The New Norm

By Nakedi Mbabama

Ormin is there at the beginning of the cat and mouse events which see him go after Castillo, his mentor and commandante, in his quest for revenge. He soon discovers that this enthralling saga has more sides to it as he gets drawn into an evil international game of corruption, deadly plots, assassinations and political intrigue that see him serving other political agendas while he pursues his own. He also kisses death as he becomes part of the doomsday moment that the stolen nuclear arms from the theatre of war in the Near East bring to the present. Various players emerge in the competition and lust for power to determine the fate of the world in this reset which shapes The New Norm. Each fight to stay alive; will they all survive?

Nakedi Mbabama’s new novel blends political fact, fiction and future possibilities in a storyline that aims to tantalize the reader. It is the first novel in a continuous series that seeks to delight lovers of political fiction. Nakedi is a writer, activist, analyst and social entrepreneur.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nakedi Mbabama
• Release date: Nov 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370214198

Book preview

The New Norm

Nakedi Mbabama

The New Norm

Nakedi Mbabama

Copyright © 2017 Nakedi Mbabama

First edition 2017

Published by Nakedi Mbabama Publishing at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Printed and bound by Novus Print Solutions

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

This book is dedicated to my parents, who by God’s good graces are still alive today. They inspire me to strive to leave and remake this world into a better place than when they entered it. A particular shout out to my Mom who still believes in my abilities and talents to this day, whose unwavering support also carries me every day of my existence on this earth. May I live as gracefully and as long as they have. I also dedicate part of this book to my children Neo, Osiame and Sihle; may their lives bring as much joy to this world as theirs have brought to mine.

NakediMbabama

Mthatha

South Africa

12 October 2017

Contents

The Prologue

1 In the Beginning

2 Operation Sandbag

3 The Whistle Blowers

4 The Second Coming

5 The Ormin Brief

6 Eliminate with Extreme Prejudice

7 The Fall of Raqqa

8 Mission Objectives Realised

9 Brothers in Arms

10 Breaking Point

11 Boiling Point

12 Deliberate Chaos

13 Epilogue

The Prologue

The missile was awaiting activation as the finger holding the trigger was held three blocks away at a vantage point with a view of the target. The switch on signal was going to be transmitted on a secure GSM frequency to a GPS enabled homing device mounted on the warhead. The missile was a self-guiding missile with a two stage blast timer, the first to take away the oxygen and the second to create a fiery explosion intended to incinerate and crush any target within range!! It was an evolution of the fire-and-forget range of missiles as it was designed to find its target even if the target had moved or deviated in some way from its original location. The two that were already pre-programmed to target were awaiting launch, with the second missile primed to go off five minutes after the first from a triangular location. The missile’s to target path was clear and direct, scheduled to fly at no more than ten meters above any structural surfaces in a pre-programmed nap of the earth path trajectory. The attack route had been carefully pre-planned to minimise risk of disruption including radar detection and other radio frequency interruptions that may cause the missile to deviate from its course. A fail safe mechanism had been built in through target position imaging given that the White House was a fixed location and not a moving target. This had made the homing in functionality easier to build into the calculated trajectory that the purpose built 512k chip could accommodate, thus creating the eyes of the missile to avoid any collision with poles, masts or other unexpected objects on the pre-calculated flight path. They were using a low frequency detonator meaning the bomber had to be at least within 500m radius of the missile location.

The magic bullet in London had passed the beta phase with flying colours, with the builders marvelling at their handwork. Using the same principles of the smart missile, it had a built in microchip that sought the intended target identified through body thermal imaging. It worked best if the target was stationary but could follow the target once captured and moulded on the body contour imaging device that was handheld and was the size of a mini i-Pad. In anticipation of counter measures to throw the magic bullet off, an improved variation was already in production that could pierce defence shields built around the intended targets. In its current iteration, the magic bullet, aka mb-1, was suitable for this mission as its thin design and titanium coating with a trigger sensor at the nose that set off an internal explosion on entry into the body, fitted the intended function of quietly and stealthily taking out its target! The clear cool summer day of 30 July was the chosen D-day to unleash a bloody carnage in Washington City and strike a major blow of death in London.

The attacks went off simultaneously on both sides of the Atlantic. In Washington, the White House was struck by the first remote controlled missile device while in London outside no.10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister was fatally struck by a bullet while making a press announcement in front of his official residence. The attack on the White House had hit the wing housing the President and First Family’s living quarters, while the British Prime Minister had been killed by a direct hit on him! The news exploded onto the screens of global media outlets, calling the incredible events that were being beamed onto the TV screens of most households as an attack on the free world! For many the sight of a felled British Prime Minister was unbelievably shocking, just like the surreal picture of a White House burning from the direct missile hit on it was difficult to comprehend! The question on everybody’s mind was who had carried out these brazen attacks, while the corporate media was more blunt; who was responsible for this despicable dastardly attack on a symbol of the free world; who in their moment of madness had dared to attack the seat of the most powerful country on earth?! How could American and Western excellence, professionalism and exceptionalism be visited by this level of blatant destruction? The time was 09h33 in London while it was 03h33 in Washington.

