The Real Estate Connection Ch. 07

The jungle has its own unique set of sensory stimuli. Its sights, sounds and smells are unique. The sunlight filtering through the dense canopy creating patches of light and shadow which change as the day progresses. The constant movement of the foliage caused by the wind or the wildlife... or sometimes by our prey. It took a long time for the men new to the jungle to be able to distinguish between the causes of the movement in the jungle. It made for a lot of false alarms and a lot of stop start patrolling but my personal motto was better safe than sorry so all false alarms were treated as the real thing. It wasn't unusual for a patrol to be halted when the scout spotted a vague man shape in the gloom of late afternoon shadow only to have it turn out to be a howler monkey. After all, man wasn't the only large primate occupying the jungle.

The wildlife caused its own set of problems. Again, man wasn't the only predator in the jungle. Snakes, big cats, and caimans, a large reptile from the same family as the alligator and the crocodile all shared the same stomping ground that we patrolled. Usually they avoided contact with humans but it never paid to take that for granted. River crossings were always undertaken with two machine guns set up; one upstream from where we were crossing and one downstream to guard against the possibility of attack by caimans or large snakes. Night time lay up points were always heavily guarded, not only against the possibility of attack from cartel gunmen but also against marauding big cats. Jaguars have been known to come right into a camp and attack the unwary. It is rare but not unheard of.

As I drifted further back in memory the sounds and smells of Colombia came back to me. The heavy earthy smell of the jungle; a mixture of rotting vegetation and a heavy loamy smell, broken by the scent of sub tropical flowers and occasionally the sharp ammonia smell of big cats marking their territory. The smell of sweat and unwashed bodies which after a short period of time in country became a part of every day life. Then there was the smell we were searching for. The sharp acrid smell of the ether used to process the coca paste in the hidden labs we were searching for. Then the sounds of the jungle; monkeys chattering, bird sounds ringing through the canopy and the occasional call of a hunting cat. The burble of the clear highland rivers and streams offering cool relief from the humidity and heat. The constant rustle of the vegetation and the swish of the nearly non existent breeze through the trees accompanied us every day as we searched for the drug labs and the men running them. All this could change in an instant; the peaceful sights, sounds and smells turning shockingly violent in a heartbeat.

The roar of gunfire and the crump of grenade detonations replacing the natural sounds of the jungle, effectively drowning out and silencing the bird calls and monkey cries. The screams of men wounded and dying and the bellowed orders replacing the peaceful swish of the wind and sounds of flowing water. The brilliant red-orange-yellow flashes of explosions and muzzle flashes followed by the inevitable grey white smoke of burnt cordite and expended C4 plastic explosive, the visible residue of spent cartridges and detonated Claymore mines. The sight of men running... running for their lives as we mowed them down without mercy or pity. The puff of reddish pink mist exploding shockingly from the targets as lead chewed through living flesh, tunneling through bones and organs before exiting in a bloody rush. The sickening smell of burnt cordite and C4 mingling with the sweet coppery smell of blood and the thick cloying smell of eviscerated human bodies. And overlaying it all there was the ever present pervasive smell of fear. Aggressor or defender... it didn't matter. Fear was like a fuel powering men on both sides to fight with a ferocity that would shock your average civilian. The man who could best control his fear was usually the victor.

The contacts were usually short and brutal, over in a matter of moments apart from the after action mop up operation where prisoners were rounded up and searched. In the time directly following a contact we operated in a haze of adrenaline fueled euphoria. Everything seemed magnified, our senses amplified to the point where they could be overwhelming. My main job after a contact was keeping a close eye on my men, leaving normal operational details to my NCO's who knew their jobs better than I did. Usually I circulated among the men after posting a perimeter guard to watch over us as we searched the dead and living alike for intelligence that would help us in our future battles and treated any wounds that we could. Once in a while we would have the horrible task of having to deal with a dead comrade. It didn't happen often but when it did it was like a physical blow... a punch in the gut deflating me and my men instantly. Then it was my job to get on the radio and give a brief report of what had gone down and request a chopper to lift out our dead and wounded and any prisoners we might have. The chopper would transport in the clean up crew from the Colombian police who would catalogue our operation and complete the demolition of the drug lab and removal of any drugs, bodies and weapons recovered. We would usually remain on the ground at the site for another day or so to provide security for the police crew and also to see who might come sniffing around.

