by C. L. Jones
Snapping back to the present he showered, dressed, headed back to his hooch to drop his shower gear and walked to the mess hall. He enjoyed another good meal and some of the best coffee he’d had in some time while he started thinking about the young man who had been in his hooch. He thought about the black bags and the guy who’d wanted to be the team captain. Pops wasn’t feeling regrets about how everything so far had unfolded but he was certain that nothing about this setup was anywhere close to being a retraining camp for the organization.
After breakfast Pops went back and sat on the small covered porch of his hooch while waiting for daylight and orders from someone to start the training events of the day. It had been a good morning so far but then Baldy appeared waving his hand and yelling for everyone to gather around. Pops thought to himself that Baldy was acting like another crazy-ass captain wannabe jerk off.
When the men had gathered around, Baldy said, “Okay guys, how about this? What do you say we do a good work out today and then tonight we can pick our leaders? The workout may show us more information about who should represent us at the showdown Friday.”
Man by man everyone looked at each other then each in their own way gave their approval and somewhere in amongst the men the old army saying came bellowing out, “It’s a go.”
Baldy standing proud in front of the men smiled and informed them, “You can call me Indy. Let’s go around and give our names as they had us on the list.” Pops thought that this was out of the norm. Most of the time no one ever knows your code name and your face but he thought, well if they put them on a list and divided us into teams based on the names on the list what’s the difference. Besides he thought, after this contest the winning team will most likely be working as a team on some mission.
As they started around the semi circle the first man on his left called out Tracker. The next guy called Cowboy, then Rocky, Surfer, Flame and then, next to the last guy was Roadside. All that was left was Pops and unlike all the others he was a bit more hesitant in using his long held code name, but finally he managed to push it out past his almost clenched lips, “Pops, they call me Pops,” he said for the first time in front of a group and in fact the first time ever in front of anyone.
Indy was a short man, who stood about five foot eight or nine and had very dark hair stubble on his face even though he was clean shaven. Tracker was a tall man about six foot three who had sported a high and tight military haircut even before the hair cut on the plane. He wasn’t much to look at, not good looking or bad looking so he was a man who would blend in, in any situation. Cowboy and Surfer looked as if they could be brothers as both were about six-foot-tall, had slender muscled bodies and both blonde hair and blue eyes. They both had what looked to be expensive haircuts before the not so expensive hair cut on the flight. Rocky looked like an athletic individual who was about six foot one or so with heavy muscled arms and wide shoulders. Roadside was another one of the group who seemed to be cut out of the same old military pattern. He was about six foot one, slender frame, good runner-type build and had a look to him like he didn’t have a care in the world. Flame was about five feet eleven and carried a little more extra weight than the others.
After ten minutes of stretches and warm-up’s the team took off on a cross-country run. Somewhere along the line someone came up with the idea that after every mile they should drop and do as many push-up and sit-ups as they could and then get up and take off running again for another mile. The weapons they carried made it a bit harder. The mile/sit ups/pushups routine was an old endurance workout that had been popular with the men in the army who’d been through the Rights of Passage and Endurance or what they liked to call, the ROPE. The team did about five miles of ROPE and then stopped and took a break. Pops could not help but think that overall this was a good bunch of guys. Every one of them had run the five miles, done the push-ups and sit-ups and not one was overly winded and he hadn’t heard any cry-babying about it. Pops spent the rest of the day watching the group. They worked out together through the morning, did some more running in the early afternoon including races up some of the steep hillsides, and had a tug of war contest in the deep sand along the river banks. All said, Pops felt pretty good about the team’s odds in the competition.
They took a break about mid afternoon while resting along the river bank in the shade of the trees. Indy stood up, stretched his arms over his head and as he brought them back to his side he asked in a tone that showed how pleased he was with the workout and maybe himself, “What do you all say, shall we start back now?” Acting like they just woke up back in their morning beds and taking a little time to respond the men finally agreed.
Pops wanted to keep up his act of being the beaten wimp, so he asked in the sheepish tone he had used before and in a weary and unwilling manner, “The same thing going back?” Everyone laughed at Pops and they took off headed back in the direction of the compound. Pops purposely fell behind. The distance from the rest of the men was just enough to be noticed but not enough to lose sight of them for any long periods of time.
Back at the compound they took a break to cool down. Pops stumbled into the compound noticeably lagging behind his fellow teammates and joined them on their break. While sitting in the shade Pops furtively watched the blue team members. He was surprised to see how most of them appeared to be worn-out and physically worn down even though they had never left the compound. They’d spent the day doing the daily dozen with a little running around the outside edge of the parade field. Watching this team and the difference between the two teams, Pops thought to himself that the cross-country workout was a better test then doing a regimen of physical jumping jacks and running in place. Pops watched each one of the blue team members and paid particular attention to the three men who’d been searching for the bag of explosives in the shower house.
