CROSSWORDS AND CROSSHAIRS

CROSSWORDS AND CROSSHAIRS

MILAN
24/02/2009
CENTRAL POLICE STATION
TUESDAY AFTERNOON

It was a cold and rainy afternoon.
D.S.I. Touré walked the entrance of the police station.
He saluted the police officer on stag and continued to the offices of the Flying Squad, but before he could enter the office an officer approached him.
- D.S.I Touré, chief Di Giulio would like to talk with you.
- Right now?
- The Chief wanted to see you twenty minutes ago..
- OK.
Two more floors and he entered the office of the chief.
Chief Di Giulio was a bald and fat man, with a few grey hair.
Touré sat on in front the desk of the chief and waited for acknowledgement
- So.. tell me what are the updates..
- Doctor Catarella hasn’t finished yet with the autopsy, but he told me that the victim died due to a neck fracture..
- She hanged herself?
- Yes sir.. at least that’s the first impression. An erotic game that went wrong and the mistress decided to hang herself to avoid a huge scandal or due to remorse…
- But?
- There’s something that just doesn’t add up, Sir. Forensics found out that there was another person on the crime scene.
Chief Di Giulio, took a pencil from his desk and started to play with it.
He then continued:
- Find out who is this third person.
As you can imagine we’re under a lot of pressure. The media isgoing to have a field day with this story. A top C.E.O. In her secret playroom…
- Yes sir.
The chief dismissed D.S.I. Touré. After leaving the office he went down to the Vice Offices.
“If there’s someone who knows something about what’s going on in the underworld prostitution world, that one is D.I. Regini.”
Before entering the offices of Vice, Touré stopped at the coffee machine. A cappuccino was needed.
After waiting 35 seconds the beverage was ready.
After a few paces he asked to another police officer where was the office of D.I. Regini.
He walked through a narrow hall and knocked on the door.
- Come in
- Hi Mario!
- Rashid, my friend, how can I help you? What brings you down here in the sewers? How is your wife?
- Duty I’m afraid Mario.. and yes, she’s doing fine.
Regini was a man in his early forties, slim and athletic figure, with black hair and glasses.
They sat in the office, a small cubicle and with the walls stained of humidity.
- Mind if I have a word?
- Of course not Rashid. What do you want?
- Tell me something about the skin market…. What can you tell me about it?
- Has it got something to do with the big case that the chief has assigned you?
“Zap!” Touré thought.
- News travels fast…
Regini smiled.
- What kind of prostitute do I have to look for?
- Tell me what you found on the crime scene
- A lot of toys that would’ve made happy Marquise De Sade.
The victim used to be a dominant subject. She loved pain.
I also had this impression when I walked in the office.
- What makes you think there’s something wrong?
- There are some signs on her wrists. It’s hard to think that she’d be passive. She was the dominant person. She loved power and I don’t think that she would’ve accept the passive role. Not even for a try…
- Well Rashid we had some strange reports in the past months. Nothing specific, but there are some rumours circulating in the backdrop.
- Like?
- Like the one of a powerful customer, wealthy enough to pay for his thrills.
- That’s not a switch, it always happened, but we never had any kind of specific informations. I’ve managed to talk to some of the poor sods that fell under his grasps and..
- And?
- They were pretty battered up. Some of them ended in E.R. with serious injuries.
- OK.. now it seems that you know who was the powerful customer.
Do you know any of the pimps?
- You should try with Midnight Abba. Maybe… give me ten minutes and I’ll prepare you a list.
Fifteen minutes later D.S.I Touré walked the exit of the Police Station with the list.
So much work to do and not so much time left. Time to hit the road towards the sewers of the city and to deal with the dregs of the skin market.

