by J E Higgins
She didn’t wait to hear opinions. “Mr. Managua is currently missing; the logical answer is that he’s dead. We can work with our mercenaries that are still on the ground.” She turned her attention to the burly man in the corner standing like a statue. “Kennson Rhys is probably waiting for our phone call. Initiate contact and ask him if he has any leads to finding the shadow force that attacked us last night. If he knows where to find them, he is to retaliate and neutralize the problem at once. I understand that regardless of what we do next, Cyprus is no longer safe for us. Whoever attacked us is still at large and, after last night, emboldened. As long as we don’t know where they are, they remain in our blind spot and can strike again wherever we locate our base. We need to retaliate if we can and disabuse them of the idea that we are impotent.”
“You seem to be making a lot of decisions and taking the liberty of directing our next move.” A man spoke up challenging the way Casein had taken charge. She glanced at him indifferently as she looked about the room as if no one else was there.
“For the last hour, we have been engaged in conversation. All we have been able to discuss is how this will affect the safety of everyone in this room, and how we can protect ourselves. No one has mentioned anything about how we plan to mitigate the dilemma and look after the interests of our clients ─ the families who have invested a considerable amount in this operation? So, if anyone has any better ideas as to how to proceed to resolve this debacle, by all means, please speak up.
The room went silent. Casein stood over them as if she were a stern headmistress ready to discipline unruly pupils. The rest of the group gradually lowered their eyes and fell back into their seats in submission signifying they would go along with her plan.
31
The temperament at the warehouse resembled a wake rather than the expected celebration of a successful mission. Amongst Tarkov’s mercenary team, there was only silence. No one felt the need for jubilant festivities, cracking open drinks, or rehashing the finer points of the evening. The attitude was somber as everyone sat around eating their breakfast in silence. The sheer exhaustion that had caught up with them after being on such an adrenaline high for so long sent them all crashing into a zombie-like state.
Their lack of spirit was also driven by the loss of their team members. It was hardest on the Palestinians who had served together for a long time before this job and had closely shared comradary. The pain of losing men they had come to know on a very personal level over the last few weeks took a heavy toll on Sauwa and the Europeans as well. It was bad enough to lose comrades even if they were paid mercenaries and not soldiers or rebels fighting explicitly for a country or cause. It was even more painful the bodies couldn’t be kept for a proper burial and had to be disposed of at sea. Harder yet was the need to cut their stomachs open and weigh the bodies down before dumping them over the side. Sauwa and her team had hated disposing of Imil’s body the same way when they left it in the back of the van and ran it into the bay.
Brukman retained a doctor to patch up their wounded men. Thankfully, the wounds were not life-threatening and could be handled in the warehouse. Still, it was a grim reminder that added to the gloomy atmosphere.
The meal ended with cold bottles of beer being passed around. It was a little something extra Carzona had picked up when he went out to get breakfast for everyone. Like the meal, they too were consumed in silence. After breakfast, Tarkov stood to address everyone. An officer of the Russian navy at heart, he felt the need to deliver some sort of speech remembering those they had lost. It wasn’t elegant, but it was sincere and gave everyone what was needed.
They broke to enjoy showers before going to bed. Carzona and Tarkov were left alone to talk. “It was a good operation,” Carzona began, a thread of happiness was in his voice.
“Tomorrow, we’ll clean any documents pertaining to this operation out the warehouse and dump the remaining weapons into the sea. Then, we’ll return to our original headquarters until we can leave,” Tarkov added.
The Filipino nodded. “Good. We’ll make arrangements to sneak you out of the country and back to Turkey. It isn’t safe to stay in this country any longer than we must. What I’m concerned about is if this operation is going to fulfill our primary objective?”
“That is my concern, too,” Tarkov replied. “They certainly won’t be able to operate out of Cyprus after this. However, there are plenty of gun merchants in Eastern Europe as well as numerous cities with ports and officials who don’t ask questions if the right amount of money falls into their hands. Will this mean you will be calling on my services again?”
Carzona shook his head. “It is too early to tell. Besides, that answer is out of my hands. People above me will decide what is to be done next. Right now, the emphasis should be on covering our tracks and sneaking out of here. Our bigger problem is how much they know about us right now.”
Tarkov looked questioningly at the Filipino. Carzona didn’t wait for him to speak. “Rita has been murdered.”
“When?” The Russian could feel a slight chill run down his spine.
“A few days ago in her apartment here in Europe,” Carzona replied. “And, yes, it looks like she was killed by our enemies. I don’t have all the details. I was only given a brief update by the person who has replaced her as my support contact.”
“If she was killed a few days ago,” Tarkov paused rubbing his face and looking around as if a suspect were in the room, “They couldn’t possibly have gotten anything of value from her, or they would have been on us by now. They would have been ready for us at the harbor.”