Something was going on that involved explosives and Pops hadn’t figured it out yet. He figured he was lucky that he’d stumbled onto the dangerous game that was being played. It may have been luck or fate, but either way he needed to keep in mind that he was in the middle of it. He knew that in this business sleight of hand, illusion, deception and just plain old lying were on page one, sentence one and paragraph one in the rule book of dangerous games. The same rule book told Pops not to believe anything you’re told and only half of what you see, and if possible answer a question with a question when being interrogated.
Indy walked to about the center of the circle of the relaxed red team group and said, “Well boys shall we make a decision about our leader?” That’s when Pops got up still acting weak and weary and like he was just barely able to stand. He pointed his finger in Indy’s direction and said, “Well Indy, as far as I’m concerned, you did a good job today. I vote for you.” Without any more talk the rest of the group went along with Pops. One by one they gave their approval.
Indy looking very proud said, “Well who should be the two sergeants?”
And again Pops spoke up, “I vote for Cowboy and Surfer.” Just as before the group agreed with the choice. Indy looked at Pops and nodded his head in acknowledgment.
Now Pops had just what he wanted, the leadership in place and his own freedom. He’d been trying to watch the three men on the blue team but during the vote he’d lost track of them. He scanned the other side of the field and finally spotted them again as the red team members were getting up to leave. Still acting exhausted Pops picked up his weapon and said, “Well guys, I want to take a shower so I’ll see you all later.”
As the men were leaving Indy jokingly said, “Same time, same place tomorrow.” There was some muttering and mumbling amongst the team but in one way or another everyone agreed on tomorrow.
Pops wanted to keep an eye on the three guys from the blue team to see if they were up to more than they should be. He went to his hooch, walked through the open door and leaned his weapon against the wall just inside the door. He stood there looking like he was relaxing after a hard day’s work out. When he
was sure that no eyes were on him he grabbed the weapon, darted around the side of the small building and up to a line of trees where he could watch the hooches in the compound. If he was lucky he might be able to spot one of three guys if they came out of their hooch.
Like so many times in Pops’ career something always happened to help him out. He chalked these things up to his Irish luck shining through. This time it turned out that the three blue team guys weren’t in their hooches. Pops didn’t know how he’d missed it but all of a sudden he saw the three of them together a long way from where he’d been watching. They were headed for the woods.
The pressure was on because Pops had to work all the way around the tree line without making a lot of noise but still get there before he lost sight of them. He started running which was doubly hard because the brush and trees were almost invisible in the darkening evening sky. He’d just passed the place where the three had entered the woods when he saw movement about a hundred yards in front of him and slowed to a snail’s pace. Darting in and out behind the trees and brush he kept an eye on the three men. All at once they stopped.
Pops slipped behind a group of trees and thick brush to conceal his presence. He watched as the three men looked around to make sure they were alone and when they felt comfortable they dug a hole. Pops watched quietly with great interest. One of the men took a large duffle bag identical to the ones issued on the plane off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. Unzipping the bag he took out more small black bags that looked like the bags Pops’ former hooch mate had tried to hide under his bunk. The smaller bags were placed in the newly excavated hole and covered up. The three men worked to camouflage the spot kicking bushes, branches and even kicking more dirt over the fresh dirt. One of the men picked up a hand full of leaves and spread them loosely over the area. All three paused looking worried while they again checked to make sure no one had seen them. When they felt that they’d hidden the bags successfully without being observed they headed back to the compound using a roundabout route to get there.
Pops followed quietly from a distance and made sure they did not circle back. When he saw they had reached the compound and were headed for the mess hall, he headed back to the black bag hiding place taking an even different route that was even longer. He set up surveillance on the spot, deciding to do a little good old fashion recon. For two hours he saw no movement in the area so he moved in. Pops removed the camouflage debris and dug into the soft ground. It was easy digging because of being freshly overturned by the three halfwits and because it was only inches deep. It took only a few minutes to unearth the bags. He wasn’t too surprised to find more plastic explosive, a healthy stretch of detonation cord, caps and detonators when he opened one of bags. Wasting no time he grabbed the bags, replaced the dirt and camouflage debris and headed for the same place where he’d hidden the other bag.
When Pops got to the depression he lay down to stay out of sight of others. He slowly and quietly uncovered the first bag he’d hidden there and put his newfound additional treasure alongside it. He covered the bags and without giving it a thought, rolled to one side of the ditch and checked the terrain. He kept his eyes a little above ground level so he could scan the immediate area and the darkened tree forested horizon. Then he rolled to the other side of the ditch and scanned in the same manner. When he was sure it was all clear he rolled out of the ditch a few feet away from the edge, got up in slow, measured motion and worked his way back into the trees he had used earlier for cover.
