The Devil's Shadow: A Gun-for-Hire Thriller

by J E Higgins

  “Thanks,” he replied. “I guess my wild, vice-ridden, depraved party can finally commence.”

  Grabbing the towel slung over her shoulder, she swatted him playfully across the head. She was about to continue when she was stopped by the harsh voice of Kusaki Ito speaking from behind her. Crane’s attention quickly turned to the Kusaki, and she took that as her cue to leave. Chilled by the Asian man’s cold glare, she turned and started walking away. As she passed Kusaki, he gave her a slight grunt of acknowledgment as he brushed by. When it came to business, the Japanese man had little time or patience for women. They had no place in such affairs other than to serve drinks and meals then depart.

  Sliding into the chair next to Crane, he leaned in close. “The contact my friends gave us has proven accurate. He should be able to aid us over there as well as getting us what we need.”

  “When we need it?” the Welshman asked.

  “Generally, when we need it,” Kusaki replied cocking his head slightly to the side. Not having operated much in the Western Hemisphere as a mercenary, Crane’s black-market connections were not very good. And, not wanting to draw their friend Pizzaro in any deeper for such a dangerous operation, it was necessary to look elsewhere to find a supply connection they could use once they were in South America. He had been killing time in the bar while Kusaki left to meet with his contacts.

  Thankfully, Kusaki had developed connections with the Yakuza that ruled the Japanese underworld. They were the Japanese equivalent to the Italian Mafia. Like the mafia, they too had extended their enterprise to other parts of the world. Some time ago he had been approached by a representative of Kumicho, the boss of the Inagawa Kai, the third largest criminal syndicate in Japan, and one of the first to expand its enterprises outside of the country.

  Being interested in developing business in Malaysia, one of their officials had been sent to the country to establish a foothold. A few weeks later the official was kidnapped and his assistant and bodyguards killed by members of an Islamic rebel group that took him into the jungle.

  The group sent word they wanted to discuss ransom for the man’s safe return. Fearing it would make them appear weak to other criminal groups or make them prime targets for future acts of this sort, the Inagawa leadership opted to try a rescue mission or at least strike hard against the Islamists to send a message.

  Not wanting to trust a mission of such importance to a foreigner and without the military expertise within their own ranks, they turned to the small community of Japanese mercenaries they knew to find someone. In their search, the name that consistently surfaced as the man who could pull off what they needed was Kusaki Ito.

  Accepting the job, Kusaki planned his mission and tracked the Islamists to their base of operation. He and his team assaulted the camp, seizing several ranking members of the group, leaving numerous dead, and demolishing the camp. They also sent assorted severed appendages to the Islamists, and a prisoner exchange was quickly negotiated.

  In the end, the Inagawa kai got what they wanted ─ their man back and a reputation among their peers that they were a group to be feared. In exchange, Kusaki was handsomely paid for his services and now had developed strong connections to the powerful syndicate that had an extensive network throughout the world. Deciding they would have the best means for finding someone Crane could work with, Kusaki opted to tap into those connections.

  “Well, if your associates trust this guy, I guess we’ll have to as well,” Crane responded with a slight grimace. He didn’t like working with strangers, but they had little choice.

  “My people have never let me down,” Kusaki reassured his friend. “I’ve arranged a meeting for tonight.”

  “I’m game. What time?”

  “Around 2300 hours.”

  “Good. That gives us time for a spot of tea and a chance to enjoy some of the sights before we have to go.”

  Kusaki nodded. Crane downed his drink in a single gulp. He dropped a few bucks on the table for payment and the two departed.

  Ciudad del Este is a city that sets on the Paraguay side of the Parana River. It is a thriving metropolis that exists in the jungle depths virtually in the middle of nowhere. In many ways, it was the perfect location for Crane to use as a base of operation. Not only did it place his team in the region near their target, but it provided several other benefits.

