by Brian Cain
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Miller and Zup had entered Colombia with false identification and help supplied by John McDonald, including papers of American citizenship. They had minor problems with the authorities at the airport in Bogota where they had landed; officials insisting they were up to no good. A sizeable bribe in American dollars from their well-stocked body belts saw all problems vanish. They found bribery an accepted way of overcoming some problems in Colombia. Colombian people were generally small and were afraid of the size of Miller and Zup. Miller and Zup were in excess of six feet in height and very well built. They looked like ducks in a chicken run, towering above the Colombian officials. Although conspicuous, this would prove to be an advantage as things progressed.
John McDonald had arranged a contact to meet them, supplying what they needed. The contact was an American mercenary working for the Colombian Government. Once they had acquired what they wanted: information, weapons, maps and a vehicle, he told them how he could be reached if necessary. They paid him and bid him farewell.
They posed as Australians on a fishing and hunting trip and headed to a coastal town, Barranquilla, where the Magdalena River entered the Caribbean Sea. This was where Morgan had set up his headquarters. From there he ran his drug distribution organisation. Miller and Zup kept to themselves trusting no one. Two Columbians whom they suspected to be government officials tailed them as they left Bogota and Miller and Zup disposed of them in the Magdalena River on the first day of their journey.
John McDonald had given them Morgan’s suspected whereabouts. They found the beach-side mansion on the edge of the town. A multi-storey hotel was some five hundred metres along the beach front and they acquired a top storey room on the same side as Morgan’s mansion. With a telescope they studied the comings and goings, making a note of everything they saw. It was three days before they saw Morgan sitting beside his pool talking to two distinguished looking Europeans who had arrived through the fortress-like electric gates and armed guards. They visited on a regular basis. In three weeks Miller and Zup logged a pattern of Morgan and his friend’s movements. Miller recognised the three friends Morgan had with him all the time as the same three he confronted with Morgan in Sydney. Women were escorted in every two days, in a limousine. Morgan and his friends were seen having sex with them around the roof top pool. This was the weak link in Morgan’s security. The limousine’s driver and escort were often different men.
Miller and Zup planned to do more than kill Morgan; they wanted his operation as well. The two Europeans who visited on a regular basis looked like big operators, driving an American limousine with government licence plates and visiting at exactly the same time every two days, coinciding with the delivery of the women. Zup continued the surveillance. Miller tailed them when they left Morgan’s mansion. They led Miller to a warehouse in the city dock region, fronting the Magdalina River. A large sign hung above the office, Stormway Shipping. They spent only a few minutes there. Miller then followed them to the city where they disappeared into the American Embassy building, the car park door closing behind them. Miller parked, then confronted the receptionist at the Embassy entrance, wanting to find out more about the limousine and its passengers.
“The limousine that just went into your car park cut me off! I would like to see the occupants to make a complaint,” said Miller.
“I don’t think that will be possible sir, it’s leaving again shortly,” replied the receptionist.
“Who was in it, so I may write and complain to those concerned?”
“It was the American ambassador to Colombia, George Mortimer and his son. You can write, but I don’t think you will receive a reply.”
“You’re sure that’s who it was?”
“Couldn’t be anyone else. Mortimer is the only one who uses that government vehicle. I’m sorry if he offended you, Mr…, I didn’t get your name. ”
Miller turned and walked out, returning to the hotel. Zup reported he had seen nothing out of the ordinary and Miller told Zup of his findings. They had previously tailed the limousine carrying the women to a brothel in town. It took the same route every time it went to Morgan’s and they planned to hijack the car on its route, substituting the driver and escort with themselves. They hoped they would then gain entry to Morgan’s mansion unopposed. Before making a move, they booked out of the hotel they were in and got a room in a motel one street back from the beach front. The limousine carrying the girls always stopped on a lonely stretch along the beach, in a car park, while the girls took a walk for a few minutes. Miller and Zup calculated this was probably a break for them from working long hours attending to clients. The motel was not far away from this point. The pair picked their time, as they waited one street back from the car park. The road and beach were deserted except for the limousine. As the girls started their walk along the beach, the two friends pulled into the car park, parking alongside the limousine with their four wheel drive. Zup leapt out, holding his automatic pistol at the driver’s head. The dark glass in the rear of the limousine hid the escort in the back seats, so Miller slowly opened a rear door pointing his pistol in front of him. A man emerged with raised hands. They had caught the occupants by surprise. Miller pinned the escort to the ground face down, holding the muzzle of his pistol to his head.
