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

by J E Higgins

  Crane felt the brunt in his spine of every jolt as it came up through the thin padding of his seat. At one point, he began to worry that he might not be able to walk after this trip. They emerged from the thickets in front of a series of old structures that had once been a farm. The main house was a dilapidated structure that had once been the barn, and there were a few run-down weathered shacks half hidden in the bushes. It looked as foreboding as something out of a horror movie. They pulled up next to a faded white Volvo van parked near the house.

  Escaping the truck, they were met by a group of men emerging from one of the shacks. All were dressed in dark camouflage attire and some basic tactical gear. Leading the group was Charles ‘Charley’ Mulgrane, a large man who stepped up to them and smiled wickedly through the dark face paint that covered his skin. “Wondering when you lot would finally get here,” he said in a deep voice heavily flavored with an Irish brogue. “Spending all that time in the city, we figured yer got lost and decided ta leave us out here.”

  “And miss all of this?” Crane joked back as he jerked his head in the direction of the landscape. “I want my play time in the bushes too.”

  Following closely behind Charley were six more men who had taken up places circling Crane and Kusaki. These men were the team for this operation. Having been carefully and methodically recruited in France, they had arrived a little over a week ago and had been operating out of the farmhouse that Crane and Kusaki had scoped out in advance. They had already been training in the surrounding jungle. The terrain afforded them a particularly well-suited place to rehearse.

  Crane made his rounds slowly, shaking hands and making it clear that he vouched for every one of them. He had carefully chosen these people and contacted them specifically. In addition to the Irishmen, Ramon Espinoza and Pedro Sandoval, two former members of the Spanish Grupo de Operaciones Especiales, or the 19 Special Operations Group, known better as the Caballero Maderal Oleaga were there. Both men were superb commandos who would not only be good with the language but could help the team operate more smoothly in the area.

  Since Crane didn’t have much experience working with South American soldiers, he did not want to risk a security threat by recruiting South American soldiers himself. Ramon and Pedro were the next best thing. Even if they had different accents than where they would be working, they could still navigate the complications of dealing with slang and other cultural issues that tended to confuse a non-native speaker better than he could.

  Next in the group was an Australian, Regan Harkness, a former soldier with the Australian Special Air Service Regiment where he had been a sergeant before getting out. Crane and Kusaki had first come across him during a tour in Afghanistan. He had found work as a freelance mercenary working largely in Southeast Asia, but he had been part of Kusaki’s team when they raided the Malayan guerrilla camp. He was a highly experienced jungle fighter and Special Forces soldier.

  Jean Rubian and Rene Macron, two French-speaking Belgians, had served in the 3rd Reg of the Foreign Legion with Kusaki.

  Irishman, Ian Sally, who along with Mulgrane, had been in the Royal British Marines.

  The remaining man in the group was Dugan McNaulty, who had been left in charge and was running the training. They all looked tired and the smell of sweat and unclean bodies was evidence that they had not been lagging about in the boss’s absence.

  All the men chosen were seasoned fighters and highly trained by some of the most professional militaries in the world. What was more important, they were men who could be trusted. In addition, they all spoke fluent English which would alleviate communication problems within the team. Given the level of complexity associated with this operation, Crane needed to be sure he had men who could be flexible and intelligent at every turn.

  After the pleasantries, the men broke for lunch and made for the truck where they retrieved several bags containing food that Crane and Kusaki had picked up from a Chinese takeout restaurant. After they retreated to the house, McNaulty remained. Wearily he removed the floppy boonie cover from his head.

  “How’s the training going?” Crane asked.

  McNaulty took a few breaths as he ran his hand through his sweaty mop of hair. “The way it should be,” he said sounding exhausted. “The boys are good, you picked well, and they’re working well together. We seem to be putting together a training plan that everyone’s comfortable with.”

  Any time a team was being assembled from backgrounds as diverse as these, there was always the complication of getting through the disparity of tactical approaches and experience. People from like military backgrounds tended to group together keeping tactical integrity. This wasn’t the case with a small precision group like this. For their operation to be successful, they needed to ensure that all tactics employed were universal amongst the group. McNaulty had been seeing to that while Crane and Kusaki dealt with finalizing the logistics of the operation.

  “Good. That saves a lot of time,” Crane replied. “Though I know these boys and trust them to be a solid lot, I was still worried that egos might still flare up and complicate things. When you have professional soldiers coming from different militaries like this, it tends to create pissing contests with everyone thinking they have the superior skill and experience.”

  “Oh, like I said, we had some initial issues,” McNaulty began. “Mulgrane, being a Royal Marine, tends to think he‘s a cut above. You know, the type who sees his people as the ones who set the standards for everyone else to follow. And Espinoza, one of the Spanish boys, gets annoyed more by him than the others. So, he likes to keep reminding us he’s former Special Forces. But aside from that, there isn’t much trouble. Otherwise, I think pretty much everybody else accepts that everyone here is no novice to the trade and that makes it easier for training to move more smoothly.”

