Redemption

by Dufour, Danny

  Namara was cleaning his gun when the other group members approached him. The first to break the silence was Twinkie.

  “Danny… I… I came to apologize. I was out of line.” murmured Twinkie, visibly ill at making apologies.

  “Don’t worry, Twinkie, I’m not mad. I won!” said Namara, shrugging at him.

  The others guffawed.

  “Yeah, yeah, ok! I get it, I deserved it,” said Twinkie with two hands in his pants pockets and head lowered like a boy who had been caught doing something wrong.

  “You know… Twinkie’s a good lad,” said Mike, sniggering.

  “Yes, but he has a little dick! ” retorted Guerra.

  They all guffawed except Twinkie.

  “Hey, fuck you Guerra! That's not what your sister told me when I dated her! ” spit back Twinkie.

  “Well... maybe that's because she's a prostitute and wanted your money, that's why!” said Guerra with a smile.

  “Alright! Alright! All of you, just shut the fuck up godammit!!! It's worst than a kindergarten here! ” shouted Taz with a slight air of contrariness.

  “You’re now the hot topic of conversation for the camp. Everyone’s asking who you are. Honestly, you did good. To beat Twinkie like that, it was funny shit!” said Gonzo.

  “Can you also dodge bullets?” asked Mike with a smile.

  “Nothing is impossible... but you try first! ” said Namara.

  “I’m counting on you to kick all those trafficking motherfuckers’ arses,” said Mike.

  “On behalf of the group, I officially bid you welcome from all of us!” said Taz, extending his hand.

  “Thank a lot,” said Namara, taking it.

  “Good, back to business, let’s eat and move it before Twinkie eats everything!” said Taz.

  “Real funny, Sarge,” said Twinkie.

  All went together to eat when darkness was semi-total and when the nocturnal birdsongs began to drift through the heart of the jungle.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Kids, we have a mission,” said Taz.

  All were seated in a room of the camp that served as a briefing room. Taz was currently standing beside a huge map of the region hung on the wall.

  “An informer alerted us to the presence of a clandestine lab for cocaine production in the heart of the jungle. It would be about forty miles from here,” he said, jabbing a finger at the approximate location.

  “Is it factory-scale or smaller?” asked Guerra.

  “No idea. I don’t have that information, nor on how many wankers we’ll come across. We don’t have much intelligence or photos. All we have is the approximate place where it might be situated. Our mission is to find the place, if does it in fact exist. Secondly, we must determine if it is in fact a lab and finally, do the cleaning and return in fact alive. We’ll leave by helicopter and drop about nine miles from the given location. We’ll do the rest of the recon on foot. We leave in seventeen hours. For the rest of the details, it’s for us to determine how we proceed and that they are our tasks for each of us. Any questions?”

  Everyone stayed silent. Namara was pensive. This time, it’s not a scenario or an exercise. It’s real.

  “Great, I suggest that we hammer out the remaining details now. Once that’s done, we can prepare our equipment and grab a bit of rest before leaving, ok?”

  Everyone agreed. The whole team sat around the table and all assembled the equipment to carry, the tasks of each, the ideas and the opinions of each. Everyone had two cents to put in and everyone listened. They took time to work out every little detail and to agree on the best way to proceed. Their planning session lasted five hours. They left the room each on their way to prepare and test their equipment. After having prepared, Namara laid down to catch some rest before leaving. He slept a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  They were clambered onto a helicopter. All were seated on the ledge with feet that hung in space. The helicopter rose over the green valley, criss-crossing several meters above the canopy, the tops of trees passing quickly under their feet. Namara, like all the others, was dressed in green khaki combat gear. They all wore military funny hats and their faces were painted black and green to melt into the jungle. The pilot shouted when they arrived at their drop zone. The helicopter hovered. They were all attached to harnesses and dropped their cords with which they let themselves slide to the ground.

  “GO!” shouted Taz, who had trouble being heard over the noise of the rotor.