It was usually in the period after the adrenaline high wore off that I would seek solitude to write up my after action report. That was when the shakes would hit me and occasionally the tears would come. I'm at a loss to explain why but the simple act of crying my eyes out was sometimes a therapeutic activity. I would come out of it feeling refreshed and clean... or as clean as I could feel after the kaleidoscope of events that occurred moments before. All of us had our own way of dealing with the after action downer which followed the euphoria of survival. Some of the guys talked... babbled really; just the sound of their own voices reassuring them that they had lived through another experience from hell. Others withdrew into themselves, sitting alone, head down gazing at something only they could see. Hemi was one of these while Sam strode around in circles muttering to himself quietly for the few moments it took to get it together. Normally it took only a few moments for us to overcome the body's natural reaction to the massive jolt of adrenaline which drove us through the firefight. Then it was time to feed the machine.

One of the effects of the adrenaline high was a ravenous hunger to replace the massive amount of fuel burnt during the fight. MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat) would appear as if by magic and would be consumed in silence washed down with mouthfuls of tepid water from canteens which would need to be replenished or emptied before we moved off; a sloshing half filled canteen is a dead giveaway in the jungle and only a newbie would make the fatal mistake of carrying one.

I was so immersed in my memories that I didn't notice I was no longer alone in the room. The first I knew of it was when my chair was grabbed by its back and turned toward the intruder. Instinct took over and with a primal snarl I powered out of the chair to grab the source of the threat. The terrified feminine scream that came from my would be victim shocked me out of my reverie.

"Craig, it's me honey!"

I sagged back into my seat as I became fully aware of my surroundings and identified the ashen shocked face before me. Wearily I dragged my hand across my face before reaching for Stevie and pulling her close for a hug to comfort both of us.

"Oh God baby I am so sorry. You surprised me. You okay?" She was trembling in my arms. Obviously I had given her a hell of a scare. She looked up at me, eyes wide.

"The question is... areyouokay? Where were you baby? You scared the shit out of me. Craig I thought you were going to attack me!" The tremor in her voice and the look on her face shook me. She was nearer to the truth than I cared to admit. I pulled her onto my lap and rocked her as I stroked her hair trying to reassure her that she was safe... safe from me. I also needed time to get myself together. Strangely enough she was stroking my hair as well. Just who was giving who comfort and reassurance?

"Stevie I am so sorry honey. I know I scared you... I just... I was..." Taking a deep breath I blurted it all out. "I started going over the info we got from Carmichael's office and all of a sudden I was there... back there in Colombia... in the jungle. It was all so real that when you surprised me instinct took over and I went to defend myself. God baby I could have hurt you badly. Jesus I am so sorry." Now it was my turn to start shaking.

"Hey... Craig it's okay honey. Next time I'll knock before coming in, or at least cough loudly at the door. I'm okay. I didn't get hurt, just shocked so don't worry about it. Listen you get yourself together and I'll go and grab you another coffee and some fresh toast. Looks like your breakfast has gone cold." With a quick loving kiss she hopped off my lap and wiggled her way across the library and out the door. Watching her ass undulating under that thin satin robe was great therapy and it didn't take long before I was back to being me.

Cautiously I went back to reading the action reports while I listened to the household slowly come alive. Stevie was joined in the kitchen by KJ and I grinned as I listened to the early morning chatter of two happy ladies. The sound and smells of breakfast preparation told me that Stevie had decided I needed something more substantial than toast and coffee. Brian arrived in the library wrapped in a robe similar to the one I was wearing and collapsed onto the comfortable leather couch with a theatrical groan.

