Trail of the Master Spies: Tales of the Jaguar Volume Ii

By E.C. Croslin

The heads of various Agencies, the CIA, NSA, the British Secret
Service, Interpol along with others, have had some of their best agents
killed, all with some kind of animal names, amongst those next on the
list is John Fernardaz a.k.a. James Barn, the Jaguar. Another man
who is known as one of Egypts Master Spies is the Chief of Egypts
own Secret Service, John is placed on a dangerous mission to stop the
person or persons responsible, as well as find two beautiful women
who hold the possible answers to the murders, without he himself
being discovered and killed. From England to the Middle East, his
search leads him to ruff night clubs, and through a maze of brushes, a
fight with a magician and a room filled with realistic maninkins.
The kill is clever, witty and above all else dangerous, leaving a trail
of bodies and no real clues, in ever country he or she has been in. The
prizes mount, with Barn hoping now to be one of those mounted on
the wall of a man called the Trophy Master.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477105658

E.C. Croslin

Everett Croslin Sr. is a native of Baltimore attended the city's schools before enlisting in the United States Navy for six years re-enlisting some years later in the United States Air Force servicing in Desert Storm and Desert Shield. He attended Coppin State College where he studied in Political Science later attended Morgan State University in the field of Psychology, Creative Writing as well as Script Writing. After nine months of working for NASA, Croslin soon turned his attention to Law Enforcement serving eighteen years as a Commissioned Officer trained by both the Maryland State Police and Baltimore City Police Department while working as one of Morgan State's Police Officers. Besides his writings he is a composer having arranged as well as performed musical scores for novels he has written. The author's love for adventure and friction writing goes back to his early teens his intentions are to bring more minorities into focus as leading characters as well as have his novels suit his audience dealing mostly in spy thrillers along with science fiction admiring such authors as Tom Clancy, Ian F1amming and Gene Rodenberry having a broader realm of imagination in entertaining their readers.

Book preview

Trail of the Master Spies

Tales of the Jaguar Volume II

E.C. Croslin

Copyright © 2012 by E.C. Croslin.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012907844

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4771-0564-1

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4771-0563-4

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4771-0565-8

This story was written 3/ 93 under the copyright, the property of MusArt Studios Inc.

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 by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Chapter One      Invitation From Death

Chapter Two      Guardian Of The Maze

Chapter Three      Five Gun Farewells

Chapter Four      In Search Of The Bull

Chapter Five      One Man Hit Squad

Chapter Six      The Gathering Of Spies

Chapter Seven      Cleo Rai Dara

CHAPTER EIGHT      Deceptive Motives

CHAPTER NINE      Strange Intel

CHAPTER TEN      Tag, You’re It

CHAPTER ELEVEN      The Question And Answer Session

CHAPTER TWELVE      Strange Alliances

CHAPTER THIRTEEN      More Than One Scout

CHAPTER FOURTEEN      Too Many Generals

The heads of various Agencies, the CIA, NSA, the British Secret Service, Interpol along with others, have had some of their best agents killed, all with some kind of animal names, amongst those next on the list is John Fernardaz a.k.a. James Barn, the Jaguar. Another man who is known as one of Egypt’s Master Spies is the Chief of Egypt’s own Secret Service, John is placed on a dangerous mission to stop the person or persons responsible, as well as find two beautiful women who hold the possible answers to the murders, without he himself being discovered and killed. From England to the Middle East, his search leads him to ruff night clubs, and through a maze of brushes, a fight with a magician and a room filled with realistic maninkins.

The kill is clever, witty and above all else dangerous, leaving a trail of bodies and no real clues, in ever country he or she has been in. The prizes mount, with Barn hoping now to be one of those mounted on the wall of a man called the Trophy Master.

Chapter One

Invitation From Death

THE EMBASSY, CAIRO EGYPT’S, MID SUMMER AFTERNOON, a meeting is called, representatives from various agencies attend, Frank Otterman, Chief of Field Operations for the National Security Agency and Brigadier General Edward Cromwall, another Field Operations Chief for the British Secret Service, are one of the many faces and names recognized in the meeting. There were other members of Interpol, along with other Secret Services from around the world. Both Otterman and the General were more undercover than the others knew, both had a part in a sub-agency called C.A.T.T., Covert Agency Tactical Team, their job, withdraw agents missing of left in dangerous situations and sometimes just hopelessly given up by their agencies. Secretly networking with certain members of other agencies, using their computers, communications systems along with covertly using their satellites, this small group of skilled spies, with coded names describing their skills, their success rate was sometimes better than the agencies the two worked for.