  “Good.”

  “How’s the equipment end going?” McNaulty asked, scratching his head releasing drops of sweat in the process. The mercenaries had been practicing with branches and sticks for weapons.

  “We’ll find out shortly,” Kusaki interjected in his normal cold manner. “However, my sources are quite reliable, and I’m sure that we should have everything we will need.”

  “I think we should join the team and get a spot of lunch,” Crane recommended. The trio moved in the direction of the house. They joined the men who had taken up spots arbitrarily along the walls as they gorged themselves on egg noodles, orange chicken, and Kung-pow chicken. There was very little discussion amongst the men. This was the first seasoned meal they had enjoyed in a while. It was also the first meal they had that was not brought in from a nearby village. Their diet for the last several days had been water, fruit, and grains, with the addition of some fish from the lake. They had been making do, cooking over an open pit fire, and dining on tasteless fare.

  Grabbing a dish from the variety of trays laid across an old wooden table, Crane, Kusaki, and McNaulty sat and began munching away. Sensing that his comrades were in the mood to discuss operations, McNaulty began his update. “I’ve started working up an outline for the mission like you asked.”

  “How is that going?” Crane asked.

  “It’s not a full plan just yet, but, at least, it’s a start,” McNaulty began as he chewed another mouthful.

  After they finished eating, McNaulty led Crane and Kusaki outside, leaving the rest of the men to fully enjoy the break. He took them to one of the sheds and showed them a large terrain model of the processing lab that was set up on the ground. It was a fairly decent depiction of what they had recced in Peru.

  Crane moved around the large model that took up most of the center of the floor. He scrutinized it critically while the other two men stood by quietly. Having not seen the site from an overhead position, the model was remarkably accurate and captured all the detail of the facilities on a realistic scale.

  “This is damn good work,” he complimented McNaulty still keeping his eyes fixed to the model.

  “We spe
nt a good bit of time on it,” McNaulty replied. “We also spent a great deal of time going over the intelligence information and the pictures. These last few days we’ve routinely spent the morning devising plans and the afternoon practicing tactics.”

  “Have you come up with something viable?” Kusaki interjected as he turned his focus on McNaulty as if suspicious of his assertion.

  Ignoring Kusaki, McNaulty continued, “Right now, as the boys and I see it, this is what we are dealing with.” He started over to the far end of the model. Taking a stick, he pointed to an area where the camp pressed up closest to the surrounding vegetation. “The beauty of this camp is that the emphasis is more on concealing it than protecting it. The surrounding vegetation has been allowed to hug the camp, and in some places grow into it.”

  “That much I remember,” Crane replied as he listened.

  McNaulty went on. “So, we have a couple of good advantages working for us. There are no serious barriers that we have to overcome. There is a lot of concealment we can use that allows us to infiltrate the site without having to cross any open spaces reducing the chance of getting discovered. The other positive is that everything is housed in grass and wood huts with a lot of flammable materials everywhere which should make causing mass destruction pretty easy.”

  Crane began shaking his finger. “Remember, these boys have been running this operation for quite some time. We have to factor in the fact that unless we cause mass destruction, they are likely to have their operation up and running again in short order after we’re gone. We have to make sure the damage is devastating enough to get the boss out there and cause a serious uproar in Mexico. We have to burn this place to cinders.”

  “I agree,” McNaulty nodded.

  “So far, it looks like it’s on track,” Crane finally raised his head to look at the other two men. “We’ll fine-tune the plan over the course of the next few days.” Accepting the initial plan, the three men left the shed to return to the house.

  Chapter 17

  Cameron Ashler walked calmly along the street. To anyone bothering to notice him, he would have been dismissed quickly as just another foreign tourist enjoying the sights. One hand was in his pocket, a pair of sleek dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and his pale white buttoned shirt was flapping freely in the breeze. He moved leisurely showing no particular interest in anything, but he occasionally eyed one of the many shops along the sidewalk. He was just a man out enjoying a warm sunny day.

  In reality, his intentions were anything but recreational. Arbitrarily picking a shop along his route, he took the time to eye the large glass window. Making sure to pick a place where the shop was dark enough to allow a reflection in the window, he carefully surveyed the area behind him. An old spy trick that had been taught for decades, it was still quite effective against those not very expert in the art of surveillance. He had plied this exercise repeatedly to see if he could spot the same people or vehicles showing up at the same places.

  He had taken several streets moving in random directions and often changing course at the last minute. As an additional precaution, his dark sunglasses masked his eye movement making it easier for him to scan his surroundings without giving himself away. This exercise had lasted throughout the morning.

  Reasonably satisfied he was not being followed, he boarded a bus and took a seat at the far end so he could keep track of everyone getting on it. It also gave him access to the back window to check his six. A vehicle would be hard to miss if it was painstakingly trying to stay behind a public transportation vehicle that made frequent stops.