  Cuidad del Este had been established by Alfredo Stroessner during his autocratic reign over the country. It had been created with the intent of being a haven for the black market and for enterprising criminals looking for a place to ply their entrepreneurial talents.

  For decades the isolated city had been known as a virtual Mecca for the criminal world hosting armies of hustlers, revolutionaries, mercenaries, drug traffickers, gun runners, hit men, pirates, smugglers, and any other forms of professional criminals. It also hosted delegations from nearly every major criminal group in the world; various Asian syndicates, including the Chinese Triads and Yakuza, as well as various Italian syndicates, the Russian Volga, and many other East European gangs that had taken their businesses global.

  It set them in the heart of a community that provided numerous contacts and access to resources. Not wanting to attract attention from the wrong people in a sea of criminal dealings, the activities of Crane and his team would easily go unnoticed. Here they would simply be dismissed by anyone they did business with as just another customer off to fight in one of the several hostilities going on in remote parts of the continent.

  Exiting the bar, as the two men walked up the street, the Welshman admired the city’s surroundings. Isolation in the dark jungles had not slowed its ascent into the modern world. The city teemed with sleek new high-rise buildings and glossy skyscrapers. The streets bustled with cars and were lined with businesses. Everywhere there were signs of a vibrant community.

  The fringes of the city still were populated with old tenement buildings and cheaply built structures in the old neighborhoods. These were clustered around the edges of the city housing the pirate community that essentially had started it all.

  At 2300 hours, the city had become an eerie place surrounded by darkness. The colorful and cheery environment seen in the daytime now took on a more sinister quality. Its true soul was emerging under the tawdry signs of sleazy establishments catering to the vices of the depraved and the businesses of criminals.

  Crane and Kusaki ambled across the street towards a building called the Cicero House where they were to meet Kusaki’s contact. The bar turned out to be a good choice for a clandestine meeting. It was a rather obscure establishment that didn’t attract a lot of attention or fanfare and, as Crane could see upon entering, generally catered to the likes of ex-soldiers, guerrillas, and para-military types making it easier for him and Kusaki to fit in. It was the perfect place for conducting their business. They would be written off as just two more ex-adventurers looking for kindred spirits.

  Walking over to the bar, they sat next to a burly man who looked like a Russian bear wrestler. “Can I get you anything?” he asked in heavily accented Spanish after seeing the two men staring at him. That was clearly not his first language.

  “We have an appointment with Mr. Konjou,” Kusaki replied.

  Nodding his head, the man reached over and picked up a small red phone from its cradle. He spoke into it using some Eastern European language that sounded more natural. Lowering the phone, he directed the mercenaries to a back room by tilting his head toward a dark brown door in the far corner of the establishment.

  The two men rose from their seats and started walking. As they reached the door, a man at a nearby table rose from his seat and walked over to intercept them. He was a large muscular figure towering over both Crane and Kusaki when he stood up. The man at the bar gave a slight wave granting passage for the mercenaries. Obeying the order, the giant turned and reached for the door. He glared at the two men suspiciously as they passed him heading into the back room. The giant assumed a readiness to spring into v
iolence at the first hint of trouble from them.

  They were then met by a young Asian woman who looked to be in her teens. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a torn black T-shirt. She appeared irritated that she had to take the mercenaries to their meeting. She led them down a hall where they were met by an Asian man in a grey suit and a shirt with an open collar who appeared to be in his early sixties. He had a neatly groomed mane of silver hair and face that was just beginning to show lines of aging.

  The young woman spoke to the older man in Japanese and then disappeared back through the door. Crane didn’t understand any of what had just transpired, and Kusaki didn’t feel it necessary to translate. Their attention was focused on the man in the grey suit as he went behind his desk. In the subdued light, Crane noticed other men in the room. They were on the far sides of the room at the back. He also caught sight of another man behind him. They were probably grey suit’s security.