Carzona remained stoic, it was a behavior Tarkov was coming to dislike. “We don’t know what they were able to get or how detrimental it is to us. It happened only a few days ago in another country. Information isn’t just seized and acted upon. It takes time to analyze information and draw a conclusion or find viable pieces over inconsequential documents. It’s likely that they didn’t have time to analyze it before the operation. Rest assured though, they’ll be looking at it thoroughly. And, if they can connect any names or addresses back to Cyprus, and more importantly this city, we can expect they’ll act upon it.”
“In the wake of all that’s going on right now?” Tarkov regarded the Filipino as if he was crazy.
“They have to,” Carzona explained. “We have just violently struck at them and severely damaged their operation. If they have any thought of attempting this operation somewhere else, they have to presume we can strike at them just as easily there too. It is incumbent for them to respond to us. It won’t be of any strategic value to anyone, but symbolically retaliating would send the message that they can find us just as easily and respond just as lethally. Once we know they can hit us back, people tend to lose their nerve for this sort of action.”
“We don’t know how many men they have here, or what kind of force we’re up against.” Tarkov lamented as he began to strategize the next move in his head. Carzona didn’t give the Russian time to reply. “When our ship arrives in two days, we are leaving this country. That won’t leave them any time to recruit fresh soldiers or operatives, so we can assume they’ll likely work with who they already have.”
“We’re still working with a lot of assumptions based on few facts,” Tarkov reminded him.
Sauwa waited until the men had finished showering. Though she had received several offers to join them, and modesty was not a trait she practiced, she figured a bunch of sex-starved men who had just come off a mission was not the right time to indulge in liberated behavior, especially since Gorzo had been rather candid about the promise he made to himself when the mission was over ─ if he survived, he was determined to sleep with her. Trying to make good on this promise would result in severe pain and agony for the Italian.
As a precaution, she asked Sacchini to accompany her. She was certain the sight of the older man following her into the shower room had some of the men speculating and arriving at the most risqué conclusions. Stil
l, she felt comfortable that Sacchini wasn’t a young buck looking to seduce her or even say he did. His presence in the room ensured that she could enjoy some degree of privacy while bathing.
He stood by while she slipped off the grimy clothes she was wearing. He was indifferent to being so close to a young naked woman though she could tell he was somewhat uncomfortable in the situation. “I won’t be upset if you look at me,” she said with no undertones that suggested any sorts of seductive hints. She just didn’t want to make the only person who she remotely considered a friend too uncomfortable with the situation.
“Forgive me. I don’t wish to appear a prude,” he explained. “Being with you feels like I’m in the shower with my teenage daughter.”
She slipped off the last vestiges of her clothes. Her long, black hair flowed in silky waves across her shoulders and down her back. Completely naked she walked into the large white tiled shower stall. The warm spray of the water pelted her body as she began to slather her skin with a bar of soap. It was a soothing sensation that she needed after the long night she had endured.
Behind her, Sacchini watched the door. He leaned against a side wall leading into the locker area. By his blank facial expression and the way he fixed his attention on the door, she was sure he was deep in thought. “What are you thinking about?” She asked as she worked her hands and soap down over her legs.
“After what we just came back from,” the Italian stated as if slightly shocked by the question, “what else would I be thinking about?”
Sauwa cracked a smile as her eyes looked upon him suspiciously. “A seasoned soldier such as yourself? I’m sure you have seen far worse in your career than what we encountered last night. Something else is dominating your thoughts.”
Sacchini scratched his fingers across the side of his face. “I guess I’m just tired of it all. This world drains you quickly. I imagine you already know that yourself.” He turned his head back in her direction. “Maybe, I’ve just been thinking about what else I would do if it wasn’t this.”
“And, you decided what?” Sauwa asked, as she stepped under the steaming shower head and allowed the water to flow over her, washing away the soap.
“That is a very good question,” he replied half chuckling. “I haven’t been a soldier, a commando, for a few decades now. First I was in the Italian military and then a private soldier for hire, but I’m tired of it. In this group of young energetic men, I see myself as an old man with no one even near my age. That’s because mercenaries of my generation have either developed the good sense to get out and do something else, or they’re dead and buried in some remote part of the world. This leaves me wondering why I am still in this business.”
“Why are any of us?” Sauwa replied. “Wars we signed up to fight in the way they must be fought eventually end. We get trained to fight a specific way, and they want us to approach the enemy. We devote ourselves to honing our skills and bettering ourselves at our particular craft. Then the war ends. When that happens, we go from being indispensable to being embarrassments. We spend time thoroughly training and developing our craft, but it becomes utterly useless to everyone except for those who are somewhere else in the world dealing with their own conflicts and need the skills and experience we have to fight their wars.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the Italian replied with a sigh that was both deep and defeated. “How much the world can change in such a short period of time? However, it’s constantly dangerous, always uncertain, and you’re never sure when or where your next paycheck will come from. I’ve been playing against the odds for a long time now.”
