African Adventure Ch. 02

"I arrested them. They squawked and threatened, but I put the sons of bitches into a prisoner enclosure and called Battalion. They went ballistic. They sent the Battalion Executive Officer over to deal with the situation. He showed up an hour later and chewed me a new asshole after he let the CIA bastards loose. He ordered me to bury the bodies deep and not worry about the paperwork.

"A few months later there's an Inspector General digging around. They brought that squad up on charges of murder. The Battalion Executive Officer gets up on the stand and testifies that there were never any CIA agents around the prisoner enclosure. When I testified that there were, they ripped me apart. Every member of the squad was convicted and sent to Leavenworth. My men! Mine!

"So after the trial I asked that major what was so damn important that he would lie and send innocent men to jail, destroying their lives. He told me I didn't need to know. So I tried to kill him, probably would have if I hadn't attacked him in the Officer's Club. They pulled me off of him before I could do much more than break his nose. So they gave me a Court-Martial for Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and simple assault. My lawyer got me off with no jail time, but they reduced me to the ranks and gave me a dishonorable discharge.

"I got blind drunk for a week and then bought a ticket to France. I was waiting outside the recruiting office of the French Foreign Legion when they opened it in the morning. Anyway, when that damn Colonel called me Captain he was reminding me that I swore an oath. So that's what decided me. I may hate the CIA, the US Army, and the US Government, but I love my country," he concluded.

"You're a horrible liar, sinjoro," Sara said.

Sonia shook her head in agreement and added, "Which is why you always try to tell partial truths rather than untruths."

"You're doing this as much for us as for yourself," Sara accused.

Robert sighed.

"Too much talking," he grumped, "apply your mouths to my pleasure."

Sara kissed him.

"Jes, amasinjoro," she said.

Sonia kissed him and joined Sara at her labor.

As the Land Rover proceeded slowly down the sand and dirt road Colonel Gutierrez put a question to Mr. Smith.

"I have to know, were you really trying to establish a rapport with him?"

Smith grimaced.

"Yes," he admitted, "I was. The psychologist thought it had a low probability of success, but I figured the potential payoff was worth the attempt. Besides, his response was illuminating."

Gutierrez nodded absently.

"Yes, it was. Your psychologist suggested that his attachment to those women might be more than just lust or love. Seems she was right. That will give you some leverage with him. But you realize that sword is very, very sharp on both edges?"

"Yeah. I don't think that impalement threat was idle and I don't intend to find out. I plan to keep the threat of indictment hovering in the background and completely unspoken. Do you think he'll do an honest job?"

"He'll do a brilliant job," Gutierrez promised, "Just so long as you keep his limitations in mind. The way he behaved on that job he did in Belize City is your indicator. He repressed his sense of morality for years while he was in the Legion and now it's loose again. Worse, he's trying to live up to the expectations of two women who consider him a hero. Point him at bad guys and turn him loose, but don't expect him to turn his back in situations where he can right a wrong. He'll also have multiple options in place to cover contingencies, and he won't discuss these with us; he'll keep them secret. Lastly, his actions will be violent in direct proportion to the perceived threat. You should be careful in that regard, you personally threatened the two people he holds closest. That's worse than threatening him."

Smith shrugged. "I don't like it, but they pay me to do dangerous things. I just wish I had a better read on his intentions."

"You couldn't get a source inside?"

"Not even a listening device. His staff is fanatically loyal and the villagers aren't much better. They refer to him as the Patron."

"That figures," Gutierrez said, "He's thrown a lot of money their way and, according to the reports, has taken a lot of interest in their welfare."

"What do you think his plan will look like?" Smith asked.

"Nothing like what you expect," Gutierrez replied.

________________________________________________________________

"Sri Lanka?!?" Smith exclaimed, "Why the hell do you want Sri Lankans? We assumed you would use your contacts to recruit Congolese. Christ! That's part of why we hired you. Sri Lankans will stick out like whores in a church."

"Not so much," Robert countered patiently, "Sri Lankans tend to be very dark-skinned and folks in the Congo are used to seeing UN troops from various countries. I even considered masquerading as a UN force, but that wouldn't hold up to scrutiny."