  They jumped into the void at the same time to rappel down the lines. In the space of a few seconds, they’d dropped so many meters and touched down in a little river, which was free of the ubiquitous trees. That allowed the group to reach the ground with their equipment without getting tangled in the canopy. They detached their lines and dispatched into the jungle to disappear. They were vulnerable because nobody could know if the enemy was watching them or had heard them arrive. They had to descend and move as fast as possible from the touch-down point to avoid being spotted. After several meters in the hollow of the jungle, the group squatted to hear around them. They heard the noise of the helicopter moving away. All seemed normal. The group was equipped with a system of communication that worked with vocal cord vibration. They could communicate among themselves without raising their voice, which was necessary behind enemy lines.

  “Ok, advance for recon. Mike, take care! Avoid useless communication,” said Taz.

  Mike advanced quietly several meters, armed with his M16. He squatted for an instant to listen and observe. All seemed normal. He raised his arms to indicate to the group to rejoin him. The group advanced in silence toward him. He continued this tactic in the direction of their target, rotating at each turn in their task. After several hours of recon, the first to spot a human presence was Gonzo, who made a sign to the group by pointing to the tip of his nose. All paid attention and smelled something burning, indicating that they weren’t alone. Taz motioned with his head to indicate that he’d smelled it as well.

  They moved slowly in silence. After a bit of time, they noticed tips of roofs that seemed built out of wood. Taz signed for the group to stop. He gave an order to withdraw, which they followed. The group picked up their pace for several kilometres to move away from the place and avoid being spotted. They had found the facility. Namara’s heart was beating at full speed when he saw the buildings. Never had he felt such a feeling. A mix of adrenaline and fear. He hadn’t realized how intense it could be. Now, he lived it and understood how soldiers did their work. He was hooked on the sensation. It was a drug when experimented once.

  “Perfect, we’ve found our target. Now, it’s to determine what the place is. We’ll make camp here. Everyone rotate on night guard waiting for our scouts with intel. Namara and Guerra, take the equipment you need and get back here with complete rundown of the area! Good luck, men,” said Taz. “As for the rest of you, complete silence and stay on guard!”

  The rest of the group watched them leave in the dense vegetation hoping that all would go well, knowing that the task of collecting intel without being spotted was delicate work, extremely dangerous and a huge responsibility in particular for a newbie like Namara. Taz was testing him to put his trust and all respected their sergeant’s decision, everyone concentrating on what they must do.

  * * *

  Namara and Guerra approached the area where they had seen the tops of roofs. They agreed to separate, circle the site on each side and join at the other side. At that moment, their task became surgical. They lost sight of each other immediately. Namara continued to advance, moving ever closer. The structures began to take form and grow. He could even begin to hear human voices. At that moment, he wondered if he could be around five metres from the camp. He lay down on his stomach to camouflage in the high grasses.

  He continued to advance crawling at a turtle’s speed. He advanced gently several meters and he stopped to listen if he wasn’t spotted. The ground was damp and muddy. It didn’t take long for him to become com
pletely wet and soiled with sludge. There was a sweltering humidity and his equipment rendered his task even more painful. He felt like he was close. He could hear men’s voices talking in Spanish. He also felt the noise of steps, but his vision was interrupted by the long grasses. He continued to advance like a snail to finally realize that he was nearly at the boarder of the camp. Two men conversed together, smoking cigarettes. The two held AK-47’s. Namara’s heart beat at full speed. Maybe one of them could see him. He froze completely. He thought he could see one of the men looking in his direction, but finally the latter continued his discussion. He played dead for a moment to calm himself down. When he felt ready, he stayed in his position to observe the movements of the men present. Namara began to execute his task. He pulled out his digital camera and began to capture the men that patrolled, the buildings, the crates they pushed around. After a moment, he decided to scoot closer to see another side of the camp and see if he could get new info. He was exhausted. He was coated in much from his feet to his hair. He knew that he was there for several hours already and he hadn’t bypassed but a tiny part of the camp. He snapped a photo when a man armed with a machine gun walked directly in his direction. Danny’s heart was going crazy and he prayed to not be seen. He dropped his camera and pulled out his 9mm with the silencer and aimed it at the coming guard and at the pace with which he advanced. He knew that if he had to shoot, that it wouldn’t be long before the others were alerted to him and the operation was seriously compromised.