“What do you say when you go through the gate at Morgan’s mansion?” asked Miller.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re already in deep shit man,” said the escort in a broad American accent.
Miller held his gun above the escort’s spine pointing in line with it and pulled the trigger. The escort’s body groaned and went limp. He picked up the body and threw it in the back of the four wheel drive. Zup pulled the driver from the car, laying him face down with his knee in the centre of his back. His gun was poised at the back of the driver’s head.
“Same question. What do you say to get in the gate at Morgan’s? One chance!” asked Zup.
“Good times are here again. That’s the name of the agency, Good Times. They let us straight in,” said the driver, also with an American accent.
“How many guards that you know of?” asked Zup.
“Four. Always four guys, including Morgan, unless he’s got visitors,” replied the driver with very short breaths.
“Checks out with what we know, he must be telling the truth,” said Miller standing above them and Zup shot the driver in the same place as Miller had the escort.
They covered their bodies up in the back of the four wheel drive, parked it in the corner of the car park and waited in the limousine until the girls returned. The four girls had all got into the back of the limousine before they realised that the driver and escort were different. Zup drove while Miller held them at gunpoint. Only one of them spoke English. Miller explained what he wanted them to do, making the consequences very clear. The American girl co-operated, telling them all they wanted to know. She said they all hated Morgan and relished the thought that the two strangers may kill him.
The two escorts usually accompanied the girls to the study, where Morgan paid them from a safe in the wall. The escorts would then leave and pick them up six hours later. The times the girls gave them checked with the two friends’ own observations. The girls wanted to help, but Zup and Miller trusted no one. They continued on, as if interested in the girls offer, but were going to move fast if the plan worked.
Zup pulled up at the gate. His American accent was of advantage as he spoke into the security system microphone.
“Good times are here again,” said Zup. The gates opened and Zup drove in and stopped by one of Morgan’s guards just inside. Miller followed the sequence they had observed and opened the door for the guard to look inside. He had a quick glance and waved them on, following the limousine up the short driveway. The girls climbed out, making their way up the steps through the main door and into the study to one side of the hall. Zup and Miller followed behind.
Morgan sat at an elaborate wooden desk, hand carved by Columbi
an craftsman, with a bearded character standing to his left and another armed man to his right. As Zup entered the room, he pulled out his automatic pistol and shot the armed man in the head and chest until he fell to the floor. The girls threw themselves on the floor, crawling to the walls. Morgan’s guard, who met them in the drive, had stayed outside the main entrance. He ran back through the main door when he heard the shots and looked straight into the barrel of Miller’s pistol where he had been waiting for him in the hall. The guard began to raise his weapon but Miller fired several times, turning his chest into pulp. Zup stood silent, with his pistol aimed at Morgan’s head from just inside the study door. Morgan and the bearded character held their hands wide in front of them.
“Zup, fancy seeing you here. I’m sure we can sort out whatever the problem is,” said Morgan, his left check twitching nervously.
Miller walked in the study, pistol raised.
“Holy shit, Miller, I don’t know how you guys got here, but you are in a lot of trouble. Put down your guns and let me sort it out for you,” said Morgan with a forced smile.
Miller walked to Morgan’s desk bringing his pistol down across Morgan’s face, sending him crashing from his chair to the floor. Miller and Zup knew that ambassador Mortimer was due to arrive at Morgan’s in an hour and they didn’t have much time.
