Mackey pointed at Cascaes. “I’ve got compass-boy over here to make sure we don’t get lost.” He looked at Cascaes. “Tomorrow morning? We could head out on the river and get down there by late morning. Then we shake a leg to the last mapped point where the skulls were located by dark. Quick break, and then off into the scary jungle at night. That work for you?”
Cascaes shrugged. “Sounds like an adventure. I should bring my camera.”
Mackey and Cascaes spent the next hour going over details and equipment checklists with the men, who cleaned and inspected their weapons. Eric Hodges was checking his sniper rifle when he saw Mackey cleaning his Mossberg 590 shotgun. It was the “compact cruiser” edition, with a pistol grip instead of a rifle stock, and had a canvass strap attached to the pump for better speed and function on the run. Hodges laughed out loud.
“Hey skipper, what the hell are you gonna do with that thing?”
“You have your favorite gun, and I have mine. And I only have to be close with this sumbitch. I can pump off nine rounds in seven seconds, and I guarantee I will hit something!” He laughed.
“Yeah, well I know how those things are for accuracy, so do me a favor and make sure I’m not standing in front of you.”
“Just remember this conversation when you’re in the jungle and, scope or not, you can’t see more then twenty feet,” said Mackey, still smiling.
As the team finished cleaning and packing, Theresa returned with a backpack filled with first aid supplies. “You guys are lucky I love Julia, because going into that jungle at night is not my idea of a good time. And don’t get hurt, because I’m much better at giving immunizations than I am at doing surgery in the field.” She looked at Moose. “And I sure as shit ain’t carrying your fat ass out of the jungle.”
Moose bowed, still sharpening his black Ka-Bar combat knife. “I will try and keep that in mind, doc.”
Theresa opened her backpack and started pulling out small bottles and syringes. “You knuckleheads should have had shots for the past four weeks to do this correctly, but some is better than none, so line up and ‘drop trou.’”
Earl Jones saw the doctor filling a syringe and cringed. Hardened marine or not, shots made him queasy. “Uh, what’s that for, doc?”
“I’m giving you shots for yellow fever, malaria and assorted other jungle bugs. You’ll probably all have the shits the entire time you are running through the jungle, but I have pills for that, too.” She smiled as she saw the room full of tough guys looking like a bunch of scared little boys.
“Line up!” she commanded.
Mackey pulled up his short sleeve, first to volunteer to set the example.
“No, sir. I said drop trou. These have to be given in the gluteus maximus.”
Julia looked away to hide her face. She had seen Theresa give thousands of these shots to the Guaranis, but never once in any place other than the arm.
Theresa immunized the entire team and began putting her kit away.
“Hey wait, doc. You better give Miss Julia over there a shot, too. Let’s see her drop trou,” yelled Moose with a laugh.
“I’ve had mine, thank you very much,” said Julia. “Although I do believe I got mine in the arm, didn’t I, Theresa?”
Theresa smiled broadly. “Come to think of it, you might be right. These shots can be given in the arm after all.” She turned back towards the men, who were laughing and groaning. “The truth is fellas, I don’t get out much. This is the most ass I’ve seen in two years, thank you very much. And it would be very tough to pick a winner in the nicest ass contest.” She walked over and slapped Moose as hard as she could where she had given him the shot. “Although I have to say that big boy over here almost bent my needle.” She faked blowing him a kiss and walked away laughing.
The men unrolled sleeping bags and mosquito nets and got ready to grab some sleep. Julia and Teresa said goodnight and headed off to another small hut. Cascaes tried to quietly follow Julia out.
“You sure you don’t want to stay in your new building?”
“I don’t kiss on the first date, admiral. And I especially don’t have sex in front of a dozen strangers with someone I just met. Call me old fashioned.” She was playing with him, not being snotty.
“Yeah, well, when I get back, I want that date.”