  Luckily the bus was sparsely occupied making it easy to observe the actions of everyone. At the last minute, a young woman dressed in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket came on board. She looked quickly in the Englishman’s direction before taking her seat. This heightened his senses as he sat back and pretended to be indifferent.

  After a couple of stops, Ashler exited the bus onto a random street corner. As he started out the door he glanced at the young woman. She was concentrating entirely on her phone and texting away, completely oblivious as he left the bus. He started to walk away and waited. No one followed him out, not even the young woman. Just before the bus was about to depart, he quickly jumped back on pretending he had accidentally gotten off at the wrong stop. It was a trick he had picked up in the Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR), the Special Forces arm of the British army responsible for high-level surveillance and intelligence collection. Re-entering the bus, he walked past the young girl, observing her in the reflection on his glasses. She was still ensconced in the activities on her phone. If she was tailing him, she was damn good.

  He exited the bus again, this time for real. He walked a short distance to another stop just a block over. The young girl didn’t follow him, and he was confident he was alone. He grabbed the next bus as it came to a halt, once again taking the rear seat. He repeated this pattern for two more bus rides until he arrived at the Zocalo district.

  Zocalo was another shopping district crowded with small shops that catered to tourists. By mid-afternoon, the area was packed with crowds of visiting foreigners particularly anxious to soak up the local culture. Ashler walked through the district at a slow pace. It was easy to disappear in this large crowd.

  Before long he felt a soft feminine hand brush gently across his own. Keeping his head straight, he slanted his eyes at a young woman with coffee skin who was walking alongside him. It was clear she wasn’t Mexican, more likely from India.

  “I understand you have something for me,” she stated in a refined English accent.

  “I do,” he replied focusing eyes straight ahead. There was no exchange of code words or any ritual conducted to verify each other’s identity before they continued their clandestine meeting. They both knew each other very well. The woman was Major Sarah Dijoubi, his commanding officer in the SRR and in charge of the Mexico assignment he was on.

  “I take it you weren’t able to procure any of those documents for us?” Major Dijoubi inquired.

  “No,” he replied. “With everyone worried about the cartel penetrating the operation, everyone is being watched too closely.”

  The woman pursed her lips slightly revealing her dismay at the explanation, but she had been in intelligence work long enough to know such things were a reality, and they could not be avoided. “What were you able to ascertain?”

  Ashler continued, “During our last raid, we came across some information on a business called the Santiago Shipping Company. Agent Darson discovered some memos at the crime scene and began following up on the information that was seized.”

  “Do you feel this has some particular value to us?” she inquired.

  “Yes,” Ashler responded. “I think it’s what we’ve been looking for. From what the Americans have ascertained, Santiago Shipping is a front for the Black Crow.”

  “One of many I imagine,” Major Dijoubi surmised.

  Ashler nodded in agreement. “They have thousands of fronts from what I’ve seen. In this case, this business is of particular interest. It started out as a moderate sized shipping business that traveled to assorted ports along the West African coast. The business was bought by a retired businessman with a spotless record and no connection to any criminal organizations.”

  “That’s the normal practice of criminal groups when creating front companies, she replied. “Though the connection to Africa is of particular interest.”

  Ashler continued, “Since the company changed its ownership, the cartel has pumped steady amounts of capital into it. Of course, this financial backing officially comes from numerous foreign investors. However, the documents we reviewed show that the cartel bought this company with the specific intention of growing it into a large shipping operation and has so far tripled its fleet with brand new, large-size cargo ships.”

  “You’re piquing my interest,” the Major said stoically.

  Ashler went on, “What’s more, looking at the long-term plans f
or the company, it appears that they’re looking to expand their shipping routes along the Gulf of Guinea.”

  “One of the great regions is hot with Islamic radicalism,” the Major quipped. “Boko Haram is known to be rather flush with financial resources, and franchises of ISIS are known to be gaining momentum.”

  “It’s the next big battlefield after Syria and Iraq,” Ashler pointed out. “And, it’s apparent that Black Crow is looking to the future there as the next big arms market.”

  “You think that through this shipping company they plan on being able to equip a sizable army eventually?” Major Dijoubi remained steady, not allowing any emotions to betray her as she considered the details of the debriefing.

  “It makes sense,” Ashler went on. “The region is awash with warring factions. Even after the Islamic militants, you have the counter movements that have emerged as private vigilante groups formed to combat Boko Haram, al Qaeda, and all the rest, all on their own. They’ll also be in the market for better weapons, and I’m sure that fact hasn’t gone unnoticed by Black Crow who is planning on selling extensively to both sides.”

  “And with Western-made weapons,” she exclaimed.

  “All weapons,” Ashler added. “Even corrupt regimes, like Russia and the other Eastern Bloc countries, are more discriminating about exactly who they sell to these days when it comes to the more sophisticated arms. They will happily sell dated AK-47s but not the more modern weaponry and certainly not the more modern armaments. Black Crow will bridge that gap.”

  For the first time, Major Dijoubi nodded. “Then you’re possibly right. This could be the very target we’re looking to exploit.”