"Damn Craig. You could have warned me that KJ had the energy of an Olympic decathlete. She wore me out last night man. I'm gonna have to prescribe myself steroids and some sort of magic potion when I go into the office tomorrow just so I can keep up with her." For all his complaining he looked pretty pleased with himself.

"Ahh so you plan on going a second round with the lovely tattooed wench?"

"He doesn't have a choice," came KJ's voice from the doorway. "I've finally got my hooks into a rich doctor. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to let him go after just one night? Besides... he's a damned good fuck and a passable conversationalist. His only real fault is the fact that he is untattooed, but then that's a fault I can quickly remedy. What do you think Craig? 'Property of KJ' tattooed across his luscious butt?" Her grin was evil, provoking a suffering groan from Brian.

"Run man... run as fast and as far as you can. Look at me. I was a free man a couple of weeks ago and now I'm trapped. Trapped by an evil wench with nothing on her mind but draining my spirit and taking over my life. Take my advice and run." KJ laughed at my advice to the still suffering Brian.

"I heard that lover." Stevie's voice came from the hallway and seconds later she appeared carrying a tray I didn't even know we had loaded with four plates and cutlery. "Now I want a sincere apology or else you won't get any breakfast. And if I'm not happy with the apology I'll send you straight toourroom after you've finished." Brian and KJ broke down at the look of abject fear and complete subservience on my face as I groveled.

"Ahm so sorry missy! Ah'll be good ah promise. Jus' don' whup me Missy Stevie!" A grinning Stevie distributed the plates and cutlery while KJ went back to the kitchen with the empty tray and returned with a full coffee pot, cups and all the trimmings. As we settled in for a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns and more toast Brian asked me what I was looking at on the computer. After a moments reflection I decided to fill him in completely. After all it looked as if he was going to be around a lot and that being the case he deserved to know everything. I wasn't sure how he would take it but he didn't seem to be the sort of guy who would duck and run at the first sign of trouble. So as we ate I laid it all out for him. I had finished my breakfast and was on my second cup of coffee when I finished. By this time Stevie was back in my lap and KJ and Brian were cuddled up on the couch looking a bit agog at the torrent of information I had laid on them in the past hour or so. Brian actually took it well and even though KJ had most of the story beforehand there were still a few things that were new to her, things she absorbed without too many problems. Once again I could see that I had been very lucky in my choice of new friends. I sat in silence for a few moments to let them digest this new information before I asked the only question that really needed to be asked under the circumstances.

"So what do you think? Still want to be around a man with a target indelibly printed on his forehead Brian? What about you KJ?"

"Well at the rate you get around you're gonna need your own personal surgeon and corpsman, and as you know every surgeon needs a good nurse. If it's okay with you I think I'll stick around a while and if it's okay with KJ I might second her as my nurse. Besides combat is nothing new to me although it has been a while. I was part of Marine Force Recon during Desert Storm in '91. Got out just after the conflict and went to med school on the GI Bill. I'm no stranger to things that go bang in the night Craig." KJ was gazing at her man with awe and something a little more than lust in her beautiful green eyes.

"Hey Stevie! I've got my very own GI Joe." She giggled and clapped like a little girl opening her gifts at Christmas causing laughter from all of us.

"I prefer Action Man myself," grumped Brian with a mock scowl at his lady. "He's more adaptable. So what do you say sweetie... wanna learn the tender art of nursing?" His scowl turned to an evil leer complete with an impressive pair of waggling eyebrows.

"You've talked me into it you sweet talking bastard. Now I don't know about you but I need to shower... and I could use some help scrubbing my back." She rose from the couch and headed off to the shower with Brian about half a step behind. I guess our new friends had decided to stick around for a while.

"I'm going to go and grab a shower myself honey. Want to join me?" Stevie gave me a raunchy wriggle as she hopped off my lap.

