The Doctrine of Presence. Benjamin Vance
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both guards were neutralized with barbiturate and naked, with one sitting on the other’s lap face to face in a locked crapper stall, Fredo dressed in the taller guard’s uniform and we simply drove off with the mess truck. It was loaded up and waiting outside as usual. Fredo and I were in the front seat; Leo was hidden in the back with the food. Greenie and Gimp would create a diversion to hopefully get the three of us in the gate.
Greenie and Gimp drove up to the guard gate, with us about a mile behind. They both smelled of alcohol and were singing and laughing and asked the gate guards where they could find some girls and Bolivar Park. The guards were nice, but firm. About two minutes into their discussion we drove up behind them and Fredo honked the horn. At that point, the hungry guards ran out of patience and pulled Gimp, who had been driving for some reason, from the car. We were terrified, but only for a moment. One guard got into the SUV and turned it around to give us free entrance to the facility. The unoccupied guard gave us a wave and Fredo gunned the truck into the facility grounds. We had only a vague idea where the mess-hall was, but Fredo found it perfectly. It was dark and we were in, but worried about Greenie and Gimp.
The two were hopefully going to cover our asses from a geological rise about two hundred meters uphill from the facility grounds. Fredo said it gave a fine view of the entire facility. Apparently it did. I’ll never divulge how Gimp got his pimped-out Bushmaster carbon 15 R97F, into the country. It had something to do with his wheels and the carbon construction of the R97F.
Fredo parked the truck near the mess hall and honked the horn. In a moment the cooks and helpers disgorged from the building and started carrying the meals inside; Fredo left. However, before the truck reached the mess hall Leo and I, dressed in tight urban camoflage, jumped out and looked for the building which housed the targets. It wasn’t hard to find, but there were still people inside. We checked with our guys on the hill … they were already getting into place. We checked with Fredo … he was on the way. Greenie whispered that Fredo was rounding the building to our right.
He came around the building and was suddenly met face-to-face with a female employee coming out of a door on his end of the cinder-block building. Fredo didn’t hesitate; he decked her and caught her when she crumbled. He quietly surveyed the interior of the door she came out of and effortlessly pulled her back in. He let us know there was a fifty foot corridor she had walked from. It had only one door at the other end; a bad place to enter.
He came to our position and we silently checked windows with small extending mirrors. We decided there were three women and one man still in the building. We could not see any of the special equipment and were in a time constraint. The guards in the bar would not wake for hours, but if someone found them they could put two and two together and we would be up shit creek. We made the decision to go in as quietly as possible. We let the hill crew know and made our entrance. No one screamed at the sight of three ski-masked and camouflaged intruders because Fredo immediately informed them that it was an exercise.
The man was skeptical and demanded we remove our masks. We roughly herded them into the nearest small room at knife point, took away their cell-phones, and any other electronics and valuables and wire-tied their hands and feet; tied them together back to back. Fredo asked the gentleman where the targets were. He refused to say and Leo tightened his ties then slapped him in the mouth. He whined, bled and told us exactly where the lab was. We taped their mouths and moved silently on.
The lab was easy to find, but there were two more employees inside, both women with their purses, obviously preparing to leave. Fredo gave them the same speech and they relaxed and smiled at each other until we pushed them to the floor and wire-tied them and taped mouths. One of the ladies actually kept smiling at Fredo and sticking her chest out during the action. I went to get the lady that Fredo decked, and dragged her back to the bunch, still out cold but breathing. In the meantime, Fredo found the right equipment and rigged his little remote incendiary magnesium masterpieces and triggering cellphones among the controls. Leo guarded the prisoners with the lights out.
Once everyone was accounted for, we pulled and pushed everyone to just inside the exit door so no one would be in danger from the fire on the opposite side of the building. One of the women made the mistake of attempting a taped-mouth scream. It was cut short by the impact of Leo’s boot to her face. All she did was exhale into unconsciousness. No one else tried to scream, because we taped every mouth copiously. For crying out loud, that other woman had parted her knees, was still breathing hard and her eyes were blinking suggestively at Fredo when Elvis left the building.
We lay in the grass outside the first perimeter panting with exertion and adrenalin. Leo used his night vision scope to find the cut in the wire where Greenie left a small infra-red diode. Once found, we easily made our way through the opening and started up the hill toward Greenie and Gimp. We heard the quiet zip of a bullet and heard the vague rattle of metal behind us. Someone had dropped a rifle and we wondered why, but didn’t linger.
When we reached the SUV in the dark we were all three out of breath from the added stress and exertion. Gimp whispered, “Sorry Daiwee, I had to drop a guard, he came around the building alone and was un-slinging his weapon. Had he shot, the jig would have been up.”
I agreed with him, but felt the sting of guilt that I thought always came with taking human life. Gimp and Greenie were ready to go. Lidia was well on her way to the airport in Maracay for a trip to Willemstad, Curacao and then on home by herself. We would stay at the Hyatt, Santa Barbara Plantation, if we were lucky. From there, we would gradually go our separate ways to Jamaica, Puerto Rico, and Miami. We would not meet again until we reached home ourselves.
We left the SUV parked in a vacant area of the Airport lot. Gimp’s beautiful little AR-15 and ammo were left in a canal close to the airport. We sweated the lift off from Maracay until near international waters. Then Fredo dialed some telephone numbers on his cell. We later learned the receiving numbers went out of service immediately and violently after the calls and no one was hurt, except the unfortunate guard at the facility.
9
“You’re wanted for murder in Venezuela, Jim!” were the first words of a phone call from my “friend” Andy Wall. I thought the son of a bitch was attempting to renege on our agreement, and I hung up. When I made an appointment to see the CEO of Metrid, Andy got wind of it and transferred our money immediately. That not only made us happy, it basically indemnified us from any type of action from Metrid or the Venezuelan government ... possibly. Metrid had a big hammer and wielded it with finesse and accuracy when necessary, if our benefactor was actually Metrid. What better way to cover a spook operation?
I talked over Andy’s declaration personally and privately with Leo. His opinion; there was a hidden agenda behind Andy’s accusation. He said, “Whatever Andy told you about being wanted for murder, it’s strictly bull shit. He must have known you would go to any lengths to get our money, and why would he spoil us for any other use by his company or others with like mind. Metrid got more than their money’s worth. He has something else on his mind. Andy’s not the deepest thinker on the planet, but he’s a clear thinker and a fairly good planner. He’ll be planning to use you again, and he may have surprised you with the murder accusation to test your mettle. He used to do the same to me; didn’t like it, but accepted it as his method of operation.”
Knowing he talked to Andy periodically, I said, “If he gets on my bad side I’ll fuck over him so bad he’ll wish he’d never met me. I ain’t much, if not vindictive, Leo. I’ve been in the deepest shit too.”
“I got you Daiwee. I really think he likes you, even if he thinks you got him dumped from jump school.”
“Stupid shit got himself dumped from jump school. He was scared to drop anywhere; didn’t want to drop in trees … so steered right under me without looking up. I hit his chute and couldn’t walk off because he panicked and dumped air … simple as that.”
“Okay Daiwee, I hear ya. So, what do we do now?”
“Well, I guess we attend to the real world things. Greenie hasn’t