Educating The Capo Ch 04

With only a couple of days left before we left for Richmond, there were a lot of things we had to iron out before our departure. The division of labour was easy; Manny attacked the logistical aspects of the work that would be done in our absence, sorting out assignments and staffing for the jobs which were already on the books and freeing up assets for any work that would come our way while we were gone.

Our secretary, Karen Wilde, would relocate to temporary premises with the rest of the office staff and run things from there until we were sure that there was no longer any threat to their safety. Karen would be in daily contact with me or Manny while we were in Richmond. Current assignments would be maintained and the patrol numbers would be beefed up. Manny and I had discussed the possibility of Taglioni attacking us through our clients so the beefed up patrols made a lot of sense.

Maria spent the two days before we left slaving over a hot keyboard. She worked from the moment she got up until it was time to stop for dinner, then she would go back to her computer as soon as dinner was over and work for a couple more hours. To maintain the security of our little team Manny and Maria moved into the house with Carol and me for the two days we had left before going to join Craig in Richmond.

My major task was getting things ready for our trip to Richmond. It was probably the easiest job of all. Manny and I already had field packs organised. These consisted of weaponry, communications equipment, first aid gear and lots of other useful gadgets that could come in handy in any given situation. I spent a lot of time checking the contents of our kits then revising and expanding the gear list after lengthy conversations with Craig, Lee Stowers, and Manny. A quick visit to Frogger gave me a contact in Richmond I could rely on to get me anything we would need in the way of firepower and a call to a couple of contacts in electronics companies gave me some gadgetry that I felt would come in very useful. The Old Boy network was alive and well and flourishing on the East Coast.

In our phone conversations Craig gave me a pretty detailed list of what resources he had available to him and I had to admit I was impressed. For a man who had been in the country for less than a month he had managed to organise a fairly impressive sort of arsenal. Still it didn't hurt to be overstocked so I made up a pack for Craig as well. A lot of the items that went into the field packs came from our regular stocks. The rest were items that Manny and I had picked up over the years and put away for a rainy day. The shit storm we were in at the moment definitely qualified as a rainy day. Our first minor logistical hiccup came after I had finished assembling the field packs. Prior to 9-11, transporting the weaponry and other assorted gear would have been easy. I would have just crated the lot and had it flown with us to Richmond nestled comfortably in the cargo hold. All of that changed the day the Twin Towers toppled. Now even crating the weapons and sending them as cargo was out. They would have to go ahead by car or we would all have to travel by car. The more I thought about it the better it sounded. It would give us another set of wheels and I'd feel more comfortable travelling with the field packs. We were breaking federal laws transporting firearms across state lines anyway so why not do it in style. I put my idea to my travelling companions over dinner that night.

"Damned good idea boss. I guess that's why you get the big bucks," was Manny's laconic reply. The ladies were equally enthusiastic.

"We could make it a honeymoon rehearsal!" was Carol's gleeful response.

"I was going to suggest dinner at McDonalds followed by a night in one of those No-Tell motels for our honeymoon but if you insist I guess we could do a road trip. How about a tour of our favourite East Coast bars? Manny and I know lots of sleazy dives up and down the coast. Actually we could combine the experience and eat at Mickey Dee's and stay in a different roach palace every night. Sound idyllic honey?" One day I'm gonna learn to watch for her lethal punches.

"A five star RV, fully kitted out for at least two weeks luxury sight seeing… for two," was her retort as I sat and rubbed the developing bruise on my bicep. "I have no idea what plans Manny and Maria have but I plan to have you all to myself for the duration. By the end of our honeymoon I'm betting I'll nearly have you trained. What do you think Maria?"

"Honey I wouldn't hold your breath. I've been working on Manny for years now and I'm only just getting him close to where I want him." Manny visibly winced then manfully tried to change the subject.

"So where do you want to go for your honeymoon baby?"

"Ask me when this is all over lover. But I think that Carol is onto something here. We've been overseas plenty of times and there are a lot of places right here in America that I'd love to see. Renting an RV and just driving wherever we want when we want sounds damned nice. And if we got sick of the road we could check into a hotel for the night."