The meeting was composed of fifteen members four women, eleven men, all gathered around a large redwood table, highly polish with Plexiglas covering. The main speaker usually change with each meeting, which was usually few in number, today Rob Benton, from the CIA, who brings the meeting to an opening, since the burden of speaking, was in his hands. Standing from his seat he glances around the room to all who were there.

It has been bestowed on me to bring up this particle matter, that obviously touches us all. Raising his briefcase to the table top, he opens it to remove several photos.

These are some of the agents you have had assigned in this part of the world, as you can see, the large print says deceased. There has been a rash of murder, amongst our men and women who have traveled in the nearby areas of Iran, Palestine, Jordan… and yes even in England and it’s surrounding areas.

Yes, we know that much. A woman from France remarks, leaning on the table with pen in hand. The thing is why? Some of them were just merely stationed in these places, waiting for an assignment.

After long research and investigations, we have only come to one conclusion.

That is? The General asks.

This may sound off beat, but these agents all had some kind of animal names, they were good at what they did, and for years were some of the best agents their agencies had.

Just then a Middle Eastern man speaks, the Chief of Egypt’s Secret Service, Elijah Ashamar. Elijah not much taller than 5 foot 5 inches, dressed in a cream colored suit, with matching turban. His complexion bought out his complexion, along with the very dark black facial hair and eyebrows. His looks to be a man of power and wisdom, in which both were true, his record spoke for itself, he had never truly failed in capturing or foiling a plot against his King or himself.

And what is being done about these mishaps? He asks.

I would say there were mishaps, General Ashemar. These were well-orchestrated murders, which most of your Agency Chiefs have received letters, telling of the plans for these agents.

What about your CIA, did your Chief receive such a letter? Agent Nikanosi, leans back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him.

In fact he did. Benton walks again to his briefcase, removing a picture of an Asian woman in her middle thirties. This is agent Taniea Sie, now it’s not known if she has been killed as the rest of these agents, but she has disappeared somewhere in the Middle East.

Let me ask this of you, Benton. Otterman leans forward in his chair, before him lays several papers and a silver pen, which he picks up then fumbles with. Let’s just get to the point of this clam bait session. Isn’t it true that most of these deaths did occur in the Middle East?

Why yes.

We are all gathered here because of that? Frank’s Cajun accent would normally amuse Rob, but this time he was being put on the hot seat, something Otterman would do to his Benton’s Chief Richard Price, who’s arrogant natural he hated with a passion. I think we should just stop playing around with this. He turns to Elijah. Benton is a good man Chief Ashemar, but this is not the time to play political politeness. With the deaths obviously near you, we are hoping that you can help in finding this person or persons responsible.

Why of course. It would have been just a matter of saying it.

Good, now that that part of this meeting is solved, the next part is giving him some additional help.

Strolling across the room to the other side of the table, Benton stops near the French representative’s chair. Frank, I admire your… no pun intended, frankness. But that’s not all of the meeting. OPERATION CROSSBOW, is another subject that we need to clear up. So if you would be so kind.

Sorry Benton. Frank leans back once again in his chair, as Rob continues on the next suggest. They were had gotten to many agents would be needed, for the operation, when a young woman walks in. She pauses for a moment, hoping now to interrupt. Benton waves her in. There was a letter, the size envelope in her hand. She hands to Elijah Ashemar. He turns, looks upward as she hands it to him, then walks off. As the meeting continues, Nikanosi, who was seated next to him, notices Ashemar removing a handichief from his pocket, sweat rolls down his brown and he starts wiping it.

Is it some kind of bad news? The Asian representative asks. As Elijah reads it, he then hands it to him. Gentlemen, what agent Nikanosi has is a letter I wish to believe came from the person or persons responsible for the murders.

The agent hands it to the French woman, seated across from him. She starts to read it out loud. It was understandable why Nikanosi did what he did, his English was not as good as the others would have like it, he had not mastered it well.

This letter is addressed to all of us. It says the time has come for us to prove the worth of our agencies. She then turns her glance to Ashemar, as he set there still wiping his face. According to this letter, one of your agents was killed two days ago, Ramon Sirann.