  By the way they were dispersed, it was obvious their choice of locations was by design. They were far enough away that they wouldn’t be within reach of someone who might suddenly accost them. They covered every corner of the meeting room while staying out of each other’s line of fire.

  What Crane found more interesting was that all the security men were dressed entirely in black. While it looked cool in the movies and promoted a more gangster-like image to be in such clothing, it was also a pragmatic tactical consideration. Japanese puppeteers had long practiced dressing in black during shows as a way for the audience to forget about them and focus on the puppets. Criminals also capitalized on this strategy. Dressing in black while conducting business in places with low lighting made it easy for guards to be forgotten, thus giving them a serious edge if a situation turned violent.

  Grey Suit behaved in an agitated manner that matched the mood of the young woman who had led them here. Grey Suit gave the impression that he had somewhere else he would rather be right now and was being kept from it by this business.

  Judging by the man’s expensive appearance, Crane figured he had left a high-class club to be here and was anxious to get back to his preferred business. He eyed both mercenaries and then began speaking. Crane took a step back and allowed Kusaki to lead the negotiations. He had far more experience dealing with the Yakuza, and Grey Suit didn’t look interested in speaking with a gaijin barbarian.

  Kusaki knew little about this man ─ only that he represented a lot of the Yakuza’s interests in South America. The arrangement of this evening’s meeting was made through a trusted contact in Japan.

  “You must have some powerful friends at home,” Grey Suit began as he leaned back in his chair and eyed the mercenary carefully. “It isn’t every day I get contacted by such important figures to have a meeting like this.” Grey Suit spoke with the polished voice of someone who had an education, and Kusaki presumed that the man normally didn’t frequent such establishments unless it was for business reasons.

  “I know a few people,” Kusaki replied, keeping his answers vague.

  Grey Suit pressed his fingers to his lips and let out a short sigh. “Whatever else, it has led to this meeting, nonetheless. What do you require?”

  “We have dealings that require some military equipment and weapons,” Kusaki explained still keeping his answers strictly to the point.

  “That I understood,” Grey Suit replied. “Will the operation be here in Paraguay?”

  “What does it matter? The money is still the same,” the mercenary replied.

  Grey Suit didn’t feel the need to press the matter. In his business asking about specifics could be dangerous. Besides, he figured he had a good idea of what was going on. Looking at the two men standing before him it was an easy guess that they were professional soldiers, mercenary types.

  That they were buying weapons in a shady backroom suggested they were not with some private military company operating in an official capacity; they were freelancers working entirely off the books for some anonymous employer. Such types were a rather common entity in South America. Left-wing guerrilla groups were always emerging throughout the region to be meddlesome irritations or dangerous threats.

  Since South American countries were often barred from dealing with these groups by self-righteous western governments. Using hired soldiers to mitigate such problems had become a long-standing practice by anyone with financial means. That said, he simply assumed he was dealing with mercenaries who had been hired to deal with a problem.

  Kusaki continued, “We’re going to need an assortment of small arms ─ rifles, preferably carbines, and handguns .40 caliber auto.”

  “You’re rather specific,” Grey Suit began. “I can accommodate a lot of demands, provided the money is right.”

  “We’re looking for quality weapons, preferably Armalite models, if that’s possible,” Kusaki explained. He took care to ensure that the weapons variety met two standards: what they bought was practical for their needs and sophisticated enough for the mission, and generic enough to the region that it couldn’t be easily traced.

  Grey Suit shrugged. “As far as tactical rifles go, right now what I have available at this moment are Brazilian ParaFal M964.” Reaching into a drawer in his desk, he produced a thick paper catalog. Contrary to spy novels and movies, arms dealers were not inclined to keep inventory where they worked nor did they bring potential buyers to where they held their inventory, it was a good way to get robbed.