UNKNOWN LOCATION
CENTRAL ASIA
25/02/2009
WENDSDAY MORNING

The training camp was at thirty kilometres from the infiltration point.
The firm was again involved in another wet work. Again the operatives were the best that the Firm could’ve offer to this bider.
The mission briefing took place in the Intelligence Wing of the Firm.
For the mission two bayonets were chosen. A couple whose main expertise was sniping.
Their names were Franko Spiljak and Keiko.
Franko was a man in his early forties, 6 foot tall and looked apparently week, though he jogged every morning for twenty-five kilometres. He was from Croatia and learned his trade during the war in Bosnia in the mid nineties.
He didn’t belong to any faction, the only thing that he was good at was using the rifle.
In Sarajevo he had personally killed sixty five persons. He was a hired mercenary, but yet had a very strong sense of discipline and morals. He despised all the factions involved in that war, although his personal sympathies went to the Muslim faction, that was lead by good commanding officers.
His first sniping job happened in the outskirts of Sarajevo. His target was a Serbian artillery observer. The task was simple. He had to kill him.
The first mission is more or less like the first love, you never forget about it and like the first love his preparation for it was total.
Long days spent in foxholes or concealed observation posts, studying the routine of the target and most of all, preparing his rifle for the hit.
The rifle was a Mosin Nagant 1891/30, a world war two bolt action rifle. A true veteran that had sent to hell a lot of nasty Germans during the war. The only thing that he had to change on that rifle was the scope. He had to put a night vision aid.
One night he saw the target and the hit took place. A gentle squeeze on the trigger and the Serbian artillery observer was as dead as the dodo.
The other bayonet was a Japanese girl from Osaka. She was in her late twenties and a deflowered beauty.
She was recruited by the Firm through an unusual channel.
Keiko was a junkie, one of the so called burdens of society. She was capable to rob Mr Aramaki’s wallet in the subway. A well done thievery and this impressed him.
By searching the underworld he found her in an abandoned factory.
Keiko didn’t have any living relatives. Her father died because hepatic cirrhosis and her mother while giving her to birth.
No living relatives and her only friends where human wreckages that floated on a cloud of alcohol or drugs. A perfect recruit.
After a long and painful process of dis-intoxication from the habit, her training began.
She was taught fighting skills, firearms techniques and explosives.
Later she started her final training in sniping were she excelled.
Her teacher was Franko. At the beginning he was sceptic regarding her chances, but he had to amend his initial judgement and Keiko proved her worth.
Now they were the best sniping team that the Firm ever employed.
The couple entered the country as a freshly married couple and they were in the honeymoon trip.
Their target was former Red Army colonel Evgenij Mihailovic Tarkinsky. A powerful war/drug lord of the region. He was the official supplier of guns of many guerilla factions and this activity, combined with the smuggling of opium to the St. Petersberg and Moscow markets made him a very rich man. His career in the drug world was proceeding smoothly, but in this world it’s difficult not have enemies and they wanted him dead.
The target was known to be a fanatic for fitness. Every morning he woke up at 6:30 am and ran for thirty minutes. That would’ve been the moment to strike.

UNKNOWN LOCATION
CENTRAL ASIA
25/02/2009
WENDSDAY EVENING

The jungle was thick with lush vegetation. They both moved tactically, avoiding the usual beaten paths.
Moving tactically meant walking slowly and cautiously. It also meant that they had to stop, tune in with the environment and take a good look to avoid booby traps or hidden enemies.
Colonel Tarkinskij’s camp wasn’t so far away. Ten more kilometres to go.
It was Franko’s turn to be the scout. Keiko in the rear.
Before starting the mission the two made a recce of the target’s compound.
It was shaped like a rectangle. Franko, took his binos and started to look at the compound
- Double fences, guard posts equipped with GPMG, minefields, two anti aircraft guns and a shit load of bastards armed to the teeth.
- No way that we’re going to Rambo the place – said Keiko
- No way.. Where’s the athletics track?
- On the left… 200 meters from the mass hall..
- Found it.
- OK. Let’s sort ourself s.
They didn’t like what they saw. Two whole companys: one of grenadiers and one of riflemen. Two attack helicopters and a tank. A huge amount of fire power.
They were vastly outnumbered, but they had an advantage on their opponents. They were not expected.
- We should get on the radio…
- yeah…
They took off their bergens and got the radio out.
- Charlie Alfa Potato. This is Charlie Alfa Potato, over
- go ahead, over
- we’ve reached the final L.U.P., awaiting instructions, over
- you have green light for the mission, I repeat green light. Over
- Roger. Over and out.

The radio was packed back in Franko’s Bergen. Keiko took some gulps of water from her bottle. Afterwoods she started to assembly the rifle, while Franko prepared the camouflaged O.P.(observation post). After thirty minutes of work their O.P. was ready.
The rifle used for the hit was a Walter WA2000, 7.62 mm calibre. Franko never liked semi-automatic rifles, he always preferred the bolt action ones. Semi-automatic rifles meant much more rounds but also implied too much haste in the shooting. Or at least that was his view on the matter.
Keiko instead didn’t care that much about differences between rifles, she only knew that they were just tools of the trade and if it did bang when she squeezed the trigger it was enough for her.
The rifle was carried to the L.U.P. as if it was fine porcelain. The important part in a sniper rifle is it’s scope. After it was calibrated a slight knock could’ve compromised it’s accuracy.
Now the couple had to camouflage and wait for the new day and for the target.