He was one of my best agents. Elijah remarks. I have lost one other agent Sheena Mohammed, just one month ago, before Sirann’s mission.

And didn’t you mention this before? Surely we would have assisted in helping you find the reason for it. Ashemar looks toward Benton, as he made his noble suggestion.

I must apologize to all of you. Elijah slowly stands to his feet, glancing to each member.

If I had known this was the subject of this meeting, and if I had known that you to have lost agents under these circumstances, I would have asked for help. These murders are surely disturbing to hear, especially when there have occurred so close to my country.

Well, I for one think something needs to be done. The General said. It’s strange that all the agents that were murdered have been ones with animal code names… which mean someone has found their way into our files somehow.

What you’re suggesting is that someone on the inside, is behind all of this?

That seems to be the General’s idea, Benton. Otterman replies. It would seem our little secret agencies aren’t as secret as we would like them to be.

Frank slowly walks toward Benton, who stood silently with his hand, paused on his face. Behind him was a large map of Europe. Otterman stood next to him, then turns to the map, grabbing the pointer. Now let’s start with Mohammed, several months ago. The United Kingdom, lost one of its own in Zanzibar, not far from where your agent Mohammed was murdered.

Otterman slowly moves the pointer upward along the coastal area of Africa. Now according to what I see, who ever is doing this is working up along the coast.

Come on Chief Otterman, let’s get to the point of this… what is it you’re trying to prove?

Just this Benton, from Zanzibar to Tanzair, then Cairo, I can’t see you not seeing the picture. Frank turns facing the others, the expressions on their faces were blank. He had almost drawn the whole picture for them, it was hard for him to image why some of them couldn’t see it, especially those who were former military people. Come on people… don’t you see it? This nut case is after one of us, for some reason or another.

Wait Frank. Cromwall said, leaning on the table, his reading glasses half down on his nose as he looks on the map. He’s working his way to Cairo, which mean more than likely he’s still here.

Exactly… which bring us back to you, Chief Ashemar. Who ever this person is, he’s drawing his victims to your country, or… .

One of the Italian members then speaks out. Or what, Otterman?

He or she is challenging Ashemar’s agency, trying to make it seem as if it is ineffective. Otterman turns to glance on the map one last time, he moves to the center of the floor, his hand move slowly to his chin, he had something else on his mind, another theory after the one he had explained. Now there is one other thing that could be happening here.

Okay Frank… let’s hear it.

Well, Benton, since the last agents killed were Elijah’s, could it be possible that he’s the real target in this?

That maybe, Frank. Benton stops and turns back to the map. We have a missing carrier, who disappeared somewhere in here. Pointing to a small area, of Iran. Now I can’t go into great detail at this time, by her disappearance came around the same time agent Brewer was killed.

Then don’t you think that’s something I bloody well need to hear about?

Sorry Brigadier General, I didn’t mean to exclude you on this. Rob turned and said. There were soft murmurs from the other members, as they start to speak amongst themselves, that’s when Cromwall joins both Benton and Otterman at the map. Jonathan Brewer was on assignment in Iraq, when he was murdered… and I want to find out why.

Of course General, it was no disrespect intended.

Well, now that you two have make up. Why don’t we just dismiss the others and talk about this in another room? Frank wraps his arms around the two, leading them back to the table, that’s when Rob Bentons turns to dismiss the group.

The three stand in a corner of the hallway, as other members pass by. Turning their head every so often, they speak in whispering tones. Look frank, General. Benton said, turning his head in the direction of a large group of Egyptian guards. I didn’t want to mention this in front of General Ashemar, but with all you said Frank… you might be right. Someone just could be out to get him, or make his agency look bad.

But what would be the bloom’in reason, Benton? I have known Ashemar, ever since he took his position in the agency. The General turns briefly around, then back again. And for what purpose would it serve?

That’s a good question Edward. Otterman glances over to his colleague, and secret partner.

Now that’s something the three of us need to know… before you know it, this maniac will be on our front door steps to.

What else is it, you’re not telling us Benton?

Frank you know me too well. Rob reaches into his case, removing a list of names of freelance Assassins, who have in the past challenged some of the European agencies. Now of course I can’t give you gentlemen, this list, or Xerox it at this time. But I want you to briefly glance over it and see if you recognize any names. He then hands it to General Cromwall, as he unfolds his reading glasses.