“I told you—we’ll see.” She walked back to him and planted a kiss full on his mouth. “But that will give you something to think about tonight while you are lying under the stars with your buddies.” She turned and trotted after Theresa, leaving Chris standing by himself in shock. He smiled and shook his head as he watched her perfect little butt run out of sight.
As he turned to walk back inside, Mackey was standing there grinning. “Looks like you beat me to the prize,” he said. “That is one of the most stunning women I have ever seen.”
“Yeah, no shit,” said Cascaes. “And don’t frag my ass so you can go out with her, either!” He smacked Mackey and laughed, and they headed back inside to catch some sleep. The two of them laughed as they looked down on fifteen men in Ministry t-shirts with enough ammunition and weapons to start World War Three.
Mackey sat down and called Langley to tell them they would be starting Operation Jimmy tomorrow morning.
Chapter 27
Vega’s Camp
Hakim Bin-Salaam was pacing back and forth in Vega’s cabin. Vega himself was down at the coke barn, where the women were chopping and packing the dried leaves.
“How much longer do we have to rot here in this Godforsaken jungle?” he asked.
Ali Aziz, an older and calmer man, sat stroking his gray beard and clucked his tongue. “Patience, my brother. If we are caught at the airport, then all of our plans go up in smoke. I know you are not afraid to be a martyr, Hakim, but Allah still has plans for you on this earth, blessed be his name.”
Raman Qasim, who had spent much more time in South America than the other two also tried to sooth his anxious comrade. “Hakim, it is not so bad, really, is it? We have brothers all over the world in much worse conditions than this, and they fight on bravely, do they not?”
Hakim nodded. “Yes, of course. I just hate the cursed bugs and the food here is not edible.”
Ali raised a finger. “The fish was good. Perhaps we can ask the savages to get us some more.”
Hakim grunted. “At least with the fish we know what we are eating. I think these animals eat everything they see. Serpents, monkeys, insects…”
“And each other,” added Raman.
The other two just looked at each other.
“Like I said,” grumbled Hakim, “The sooner we’re out of this place, the better.”
The morning was comparatively cool and comfortable, almost cold compared the scorching heat and humidity of full sun. The men woke up quietly and quickly started getting ready. They were still wearing their Los Angeles Ministries shirts, and their camos and weapons were packed in duffle bags and boxes marked with Red Cross emblems and first aid labels. They would be traveling down a wide river that had a fair amount of boat activity, although very little patrolling by any kind of police force.
Just in case, Mackey’s Mossberg .590 would stay within easy reach, and several of the men had sidearms of various types tucked in their jeans. They headed down to the river and inflated the boats. As they were packing, Theresa showed up with her first aid kit, followed by Julia and a young Guarani man. He was dark and very small.
Julia saw Chris and smiled. He walked over to say goodbye.
“Goodbye? Not quite, darling. I thought our first date would be a jungle cruise. Sounds so romantic, don’t you think?”
Chris smiled and said, “Very funny”.
“No really, Chris. Theresa and I spoke last night. This is Fassissi. We just call him Fuzzy. He’s been the deepest into the jungle. He wasn’t keen on going back, but he said he’d
go if I went with him, so there you are. We’re all going on a little picnic.”
“Fuzzy can come. You’re staying,” said Cascaes.
“Actually, you are not my boss, admiral. And I have jungle training just like you tough guys, and I know the area better than all of you combined. I’m not planning on going all the way to Vega’s camp, anyway. I’ll just take you in with Fuzzy to the last known location of the Pampidos signs.”
“Hey Mack!” yelled Cascaes. “We have a little problem over here.”
Mackey walked over to Cascaes. He had already spoken to Julia earlier in the morning. “Chris, if she is going to be a distraction, she can come in my boat. She’s going as far as the map notes go. Then Fuzzy will bring her back to the boats. So what will it be? My boat or yours?”
Cascaes looked at Julia, who made her sexiest pouty face.