The second missile had gone off as scheduled, striking the east side of the White Hose complex four minutes after the first. The world was reeling in shock and disbelief as the scenes of carnage and death filtered through the media screens of most households. Washington was in a flurry of activity and ablaze with sirens, fire teams and emergency personnel, accompanied by a heavy security presence from all sectors of the US security establishments who were scrambling to lock down and comb the area for every scrap of evidence and clue they could gather even in the dark. There was a full presence of Marines, Navy SEALS and National Guard on the ground, with four Blackhawk helicopters circling the White House compound around the clock, with jets patrolling the greater Washington precinct assisted by the latest AWACS which were scouring the city for any possible devices that may follow up the two strikes already made. On the Potomac all the way up to Chesapeake Bay, four nuclear submarines had already entered the waters to patrol and secure the Bay leading up to the Atlantic Ocean. Two aircraft carriers had been scrambled to secure the entrance into Maryland, with other warships already en route from Norfolk to secure the entire East Atlantic up to the Bay of Fundy. The First Family had been evacuated within 3 minutes of the first strike. Firstly they had been located, secured and moved out of the private family quarters in the West wing to a bunker located at the basement of the building called the PEOC or Presidential Emergency Operations Centre bunker. It consisted of 10 feet of steel and concrete that the US President goes into during an emergency and can withstand a nuclear and chemical attack. It is located under the East Wing, and is sometimes referred to as the vault. In anticipation of a second strike, a decision was made to totally evacuate the First Family from the White House compound, into a nuclear submarine anchored on the Potomac, and have the President secured by the Navy’s Virginia fleet stationed in Norfolk, in one of two secure bunkers located near Washington, in either the Greenbrier complex in West Virginia or in Mount Weather in Virginia. Moving the President and First Family had happened under a heavy escort that had been undertaken in the melee of securing the White House and locating the source of the attack! Most White House personnel had been moved to other secure locations that formed the underground bunkers that fed off the White House underground tunnel network.

Indeed a second missile strike had come about four minutes after the first from a different location targeting the East Wing, damaging the Oval Room, employed both as a sitting room and as a reception room; the Treaty Room, so named because many treaties have been signed in it; the Lincoln Bedroom, in which President Abraham Lincoln had signed the Emancipation Proclamation and which was now being used as a guest room for distinguished male visitors; the adjoining Lincoln Sitting Room; and the Rose Guest Room, which has been occupied by five visiting queens and which was also used for notable female guests. Other parts of the building which had borne substantial damage included the Red Room, which was used as a parlour and was furnished in the French Empire style of 1810-1830; the Blue Room, a drawing room containing portraits of seven Presidents; the Green Room, also a parlour, famous for its paintings, and the East Room, which was often used for entertainments of a musical or theatrical nature following formal White House dinners, and which also served as a reception room on state occasions. One of the AWACS had quickly picked up the location of the second strike, assisted by the USS Truman which was more of a floating surveillance craft than a strike warship, which had also identified the origin of the second strike. A Blackhawk accompanied by an F 35 stealth fighter jet was immediately despatched to the identified site to neutralise the threat and capture any possible rogues that may still be on the site. The Navy SEALS quickly found the missile launch site which exploded just as they were closing in on it. No one was detected around the area as it soon became clear that the site had long been abandoned. The area was quickly cordoned off as a priority crime scene!

Meanwhile near the city centre, a man dressed in casual clothes hailed a taxi down and got into it. No word was spoken as the taxi joined the traffic to get out of town through the checkpoints that had immediately sprung up across the city following the White House attack. The traffic was slowly snaking its way up New York Avenue NW, with most people in a mild panic to get home. The taxi turned into 10th Street NW towards I Street NW and about 50m away from it, a huge explosion went off from a flower shop van shattering glass and shaking cars along the boulevard. The taxi had not been hit by shrapnel and flying glass as it had been shielded by a refuse truck. There was a momentary silence before pandemonium broke out as people started screaming with some running wildly from the scene. The taxi stopped abruptly and the occupants disembarked as if to survey the carnage that had unfolded in front of them. The passenger then ran around to the corner and looked down the street, while the driver melted into the panicked crowds. Destruction was everywhere as bodies lay strewn all over the street with cars burning and people screaming for help. The car bomb had been so severe that it had left a gaping hole in the ground it was parked on. The passenger turned around and disappeared into the fleeing crowd vanishing into the night. One minute later the parked taxi exploded wreaking its own death and carnage on that fateful night in Washington DC. All this had happened in a maddening 25 minutes on July 30.

At no. 10 Downing Street, Prime Minister Norman Benson had stepped out to address the nation on the latest developments surrounding the disappearance of Justin Adler, which had resulted in running accusations that were not going away. One of these was that Minister of Defence Howarth had known about and perhaps sanctioned the raid on the Ecuadorian Embassy with MI6 leading the charge, thus breaking a slew of international laws and conventions in the process. The world press wanted more details about this news item which had been leaked based on some credible information gotten from a whistleblower. The name of that whistleblower was not known yet, but some of the first online publications to run the story were pointing out the strong link between Justin’s disappearance and the strong involvement of US and British intelligence in a plot to snatch him from the embassy, as part of their desperate attempt to put a stop to the damaging and embarrassing leaks that were still coming through his media organisation. The Prime Minster’s office had first tried to ignore this story, preferring to stay away from what Howarth had called wild speculation on a matter that lacked credible facts. Then another leak to the media had provided the first direct clue of the involvement of some Government security agency in the kidnapping of Justin, making it a national security matter that the Prime Minister could not ignore anymore. This became paramount when the matter was raised in Parliament, as a grave matter of concern for the British Government given it was being implicated in activities that broke international law. Making matters worse was that nobody knew the whereabouts of Justin, where had he been taken to; where was he being held or hidden if indeed Government was involved somehow? The least that they could do was investigate the allegations since the whole thing had been reported by the Ecuadorian embassy to the London police given it had happened on British soil. Another matter was that very few if any had the capability of pulling off such a brazen kidnapping especially in the middle of London on such a location, unless it was an inside job or a mission involving one of the country’s top security agencies! There was too much security around the area to simply pull off a job like that especially given how it had been done, and some of the facts that were emerging that were raising a lot of questions around strong involvement by either one of the specialised police units or by MI6 itself!