Sauwa stopped the water and retrieved the towel hanging nearby. “For a man so unmoved by this business, I’m surprised you even considered such a risky endeavor as this operation.”
“As I said, this business is uncertain,” he continued. “I needed work, and there wasn’t anything better being offered at the time. Besides, the money is too good. I’m looking less at the immediate and focused on the future. I want to retire and be done with it. What they’re offering to pay me is a good start in the right direction.”
She was now, slipping on a fresh pair of underwear and loose fitting tank top. “I hope you enjoy it. As you’ve said, not many in our line of work get to have such a luxury.”
“Promise me something,” he turned to face her with a deadpan expression. “Don’t let this consume you.”
She stopped dressing in order to address his comment. For a moment she thought he was just making conversation. It was when she stared directly at him, she realized his statement had been intended. “I have no drive to stay in this business. I’m forced to be here,” she smiled as she returned to dressing.
“I know you are here for reasons somewhat outside of your control,” Sacchini began. “But you, like Tarkov, are too conditioned to do this work for life. Dealing with such dangers comes naturally to both of you.”
“I hardly think I’m a natural for any of this,” Sauwa replied, not knowing whether to be offended or not. “But, I have seen my fair share of it all.”
“No,” he shook his head. “The danger doesn’t seem to bother you. You seem so comfortable in this murky world of black operations. The way you plan, approach, and even execute is so easy for you. You have a natural ability.”
“We all have to survive, and that means using our skills and experience when needed,” she replied somewhat defensively. She finished dressing adding a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. It wasn’t the clothing she would have chosen for going to bed, however, given the fact they might have to move fast at any time, she figured expedience outweighed comfort.
She bundled her old clothing into a plastic bag. They had been the clothes she had worn during the operation and were covered with debris and residue that could link her to several murders and serious acts of terrorism. She could never put them on again. Placing them under her arm she waved the Italian toward the door.
Followed by Sacchini she walked into the main room. Outside, the men were quietly eyeing the pair as they left the showers. They said nothing as they watched the alleged couple, but the devilish smirks told her enough. For good measure and to deter any more of Gorzo’s fantasies, she reached over and ran her hand gently down Sacchini’s arm for all to see.
Several fists raised in a triumphant gesture toward Sacchini. Many of the men watching the action looked at the older man with admiration. She left him to face the questions and adulations he was about to receive. Hopefully, Sacchini would be a good sport and play his part to help with the ruse.
She walked out the door and toward the harbor. Along the way she took a pin and began poking holes into the plastic. Reaching the pier, she gradually looked around to ensure the area was clear. There was a large group of men who had preceded her onto the pier. They paid no attention to the surrounding warehouses when they came by. She was a little concerned they may have attracted an audience.
It being morning, the neighborhood maintained all the signs of the lifelessness she expected based on her previous walks. Satisfied she had no witnesses, she lowered the plastic bag into the water. She held it so the water could enter through the holes. Soon the bag grew heavy. She released her hands to watch it disappear into the water below. In a few days, the seawater would contaminate whatever evidence the police might hope to get from the clothes if they ever found the bag.
32
Rhys stood a good distance from the gate that guarded the perimeter of the warehouse and its parking lot. He scrutinized it for a long period of time while he leaned up against the van he had obtained for this outing. By all accounts the warehouse was empty ─ it showed no signs of life. He looked for the slightest clue of security equipment: surveillance cameras or alarm systems for normal security. Then he checked the more subtle and unusual measures he was expecting to find like makeshift traps and systems innovative thinkers could come up with that would announce the arrival of an assault force.
Scanning carefully, he dec
ided no such measures existed. There weren’t even any good places to set them up with all the open space. His people at the port had been hit by professional commandos. The lack of security measures at this warehouse meant they were concerned with maintaining a low profile and not drawing attention to themselves. It also meant they weren’t planning on staying in the country long and wanted to leave as small a footprint as possible when they departed.
Rhys was soon joined by a couple of his Greek mercenaries who had walked the surrounding area. As ethnic Greeks, they blended in better and looked more natural walking around than the white New Zealander. They met their commander next to the van parked just out of sight of the warehouse.
“It’s clean of any security we can see,” said one of the Greeks, a young man with a crop of bushy blond hair who looked like a school athlete. “We didn’t see anybody outside, certainly no guards.”
“Honestly,” the other one began, “the place is wide open. We could easily make it to the door of the warehouse undetected and move on them before they even knew what was going on.”
Rhys shook his head. “No, they may not have overt security outside. It’s what’s inside we aren’t sure about. We still don’t know what numbers we’re up against, let alone what weaponry and internal defenses we’d be walking into. Remember, we’re not dealing with street thugs. These guys are professional operators. Knowing they have no way of securing the outside only means they’ve probably taken more extensive protective measures inside. Based on what they’ve just accomplished, we have to assume that they’re ready for us.”