05:00 am
Keiko took the binos and started to look at the compound.
Still no sign of the target.
The target would’ve showed up in one hour to the athletics track that he buildedinside the compound. The track was 1500 meters distant from the L.U.P. Franko couldn’t know how were the wind conditions because there weren’t enough wind indicators and couldn’t adjust his scope. A wind indicator could be anything, from a flag to a pair of socks left to dry up after they’ve been washed up.
- Bugger- Franko said
- What?
- No wind indicators..
- Hang on.. Found one
- Where?
- On the left. Near the bunker. There’s your wind indicator.
- Saw it. It’s the first time that I use a bra as a wind indicator!
Keiko smiled.
- Go lay the Claymore mines while I’ll keep an eye out.
- Right, Franko…

05:30 am

Still no sign of the target. The long waiting wasn’t over yet and the sniping job is made of long waiting. During these dead times Franko had his own way to avoid boredom. Crossword puzzle.
Keiko never understood why the crosswords, but in the end she didn’t care that much. They just had to wait.

05:45 am
Still no trace of the target.
The compound started to show life signs. In a few moments the ordinary routine of that base would’ve started.
Keiko asked him:
- What are you thinking?
- Seven across… A weapon used in kitchen

06:00 am
There he was. Keiko spotted him without problems. He was wearing a white tracksuit gear, in his mid fifties and in good shape. Franko took the rifle. He was good to go. The last thirty minutes of life of the target.
First it had to finish his stretching exercises and then started to run on the track and maintained a constant pace.

06:25 am

Look – said Keiko – it seems that he didn’t stretched properly. He’s got a cramp on the leg..
- Now it’s the time..
- No… not now..
The target sat on the wet grass near the track. He started to do more stretching exercises.
- Now
Franko pushed the trigger. The sound of the shot wasn’t heard because of the suppressor attached to the muzzle of the rifle, but the super sonic crack was clearly heard through the jungle, like a burp during a funeral.
The round hitted Colonel Tarkinskij on the head and that killed him instantly. The hit was a complete success.
Now it was time pass to the final phase of the operation: exfiltration.
They couldn’t run away in haste, because that would’ve been counterproductive. They had to move back the RV point and hide there for twenty four hours. Before leaving O.P. They did things properly. They repacked their kit, the rifle and took out the silenced sub-machine-gun.
The last thing that they wanted was to get caught unprepared. Before the opposition realized what happened quick and furious orders were shouted through out the compound and the two helicopters started their engines, ready to search and destroy the assassins of their Boss.
Reaching the final R.V. wasn’t so difficult. The recently passed away boss didn’t took serious preventive measures, like sending clearing patrols or if he did, he did it with fixed schedules that were known by the Firm. After digging in the last thing that they had to do was to wait 24 hours and then they would’ve been able to get out unnoticed.
But unfortunately plans never go on so smoothly. Before they could’ve reach the R.V. Point Franko putted his left foot on an anti personnel mine. He didn’t see the little bitch.
He was throwed away like a rag doll by the explosion. Keiko immediately went to help him but there was nothing left to do. The mine’s flinders had reached Franko’s head and that killed him instantly.
Keiko couldn’t believe it, she started to sob, but before she could continue her training overcomed her emotions. She took of her bergen and from it she drawed a small packet of plastic explosives and a white phosphorous grenade. After ten minutes she had booby trapped Franko’s dead body. It wasn’t lack of respect, because it was a ruse that she had learned during her training.
There would’ve been time for mourning and for the tears, but that wasn’t exactly the proper moment.
There would’ve been, or maybe not. People like her or Franko were ghosts.
No one would’ve shed a tear or prayed for their souls, except their friends if they had any.
The R.V. was finally reached. Her guns were ready. If the bastards would’ve found her she had already decided to kill her self, after killing the most of them. No way she would’ve ended up as a prisoner. If she was caught by the henchmen of the dead boss she would’ve faced a long agony before dying.
But that part of the plan wasn’t on top of the agenda. The place was well hidden and no one would’ve ever found her.
She was on her own now. Alone with her memories and with her fears.

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