Smoke and Shadow (6 page)

“
Yes you fucking
do. One word from me and your name gets put on the shit list. Then
no one in the industry will come anywhere near you, not now, maybe
not ever.
”

Trent sucked his
teeth with empty anger. He knew what it meant to be on the shit
list. Operators who were outed as part of the extraordinary
rendition program didn
’
t have a bright future in the public or private sector. They
had no future at all. Every man on the list became a public
relations nightmare. That
’
s why Trent found himself sitting in
a dank bar outside of Kolwezi. That
’
s why he didn
’
t break the Primus bottle on
Tolbert
’
s head.
That
’
s why he kept
listening now.

“
So now that
we
’
ve established
who
’
s in charge,
let me address your concerns while I
’
m still feeling generous. First, you
are going in alone at the specific request of the client. They
decided it
’
s
better to send one man instead of four---
“

“
Why, because
it
’
s
cheaper?
”

“
Yes. Welcome to
the world of military on demand, boy. We
’
ve got half a dozen suspected
weapons stockpiles headed for Nkunda
’
s men on the Zambian border. The
client is willing to hire a full fire team, but
they
’
re insisting
on hitting all six sites at the same time. They
don
’
t want to set
off any alarms and risk losing the weapons in the mountains.
That
’
s where you
come in. Do you know why they sent you and me down here to fight
their little war?
”

“
Because
we
’
re so hard up
for work we
’
ll
take whatever scraps we can get.
”

“
Because
we
’
re both black
enough to blend in with the locals and because
you
’
re supposed to
be some kind of special operations super ninja.
”

Trent stole a
glance around the room to make sure they weren
’
t being watched.
“
We
don
’
t exactly
blend in with the Bantu.
”

“
Fuck the Bantu.
And fuck the bright white, no neck Klansmen Trident normally loves
to hire. The fact of the matter is if you do your job right, it
will only take one person. You get in, you do the deed and you get
the fuck out. You don
’
t need four people for that.
”

“
Yeah, I got
it.
”
Trent stood
up from the table, leaving his whisky untouched.

Tolbert leaned
back with a confused look on his face.
“
Don
’
t you want me to deal with your
other important concerns?
”

Trent imagined
grabbing the sweaty man by his lip and his cheek and dragging him
across the table and out of the bar. Then he remembered the shit
list.
“
No thanks.
I think I understand how deeply you don
’
t give a fuck.
”

“
Good,
”
Tolbert stood as if he had achieved a moral victory.
“
I need to take a piss
anyway
…”

The trip to the CNDP camp took
three days, which gave Trent plenty of time to think about his
mission, his life and the ironic futility of both.

Kolwezi was an
industrial river town in the Democratic Republic of Congo and about
as far from his old stomping grounds of Iraq and Colombia as you
could get. But Trent went through great pains to ensure no admirers
from his previous missions followed him. Before arriving, Trent
wandered through several cities in Europe over a period of two
weeks pretending to be a tourist. He took three indirect flights to
Congo under two separate identities. He
’
d shipped his gear separately from
Sali, Morocco under a dummy corporation Baker set up years earlier.
He didn
’
t rent a
car and he paid for his modest hotel room in Congolese
francs.

Trent had no
reason to suspect surveillance, but he still left his hotel after
the sunset, going through and extensive SDR through the streets of
Kolwezi to ensure he wasn
’
t being tracked before he left town.
Who knows what men like Tolbert would reveal while having
operational meetings over a few beers at the local
bar.

The details of
his mission would be interesting to several dubious parties.
Laurent Nkunda was a former DRC Army commander who left government
service to become a Tutsi warlord. Now, he led the CNDP against the
government
’
s FDLR
forces and the United Nations to take towns on the DRC Zambian
border. No one in the real world cared which African factions
fought each other or why, but they did care about the economic
impact.

Nkunda
’
s war
made mining diamonds and coltan difficult in the disputed areas.
Several Chinese mining companies lost money because of Nkunda. They
decided he needed to be stopped. But they couldn
’
t call in the Chinese military to
solve their problems. That would be a breach of national
sovereignty and diplomatic protocol. They hired Trident Security to
do the job instead. Tolbert set up the operation, sent Trent into
the wilderness and then went back to his beer.

Trent traveled
northeast on foot towards the Lualaba River. He avoided the roads
servicing the quarries and the security forces travelling on them.
He couldn
’
t risk
an encounter with either the rebels or the government forces. He
had no identification to justify his presence out in the bush by
himself. He didn
’
t
have any plausible deniability for the high tech equipment he
carried. If someone challenged him on the road,
he
’
d be lucky if
they stole all his gear and left him naked in the bush to die. The
unlucky and more likely end to the encounter would include a bullet
in the back of his head from his own gun.