  He laid his finger on the trigger and began to squeeze slowly when he saw the man unzip his fly to piss. The man had to be less than a metre from Namara. The man dropped his gun on the ground and began to whistle while he heard the sound of liquid splash on the grass. Namara aimed at his head with his gun, but he didn’t blink an eye. The man didn’t perceive anything of Namara’s presence buried in the long grass that surrounded the camp. The man zipped his pants, collected his weapon and disappeared behind a building as quickly as he’d come. Namara sighed with relief.

  “Asshole,” muttered Namara, tucking away his gun.

  He circled the camp in this way at a slow speed and with the furtiveness of a cat. He didn’t see Guerra, but he supposed that he was doing the same thing on the other side. Several hours later, on the other side, he saw a muddy mass with two eyes looking right at him. It was Guerra. The latter made a sign to withdraw back to their camp, which he returned. When they could no longer see the buildings on the horizon, they raised into a crouched position to rejoin the others with the intel.

  * * *

  “The informer was right. The location is indeed a cocaine plant. I counted about six buildings. There could be several million dollars of cocaine judging by the size of the crates they moved between the buildings and the quantity of refinement products they transported. It’s a medium-sized plant I would say,” said Guerra, showing the photos taken to the group members.

  “About fifteen men, all armed with assault rifles. Impossible to say whether they’re trained or not, but I wouldn’t exclude the possibility that they have access to explosives,” said Namara.

  “Good work,” said Taz. “Let’s diagram the camp with your photos.”

  Taz made a simple sketch on the paper, focusing on accuracy of building placement. He separated the camp into divisions so each took charge of a part to control the space in a few minutes.

  “By the way, guys, your beauty masks have done you good,” said Gonzo, referring to their mud-caked faces.

  “Thanks, Gonzo, mud masks keep the appearance of youth. It explains why we’re more lovely than you,” said Namara.

  “Me, I don’t need a mask, I’m naturally gorgeous!” said Gonzo.

  “That’s enough, men, keep it on point!” Taz scolded.

  Twinkie responded by farting like an old diesel motor trying to turn over.

  “I said shut it!” Taz shouted, irritated, at Twinkie.

  “Why, Sarge… I didn’t say anything!” Twinkie retorted, playing dumb.

  Everyone was laughing, looking at Twinkie who toyed with his knife, grinning.

  “Ok. Me and Twinkie will take charge of the western block, Gonzo and Mike the eastern. Namara and Guerra, south. When we have control of our respective sections, we’ll regroup at the north end to take total control. Before infiltrating the camp, we eliminate everything we see in silence to keep the element of surprise as long as possible. The more we stay silent, the less shitheads we have firing at us with their Kalashnikovs by the time they figure out what’s happening, see?” said Taz.

  They nodded in agreement.

  “At the moment where you notice that we are spotted, we swarm the place without stopping. We position at our respective spots from now during complete darkness at exactly four hours, I give the signal on the radio to begin the attack. Questions?”

  Silence.

  “Let’s go, men, and make sure we get back safe and sound! Do your work!” he said, slipping on his backpack and hat.

  * * *

  “Go! Go! Go!” shouted Taz over the radio waves.

  There were two men talking close to Namara and Guerra. Both aimed with their guns and two whistles were heard muffled. The two men collapsed on the ground, each with a bullet lodged in their head. Their guns fell to the ground with a muffled sound. They stayed hidden in their position, waiting to see if the other traffickers would pass in their direction. Nothing. Silence. Suddenly, they heard a shout in Spanish. That was the signal that indicated the traffickers had spotted them. Guerra and Namara sprang into action, leaping into the camp.

  “Let’s rock, Namara!” shouted Guerra, while the latter followed him in step sweeping with blasts from their weapons.