The media circus was in full swing as line after line pointed out and pored over the various ways in which Government was implicated or had a hand in the matter. Feeding this speculation was Governments tepid response and denial, added to by both MI5 and MI6 saying nothing on the matter! Speculation was rife, strongly suggesting a collaborative effort by both British security and intelligence agencies working together with the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) to kidnap Justin. This is what had elicited heated debate in parliament over the past few days as the matter had now been declared a scandal by one of the opposition members who had called for a proper investigation forthwith, and had hinted at a vote of no confidence in a Government that had allowed this sort of thing to happen. The debate that afternoon had called for the heads of both MI5 and MI6 to be called to account and roll if necessary, and for the Prime Minister and his cabinet to resign as they were clearly being implicated in a matter that was damaging Britain’s good standing internationally. The Prime Minister had called for a recess and was going to give his response the following morning to these calls for his resignation and how Government was proposing to deal with the matter. As he stepped out that morning at about 09h30 to give his response to a World media that had been waiting for the briefing since 09h00; three minutes into his speech, he was seen clutching his chest and bending over in a heap to the ground by a horrified watching world. Security personnel immediately leapt into action surrounding him while some swiftly picked him up running into 10 Downing with his body and shutting the door behind them. In the shock of the moment one reporter was heard shouting the Prime Minister has been shot, the Prime Minister has been shot, I have it on camera! With that pandemonium broke out as the moment of the bullet hitting the Prime Minister in his heart was played over and over again across the entire World’s media. Prime Minister Norman Benson was declared dead to the World 30 minutes later. The country went into an immediate state of shock, mourning and outrage. The assassins had successfully used advanced imaging technology to integrate the surveillance cameras into a highly developed remote sensor firing mechanism.

01

In the Beginning

The room was filled with tension as each watched the other, waiting to see who was going to make the first move. The lapse in silence had provided a moment of reflection for all of them to re-assess what had just happened, and to ascertain if they wanted to end this now or were entertaining other options. This was the typical shootout standoff, with fingers ready for the quick draw if necessary, eyes darting from one to the other, scanning the room for any other movement that may trigger the shootout. It had come down to this; this was the tipping point, the moment of truth; death or life! Whoever made the first move would force the others to draw their guns, and from there it was a matter of choice between them as to who would live, and who deserved to die today. Ormin was thinking it would be interesting to see what the outcome would be, who would his Boss shoot, him or Ricky, Col. Richard ‘Ricky’ Fanning aka Jessie Piper. He was certain he and Jessie would shoot each other outright, as their eyes betrayed their intention. He was not sure about his Boss, but was not going to worry about it at the moment. If this was going to happen, the Gringo had to go, as he regarded him as the cause of all the standoff they were now in. He was sure of this in his mind, even though he had not put all the pieces together.

If he lived, he would prove how right he was, how his instincts were correct, if he died, Jessie would die with him, of that he was also certain. More so as none among them was wearing any protective armour, as this had been a meeting of brothers and comrades, this was like a safe house for all of them. But old habits die hard, as bringing a gun to a meeting was customary; besides none of them had been told to check in their weapons at the door this time, perhaps underlining the importance and finality of this meeting. It was going to end here today in one way or the other, and already the scene was set for that. He could feel the rage rise in him as he glared at Jessie but quickly suppressed it; he had to be emotionless and clear in his mind in order to kill effectively, he could not afford any hesitation or slip ups otherwise he would wind up dead instead, and he did not feel like dying today. If he did, Jessie’s plan would succeed. He had to stop him one way or the other, even if it meant die trying.

