The Contractor

The eastern outskirts of Camiri consist of rolling hills. A dirt road runs from a small town near the airport, winding through the gaps between the hills and passing through the forest toward a vacation villa in the mountains.

At the end of a stretch of straight road, hidden in the bushes, lay a Nissan Patrol SUV. The moonlight was blocked by the tall trees, blending the brownish vehicle with the shadows. To increase concealment, a thick layer of leafy branches was piled on the roof and hood, altering the vehicle’s outline so that the angular SUV looked like a low shrub.

November in Santa Cruz was sweltering, with the air filled with the scent of sunbaked soil and plants. The forest was quiet at night; there was no sound outside the vehicle, and inside, only a faint scraping could be heard from the back seat.

It was Du Preez sharpening his knife. He liked to pass the time by unfastening the thick leather belt from his waist, tying it around his thigh, and pulling it tight with his left hand to use it like a barber's strop to hone his ever-present dagger. The South African’s expression was solemn while sharpening the blade, and each movement was precise, as if performing a sacred ritual. This calmed him, but it irritated the others.

Deng Shiyang took a water bottle and gulped a mouthful.

Suddenly, there was a "click," and a dim orange flame appeared beside Du Preez.

"Hey, ‘Frenchman,’ no smoking," came Mark's voice from the driver's seat.

Rodin grunted, stubbed out the freshly lit Gauloises cigarette, and threw it out the window before angrily demanding, "I'm roasting in here. How much longer do we have to wait for that bastard?"

No one answered him.

Seeing that no one responded, he started grumbling again, "This damn car is like an oven. We're wasting our time..." (in French)

Although Deng Shiyang didn’t understand French, he could roughly guess the meaning. Despite having dealt with such people before, the heat and constant complaining were getting to him.

"...this damn forest, this damn weather, this damn country..." (in French)

"Enough! Shut up!"

Mark finally snapped, turning to Rodin and growling, "Quiet down, or I’ll kick your ass!"

Rodin was not one to back down, glaring fiercely at Mark.

Just as tensions reached a boiling point, Jansen's voice came through the radio placed on the dashboard, "HQ calling Raven, HQ calling Raven. Over."

Deng Shiyang gestured for the two to stop, then picked up the radio and replied, "This is Raven. Over."

"Meeting’s over. Repeat, meeting’s over. Over." This was the prearranged code, meaning the negotiations had ended, and the target would soon leave the villa.

"Raven received. Out."

Deng Shiyang put down the radio and turned to the others in the vehicle, "Cut it out and get ready."

The car filled with the sound of people rummaging for their gear. Du Preez and Rodin each grabbed a short-barreled M4 carbine and got out of the SUV, hiding in the bushes on either side of the road.

Soon, the faint sound of an engine could be heard in the distance, and the road began to brighten.

"Here it comes."

As soon as the words were spoken, a light appeared on the road.

Deng Shiyang picked up a pair of binoculars and looked out the window. The approaching light belonged to a Mercedes G-Class SUV. He turned to Mark, "Target confirmed."

Mark started the engine and drove the SUV onto the road, positioning it diagonally across the center. He activated the hazard lights, got out, and lifted the hood.

Deng Shiyang put the binoculars aside, grabbed a Pelican flashlight and a TEC-DC9 submachine gun from the storage compartment, and racked the gun’s slide before lying sideways on the seat.

As the vehicle approached, its headlights shone onto the car window, casting shifting light patterns inside. The engine noise grew louder and clearer; Deng Shiyang could even distinguish the sound of tires crunching over the dirt.

When the lights stopped moving, the crunching sounds also faded, and the high-pitched engine noise softened as the Mercedes came to a halt a short distance away.

"Go," came Mark’s voice from outside.

Deng Shiyang sat up and aimed the flashlight at the Mercedes’ driver's seat. At the same time, he extended his right hand holding the gun out the window and fired at the SUV's front end. The bullets tore through the radiator and punctured the water tank. Coolant leaked from the holes and, due to the engine's heat, turned into steam that poured out of the engine bay.

Taking advantage of the moment when the driver was blinded by the flashlight, Rodin and Du Preez rose from the roadside bushes and opened fire with their M4 carbines. In just a few seconds, the two automatic weapons shredded the Mercedes’ engine and tires, reducing the expensive SUV to an immobile wreck.

Rodin sprinted to the driver's side and aimed his gun at the occupants, shouting, "Get out! Get out of the car!"

But the people inside were frozen in shock and failed to respond.

Du Preez fired another burst, shattering the vehicle’s windows. Rodin then smashed the driver's window with the butt of his M4 and yelled, "Hands on your head!"

Ernesto finally came to his senses, raising his hands in terror.

Rodin pulled open the door, dragged him out, and threw him to the ground, then kicked him in the abdomen.

Ernesto's face turned pale as he clutched his stomach in pain, writhing on the ground and begging for mercy in Spanish.

Rodin kicked him a few more times, then flipped him over and tied his hands behind his back with nylon cuffs. He ripped a strip of tape from his pants to seal Ernesto's mouth and pulled a black cloth bag over his head.

Du Preez came over, and together with Rodin, they hauled Ernesto into the SUV like "dragging a dead dog."

With their target in hand, the Nissan Patrol quickly vanished from the road.