Yes, by Jove, there is one name I know on here, Kristen Voldenoff.

Voldenoff? Asks Otterman.

Yes Frank. Benton looks up from the list. Voldenoff is, or was the Soviet’s master Assassin. He has successfully killed several American agents, in the past. Mostly around the time Khrushchev was in office.

But he’s…

We believe he is, Frank. Kristen Voldenoff hasn’t surfed, in more than five years. He was believed to have been killed by some of his Russian conspirators. Benton answered. Cromwall then hands the list to Frank Otterman, who takes just a little longer to look on it, then pauses. Now here’s one I know is not dead, Marx Dellafoy.

As far as we know Frank, Dellafoy is somewhere in Canada. He hasn’t worked in more than seven years… not out right.

And what about this chap, Peter Pollaskus? The General folds his glasses, placing them back in his suit coat pocket. I hear he’s still active, and still a threat in some countries. So where is he now?

Yes, he’s still active, now his where abouts is still unknown. The last known place he was sighted was also in Canada, there’s a good possibility he could be hooking up with Dellafoy. Otterman hands the list back, that’s when the three start their walk to the exit, each meeting a limousine parked in the rear of the Embassy. As each member is slowly escorted from the Embassy’s secured area, by either motor cycles units or motor cad, Benton, Cromwall and Otterman stand close to Benton’s limousine, watching. General. Frank and I, as you might say, must get on with it. I will fax this list to your office at a later date.

And what do we do to help General Ashemar? Surely we’re not just going to stand here with our fingers crossed.

Absolutely not. Rob turns to Otterman. I am sure, between Frank and I. We will come up with something. Even if we must send an agent, to sort of guard against attempts on his life.

I think I might have just the man for the job. Said Cromwall, snapping his fingers.

Good, that let us talk about it again at a later date. Otterman and Benton climb inside the limousine, with the driver holds the door. Frank turns again. Oh yes General, you and I must talk again… you know. Edward Cromwall said nothing, winking his eyes said it all. Just make sure you look out, for trash trucks. There seems to be a lot around. Frank added, before slipping inside the car.

Otterman was right, almost every turn the General’s limo, and the two cycled Officers made, trying to reach the Airport, there was some sort of truck collecting debris, large and small, from the crowd streets of Cairo. As they reach another busy portion of the city, a man dressed in uniform slowly walk toward the standing limo, the driver slowly rolls down the window and the man leans inside. Pardon me sir, but there is something going on ahead. I am not sure of what.

We’re trying to reach the Airport, man. Is there any bloom’in way we can get around this mess?

There is a small street in back of you, if you can turn around it will take you through to the other side. I think you will find that way a lot easier, with just a minor delay. The man moves back, holding the traffic, until the limo can reverse itself. Cromwall lit his hand made Danish pipe, the vanilla aroma, fills the rear section.

I can see why General Ashemar has a problem in this country, God bless me, with beggars, left wing extremist, religious fanatics and underworld figures. That’s not to say we don’t have them, but here is a melting pot of the lot.

Some distance later, he turns looking back though the rear windshield of his limo, the two cycled Officers were not there, either he and his driver had lost them somewhere in the turning, or it was some kind of trap. The thought of a trap, comes too late. The car was half way in the alley size street, a car blocking their path ahead. Quickly man, turn this motor car around! The drive suddenly puts it in reverse, only to see a large truck entering the street behind them.

Slowly slipping guns from their suit coats, hidden from sight by the heavily tinted windows, both driver and passenger wait to see what would occur.

From the driver’s side of the car, steps a familiar face, dressed as an Egyptian Police Officer. It was Tim Ward, along with two other men, he continues walking, glancing upward to the roof tops of the surrounding building, a hint to the General that he not only had the area secured, but that there were other agents above them. Steady man, this is not what I had thought. Cromwall gentle placed his hand on the driver’s shoulder. It’s one of the American agents. Roll my window down, if you would.

Well, General, and what a fine day this is. Tim leans down, with the window still moving slowly downward. I take it the Chief warned you, about the trash that floats around here.

Yes dear boy, he did mention something about it… but what are you doing here?

Ward glances at the driver, then back again, before nodding his head for the General to climb out and walk with him. If you would… let’s talk next to my car.

What about that truck?

Ward waves to the men in the truck, they slowly turn it around, then climb out, it was more of Ward’s friends, Cromwall could see it now, as they stand guarding the entrance way, until all their business was finished. As you can see General, we try to make things a little more comfortable for Her Majesties finest.