Ramon Castillo was the first to speak, Hold it everybody, do not do anything stupid, let us think about this a bit more, he commanded. It was too late; his authoritative voice did not seem to make a difference as any moment now the shooting would begin. Ormin could already see the twitch on Jessie’s face betraying his coiled readiness; he knew that once the firing started, he had at most ten seconds to get out of the room if he had any chance of coming out alive, even before the other guns burst in firing through the door and windows. There was a window to his right; he needed just one step forward and a leap out from there if everything went smoothly. Jessie was standing not far from the door, perhaps two leaps away and three steps from it. That gave him three seconds tops! Ramon was standing behind his desk; he had less to worry about as he was not the main target of this shootout. He was the prized asset and decider of who would live through this. That slight hesitation was enough to buy him time to escape and regroup; he could not afford to wait to see in which direction Ramon’s gun would point in the end. He spoke softly, signalling and triggering off the fire-fight, Too late Jefe!..., and with that guns were drawn. Ormin was first to reach for his gun and start firing, while Jessie simultaneously made a move for cover as he leapt towards the door before drawing his gun. Ormin let off two quick shots aiming for Jessie’s upper torso and neck area, hastily making his move for the window as planned. The forward movement was to make sure he hit his target, as he crashed through the window to land on the upper deck of the veranda. His mind had caught the scene in the room before exiting; he was pretty sure he had hit Jessie but could not be certain if he had killed him as he catapulted himself through the door to land on the passage. Ramon had been seemingly transfixed by the drama unfolding in front of him, waving his gun from Jessie to him, seemingly not sure who to shoot as predicted. Jessie had fired at him as he dove through the window but he could feel nothing at the moment as he was high on adrenalin. He had to get out now as he landed outside facing three soldiers with machine guns. He was counting in his head, three, four, five, six as he somersaulted towards the veranda wall, hauling himself over it to land in a break fall about ten meters to the ground below. Without pausing he got up and ran madly in a zigzag for cover as the cacophony of machine gun fire rattled all around him. Somebody was coming after him; he could hear the running steps. He knew his surroundings, and this was important now.

As Chief of Operations of the Castillo cartel, having come through the ranks at a very young age as a drug mule and smuggler, field agent, enforcer, territory commander, field operations manager, and now Chief of Operations which included planning and executing strategy, logistics and territorial management, as an extension of field operations management, he had built himself up into a formidable force out of nothing. The former involved managing the sectional heads who managed the various territories they headed in the Castillo narcotics operations network. Knowing every bit of ground, nook and cranny, every blade of grass in every area they operated in was part of his repertoire. This had been enhanced by the paramilitary training he had received as part of special operations skills they had been required to have as a select group of the cartel. Their special ops training had been done by Cuban Special Forces crack units, who had been training leftist guerrillas fighting against United States (US) trained Special Forces units within Columbia and Venezuela mainly. His group had been the last batch to be trained before the ‘total restructuring’; he was sixteen years old at the time. He was now 22 and under fire from his own unit under US influence! He silently made for a secret escape hole that had been created some couple of years ago and was embedded in his memory bank. He scrapped away the blade of grass that was covering the opening, found the hatch, rearranged the grass outside to look natural, closed the hatch and made his way down the tunnel. He had to crouch for the first twenty meters, feeling a stinging pain to his right side as he made it to the opening that allowed for a full standing position. Reaching for his right side and looking at his fingers, he drew blood.

He had been shot; the bullet had passed through his right side leaving a hole. He had to stop the bleeding, and without stopping as he worked out the tunnels in his mind choosing where he was going to exit, he tore out a piece of cloth from his shirt sleeve and together with his belt, tightened the cloth fast around the entry and exit wounds with the belt. He had chosen the one exit he had personally supervised himself, the last addition to this elaborate maze of underground tunnels. He had to make haste as he knew his pursuers would find the entry point in no time when seeing the blood stains he must have left behind. He walked hastily for twenty meters down one tunnel, then ten down another retracing his steps by walking backwards on the footprints he had made to take the route he had chosen. He used the rest of his shirt to carefully wipe off his tracks as he tiptoed gingerly towards his chosen exit point. He still had a healthy round of bullets in his gun, about 10 rounds. He was leaping forward trying to make time as he moved forward. Momentarily he stopped as he thought he heard sounds coming through the tunnels. They had entered the tunnels and it seemed they were following the foot and blood marks he had left behind as the noise was going away from him. This was buying him much needed time as he was not far from the secret tunnel door that would take him clear of the known exit points. He suspected there would be reception parties at each known exit point by now. He was upon the point of the secret door, as he carefully felt the wall for where he remembered the door to be. It was right where he remembered it to be, at 4o’ clock to where he was standing. He knelt down, and upon locating its exact position, started feeling for where the small garden shovel and key were. Again they were right where he had put them, at the end of the 8o’ clock mark. In fact the code had been 16h41, which was at the exact time that he had sealed the door and hidden the key.

He had gone to elaborate lengths to hide its location, placing it in a permanent shadow spot and making sure that there were crack marks all long the tunnel walls to disguise any hint of a crack that would give away the location of this escape tunnel. The key was to open and lock the door at will whenever in use, and the hand shovel to help clear any mud that may hamper opening the door especially in case of a quick exit like now. He opened it got in and locked it from within. The blood had stopped completely, as he crawled the last ten meters to the hatch that opened to the outside. He was almost in a standing position, crouching at more or less 1,7m as he slowly pushed the hatch up to peer outside. He could see nobody. He did a 360 degree survey of the terrain around him, but could see nobody, nothing! To his right was a clump of trees that were part of a forest which led deep into the jungle beyond, just as he had planned it. Nobody was in sight. He cocked his gun, gathered his strength, and pulling himself up, hoisting himself quickly out of the hole, rolled over once with gun ready to fire and paused for 5 seconds. Nothing moved or stirred towards him. He reached for the hole cover, putting the hatch back and making sure it looked part of the natural environment, and briskly made for the cover of the nearby trees. He crouched behind a thicket surveying the landscape before him. The time since the shooting was exactly 3m48:11s. The hatch was located on the other side of a small hill, so the clearing could not be seen from the compound, unless one was directly upon it or at least standing on the ridge which would then mark one out from any observer. On the other hand, from a place about 50 meters from the forest entrance, one could see the compound from where the ground sloped upwards before sharply dipping into a steep slope on the back of the forest, taking one down a ravine, which had a fresh water stream at the bottom of it. It was hostile terrain to one not familiar with such territory, a welcome refuge from pursuit to one so adapted to jungle terrain as was the case with him now.