"Not to mention being wrong," Smith commented.

"Fuck wrong," Robert stated, "I was with the Legion when we evacuated foreign nationals from Rwanda and again in the Congo in '97. I've seen UN policy and UN peacekeepers first hand, so don't try and sell me on a plan based on protecting the moral standing of the UN. I decided against it because it wouldn't work. Same with the Africans. Any force I train will turn into another armed gang a month after you shut down the operation. That's a mess you don't want to leave behind. Further, locals will have family and friends and they'll talk. Sri Lankans, backed up by a few local scouts, are perfect for this."

"Not a bad idea from a tactical standpoint," Colonel Gutierrez observed, "The Tamil insurgency has given Sri Lankan forces lots of experience in irregular warfare and the climate and terrain is similar. You aren't planning on recruiting Tamil Tigers are you?"

Robert grimaced. "They're experienced at exactly what you want done, infiltration and assassination, but no. They're politically motivated and they're ruthless enough to use suicide bombers and crazy enough to find lots of volunteers. I'm going to use former Sri Lankan soldiers."

"How will you cover them?" Smith asked curiously.

"Security firm," Robert responded, "Our total cover is an aid agency. We'll present ourselves as a privately-funded NGO interested in providing expertise and resources to the aid agencies already in place. The Sri Lankans will be our security team."

"That's insane," said Smith dismissively.

"I see some glimmers of brilliance here," Gutierrez demurred, "Tell me more. How does it work?"

"We hire some doctors, nurses, and other technical staff. Third Worlders for the most part to help keep the costs down. They're also going to be more experienced with the conditions we're going to encounter. We'll bring in some research staffers; I anticipate most of those will come from other agencies. The story is that we provide technical assistance to agencies. That gets us into existing facilities. The research staffers are explained as historians; they're there to document the atrocities. Between those two sources I imagine we'll be able to get some good intelligence on where the worst offenders are. That takes care of our intelligence and logistics and gives us some cover for moving people around. I'll use some locals as scouts to supplement a few kill teams."

"If you get blown then the US will catch a world of flak. The press would eat us alive. And it would endanger future efforts by genuine aid agencies," Smith protested.

Robert shrugged. "Some risk is inevitable. If it was easy, everyone would do it. I think your exposure is pretty minimal, really. That was one of your selection criteria, remember? I'll keep the aid agency well insulated from the kill teams. Even if the kill teams are exposed the aid agency should be able to make a convincing show of horror."

Gutierrez nodded his head thoughtfully.

"I don't like the potential for disaster any more than you do, but this plan has a greater potential for success than simply running some locals as a black op. I recommend in favor."

Smith shook his head.

"I've got to bounce this up to my superiors," he said, "I can't make this sort of decision at my level."

Robert shrugged again.

"Let me know. That's my plan and I'm not changing the substance of it. If they have major heartache with it, they can find someone else to do the messy work. I'll be happy to provide advice."

"This is easily settled," Smith said, "Let me make a call on my sat-phone and I can have an answer in ten minutes."

He rose and walked out of the room.

"You'll know what the answer is before he gets back in the room, won't you?" Gutierrez accused.

Robert nodded.

"You and I both know that if I wanted you dead you and Mr. Smith would disappear without a trace. I think he's smart enough that he knows this. Right now the risk to benefit ratio indicates I should work with you; killing either of you would bring down a world of hurt that would really complicate my life."

"What about when things get tough?" Gutierrez asked, "Are you going to cut and run on us?"

"I'll do the job, Colonel, and I'll do it to the best of my ability. But you and I both know that sometimes you have to cut and run. If you and Mr. Smith keep the faith with me, then I'll keep the faith with you. You can talk to my people and find out how seriously I take my responsibilities."

"I read your file," Gutierrez told him, "And I looked at the psychological assessment the CIA prepared. I'm fully familiar with just how strongly you feel about taking care of your people. The psychologist had some interesting things to say about that."

"Is there a point to this, Colonel, or are you just playing dominance games?"