Now. Cromwall said, holding his pipe firmly in hand. What is this all about?

The briefing… there were some things good old Benton didn’t bother to mention. The Chief just called on his cell phone, he had us to come along as his guards, that’s why I am here… originally.

So why all the fancy display, of cleverness?

Oh this. Tim turns to the truck and laughs. This was rigged a long time before meeting you, but it came in handy… didn’t it? But back to our little matter, Otterman told us about the list, Ashemar is missing one other agent, one he didn’t speak of… two as a matter of fact.

And who is that?

A female name Cleo Rai Dara, and a man name Ockmed. Now he says he doesn’t have an idea who is murdering his agents, the Chief has come to the conclusion it just maybe this guy Ockmed, but it’s not for sure.

What about this Cleo woman… why is she so important? Cromwall replaces his pipe along the side of his mouth, with his cane wrapped around his arm.

The Carrier we had, Taniea Sies, had a brief encounter with Rai Dara, who seems to know the true about the assassinations of the agents. Sies’s sister, who lives in Baltimore, received several letters, just before she vanished and in one of them she speaks of this woman.

I still don’t get it dear boy. Tim looks toward the men on the roof, who signal him that things were still to go. Look General, both this Rai Dara woman and Sies, were getting close to the true, in the letter Taniea stated she thought her life was in danger, but before we could send someone out there through the regular channels, she vanished.

So what you’re saying… find the two women, you find the killer? Ward nodded, then smiled. So what about finding this Ockmed person, wouldn’t it be easier to get the true from him?

Yeah right… that’s if we can hold on to him. Each time we come close to latching on to him, he does a vanishing act… and I do mean it just like that.

Ward went on to explain further, his remark. His hands placed in the pockets, of his beige light weight sport jacket. See this Ockmed guy is a Magician, he travels a lot, that’s why we believe he could have killed Brewer, Mohammed and Sirann, he might have… . God forbid, have killed the Sies girl.

Well, what is Frank going to do?

I have to return to the States, if he does anything, he will use one or more in our little group, to secretly come back and find the two women. He glances to the roof once again, this time one of the men quickly waves Ward on. Time was running out. Look General, I hate to cut this little meeting short, but I got to… let us say, can this conversion.

He waves to the men in the trash truck. They begin to move forward, allowing the General limousine out. The Chief will fill you in on the details. He then leans closer to Cromwall’s ear.

It’s time for the cats to use the litter box, and clear the shit out. Referring to the organization C.A.T.T., Covert Agency Tactical Team members." With the Brigadier General safely in his limo, the driver backs it out of the alley size street, allowing the huge truck to enter, with Ward still standing behind his car.

There was a huge container, blocking Tim’s way, with the truck moving in. There was no way for him to get out. As the limo reaches the main portion of the street, with no signals of the Policeman who had directed them, the huge truck back in, later coming out with three men inside it’s cab section, one being Ward. Patrick, do me a huge favor, turn around.

But sir… what about the plane? We have only several minutes to get to the Airport.

This will only take a few seconds… . I want to see what agent Ward did with that Lexus, it would be a shame to leave it in the alley. As the limo backs up just enough Cromwall to peep down the alley, he is surprised to see that it is no longer there, yet the container that blocked Ward’s way still remains. Smashingly smart of him, I don’t know where he gets these ideas. Oh right than, on to the Airport, Patrick.

RABAT, MOROCCO, four o’clock in the evening, two well-dressed men, stand waiting just outside a small side street warehouse, when suddenly a car moves slowly their way. The two are John Fernardaz, better known in NSA, as James Barn with him is agent George fuller a member of Interpol’s Special Task Force. Fuller posing as an American arm’s dealer, while James dresses the part of an Islamic extremist, beard and all. They continue standing. The car with three men seated inside, stops several feet from the warehouse door. The driver exits the car, then walks to stand silently next to it. Gentlemen, I hope you have not been waiting long. One of the men remarks, climbing slowly from the rear of the car. We much make sure all is well, before conducting business… no?

That’s how I like it. Fuller answers, nodding to James to follow his lead. This is… . Fuller pauses for a moment, he had forgotten who James was suppose to be, that’s when Barn spoke up, and now a moment too soon, the man standing by the warehouse had almost picked up on Fuller’s hesitant greeting.