He would now complete his escape and regroup to establish his own cartel given that Castillo’s was fully compromised and thus finished from his point of view. He could hear the rattle and cackle of gunfire, as he worked himself to the top of the forest mound, with the full compound appearing before his eyes. He was very mindful to stay out of view as he was certain they were also scanning the forest with binoculars trying to establish his whereabouts. The scene was of a mini-war, as momentarily two helicopters appeared with armed men alighting from them. They then hovered above as one opened fire with heavy calibre machine gunfire while the other started bombing strategic places around the compound. These were either United States of America Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) or Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) helicopters, if not a combination of both, and they seemed to be moving in a pattern as they fired and dropped bombs; then it hit him! The one helicopter gunship was strategically bombing the tunnel maze. Somebody must have gotten a map of the entire tunnel complex and was now bombing places where the tunnels ran, hopefully burying him under the collapsing rubble! This angered him, as it was now beyond doubt that they had wanted him dead. They were taking no chances; hence he had also taken no chances by covering his tracks, even after exiting the secret exit point. It was a full blown war over there, with some of the Castillo gang being totally eliminated. Pity the poor bastards who had come after him under the tunnels, they would be buried alive! It seemed like someone wanted no one to witness what had happened at the Castillo compound except for those in on the plot. His worst feelings had been confirmed, as once more he realised he had been right, he was always right when he trusted his instinct. He felt no sorrow for Castillo, only anger and scorn. He would pay for what he had done, and soon he would know the full extent of it. He looked back once more at the surreal scene unfolding before his eyes before turning his back to go down the ridge to find Jesus, his one time mentor and trusted field trainer. The time was 5m37:26s since the shootout. He needed a completely new team; this one had been compromised to the core. Castillo was finished, dead; he just did not know it yet!

Halfway down the ridge he could hear the clattering of a helicopter above in the forest area he had just left, obviously a search party. They must have fanned out into the forest lip scanning the breadth of it as it ran in a crescent along the bottom of the mound. This was good search and scouting, to make sure that he had not escaped their clutches, even though they might have buried him underground in the tunnels. He crouched in a cavern as the helicopter turned away near the edge of the ridge where it started sloping downwards into the ravine. He needed to get away more quickly, hoping that the wound would hold out for the duration. It would be dark in two hours; he needed to find the nearest help before then. He was on a countdown also, as the first 24 hours were critical. He had to re-establish and regain the trust and upper ground before his credibility got totally destroyed in the jungle, for over here, that was all that one had, credibility. If that was destroyed, one was as good as dead, as you either found yourself isolated with no help, or being the hunted with no one to assist you. He was certain that by now word was already starting to spread of him being the cause of the entire commotion at the Castillo drug processing compound, he was being portrayed as being behind it all, he was being turned into an untouchable man. He had to reach his key people before they were completely turned against him. The time was 7m58:51s after shootout when he reached the stream below, taking in as much fresh water as he needed. He was making rapid time!

Jessie was angry and frustrated. He had been shot by Ormin, almost killing him. If he had not moved as swiftly as he had, he most certainly would be dead! His training had come to the fore, as once more he had defied the odds. He had done so in Iraq and Afghanistan many times, war and conflict were intimate to him. He was not sure if he had hit Ormin, but judging by his escape from the room, he was sure he was not fatally wounded. He was in bad shape, bleeding profusely from the neck wound which had missed an artery by inches. He needed stitching as he started barking orders for help, while shouting out for a search and destroy party to go after Ormin. Ramon had come to where he was lying on his side in the passage, shouting out in Spanish the orders that Jessie had just given. There was a scramble followed by rapid machine gunfire and running footsteps as Ramon shouted out again,

Did you get him?, Not yet!... came the hasty response from a camarada in full pursuit. Get him, dead or alive!…, Jessie shouted in return. Get me a medical kit Ramon quickly and do the patch-up work yourself, hurry before I lose consciousness… Ramon ran back into his office, opened an oak panelled cupboard taking out a medical kit from it. He hurried back to Jessie. You will have to do it here and now, clean the wound first and stitch it up. You know the drill; you must have done this a lot of times before… Yes I have. What about the gun now amigo?..., Ramon asked a hint of alarm in his voice. Insurance Ramon. You did not seem sure who to aim at there minutes ago…if you had also shot at Ormin, I am sure he would be dead by now. We both could not miss. Why did you hesitate? They were staring at each other now, pausing to reflect on their words.

I was not sure if you were going to carry out your side of the deal Jes, this was a life and death situation, not some promised deal which may or may not happen. You have bled on your word, which is good enough for me; it proves you are a man of your word. I understand this language more than simple talk. Ormin was my right hand man, I have a long history with him, he was a trusted loyal lieutenant who served me with distinction. He has also bled for this cartel, in the name of Castillo; you cannot expect me to just believe you purely on your word. You needed to bleed Jes, to die if you have to on your word. That is how it works with us. We are both tied now; you need me just as I need you. So come, put away your gun, I will stitch you up and we both finish off this job. Jessie hesitated for a fraction allowing the words to sink in. He put back the safety catch and let Ramon clean and stitch the wound without another word.