“I’m on an errand for Mr McDonald. You know Mr McDonald, don’t you Morgan, Malinda’s father. He wants his daughter back and you are going to tell us why that’s not possible,” said Miller. Miller frisked the bearded character, pulling a pistol from a body holster inside his jacket. He bashed him on the side of the head with it and the bearded character fell to the floor. Miller kicked him hard in the kidney.
“That should keep him quiet till we need him. Now Morgan tell us how you killed Malinda,” said Miller.
Miller put his pistol away in his holster and pulled Morgan up by his jacket lapels, pinning him to the wall. The girls watched, huddled together at the base of a side wall. The American girl translated the conversation to her friends while Zup held his pistol ready to cover Miller. Miller took Morgan’s pistol from inside his jacket, holstering it in his belt, then grabbed Morgan’s hand forcing back his fingers and breaking them, as Morgan screamed with pain.
“I had to kill her! She knew too much! If someone hadn’t disturbed me, no one would have known. She didn’t know what happened. I put her to sleep from behind before I did anything. I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me,” cried Morgan. Miller stood back and pulled out his pistol again, raising it at Morgan. Morgan dropped to his knees. Zup levelled his gun at Morgan and spoke.
“I have a message for you from Jason Brinkly. He said he hates you, and so di I!” shouted Zup.
Morgan spat at Miller. “Kiss my arse you bastards,” he shouted. Miller and Zup emptied their pistols into Morgan’s body. He slumped to the floor, bleeding and twitching. Zup and Miller replaced the empty magazines in their pistols and turned their attention to the bearded character. Miller lifted him from the floor to the desk by grasping him with one hand round his neck, sitting him in front of him on the edge of the desk. The bearded character still held his head and kidney in pain.
“Show us where the paperwork, money and weapons are,” demanded Miller, staring into his eyes at point blank range.
“I’ll show you everything, just don’t hurt me,” whimpered the bearded character.
“Start talking,” said Miller. The terrified man opened a safe behind a picture on the wall adjacent to the desk. It contained money, forged government documents, American and Colombian, with explicit information on contacts, lists of deals present and future. He then showed them a trap door in the hallway, revealing steps to an underground level of the mansion. Miller dragged him down the steps to a series of four rooms, three containing enough weapons to equip a small army, the other a room safe. The bearded character slowly opened it; gold, coke, money and more documents revealing the identity of Morgan’s dealings and contacts all over the world. Zup and Miller tied the bearded character to the chair behind the desk in the study, and then sorted through the papers, selecting revealing letters and falsified documentation damaging to Ambassador George Mortimer, then faxed them to John McDonald’s personal fax, first ringing him to tell him of Morgan’s fate requesting he hold the information they had sent him so they could blackmail Mortimer into co-operating with them. John McDonald was pleased and relieved at their result, agreeing to help them.
The four women were still huddled against the wall in the study as Miller and Zup frantically went about their business. The American girl told them that many people in Colombia hated Morgan, but no one could touch him; his contacts with the police and government protecting him. She insisted they were succeeding where others had failed.
They had hidden the bodies by the time Mortimer’s limousine pulled in through the gate. The gate control and intercom were on the wall by the main door and Zup and Miller opened the gate for them, saying nothing on the intercom and stood either side of the door waiting. Mortimer and his son walked in. Miller grabbed Mortimer, holding a pistol to his temple, then dragged him into the study. Zup followed with his son. The women had moved from the floor and sat watching in silence from a large leather lounge under the window, still huddled together. Miller and Zup put Mortimer and his son on chairs in front of the desk, ruffling their expensive suit jackets, looking straight at the bearded character, tied to a chair behind the desk. Miller continued to hold a gun at Mortimer’s head.
“We’re friends of Morgan’s who has unfortunately met with a bad accident. We know the set up here and have sent some sensitive information to a friend of ours in Australia.” Miller handed some papers to Mortimer, who studied them. Miller continued. “We have plenty of contacts for the operation and want to continue where Morgan has left off. You can join us and go on, or we’ll kill you and shoot our way out. What’s it going to be?” asked Miller.
“You’re mad and as good as dead. What friend have you sent this information to?” asked Mortimer. Miller picked up a phone. He rang John McDonald on his personal line.