Actually this was sounding better and better all the time. But there were more current issues to be dealt with before we could relax and plan honeymoons. And, as I reminded myself, I still had to buy an engagement ring.

"Okay fellow engaged persons… let's get this trip organised and our problems solved before heading off to the nearest Elvis Presley Drive Thru Wedding Chapel. I hear they give you a wedding breakfast of peanut butter and banana sandwiches with every double wedding." This got a weak laugh and really didn't deserve much more. "I say we leave mid day Thursday. We can drive until we're tired and then check into a motel. Any objections?" None were forthcoming so the trip was a done deal.

After dinner I found myself on my own for once. Carol and Maria had wandered off to discuss weddings and Manny had a few last minute preparations to attend to in town. I poured myself a scotch and sat down at the keyboard of my computer. It had been a long time since I had seen Craig and I was curious about what to expect. I soon found myself on the internet browsing articles about cocaine manufacture and mercenary operations in Colombia. What I read wasn't pretty and I spent a long time wondering how the experience had affected Craig.

During the 80's and 90's the Colombian government had battled to contain the swiftly growing drug trade which had turned cocaine into Colombia's second largest export, and by far its most lucrative. Help was offered by the British government who sent detachments of Special Air Service troops to train Colombian police and Army personnel in jungle warfare and counter insurgency tactics. The American government sent in the DEA and units from various branches of the armed forces to assist as well. The Colombians rationalised that with all the assistance from these tried and true military units there was no way they could lose. They were wrong. The bare fact of the matter was that no matter how many outside agencies they involved in the drug problem, there were still two things they hadn't counted on.

The first was that the military and agencies like the DEA still had rules they had to adhere to. Rules of engagement that couldn't be broken, agency protocols that couldn't be circumvented no matter what the final outcome. The Cartels had no such rules. They were free to play the game as they wanted and made up the rules as they went, changing them as circumstances demanded. It was fair to say that there were no rules for the Cartels. They had one goal. Manufacture and distribute cocaine for as much money as possible. Human resources were always expendable. If one soldier died there were plenty more where that man came from. The slums of Bogotá and Medellin were filled with men willing to do what ever it took to earn a buck. Security specialists could be bought for a few hundred thousand dollars from the US, Britain, Cuba or any number of countries. Men with intensive military training such as myself and Craig could be hired anywhere. Not everyone who left the armed forces had a conscience. Manuel Noriega's private army had men from all over the globe. In fact it resembled a mini French Foreign Legion with men from Europe, the America's, Southern Africa and even Australia. They held one allegiance and one allegiance only… to the sizeable pay check Noriega slipped under their pillows at the end of the day. Which brought me to the second factor in the Cartel's military dominance in the jungles. Money.

The drug Cartel operating in Colombia had financial resources that a lot of small countries would have gone to war to attain. Not quite as financial as the Colombian government they had the fiscal advantage of not having to worry about using their budget to support and run a nation. They didn't have to worry about funding social programs, medical care, or schooling. They didn't have to worry about anything a government had to be concerned about. Each drug lord ran his fiefdom as a private concern, throwing money at whatever problem may come along as he saw fit. Occasionally a problem big enough to concern all the drug lords in one area would rear its head and the Cartel would combine resources to eradicate the problem. In-fighting was rare and was usually mediated by the other members of the Cartel… or in rare situations a side would be chosen and the unlucky Cartel boss would have his assets liquidated… permanently. In these cases it would be something spectacularly brutal to illustrate the power of the Cartel.

The fact that money talks was never more apparent than in the ranks of the Colombian police and armed forces. Corruption was rife and was a problem that made containment of the Cartels a near impossible task. Those the Cartels couldn't buy ended up dead. Kidnapping and brutal murder became a Colombian national pastime. And through it all the Cartels flourished. So the Colombian government tried a new tack. They hired mercenaries to spearhead jungle operations. Backed up by intelligence assets from CIA and DEA, ostensibly in the country on an 'advisory' basis the mercenaries from companies with solid reputations like Executive Solutions and Phoenix Securities made money and headway in the jungles and highlands of Colombia.