  Flipping through some pages he slid the book across to where Kusaki could see it. There was a picture describing an Armalite variant carbine with a folding stock and a short barrel. On the page was a description of the weapon. Firing a 7.62 caliber round, it was used extensively by the Brazilian security forces to include many of their Special Forces units. Kusaki passed the magazine over to Crane who looked over the page. As he read, he nodded approvingly.

  However, there was another weapon that caught Crane’s eye and also met with Kusaki’s approval. The IA2 was a domestic Brazilian-made replacement for several pre-existing western type weapons: the Belgian made FAL rifles, the American made M-16, and the German-made HK33. A folding stock model used heavily by the ground forces of the Brazilian military for rural operations. It was known for durability in extreme environments including the jungles.

  Kusaki inquired about the IA2, which Grey Suit explained was also an easily obtainable weapon. The next issue was handguns. It was decided that the Glock model would best suit their situation and needs. It was the easiest to procure given how extensively it was used throughout the South American armed forces.

  The final topic was sniper rifles. Grey Suit explained that with the turmoil going on in Venezuela, he had a good line on some quality models that would probably fit their needs nicely. When it came to the issue of explosives, Grey Suit became a little less accommodating. He had no trouble honoring the request for Semtex, of which he had a sizeable inventory that he could sell. Acquiring grenades and more specialized explosives, things became more complicated.

  On the subject of grenade launchers, Grey Suit pushed the Chinese made QLZ-87, of which he apparently had an inventory and seemed intent on unloading it. Crane didn’t like this weapon system. It was a rotary model and not the most practical for moving around in the jungle. It was also tripod mounted, designed to be stationary, and needed to be fired from a seated location, thus rendering the weapon absolutely out of the question.

  After lengthy deliberations, the negotiations concluded with the mercenaries obtaining half a dozen of the more desirable Russian made GM-94s. That system was rather scarce in Africa but was more available in South America where the Russians were trying to build their arms business with former client states from the cold war days. It was a weapon that carried up to three rounds with an additional fourth in the chamber. It had a range of up to 500 meters, was easy to sight, and operated on the same principle as a pump action shotgun. Its simplicity was designed specifically for use in extremely rugged terrain.

  The rest o
f the meeting revolved around basic tactical gear, which Grey Suit had a surplus from Venezuela. He once again produced brochures to describe what he could acquire. He could also accommodate their request for vests, night vision optics, and other assorted pieces.

  Grey Suit quoted a price of five hundred thirty thousand to be paid in US currency for what they ordered. Kusaki relayed the message to Crane who gave a slight nod of acceptance followed by a request that the money be paid through a transfer at the Streltsy Club.

  Grey Suit responded to the request with a gesture of irritation. The Streltsy Club doubled as a high-end casino and was a major source of revenue for the Volga, the powerful Russian mafia. It was no secret that the Volga and factions of the Yakuza had tense relations in the region as a result of several conflicting business interests. It was exactly why Crane had chosen the location. He assumed that if Grey Suit and his people had any intentions of a double cross, they wouldn’t pull it off in the Volga controlled territory. Grey Suit made a few attempts to change the location to someplace the Yakuza controlled. Crane firmly insisted on using the Streltsy Club. The Yakuza capitulated, and the two mercenaries took their leave and left the way they had come.

  Chapter 16

  The next day Crane and Kusaki left. With their business concluded, they decided it was time to meet up with the team. After spending several tedious weeks in Europe carefully recruiting and assembling their team, they were brought into the country through Guarani International Airport. From there, they were taken to their training facility and headquarters. For the last week, while Crane and Kusaki had been arranging everything in Ciudad del Este, McNaulty had been working with the team to unify their training doctrine for the mission and developing a plan.

  When Crane and Kusaki arrived in the country, they drove until they found the road that took them through a labyrinth of old trails that led around a series of abandoned farms overgrown by a thick, tangled jungle. After a half hour, they reached an entrance marked by a rotted wooden fence. The truck fought its way through the clinging foliage as they traversed a poorly defined trail that had once been a road.