Ramon worked rapidly, as he also surveyed the chest wound. The bullet was stuck in his left shoulder and he wanted to take it out.

How long?…, Jessie asked.

Two minutes tops if I do cowboy surgery and can hold out on the pain, otherwise half an hour if you want a proper job.

No time, have to go cowboy. We have to find and eliminate Ormin, he is a great risk and threat to the plan, he cannot get away. I have to assist in the effort so lets do it. Help me up into the office; we will have to use some of your finest Scotch for anaesthesia.

With that Ramon helped Jessie up steering him to the office couch. Jessie lay down, taking a swig from the Macallan 24 year old single malt, which Ramon also used to clean the area around the wound. Ramon was carrying a sharp blade which he now wielded ready to thrust into the wound to get the bullet out.

Somebody shouted from outside just then, Found him, in the tunnels. We are going in to flush him out Boss.

Go, go, we are coming just now!…, Ramon responded. Jessie urged Ramon on, Do it now! We have to locate him. Get me the maps of your tunnels after this. Lets go!... With that Jessie put a cloth to his mouth and nodded towards Ramon to get on with it. Ramon cut a wider hole with the knife and with a forceps started digging the bullet out. He was quick and precise, paying no heed to any sign of pain that Jessie may be displaying. He got hold of the bullet, pulled it out and placed it on the table. He then came back without breaking a step and started stitching the wound up after applying Betadine ointment on it. He then dressed it up tightly bandaging the wound as he finished off. There, done in about three minutes. Jessie had tear marks on his face, but had not made a sound. He had also sweated profusely, with vein protrusions on his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, and let out a huge gush of air as Ramon pulled out the cloth from his mouth. Ramon gave Jessie a leaf to chew, This will numb the pain and bring your strength back… Jessie took it without question.

Somebody came running in from outside just then, Boss, we are taking fire from some among us, they do not understand why we want to kill Ormin. They are defending him. Thing is we do not know if he is co-ordinating the attack as we have not found him yet. He is down in the tunnels, maybe he has gotten out somewhere, we do not know Boss!

Block all the exit points now, here take these maps and cover all the exit points pronto! We will take out the ones firing on us. Ormin has fired on me, by firing on me he has turned against me. In the process he almost killed our Gringo friend here who was trying to protect me; he saved my life. Ormin must be punished. Go after him and bring him to me dead or alive. Go!

Jessie spoke softly now, Get me the radio, we need help. We will have to flatten this place, so secure all the stock that is here. We will move it to another location. We cannot afford loose ends. My reinforcements will also help with the fire fight; they can be here in two minutes. You will have to help me up as we need to help direct fire to the desired targets. This will be the operational room; you are right, top priority is to find Ormin as he may jeopardise the plan if he escapes. He is wounded for sure, we just do not know by how much and how agile he is in his movements. It is nearing ten minutes since the shooting, under normal conditions I would say he is at borderline of escaping beyond our reach. But wounded, he is still within our grasp, and he is on foot in the countryside. We just need to locate his whereabouts. He seems to be in the tunnels, we have to find him within this time, or else he could be anywhere. That is a worse case scenario for us. Radio in your men and make sure they have covered all tunnel exit points. I will also need men covering strategic points so nobody escapes. You know those who will listen to you, rally them to the key points. Ramon and Jessie immediately set about their tasks with great urgency.

The ten minute mark had gone by and there had been no sign of Ormin, he had not been found yet. All exit points were covered and no one had appeared to have left from them. They had received reports of bloodstains in the tunnels but had not yet found him. Given he was wounded, it was reasonable to assume he would not make rapid progress in his escape. He had to be somewhere inside the tunnels; given the elaborate network, it would take time to cover every corner, time they did not have! This was not being helped by the fighting that had broken out in the compound between the two factions. The helicopters arrived with back-up units from Breakwater, which was a strategic security firm sub-contracted to certain US Government agencies on missions that required stealth operations, rapid deployment, protection, military training and in this case, rendering close support to US units and operatives on the ground. When Breakwater came into a scene like this, it was known that all hell would break loose! They dampened and sanitised, in short they suppressed and cleaned up a situation. They quickly linked up with Ramon’s forces on the ground while the unit commander, Tim Bradley, joined them in the operations room. They started picking out the resistance fighters, using heavy calibre gun fire mounted on the helicopter gunships, as well as missiles and bombs mounted on the other chopper. They now had the upper hand. A decision was made to evacuate the tunnels leaving only those who were with Ormin, as they decided to end the hunt by burying Ormin in the tunnels. In two minutes most of Ramon’s men were out and the heavy bombing started. The ground shook with each dropped bomb, condemning those inside to an early grave. Then it was decided to send a small unit to the top of the ridge and below to scour the edge of the forest for any tell tale tracks marking a possible escape. They had to make sure. One of the helicopters was ordered to fly in an arc over the forest in a 100m sweep from the forest edge using thermal imaging to detect any possible human life in that area. All these turned up nothing.