"I want to know how you're going to react when I put you into a high stress situation," the Colonel replied, "I want to know which way you'll jump."

"Good luck with that," Robert said, "Want to try and build a rapport by telling me how much you sympathize with my actions?"

The Colonel shook his head. "Not interested. I think you acted like an idiot. You've got a raging anger inside you and you can't really control it. You guide it, aim it perhaps, but it still gets the best of you from time to time. I'm wondering if you've mellowed enough to be responsible or if you're going to explode when we least expect it."

"Then why did you go along with selecting me for this job?"

"You're infinitely expendable and you're well qualified and the US Army owes you. However stupid you might have been, you kept the faith with your men past the point any reasonable man could be expected to do so. You were treated shabbily."

Robert chuckled.

"You're a slick man, Colonel. You could probably sell ice to Eskimos."

Smith walked back into the room.

"They approved it," he announced, "How long will it take you to set up?"

"A month," Robert responded, "Provide the bank account details to Sara and we'll get right to work. We'll need your help getting some government approvals in Congo, so we'll need a contact number."

"Okay. I'll write it down," Smith told him.

_______________________________________________________________

With the understanding that no discussion is ever truly private if someone has the resources and desire to monitor it, Robert elected to discuss the planning details for the operation in the living room of the apartment. He had considered the bedroom, but had decided that he needed more than just Sara and Sonia in on the discussion. Further, he wanted Sara and Sonia clothed and away from an environment in which they had been conditioned to acquiesce automatically; he needed them thinking critically. Besides Sara and Sonia he had brought Luke, Joshua, Ilse, and Marie.

"We'll be running three households for at least a year," he informed them, "The villa, here in the village, and wherever we decide to set up shop in Congo. Kinshasa maybe, or Bukavu. Marie, you will be responsible for managing affairs here and at the villa. You'll prepare daily reports to e-mail to Sara. If you have any problems you can pick up the phone and call her. Joshua, you'll be running the militia and the field supervisor out at the villa. Constable Fortin will talk to you when he needs something done. I want daily reports and you can pick up the phone if you feel you need to.

"Luke, you will be coming with us. You'll be our personal bodyguard. You will not be going out into the field. Do you understand that?"

"Jes, sinjoro," the young man replied.

"Sonia," Robert continued, "Your job will be gathering and organizing information. To begin with I want you to find out everything we need to know about setting up an international aid agency. Documents, licenses, accreditations, and anything else we might need, right down to a list of positions we need to fill and suggestions on where to get people to fill them. I plan to recruit from India for most of the medical positions. They've got an enormous educational base to pull from and they work cheap. I'd like to take the opportunity to give some of our local medical personnel a chance to get some experience if we can do it without causing problems. You will also continue to assist Sara.

"Sara, I need you to set up a security company here in Belize. That's going to be our cover for the Sri Lankans. Do a careful job on this because I don't just want to dump the company if things go bad. I think it would be very useful in the future to have a legitimate reason for having a bunch of former military personnel around."

"What about me, sinjoro?" Ilse asked.

"I know I promised to take you on as my new slave, Ilse, but now I'm going to have to spend most of the year in Africa. It wouldn't be fair to you right now," Robert said.

"I am yours to command, sinjoro," Ilse responded, "And if you order it, I will wait. But I would prefer to go with you. It was good enough for Sklavinego Sara, so it will be good enough for me."

"Is she ready now?" he asked Sonia.

"Jes, sinjoro," the dark-haired woman replied, "She doesn't know everything, but she knows enough and she learns quickly. A month early will not make an appreciable difference."

"You'll stake your hide on that assessment?" he pursued.

Sonia nodded. "I do, sinjoro."

"Very well, then. We'll do it next week. Ilse, you will accompany me to the Congo."

"Jes, sinjoro," the blonde woman replied.

"Is the aid agency a disposable cover, sinjoro?" Sonia asked.

"Not at all. Do a good job setting that up because I want it to become a permanent fixture. The CIA will pay the bills, through us, for the first year, and we'll probably pick up most the tab for the next few years, but hopefully it will become self-sustaining after that. This is probably the only clean and good thing that will come out of this mess," he told her.

