This is the first chapter of my upcoming book. 

1

Ethiopia Present Day

He was watching intently through his binoculars; his primary weapon, a Canon DSLR camera at the ready; his AK-47 assault rifle on his right side as a precautionary measure, also at the ready. The sweat was pouring over his eyes, his bandana unable to help as it was completely saturated. He just couldn’t take his eyes off target. Never mind the 136- degree, and rising, heat; never mind his own smell after 4 days of no bathing; his hair dirty and matted. Never mind the endless critters crawling all over his body feasting on his flesh. Relief from that would come later, much later. He has to watch his adversary.

There are 30 soldiers 100 yards away planting mines on his side of the border. Mines that will kill indiscriminately, not caring whether they kill another soldier, or a little girl, or an old man in his last years tending his few cows. This has to be stopped. A few minutes ago there were 5 soldiers guarding the minelayers, now there were only two. Where did the others go?

Breathe in, breathe out, slow your heartbeat; concentrate, count everyone again. Still, three guards missing. Count again.

Snap, snap. Take pictures, concentrate.

He was laying in his blind, perched on a small hill west of where the activities were taking place. To his right, eastward looking, he could see the main road from Asmara into Ethiopia about 1.5 miles away. His perch was nothing but a small hole in the dirt where he could lay prone, covered by camouflaged netting. He had been there for the last 4 days, ever since he was tipped off by an informant that the Eritreans were going to cross the border and start planting mines. From the blind he had full view of the most probable place for mine laying, except for one small portion to the northwest, that was his blind spot.

Upon arrival, Rio realized that if he were to plant mines, this place would make perfect sense. All around him there were steep hills, and very rough terrain. This was an area not conducive to infantry or armor operations, save for the area directly in front of him, which was flat, approximately 500 yards wide; a perfect funnel for the Ethiopian troops to storm north into Eritrea. The problem was they were not doing that, they were trying to keep the peace and it was the Eritreans that were instigating. He needed proof and now he was going to get it.

As soon as he arrived on site a few days ago, Rio had prepared his blind, and after making sure no one was around, he walked down to the funnel area. From the bottom he looked up, smiled and was satisfied that his hiding place was virtually invisible from that distance. He moved back up and settled in for the long haul.

 

Count again. Still, three guards missing. Count again. Slow your breathing. Snap, snap...more pictures. I got you now you mine-laying fuckers.

“What the....”.?? The sound was deafening and he knew it wasn’t from fireworks, he knew exactly what it was. The rocket propelled grenade exploded about 30 yards in front of him, throwing rocks and debris all over him, showering his blind and blowing the netting away. He had somehow been compromised and he knew it, time to run. He grabbed his AK, his camera and his rucksack and slid out of the back of the hole, down the hill. Time to un-ass the hideout. He could hear the shouts behind him to the northeast andheknewhehadtorunasfastashecouldtobeabletomakeitoutofthisone. He had to make the wadi where his hired help was waiting in his Toyota Hi-Lux...he hoped, and that was less than a kilometer away. He had devised an easy enough escape plan: drive the vehicle to the sometimes dry river bed that serves as international boundary and head east, pass the village of Adis ‘Alam and turn south on road #3 to Axum. That was the escape and evasion plan in case of an emergency...and this now just qualified as one.

His lungs where burning, his muscles ached; his old body just wasn’t the same. Wrong step, he twisted his left ankle, and crashed face first on the ground, lacerating his left cheek. Blood started to flow freely, covering his neck. Rio felt the warmth of his own blood running onto his chest, soaking his shirt. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered now but to get out of there alive, he had to run!

The bullets started to zing by. The soldiers must have made it up to his blind by now. They could see him running and had a clear line of sight. Run, zigzag, duck, run! Will yourself, make yourself run. The hot dry air was burning his lungs, his ankle throbbing...run! There is the wadi, a few meters now. The second, inevitable swoosh came, followed closely by the blinding light. Lights out.

~~~~~

Rio was in his element, doing what he loved to do. He was working overseas and in charge of himself and no one else. He really loved working on his own. The company he worked for, Kukri Group International, had recruited him when he was in the Navy. He was an Explosive Ordnance Disposal technician by trade, but KGI recruited him for expertise in weapons, his extensive overseas experience, his language skills, and most importantly for his looks. He was just an average looking man: 5’8” tall, black hair starting to gray; average built and dark skin, probably thanks to his Mediterranean ancestors; which meant it was easy for him to blend in with the local population just about anywhere in the world; except perhaps in some Nordic country.

KGI was contracted by the US Government and tasked with tracking suspicious foreign government activities; of tracking people, to keep tabs on “persons of interest” to the U.S., intervening only when absolutely necessary in the interest of national security, and at the same time letting Uncle Sam know where his “friends” were, what they were doing, and with whom they were doing it. It was keeping to the old Chinese proverb of “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”. KGI was fully supported by the government; however, all the employees knew they were cannon fodder, and if it came to worse, they would all be hung out to dry. They would be denied by their own country and left to rot in some foreign jail. They were expendable, that’s why they were doing the job; because the government didn’t want to do it. They were not normally a direct action group, but often did, in the interest of national security.

Following the security protocol of going in a country with a cover story, Rio came to Ethiopia under the disguise of being a demining advisor. That gave him a cover for being there and close access to the borders where all the mines were, where all the trouble was, where he needed to be. His real purpose was to keep track of the Eritrean army excursions into Ethiopia, to help maintain the fragile peace that existed between the two nations.

~~~~~

He opened his eyes slightly, his head pounding. He was being manhandled very roughly. He felt himself flying through the air and landing hard. His mind was trying to make sense of what was happening, he needed to; he had to. He had to stay conscious, keep track of turns, time, anything to help him figure out his location.

Oh no, I have been captured. The ground was hard, cold, and metallic. They have put me in the back of a truck to be hauled away; I am in trouble, serious trouble. His head bounced against the floor, and with every bump in the road his ankle shot a bolt of pain through his body. His captors just didn’t care, that much was obvious. Where in the hell was his hired-help?

That little, slimy, rat-looking, fucking asshole probably ratted me out and sold me to the Eritreans for a few miserable dollars, he thought. I’ll fucking ring his neck when I see him...if I ever see him again.
The truck was speeding away, the driving erratic, what was going on? He could hear the sound of gunfire in the distance, must be the Eritreans celebrating his capture by shooting in the air. The truck hit a big bump on the road and swayed erratically, making him hit his head against the floor.... will he ever get out of this one...lights out again.