Jessie and Tim were satisfied that they had covered all bases, Ormin was a goner. He was either already dead or was trapped inside those tunnels with no chance of digging himself out if he were still alive, as the bombing was done in a way to seal all possible escape routes. He would be buried alive! Once the remaining fighters were all killed and the compound secured, they began the process of evacuating everything of value from the base. This included the most valuable asset of all, the tons of cocaine that was being shipped out. Another helicopter was called in for that task, it was a cargo chopper, and started being loaded for the journey to a new secure base. Over the two hours the loading and delivery went on, all 100 tons of it, till it was time to completely destroy the compound. It had already been rigged with explosives, and as the last team took off with Ramon and an injured Jessie in one of the two choppers, the explosives were let off. Tim was filming the scene that was unfolding before their very eyes, lighting up the dusk sky as the explosion let off a ball of fire that saw some fireworks go up into the sky, creating a sad yet spectacular spectacle of a mission that was well on its way. Ramon and his team had been won over and secured; now the time had come to consolidate power and swallow the other cartels up. Already word had started being spread of Ormin’s treachery and deceit; they wanted to finish off any remnant loyal individuals that may think of regrouping in his name. The reorganization of the drug business had begun, and with it, the intended influence entrenched.

Elsewhere in the jungle, like many others who saw the plume of fire light up the early evening sky, Ormin looked back at what was happening and knew that a new era had begun, things would never be the same again for all the cartels from now on. The battle and war for the heart and soul of the $600 billion narcotics business was on, and a deep sense of foreboding came over him as he anticipated the journey ahead, perhaps like most, stemming from being shaken, woken up and dragged out of one’s comfort zone. He had already made contact with one of his trusted muchachos, updating him on the latest developments while receiving treatment for his wound. It was not that bad and already he felt as good as new from the herb potion that had been mixed to heal it. He had made sure that no one saw him come in; he simply was not there, as he knew this would place his brotherly comrade in grave danger. He was sure to be visited and questioned as one of his known loyal comrades, but with no witnesses to his ever being there, he was safe. He had to get an alternate underground network going, one off the beaten track, a completely new strand and line of contacts. None fitted this profile than the unit he had trained with when he was sixteen, as all had gone their different directions, some disappearing into cartels like the one that Ormin had worked for, while others had joined the Government side; others had simply hung around the fringes, dropping out of society with little to no contact with anybody else in the world. A small band of them like Jesus here had kept contact, and it was to one of them that Ormin was being pointed to.

Jorge was part of a community mining group to which he had also offered his protection services as they would occasionally be harassed by Government and big business which now and again would send goons over to try to intimidate the local peasant population. They would be beaten off each time they came into town, failing constantly in their attempt to take over the mine by forcing the community to sign away their concession rights. Jorge was two days travel from where he was if he moved quickly, and Ormin knew he had to make a move now at night rather than during the day, where he stood the risk of his trail being picked up. The cocoa paste he was chewing was working very well; he was wide awake and full of energy. He had also been given small food supplies by Jesus, enough to last him three days without having to scavenge for food while travelling lightly, a fresh supply of boots, one man tent, clothes and protective gear from insects, the rain and harsh sun. He also had a jungle knife which he strapped to his right shin, two extra clips of ammunition for his 9mm pistol and three more clips for the barrel folding AKM he had been given by Jesus. Jesus had also offered him a bullet proof vest which he had put in his backpack in case he needed it. Lastly Jesus had given him $100,000 in cash in compressed notes in a belt, which he fastened around his waist. He had offered more but had turned it down, saying this was enough. Rising up to Chief of Operations in a major cartel like the Castillo’s had its benefits, and he knew more would come if he carefully moved around putting together a fresh team. He bid Jesus farewell promising to come back when least expected, thanking him for the directions and supplies, then melted into the night unseen by anyone. The time was 21h13m11s when he started his journey to link up with Jorge and begin a new chapter in his life, and 5h29m09s since the shootout at the Castillo countryside drug processing complex. He had an eight hour walk ahead of him, and planned to make most of the head start he had on the search party he was sure would come just to check if per chance he could be alive. He marched on with the words of his fighting unit egging him on as it all came back: ‘hasta la victoria sempre’!



How had it all begun? It had started with the three bomb explosions that killed Ramon’s son José, the head of the Guerra cartel and his family, the head and top brass of the Rodriguez cartel. They all died on their way back from a top secret meeting of all cartel Bosses who were part of the most powerful drug trafficking alliance in Central and South America (CSAM), in fact in the Southern Hemisphere. They had all been killed at more or less the same time, all within 5 minutes of each other! The meeting had been top secret, with security also managed by trusted associates from within the military and police establishments of the countries they came from. In the host country, Colombia, top military brass was providing eyes and ears both in the air and on the ground. It was as if it was a summit gathering of World leaders, which was how alert the security forces were. The Castillo cartel had done its homework very well, ensuring not only the secrecy of the venue, but that it was near nigh impossible to fire even a mortar into the compound where the meeting was being held. The cartel Bosses had been forced to leave their armed security personnel behind, while heavily armed units were provided by the country’s security forces who were dressed in paramilitary fatigues that day. That is how tight security was in order to ensure that nothing went wrong, and that if it did, the security forces would be the only armed force who would deal with any threat or attack. They did not want to take any chances!

More than anything, this showed the influence and reach the drug cartels now had, showing how much they had matured and had learnt to be smarter in demonstrating to their Governments the long term value and worth of working with their drug cartels sometimes. They were positioning themselves to becoming partners in finding solutions with governments, they were not there yet, but were slowly winning the sceptics over. The mooted partnership was beginning to suggest the opening up of limitless possibilities, especially as drug related violence between cartels was low and down, jobs were being created in other sectors using drug finance, and all paramilitaries had been dissolved with peace being the order of the day. This was the compromise agreement entered into to create some semblance of normality, stability and peace.