"I'll just finish up here baby then I'll be right up. I want to take another quick look at the photos on that disc. Actually I might have a shower after I've cleaned up the mess from last night. You go ahead though." She grinned, kissed me and skipped out of the room leaving me to get back to my computer. Slipping the disc into the DVD drive, I opened up the folder containing the photos and started scanning them using the slideshow mode in Windows XP Pro. When I got to the first one with Simmons in it I stopped and enlarged the picture. I remembered the ambush the picture depicted as if it was yesterday. It was one of the few that had ended badly for us as far as we had lost a man to the drug cartel on that one. Leo Richter had taken a round through his chest and died almost instantly. He had been a good man and a good friend so the picture I was looking at had a certain poignant quality to it. It took a small inner battle to retain my objectivity and examine the picture more thoroughly, but I was glad I did. Aside from Simmons, the picture contained another surprise. The man Simmons was talking to was familiar... very familiar. He was one of the gunmen from the attempted ambush on my second full day in Richmond and from the looks on both of their faces, Simmons and our unidentified gunman were more than just nodding acquaintances. Quickly I flipped through the rest of the pictures and noted the Simmons/gunman connection in four more pictures. Now all I had to do was firm up the connection with a name for the gunman and a reason for him to be at the scene of a government authorized ambush with a CIA operative. Looking around for something to write on made me realize that I still had a lot of work to do before I had a decent office set up here. In the end, unable to find so much as a scrap of paper or a pen I left a reminder to call Lee on the memo function on my cell phone. Then I shut down the computer and went up to shower and dress.

An hour later the debris from the night before had been cleaned away and we were all sitting on the loungers enjoying a cool drink and a quick snack while we planned the rest of our day. My only commitment for the day was Grant Leonard who would probably be arriving late afternoon from Langley. Other than that I was feeling the need for a bit of a workout. Time for a trip to town. Brian knew of a good sports wholesaler who could probably supply all of the fixtures and equipment for a decent home gym set up. He called them and arranged in advance for them to install anything we might purchase today. He was assured that as long as we had made our selections by mid afternoon they would at the very least be able to deliver and start to assemble the gear that day. Other than that all I needed in town was a couple more items of clothing. My wardrobe was showing its limitations... and not just because I hadn't done the laundry. By 10.30 we were ready to roll and were heading out the door when Hemi and Sam arrived back at the homestead. Hemi looked totally shattered and had obviously had an enjoyable night with Lisa. I let them know that Grant Leonard would be calling and that we should be back in time then we were on our way.

Pulling out of the drive I immediately noticed the familiar bland sedan that had been our shadow for most of the week; the exception being the day before when we went to Langley. Pointing it out to the others I commented that we had our guardian angels back. In reality the sight had a strangely disquieting quality today. Shrugging it off I turned the Tahoe towards town and put my foot down. It was a quick and lively trip to town, the ladies providing most of the entertainment with wardrobe suggestions for both me and Brian. We men folk decided then and there that it would be a men only trip to buy new clothes. The ladies could amuse themselves elsewhere. This decision was met with hoots of derision but they grudgingly agreed as long as we met them at Killer Muffins for a late lunch at 2pm. It seemed they had yet another excursion in mind... one that we simply couldn't miss. We dropped them off at the mall and carried on to the gym wholesaler.

It took next to no time at all for me to make my selections. I had a clear picture in my mind of what I wanted to buy to stock the 'Big Room' and a good idea of how much room I had to play with. Keeping that in mind I bought an exercycle, a rowing machine, a Stairmaster, a fully stocked dumbbell rack, and a couple of Olympic barbells with enough plates to make for a varied workout without having to radically change the bar setup halfway through. Then I spotted the crowning glory of my budding home gym. A multi station workout machine. By the time I had finished with my selection the salesman was fairly drooling. Now came the part that I loved... haggling over the price. Although I had more than enough money to comfortably pay the asking price, I loved the challenge of the bargaining process. I tried for 20% off, the salesman tried for 5%. My next move was 17% and he came up to 10. After agreeing to also add a couple of different punch bags and a speedball we agreed on 15%. A happy surprise for me came when I discovered that Mike, my normal friendly delivery driver and a good friend of Matt's, did the deliveries for the gym store. He would also be helping set up the gear. It would be a good opportunity to get to know him better.