Concealed by the dark of night Pops moved to a new spot to watch his stash of acquired explosives, which he thought of as a pot of volatile gold treasure. He settled in for a wait, knowing that if he could follow someone and not be observed then it was possible that someone might have returned the favor and followed him when he left his hooch. Being followed and spied on is almost always part of any mission so it is something that is constantly at the forefront of your mind.
After a time Pops pressed the green glow button to light up the face of his watch and decided he’d waited long enough to reassure his ever present sense of paranoia that he had not been followed. It was time to head back to the hooch. Tomorrow would certainly be a long day and Pops needed to get whatever sleep he could. Over the years Pops had learned that in his profession sleep was always a commodity that was in short supply.
Just as Pops was getting himself together to leave he made one final check of the area and saw a shadowed movement in the trees straight across the woods from him. The movement was just on the other side of the depression in the trees. Pops stopped dead in his tracks and used his old military training of not staring directly at the object you’re trying to make out. In the dark and with the shadows you always look off just to the side of whatever you’re trying to see. A figure slowly came out of the cover of the trees and approached the hiding place. The man walked up to the depression and cautiously looked around. He then knelt down and started to dig.
Like a night ghost, Pops took his weapon and left the trees working his way up behind the figure. The man was so intent on his job that he never heard Pops approach. With all the force that his hundred and ninety pounds could bring to bear, Pops brought the butt of his weapon down on the back of the man’s head. Unemotionally and efficiently, he bent down over his victim’s body and gave a quick check of his pulse, checking on the side of his neck first and then his wrist. The man was dead.
Pops went into autopilot, grabbing the lifeless arm and pulling it up and back to help place the body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He took off in the direction away from the compound not knowing where he was going but knowing it had to be as far away from his hiding spot as possible. While he carried the man’s body through the forest he told himself to be cool and think things through.
Bingo, there it was, a ravine with about a hundred-foot drop. Pops stood at the edge and looked over. Pops then pulled the man off his shoulders and stood him up as best as he could to get a good look at him. As always happened in these situations he had an inspiration. He picked the body up again, carried him away from the edge of the ravine to a grassy patch and laid him down as if he were a newborn baby. Pops took the man’s boots off, then took his own boots off and exchanged boots for boots with the dead man. He put the dead man’s boots on and they were a better fit then the ones he had just taken off. He put his old boots on the body as if the man had put them on himself. Pops then picked up the body again and carried him to the edge of the dark pit, doing his best not to walk anywhere where he would leave any new tracks. He silently dropped the dead man over the edge hearing the body crash into the rocks below. Pops hoped that the body would not be discovered but if it was he thought it possible that everyone would think this guy just couldn’t take it and was trying to escape from the compound.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
THE GAME BEGINS
Pops woke up and sat on the side of the bed with his eyes closed. The thing in our head most of us call our inner voice was haunting Pops. No he wasn’t feeling bad for the things he’d done on this mission so far. After all that was what he did day in and day out for a living and for his government. But his ever louder inner voice was telling him that the organization would never pull so many agents out of the field at the same time so there had to be a lot more to this retraining than was clear right now.
When the organization is looking for prospective candidates to do their work, one of the things they like to see are people who compartmentalize. Pops was good at compartmentalizing. So keeping in line with that self-possessed philosophy he ignored his inner voice. He kept repeating over and over quietly to himself, Mary, Mary, one hundred thousand dollars, one hundred thousand dollars, the good life, and a good retirement. Pops thought, when I get it everything will have been worth it.
Pops opened his eyes to another beautiful dawn. It was a beautiful morning but no matter how beautiful the day he was still tired. He was still a young man as things normally go but in this work he was starti
ng to see the day when life was going to change one way or the other.
Like every other morning he grabbed his towel, shaving kit and weapon. His plan was to head out to the shower house and then off to breakfast. But this morning when he got to the shower house it was full and he didn’t want to wait in line. So Pops decided on a change of plans. Keeping his shower stuff with him he walked over to breakfast. As it turned out it was a good plan. There was next to no one in the mess hall except for three guys at one of the tables.
As Pops approached the chow line, the server asked, “Good morning sir. It sure is strange about that guy’s disappearance, isn’t it?”
Pops looked at him with his best acting face and his well used ability to look you in the eye and lie. He said, “What guy, what disappearance?”
The cook looked surprised and said, “What d’aya mean, what guy? The one they think got lost in the dark last night.” Without any prodding from Pops the server went on, “The cadre is going to look for him today. That’s why they got to eat first.”
Pops still acting said, “Well I hope they find him or maybe he’ll find his way back in the daylight.”
Pops was almost at the end of the chow line when the server said, “Yea, it was one of the blue team.”
Letting the conversation end right there, Pops walked back to his window table. He said to himself, “My timing is great. The cadre is out looking for a dead man and I get to sleep in. And now I’m eating at a time when the mess hall is usually in the middle of shutting down and cleaning up before the next meal.”