Some did not like this agreement but the most affected SAM Governments had resolved to try it and already it was bearing some positive fruit. Long traumatised communities were beginning to experience normality after a long time, some for the first time. The accord had guidelines and set rules for either side which were being closely watched, monitored and policed. The Consortium meeting was an outcome of that, based on trust that had been created on both sides, between Governments and the drug cartel bosses. The agreement came with special courts attached to them, as an avenue for quick arbitration in courts between Government, the cartels and the affected communities. The idea was to keep the peace and dispense quick justice where necessary. This experiment was ongoing and amid its teething problems at the beginning, was already showing signs of progress. The courts were beginning to be respected as drug merchants were also mindful of keeping their foot soldiers in check in order for a healthy environment all round to prevail, which was good for business. Now this!

The bombs had gone off in different venues. Ramon’s son was killed just when he was about to drive through the gates of his ranch, in full view of his family. His driver and bodyguard had also perished in the carnage. Alvaro Guerra had met his family on his yacht after the meeting, having landed by helicopter from the meeting on the yacht anchored just off the sea shore. It had been totally blown out of the water, that’s how big the explosion had been. Manilas Rodriguez’s jet had exploded in mid air just six minutes after take off. All his top honchos were on board and all had died instantly with him. An air of total disbelief engulfed everybody, as all this had happened within the ambit of control of their respective security detail. Everybody was scrambling for answers as to how it had happened and by whom. The Governments had sealed off the explosion scenes and were searching for clues. But this was going to take time as they were ill equipped to deal with what looked like advanced explosives which had been used; it was going to take months. Ramon Castillo was grieving, in fact the other families had taken it all in a very bad way, they were angry and wanted answers now, not after three months.

They put their top people to investigate this, calling in all their favours, ably assisted by willing partners in the police and military, who were keen to show that they had nothing to do with this. In fact in an intelligence briefing to the affected cartel members, the security chiefs made it clear that there were two possible scenarios here, first was that one of them had done it, which they said was less likely, but secondly, that this could be the work of rival independent gangs or smaller cartels who were ambitious enough to take on the big Bosses. But to pull a mission of this magnitude especially with the security around it, they either had help from inside the big cartel Consortium itself, or worse, some breach of security had occurred on the Government side and somebody from within was working with these smaller cartels. But they kept on pointing out that if there was a mole in their midst, they would know even if they would not know who it was, given the way they worked rotationally. It had to be from somebody from outside working with somebody from inside either in the cartels or possibly in the security establishment. The sophistication of the execution and explosives used pointed to an outside well trained or connected group, working with somebody from within. Where and when did they get the chance to plant the explosives, as they were planted right on the spots or locations where the explosions had gone off? Also how did they know where they would be at a certain time, for all to die within five minutes of each other? They all had work to do, and were going to touch base in five days time!

Ormin had been picked by Ramon to co-ordinate things with the other Bosses and security establishment in Colombia, as well as dig around using their network of contacts on the ground. He started putting together his own profile of what could have happened. One thing stood out for him from the intelligence briefing, the outside connection, outside the cartel Consortium and security establishment. Who would have the most to gain and have the organisational nous to pull off something like this? Whose interest would it serve the most? There were a few possibilities, from rival cartels no matter how small they were, politicians and security bosses in Government wanting a share of the cash pie or even pliant customers, enemies of the accord wanting to crush the cartels or use them for their own ends, ambitious lieutenants from within the big cartels themselves sowing suspicion to create fighting among cartel members in a coup plot; but in all these, they needed big outside help to not only be able to take on the cartel Consortium, but to be able to pull off a mission of this magnitude. It seemed to him part of the answer lay in the type of explosives used; he had to find out what type of explosive was used and establish where they had come from. Then he would get to know how it was planted and by whom. He had to get outside help in order to get answers. He had to call in a contact he had not spoken to for almost ten years, who knew explosives like the back of his hand. He would be able to give him the answers he was looking for. Thing is where was he, he had to find him, and he knew whom to contact for that. He had to fly in to meet the connection, no telephones no open detection. He had to get away for two days to find him and take him to at least one of the scenes, the one where José died. He told Ramon he had to follow up a hot lead, and could not tell him where to nor how, just that he was going to have some answers in a few days time. This was to be kept strictly between them for security reasons, as they did not want a repeat of what had just happened.

Ramon trusted Ormin with his life; he had known Ormin since he was eight, as a strapping barefoot lookout and runner for his fledgling drug business way back then. Even at that age, Ormin had shown a sharp keen intellect and eye for detail; no one knew the jungles as well as he did. He had drawn a map of trails to get around the jungle at an early stage, showing how to evade the raiding army detail accompanied by the DEA sometimes. Ramon had insisted that Ormin go to school while working for him and making some money, as he wanted him to be a lawyer for the big business he had in mind. Ormin had excelled at school, finishing his primary and high school way ahead of schedule; he was fourteen when he finished high school. He had wanted to see more action on the business side of what Ramon was doing, who was more like a big brother to him now; one would swear they were blood brothers. Then politics