“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna’ get us all killed.” He started walking towards his boat. “Well don’t just stand there, grab your gear and let’s get moving.”
Moose walked over, picked Julia up like a small child, and placed her carefully inside the large black rubber raft. She looked at Cascaes, who was looking at her and shaking his head, but cracked a smile.
She saw the smile and pointed at him, yelling “Ha!”
He just said “shut up” under his breath and hopped into the raft.
The two boats were heading downstream in a fairly good current, and they used their oars to save the batteries for the return trip using their small electric outboard motors. The outboards were electric so they could run silently, but this limited the engines to about three hours at full power, which was twenty-two knots. Mackey was in boat one with Fuzzy, Theresa and seven of his men. Cascaes had ten on his boat as well. With ten passengers each and equipment, the boats were packed like sardines, but it added to the authenticity of their cover story—two boatloads of missionaries heading out to help the natives.
The river was quiet early in the morning. The water was brownish green and still as glass in most parts. It continually grew wider and deeper, and eventually, other boats would occasionally come into view for a short time, but no one paid much attention to the two small rafts. Cascaes was sitting up front next to Julia, and they were both very much aware of the contact their thighs were making against each other in the small raft.
Neither of them were paddling, they were simply enjoying the ride while the others did the work. Rank had its occasional privileges, and besides, they didn’t have ten oars for each boat.
Julia leaned over and quietly said, “Good thing we’re in the front of the boat, huh? You’d probably try and cop a feel.”
He pressed against her thigh with his own. “I am copping a feel,” he said quietly.
“You only bring me to the nicest places,” she replied.
He just looked at her, enjoying her company, but not particularly happy she was along. She was a major distraction and this wasn’t a cakewalk.
“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” he asked. “I mean really? You could be anywhere doing anything, why this dark corner of the earth?”
“I think you saw part of the reason. Your men were practically ready to stay and play with the children forever themselves. I’ve been an agent in different parts of the world, doing all types of missions. This cover story became a real life to me. The people I help have no one else in the world, and for the first time I can really see results of my work. Do you know how much better it feels to help a child than kill an adult?”
Cascaes exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said quietly.
“Hey,” she added, “I’m not judging you or what you do. You and your men are soldiers and do what needs to be done. It’s honorable to serve your country like you do. I’ve done my share of killing, too.”
That brought a look of surprise from Cascaes, then simple admiration. This woman could quite literally do anything—from runway model to assassin. It was intriguing to say the least.
“It’s just that the last job,” he said very quietly. “Two little kids…well, it was an accident, sort of. I mean, we didn’t know they were there, but I think we would have had to kill them anyway. It was messed up. I had managed to block it out, but what you said just now made it pop back into my head. It sucked.”
She patted his thigh, and Moose, who was two rows back, saw her hand.
“Hey!” he yelled, “This is a family cruise! Keep your hands in your own lap!”
Both Chris and Julia held up a one-finger salute, as if they had rehearsed it for hours, and then laughed at each other.
“You’re okay,” he said quietly.
“You, too,” she said softly, and slowly removed her hand.
Chapter 28
The Jungle
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when they arrived at a small bend in the river where a tiny tributary broke off to the north. They paddled into it and continued upstream until the stream became a creek, and very shallow. Fuzzy hopped off the raft without warning and quickly walked towards the dense jungle growth. He would occasionally squat down and look closely at the ground and at the rocks, trying to find familiar landmarks, as the men landed the two rafts and quickly began unloading.
They worked silently, pulling the gear into the jungle and out of sight as fast as possible. Within a minute, all of them had their yellow shirts off and replaced them with jungle camouflage. They broke out their commando face paint kits, and within a few minutes were all colored an assortment of greens, browns and blacks. Their bright yellow shirts and assorted tennis shoes were bagged up and thrown into the boats, and they pulled on socks and their waterproof jungle boots. Once weapons were assembled and computers and radios were checked out, they pulled the boats into the jungle a little deeper and deflated them, then buried them after turning on their GPS tracking devices.