  Both passed the length of the building and arrived at the corner, they saw a trafficker aiming without a doubt at another of their group in the opposite direction. Guerra engaged him the quickest. He fired a bullet that attained the back of his head, which loosed a red spray of blood at the moment of impact. Guerra pointed the first building to their right. The two stationed themselves at either side of the door. In a jerk, Guerra kicked the door in. Namara immediately threw a stunt grenade inside. A huge explosion ensued, followed by several grating screams. The two entered like lighting into the building. Namara heard a blast of fire from his right that indicated Guerra had encountered resistance on his side. Namara entered in a little room and saw on a fraction of a second a trafficker pointing at him and who looked only to fix his gun on Namara to make fire. The speed of entrance and his training resulted in his enemy receiving a bullet in the heart and head in the space of a second. He left as fast to enter the next room until the first building was secured.

  “Clear!” cried Namara, to communicate his side was under control.

  “Clear!” Guerra repeated.

  “Pull out!” said Namara, running toward the exit with Guerra at his heels.

  When both left the building, they saw Taz and Twinkie entering full speed the building across from them. Namara ran toward the second building under control. With a heave, he smashed in the door. Two AK-47 blasts were heard. Namara heard the whistle of bullets destined for them who exited the door. They were waiting for them this time. Guerra threw a smoke grenade, then a stunt grenade that produced an explosion. Guerra entered and Namara followed. The room was full of smoke, but Namara could see a trafficker trying to recover from the flash that had left him temporarily blind. Namara fired a bullet at his head and Guerra did the same a few meters into the room. The room was full of cocaine spread out over huge tables overhung by floor lamps. There were several barrels and packages of chemical products that piled on each other on the ground.

  “Clear!” shouted Guerra.

  “Clear!” Namara responded.

  Their respective zones were now under control. They rushed with the speed of lighting toward the north zone. All the other members arrived about the same time. The plant was controlled and fifteen traffickers were dead without a single hurt member of the team. Nam
ara checked his watch and saw that they’d taken four minutes.

  * * *

  “Perfect! Return to your respective sectors and search in depth to see if anyone escaped. Then, take photos of the drugs, the facilities, and the bodies. As usual, burn everything and break it all! Go!” said Taz.

  They dove into quick work and methodical means. A strong smell of ether overhung the cocaine-filled rooms. According to Guerra, there must have been millions of dollars’ worth of drugs. The left the camp after every building had been set aflame. The group retreated from the area to camouflage themselves again and watch the roaring fire. When the flames had ravaged the majority of the facilities, the group let definitively to regroup at their pick-up zone situated three miles from where they were. Arriving at their destination, Taz sent a radio signal indicating to the pilot that they were ready to be picked up.

  “Brilliantly done, lads,” said Taz.

  All the members aimed their guns into the jungle, searching for enemies who might have followed them. They secured the chopper’s perimeter, waiting for it to arrive. A noise of propellers was heard from far away after a few minutes. It landed and the teammates embarked on a run. The machine gained altitude with a jerk and they left.

  “Great work, wanker! You did good!” said Guerra with a smile.

  “Thanks,” responded Namara, returning the smile and shaking his hand.

  “Yeah, great work,” said Twinkie.

  They all clapped Namara on the back for his work, knowing that the mission was his first and he’d been at the top. Namara let the adrenaline in his body subside peacefully, swinging his feet in the emptiness and watching the canopy rush by underneath.

  CHAPTER 18

  Namara was exhausted. It had been two days since they had mounted their attack in the marshy zone without shut-eye. They had been advised that there was an exchange going down in a precise location. A transaction of several kilos of cocaine was foreseen between two cartels. The exchange was a sign of a possible alliance between two rival cartels and Taz had been advised that the CIA and MI6 (British intelligence) wanted no such alliance. The goal was to break it up to weaken them and Taz had been ordered to eliminate the traffickers during the exchange to destroy the tentative link of trust that was born between the cartels. In killing the lot, every chief would suspect the rival clan of fixing an ambush that had gone wrong, causing the death of everyone. Moreover, the group had been warned that several influential members of each cartel would be present, which rendered their efforts more devastating. Intelligence knew that several of the transactions were foreseen. Several raids were required of the unit to sow dissent among the traffickers. If the attacks proved fracturing, they assessed that within one month, the cartels would declare war between themselves and several traffickers would eliminate each other with no mercy until no-one remained alive. Intelligence services wanted it passionately.