If anyone did get
his kit, they
’
d be
able to sell it for a small fortune at the weapons bazaar Trent
noticed on the outskirts of Kolwezi. He carried enough C4 to blow
up a building. Trident intelligence indicated the CNDP purchased
surplus weapons from arms dealers in Angola and South Africa. If
those weapons got to the front lines, the FDLR might lose the
battle and the Chinese would definitely lose more money. Destroying
the weapons cache en route became the optimal solution. Trent could
facilitate that happy ending, but only if he got to his destination
in one piece.

So he moved at
night, using his night vision goggles to avoid the roving packs of
hyena, jackal, rhino, lion, lowland gorilla and bush elephant who
called this area home. Noticing the multitude of snakes slithering
in the high grass didn
’
t go as well because of their cold blooded bodies, but he
trusted his thick combat boots and BDUs to protect him from
incidental bites.

Trent marched
towards an abandoned mining camp situated along the banks of the
Lualaba River between Lac Nzilo and Lac Delcommune. If
Tolbert
’
s
intelligence reports could be trusted, and that was a big if, then
the camp wouldn
’
t
be abandoned. A CNDP force of undetermined numbers allegedly
guarded the weapons shipment waiting for transport boats to arrive
and move the materiel upriver to the warzone. Trent needed to
insert himself into the camp, plant the C4, extract from the area
and detonate the explosives before the boats arrived. The operation
sounded simple on paper, but operations didn
’
t get executed on paper. Trent
wondered what snafu he
’
d run into this time.

The target
location turned out to be more mining town than makeshift camp, and
more bustling hub than abandoned facility. He positioned himself on
a ridge overlooking the target and the river after dawn on the
third day. He chose an observation point that gave him a wide view
of his target and concealment from any sentries or foot patrols.
The threat of animal attacks didn
’
t worry him now. The time he spent
in the wild altered his form, color, texture and scent. The animals
treated him like a natural part of the environment. Besides,
animals were wary of troops in the camp and few of them came this
close to a man-made outpost.

Trent watched the camp for the rest
of the day, taking sleep in short snatches in case a patrol came
too close. He examined each building, trying to determine which one
of them held the weapons cache. He chose the best routes for
insertion into and extraction out of the camp, as well as secondary
avenues for escape if things went sideways. He assessed the size,
skill and demeanor of the CDNP forces, trying to figure out the
best way to avoid them if he could and evade them if
necessary.

That
’
s when
Trent found the snafu.

“
The camp is
crawling with fucking kids.
”

Talbot
’
s
heavy breathing roared through the sat phone connection. Trent
didn
’
t see him as
a jogger. Drinking beer seemed to be Talbot
’
s only form of exercise. The man
definitely sounded tired now. Trent wondered what he
interrupted.

“
Why the fuck
are you calling me? This is a secure line for emergency
transmissions only. What the hell are you talking
about?
”

“
I
’
m talking
about an emergency situation. The target site has a contingent of
almost two dozen child soldiers. They
’
re moving freely through the camp.
The adult commanders are forcing them to handle most of the
security and the support functions. There
’
s no viable way
to-
“

“
You mean you
called me in the middle of the night to tell me you
can
’
t get past a
few toddlers playing war? What the fuck is your malfunction,
Shadow?
”

“
I
’
m calling
to let you know your opposition profile is flawed, probably like
the rest of your intel. The mission brief didn
’
t say anything about child soldiers
in the camp.
”

“
Oh,
I
’
m sorry. I
didn
’
t realize
Baker provided you with the age, gender and favorite color of your
targets. Allow me to introduce you to the real fucking world. The
CNDP has been accused of using child soldiers by the UN, Human
Rights Watch and a dozen other useless monitoring groups. That
doesn
’
t change the
mission profile or the timetable. It also doesn
’
t change-
“

“
It changes
everything. I didn
’
t come out here to kill little kids.
”

“
Killing kids is
not the mission. Destroying the weapons cache is the mission.
You
’
re supposed to
be the spec ops super ninja, right? If you do what
you
’
re supposed to
do, you won
’
t have
to kill anybody; get in, do the deed and get out, remember? So why
don
’
t you get the
fuck off my phone and-
“

“
If you spent
any time outside of a bar, you
’
d know contact variables
can
’
t be
predicted. There is no way for me to ensure zero casualties in an
infiltration. Even if there was, the blast radius of the explosion
is going to-
“