It didn't take me long to find my first online reference to Craig in the Colombian newspapers. Major Craig Miller had led a small band in a daring successful raid on a large drug manufacturing compound with spectacular results. There was a photo with the story and I got my first glimpse of my old comrade at arms. The years had been very good to Craig. The photo was a candid shot catching him in profile talking animatedly to a couple of his men. The streaked camouflage cream on his face couldn't disguise the fact he was still a good looking man. He had obviously packed on a fair bit of muscle since I knew him. Dressed in woodland pattern camouflage fatigues with a Special Forces tactical vest, Craig was well armed with a Beretta 9mm in a low ride thigh holster and a Heckler and Koch G3 slung muzzle down over his shoulder. A large knife was sheathed hilt down on the left side of his vest and I could detect the tell tale bulges of grenades and magazines in the pockets of his vest. A throat mic and earpiece told me he was up to speed on the latest on tactical communications gear. All in all he looked more than capable which is how I remembered him. The caption below the picture identified him only as a military advisor.

I googled Craig and discovered more than I could have hoped for. It still amazed me how much information was out there on the web just waiting to be discovered by anyone with patience and an internet connection. Craig had worked for a firm called Griffon Security based in San Diego. I was aware of the firm but not familiar with them so that was my next mission. Google again provided me with information on the company. From the information provided I discovered that Griffon provided everything from close quarters personal protection right through to combat teams… and everything in between. Their recruitment page was particularly interesting. They stated that they were only interested in military personnel with more than 6 years service who had attained rank over the level of corporal and who had Special Forces training. Candidates had to have a clean military disciplinary record and no felony convictions on their civilian record. They must also have a clean financial slate. There was a paragraph at the bottom notifying prospective recruits that a full police background check would be performed and if it showed anything suspect that wasn't declared on the application the applicant would be dismissed immediately. So it looked as if the company was serious in recruiting only the best. They had certainly got their moneys worth out of Craig.

"Am I disturbing you Glenn?" I was so engrossed in my reading I hadn't heard Carol come in.

"No actually I was just seeing what I could find on the net about Craig and what he was involved in down in Colombia. Have you got the wedding all planned baby?" She grinned and walked around the desk plonking herself down on my lap and nearly tipping us out of the chair in the process.

"Honey I have it all worked out. You'll be dressed in a cute little page boy outfit in pale pinks and other assorted pastels complete with stockings, buckled shoes and knee breeches."

"Yeah like that's gonna happen," I laughed after first checking to see if she was joking or not.

"So tough guy… what did you find?"

It took only a few minutes to bring Carol up to speed on what I'd discovered. Then I showed her the picture of Craig I'd found.

"Good looking guy," she said with more than a hint of mischief. "Did you find any more photos?"

Google was employed once more and it took us only a few minutes to find a few more pics of Craig. All of them were post action shots which made sense. Craig was a walking talking poster boy for the military way of life. Carol studied one picture in detail. It was a full frontal shot of Craig looking straight into the camera.

"He looks so sad. No sad isn't the word… distant? Does that make sense honey? It's in his eyes."

"Yeah it does make sense. Combat veterans in the Vietnam War called it the Thousand Yard Stare. You got it after being exposed to the horrors of combat continuously. That's what Craig has there."

Carol was quiet for a long time then said, "Can you tell me what he was like when you knew him?"

"Craig was one of the best soldiers I have ever known. He's also one of the best men I know. He was always the life and soul of the party. I remember one time Manny, Craig and I came back into camp well after curfew as drunk as lords. Craig decided that the night wasn't quite over and talked us into helping out on his version of the old fashioned panty raid on the women's barracks. On the way in he stopped at the master fuse box and turned off the mains. Now this was a risky move in itself but it turned out that all the occupants were already asleep. We went from room to room turning on every electrical appliance we could find. TVs, stereos, hair dryers… anything that would make a noise. Then we left. On the way out Craig flipped the switch. We ran like the hounds of hell were after us while all hell broke out behind us. Lights came on, stereos blared, TVs and hair dryers came to life and near on 30 scantily dressed female soldiers exited the barracks by the nearest exit. It was hilarious." Carol was laughing her ass off which caused the aforementioned ass to move around nicely on my lap.