I am Amman La’More, but please call me Amman… . I get so many comments on my last name. James leans to the two men. They are not always nice.

I see what you mean… . Amman the lover. Well, Amman, my name is Gunther and this is Mr. Holly, Mr. Webb who, tell us you’re interested in some very good merchandise, in which I might be able to help.

Mr. Webb seems to know where to find good things. James uses his broken Islamic accent. I have some people who would be very delighted to make some kind of permanent arrangements.

Well, that’s good… but first let’s talk more about financial gain… you know, money, profits. Now Holly and I have gone through some hell, getting this stuff through Customs. We would like to see some kind of appreciation. The man who called himself Gunther, leans his head to the briefcase held by Fuller. Can we say in the tune of $56 thousand?

That seems reasonable. Fuller was just about to hand the case over, when Barn extended his in front of the case. It sounds reasonable, but first I must see just what we are getting, and how many.

I can see you either have been taken before, or you’re been in this business for a long time, Mr. Amman.

Let just say it is better to open your case of eggs, before you buy them… there maybe some rotten ones in there. Gunther shows his dislike of the word rotten, thinking it just may indicate his intentions as being just that. Waving to the man at the warehouse door, he and his partner Holly escort the two men inside.

As you can see, this place is the perfect spot to do our business. Most of the stuff in here is useless. Now if you’re in the car business, this place would be to your liking. The men walk along the rows of crates all marked with labels for car parts. Now here is where the catch comes in. These boxes have auto parts inside. They’re heavy making them the right weight, they’re suppose to be. He turns to his partner Holly, who now stands with a crow bar firmly in his hand.

Now let me show you your goodies. As he opens the crate, removing the top layer of auto parts and straw, Gunther then removes the false bottom, revealing several layers of rifles and special made handguns. Now gentlemen, this is the babies you want, special made Russian assault rifles, modified for better accuracy.

And what are these handguns? Fuller asks, reaching inside then touching lightly the shinning blue steel gun.

You can say that those are collector’s items… but still useful, they’re Mausers, model C-96. Now gentlemen, now that you have seen what is in the crates, let’s see what you have to offer.

And how do we know if they actually work? James replies, looking into the box as if he were some fish market. For all I know, this is just one crate, which holds what I need.

Look Mr. Amman. Gunther turns to his partner, on the man standing in the warehouse door, then again to Barn and Fuller. Now if you expect me to go through all of these crates, you’re out of your mind. What you want is here… I’m telling you, now is it a deal or not?

We would like to test them. Barn moves closer to the crate, then picks one of the handguns up. From what I can see, the hammers on these handguns have been filed. Suddenly his accent changes he and Fuller reveal their own guns, then points at Gunther.

Now we’ll take the lot of them.

You know you guys are in for some real trouble. With one snap of his fingers. Fuller and Barn see several men appearing from various corners of the warehouse, with crowbars, axes and guns. Now if you thought Holly and I was stupid enough to allow you in here, without have… likes say some support, than you’re not as smart as you pretend to be.

Well, let’s see Gunther. James moves closer to him. His hand extended the full length of his arm, the gun barrel, aimed exactly at Gunther’s forehead. Now my partner and I value our lives, what about you and your partner?

If you shoot me, someone up there, or my men at the door will get you.

I love Mexican stand-offs… don’t you, Mr. Webb? I was always told, the man with the most mouth, is the one who has the least of heart… . I would hate to test that theory. Slowly both Barn and Fuller walk the two men toward the door, while the men on the upper levels watch, ready to react at any given time. Think this is as good a time as any, James?

Let’s see what they have up their sleeves. I had intentions on using them, on the crates. James pushed his gun barrel into Gunther’s neck, with Holly walking in front of him. Don’t stop gents. I would like to see this through… rrreal easy like.

Both James and Fuller had no choice, the crates they had used for cover had run out, they were now in the open warehouse, with just Gunther and Holly as a source of protection, that didn’t last. Suddenly ducking down, Gunther gives his secondary partner, a clear shot at James. The problem, was Holly was in the way. Barn and Fuller find themselves in the midst of a crossfire, bullets bounding off the few crates that were nearby, wood chips flying in their direction from almost every direction. As they look up from the floor, there was the man named Holly, laying face down on the floor his face turned in Barn’s direction, his eyes showing the shock of what had suddenly happened. Fuller… ! James motions for Fuller to work his way to far side of the warehouse, where there were he would have more cover. Removing his robe, James reveals the plastic explosives wrapped around his waist, there was only two ways of leaving the warehouse, that was alive or dead… with the word wounded as another option.