“Senator McDonald, I have Ambassador Mortimer here, whom we spoke of earlier. Can you inform him of the problem he has?” asked Miller and handed the phone to Mortimer. Mortimer listened, saying nothing and putting the phone slowly back on the desk after McDonald had related the extent of the information to him and the consequences of using it, if he lost contact with Miller or Zup.
“This is a set up. I don’t believe it. Am I right?” asked Mortimer, looking at the bearded character. The beaten and terrified man shook his head, then looked at the floor. “This is crap. Like I said you guys are dead. Now let us out of here. Now!” continued Mortimer.
“We’re wasting our time Zup. Finish it and let’s get going,” Miller said, turning his gun on the bearded character, shooting him in the head and chest, the impact toppling the chair and his body to the floor. Zup grabbed Mortimer’s son from behind pulling him and his chair backwards, till he fell to the floor screaming for mercy. Miller turned his gun on Mortimer; Mortimer stood up screaming, with his hands above his head.
“Stop, stop! I don’t know who you are, but now I believe you! Morgan had become a big problem; you may have done a lot of people a favour. Show me his body,” said Mortimer. They led Mortimer and his son to the basement where they had put Morgan and his friend’s bodies. “Okay, who are you and what do you have in mind?” asked Mortimer.
“I’m Miller, this is Zup. We had to take care of a few people on the way here. We got Morgan by substituting ourselves for the girl’s driver and escort. We were followed out of Bogota when we got here too. Get the police off our arse, can you do that?” asked Miller.
“Life is cheap in Colombia Mr Miller. A few thousand dollars will see all this blamed on rival drug trafficking operators. I couldn’t have done a better job here myself. For my co-operation I want fifty percent of everything. Morgan had got too greedy; a lot of people were trying to get
rid of him. You have succeeded where others have failed,” replied Mortimer. Miller looked at Zup who nodded.
“Fifty percent is no problem,” said Miller. They made their way back up to the study where Miller confronted the four women. “You can go. Take your limousine.” The American girl translated for the other three. Two of the girls dropped to their knees in front of him and kissed his hand. They spoke, but he didn’t understand. He looked at the American girl.
“We’re beaten where we work and Morgan was evil to us. They think you and your friend are sent by the gods to deliver us to freedom. They’re thanking you and asking if we can stay. If we return with what’s happened we will be beaten, possibly killed,” said the American girl. Miller looked at Zup; Zup shrugged his shoulders, then nodded.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never an angel before. I say we give them their freedom,” said Zup.
“We’ll get rid of your limousine for you. You girls are free to stay with us,” said Miller.
Mortimer interrupted. “That won’t be necessary Mr Miller. The police will dispose of the limousine for us. This is the way I see it. It was very fortunate for us that you came to visit Mr Morgan when you did. Hit men from the Cucuta drug cartel, who have been after Morgan for some time, had gained access by hijacking the girls’ limousine on the way here. They blindfolded the girls and were in the process of killing us all when you interrupted them saving me, my son and the girls, in a fierce gun battle in which fortunately you were able to get the upper hand, sending the hit men fleeing from the grounds. The killers are still at large, but my son and I will be able to recognise them.”
“The police will believe this?” asked Miller.
“The chief of police is a very good friend of mine. He will be pleased with what he sees here. If we meet his financial demands they will believe whatever we tell them. From what I see here, you and your friend must be ex-military, or very experienced underworld operators,” said Mortimer.
“Both,” replied Miller.
Mortimer stood up a chair at the corner of the bulky ornate desk and sat down. He smiled with a reassuring nod. “I’m sure we have a lot of questions for each other before I call the police and we need to sort through Morgan’s paperwork for relevant documents requiring attention. I think you’ll find that Mr Morgan has left his entire estate to you two very good friends from Australia. Welcome to Colombia. In fact I can help you with entry to America and all necessary paperwork to become nationals. I need the likes of you in some areas of operation; this could be my lucky day. Let’s talk.”