"If you stop some of the violence that would also be a good thing, sinjoro," Marie commented quietly.

Robert, who knew some of the abuses Marie had survived, nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

"Violence is the tool of last resort, Marie. I wish there was another way, a way that didn't involve using violence to stop violence. I have enough blood on my hands."

"We have forgiven you, sinjoro," Joshua said, "You brought us to safety and you have given us an opportunity to live. When God judges you, we will speak for you."

Robert didn't trust his voice so he simply smiled at the man.

"I'll book the tickets to Sri Lanka, sinjoro," Sara said, filling the awkward silence, "Will you want anyone other than Ilse to accompany you?"

"Will you ...?"

"I'll be fine," she interrupted him, "I have plenty of work and your trip ought to be short. The Oberoi?"

He nodded.

_____________________________________________________

The Oberoi hotel looked past a breakwater and out at the Indian Ocean. The management had considered, many times over the years, putting in an artificial beach, but had always decided against it. They settled for an opulent pool area with stunning ocean views. Robert was looking down at the arrangement from the balcony of his room when Ilse announced that his visitors had arrived. He turned and walked back into the room.

To avoid misunderstandings he had ordered Ilse to remain clothed, though the sarong and bikini top she was wearing stretched the definition. She was ushering two short, dark men into the room and to the table she had set up. Both of the men had the weathered faces and eyes of men that had spent long days and nights watching for people who were trying to kill them, and they carried themselves with the confident air of men who had faced those foes and triumphed.

"Gentlemen," Robert said, "Thank you for coming. I'm glad you could meet with me on such short notice. Please, have a seat. Can Ilse bring you anything to drink?"

"Scotch, please," one of the men replied in clipped, British-accented English.

"Twice," the other man amplified.

"Yes, sir," Ilse replied, "With ice?"

"Please," both men responded. They sat down at the table and Robert sat down across from them. As he began to speak he pulled out two sheets of paper which he slid in front of them.

"I'll be frank; I lied to your employer. I am not only here to engage your services, I want to hire you away from your current employer. I intend to offer security services to aid agencies world-wide. I intend to start small, and build slowly but steadily. I intend to use primarily third-world troops because of your extensive experience and the pay scale differentials. Bluntly, you work for cheaper than similarly trained and experienced first-world troops. I am currently recruiting to fill a contract in the Congo. I need a short company to provide security for a civilian aid agency. I'm offering one thousand dollars per month per man plus a paid room and board and equipment supply. Fifty thousand dollar death or disability policy for each man and, of course, immediate medical treatment will be paid for. If your men don't have medical training then I'll provide combat medic training."

The men listened to him with half an ear as their eyes scanned the sheets of paper. The paper had essentially the same information on it, but there was additional text that spelled out his need for two kill teams prepared to undertake long duration infiltration and assassination missions. When the men had finished reading the handouts they traded glances and then fixed their attention upon Robert.

"You're Robert Taliaferro, the mercenary?" one asked.

"I am," Robert replied.

"You were captured in the Congo and escaped. Why did you betray your troops?" the other asked.

"I surrendered in the Congo," Robert corrected them, "of my own free will. And I betrayed my 'troops' because they were never going to amount to anything more than a pack of bandits. Most of them, anyway. The good ones came with me when I escaped. They live in Belize with me."

"I'm Diyon," the second man introduced himself, "And this is my cousin Vidu."

He set the sheet of paper down.

"Your concern for security is admirable, but the government won't care if you are hiring assassination teams so long as they won't be used in Sri Lanka or India. How much of this is true?"

"It's all true," Robert told him, "I need the short company for security for the aid agency. The aid agency will provide a cover for some very limited intelligence gathering and will be our source of medical support. The kill teams will be covered as members of the security force and will periodically kill people that I designate. Those people will be ... bad people. We will be doing this without the knowledge of the government of Congo."

"Is that the whole truth?" Vidu asked.

"No," Robert replied. The silence stretched for a moment, broken by Ilse setting down drinks in front of each of the men and moving to stand behind and to the left of Robert.