"Then there was the Mystery of the Fishy Corvette. We had an officer fresh from West Point who thought he was God's gift to Special Forces. He made life a living hell for a few of the boys so Craig decided he needed to even the score. This young officer had one prized possession. An '83 convertible Corvette. We'd see him out polishing the beast almost daily. Craig requisitioned a fish… yeah that's right… a fish. The fish ended up fastened securely up under the driver's seat of the Corvette in between the springs and the upholstery. It didn't take long in the summer for this fish to start to rot and the smell to spread. Soon the putz couldn't drive it the smell was so bad. It didn't even occur to this genius to check under his seats. That was the start of a short successful campaign waged by Craig against this young jerk. His superiors soon became aware that something was going on and he was transferred out soon after Craig dosed his underwear with strong liniment. Craig did it for the sake of the young guys in the unit who were being bastardized by this prick. He had this incredibly well developed way of championing the underdog." Carol's laughter had continued unabated while I told the story and her movements on my lap had managed to waken my slumbering dick which had popped up to say hello much to her delight. As she reached between her legs and started to massage my hardening prick I continued my story.

"As far as his soldering abilities went… well Manny and I were damned good. You had to be to get into Special Forces, but Craig was in a league of his own. He was an expert marksman and could have taught sniping. His fieldcraft was next to none… if he was hunting you in the woods at night you might as well have just shot yourself and save the suspense. Demolitions, communications, counter insurgency work… he took to them like the proverbial fish to water. Promotion came easily to him and he made sergeant quicker than anyone else in a peacetime army. He was offered officer training but for some reason turned it down time and again. Personally I thought he should have done it. He would have made an awesome officer but the army needed top NCOs as well… and he was the best." Carol was happily playing with my gear stick at this stage and as I paused and took a sip of my Scotch she upped the stakes by unzipping my fly and dragging my hard cock out into the cool evening air. I was keen to see where this was gonna go.

"Craig took his job very seriously. Training new personnel was a job he was manic about. He knew that what he taught them could mean the difference between life and death. So he was brutal about his teaching. If he came across a potentially great soldier he spent all the time possible with them. Anyone who showed any laziness or disinterest he washed out straight away. I know it sounds draconian but he knew that one weak link could destroy an entire squad. He was a hard bastard to please but there are a hell of a lot of guys out there who are alive because he was hard on them. I know for a fact that if I wanted to I could raise a complete platoon of men willing to help Craig out solely because they owe him their lives and respect the fact that he was hard because he had to be. Craig inspired instant loyalty and respect." It was becoming increasingly difficult to talk due to the massage my cock was getting at the hands of my gorgeous fiancée. I thought I should finish my summary of my old friend off quickly then get upstairs where we could consummate the act Carol was leading up to.

"If I have to sum Craig up in a few words I would say he is a decent, honorable man who is incredibly loyal, honest and a great friend. Now…" I didn't get the rest out because Carol chose that moment to lift her skirt, pull the now damp crotch of her panties to one side and sink down on my cock. All I could do was moan as the hot slick vice that was my lover's pussy enveloped me. She lacked leverage as her feet didn't reach the floor but made do with her arms wrapped round my neck. Slowly she raised and lowered herself on my rampant cock driving me slightly crazy and raising my body temperature more than a few degrees. This was going to be one of Carol's special long slow fucks that drove me completely out of my tiny mind. Her low moan told me she was seated comfortably and probably enjoying herself; the tiny gyrations of her hips confirmed my assumption. Slowly she leaned in and grabbed my head, pulling me close for one of her scorching long slow kisses. As our tongues entwined and wrestled for dominance of my mouth I slid my hand up under her tank top and cupped her perfect naked breast feeling the nipple come fully erect under my palm. She moaned again as I gripped the nipple between finger and thumb and slowly began to roll it. This always managed to light her pilot light.