Julia and Theresa watched in silence, amazed at the speed with which the men worked. Chris walked over with his grease paint and smiled at Julia, his own face mostly green and black.
“Seems like such a shame,” he said, and he put a smear of green paint across her cheek.
“I can do my own make-up,” she said with a smile.
“No, ma’am. This has to be done to Navy regulations,” he said quietly, and continued to paint her face slowly and carefully. The way he was touching her face made her blush under the green, brown and black streaks. Luckily, the others were too busy to pay any attention.
Moose walked over to Theresa and was going to attempt the same smooth move, but she swiped the can from him and said, “Don’t even think about it, pal.” When she saw his hurt face, she lightened up. “How’s that ass doing?” she asked with a smile.
“Still the nicest one in the navy,” he replied.
Theresa stuck out her own rear end and said, “You wish.”
That got her a smile, and she hustled off to grab her backpack.
Once everyone was geared up, they took a knee in a small circle around Mackey and Cascaes.
Mackey spoke quietly. “Okay, show-time, boys and girls. Julia, does Fuzzy have anything yet?” She spoke in Guarani to him, and he answered back and started walking into the jungle.
“I told him we’d follow him. If he goes too fast, just let me know,” said Julia.
“Okay everybody, single file. Santos on point, Woods—backdoor. Stay together people. No one get off the fucking trail and make sure you can see the person in front of you at all times. It is going to get thick out there in a little while. Everybody turn on their trackers.”
All of the team members had been given small devices that would locate them by satellite if they were lost or injured and couldn’t call for help. Santos checked his MP5 and hustled after Fuzzy, followed by Cascaes and Mackey. Moose was next, followed by Theresa and Julia, and then the rest of the team filed behind them.
Santos wa
s amazed at how Fuzzy moved through the jungle. He didn’t hack his way through the jungle with a machete; he glided like he was floating, totally relaxed and noiseless. Fuzzy wore only a loincloth, not even sandals. Mackey saw him move through the large leaves and remembered his days in Vietnam, where the sappers could move through the jungle like that.
No one spoke, they just walked briskly single file, lost in their own thoughts, constantly watching everything around them. An hour into the hike, Santos gave a quiet “psssst!” to Fuzzy and motioned him to stop. They took a knee for some water and to wipe off their faces. All of them were completely soaked. It wasn’t as hot as the dessert, but it was so humid you could see the water vapor in the filtered sunlight of the jungle. They were finishing their water break when Ernie P. started slapping his legs like a wild-man.
Woods, who was behind him, jumped up and grabbed him, then saw what he was doing. Ernie had taken a knee on an ant mound, and was now under attack by hundreds of pissed-off stinging ants. As soon as Woods started pulling them off, Koches joined in and helped them, slapping and pulling off the soldier ants, whose large jaws had locked onto Ernie’s skin. He was doing his best to stay quiet, but the ants were everywhere. They eventually dragged him a few yards up the trail, away from the mound, and spent the next ten minutes killing ants and then spraying his red welts with antiseptic from Theresa’s kit.
She leaned over to him and quietly said, “If you start feeling funky, tell me and I’ll give you a shot of antihistamine—but only if you need it. It will make you tired.”
He replied that he was okay, and thanked her, then took his spot back in the single file line. Mackey reiterated to “keep your eyes open” because there would be more bugs and snakes and things to make you miserable up ahead. Fuzzy appeared out of nowhere next to Ernie and gave him what looked like greenish-brown, foul-smelling goo from Lord-knows-where, and motioned for him to rub it on his bites. Ernie did so, reluctantly, but the stinging was gone instantly. He smiled at Fuzzy, who recognized the universal language of a smile, and patted his arm. Fuzzy glided back to the front of the group and continued leading them on their journey.
Into the Jungle Page 11