Mr. Amman or who ever you are, there is no way out of there besides that door, in front of you, I don’t think Daman is going to let that happen. James could hardly hear Gunther’s boast, from all the gunfire around him. He looks over to Fuller, then tosses him small putty like pieces of explosives and a timer, then motions him over to several crates.

Gunther, you should tell your man to stop firing.

And why is that, do I hear a plea for surrender? Barn watched Fuller move to a set of crates, then slowly and carefully places the plastic not only on the crates, by the wooden balcony legs, where some of the men on the upper level. Motioning to Fuller to give him cover. Barn makes his way to the other side, of the warehouse. James fires a shot or two, at men who felt bold enough to challenge his moves. "Gunther… . Amman is willing to forget this whole mess, if you would just let us go.

Hell, by the time we go through getting permits, to search this place, you would have moved this stuff."

Mr. Webb, you must really think you’re talking to a green rookie. Gunther was now doing some motioning himself, as Daman works his way in Barn’s direction, hoping to catch him off guard. With several of the plastic explosives in place, James starts to move away, with Fuller waiting for his signal to detonate them.

With everything in place James gives the signal, then runs pass some of the crates, only to find himself jumped from behind, Daman had managed to leap on and off on of the boxes on to Barn’s back. There was nothing Fuller could do, he himself was amongst some of the boxes scheduled to explode, the only thing he could do, was to hold off any one who would help Daman.

Several times the device James had held was knocked from his hands, in his struggle with Gunther’s remaining partner, he found himself landing punches, then scrambling for the device.

Here James… toss it over here.

So your name is James… how quaint. Gunther yells. I shall remember that, when they bury you. Barn receive a punch to the jaw, that has him sliding along the floor, luckily with the detonator in hand. In his dazed state he notices several men working their way over top of Fuller. Down, get down! Pushing the button, James sends the five men airborne, as the wooden balcony explodes where Fuller had placed the putty explosives.

It wasn’t easy getting Gunther off of him, as they exchange punches, then kicks, each falling against either some kind of crate or support beam. Fuller’s timing, couldn’t have been any better. Barn manages to send Gunther backwards against and on top of one of the crates, on the side were two plastic explosives. As Gunther lands on top, James quickly glances Fuller way giving him the signal to press the detonator. Fuller presses down on the detonator, suddenly Gunther is sent flying over James’s head landing against several boxes. Both agents now had time, to set off the others. With explosions going off around both men, in the confusion Fuller and James rush from the warehouse. They were no longer, the attention of the arms dealing killers, whose only thoughts were getting out alive.

In all of the confusion, they slip into the smoke filled alleys. It was even easier for Barn to slip away, his appearance and attire, allows him to blend in with the other natives of the country. They had completed their mission, merely blowing up the warehouse was not they intention, but it worked just as well. It was wise that the two would not rendezvous again at the hotel or anywhere again until they were out of the country. It was almost sure that some of the men in the warehouse would be looking for them. Barn turns back through the smoke and the crowd of people, who rush in the direction of the burning building. He and Fuller’s eyes meet briefly, him and James quickly turn, heading in different directions with Barn heading back to his hotel. Later James, minus his beard and Islamic attire, he walks casually into the hotel. Aah Mr. Holmes, I was just wondering where you had gone. The man behind the counter remarks, suddenly looking up from his book.

Why, was there any messages or mail for me? James asks. The man slowly stood to his feet, that walked over to a row of mail boxes, removing two pieces of mail. This came in for you, while you were out. One says urgent.

You just happened to notice it? James cut his eyes upward, when he spoke.

I did not mean to make it seem as though I was prying, but it could have been something important, something you may have need right away.

Well, thank you for mentioning it. He turns heading for the staircase, James had learned now sometimes it was better to walk the flight of stairs, then catch the elevators, he had his share of close calls.

James always preferred hotel rooms with a view of the city, either that or the coastal scenery. For one it gave him the feeling of security, if he could see who was coming and going from the hotel, as far as the coastal view, that was no more than something to relax his nerves. A knock on the door has John walking, with the letters in his hand, to answer it. He had ordered two wines, one for now the other