanish.
25
Berlin, Germany ─ Esmeralda Morayo finished her jog just short of six kilometers, the last bit of it all uphill. She was feeling the burn in her legs and stomach as she took heaving breaths through her mouth. The sweat was soaking through the upper portion of her tracksuit and running steadily down her face. All she could think about was the full pitcher of ice cold tea waiting for her at her place.
She kept an apartment in Berlin where she lived and worked when she was on the continent. It was in the building complex a team of men currently watched from their van. Strangely, the complex was rather modest for an executive level person. It wasn’t one of the palatial quarters that housed the cities’ corporate elite, but it was a step above the low rent housing of young newlyweds and college students. It was a modest, upscale complex reserved for professionals and middle-managers. Despite being born to vast wealth and brought up in a lavish environment, she preferred more simplistic living arrangements. Besides even if she had the inkling to go upscale while in Europe, she traveled far too much to truly appreciate the extravagant comforts of an expensive penthouse. It was enough that she had a comfortable place that she could call home and relax.