The Redaction Chronicles Collection

Chapter 18

WI/ROGUE and QJ/WIN began the contract as reactivated agents for the CIA by both heading for Germany. They had decided that, unless circumstances altered along the way, they would complete the killings in geographical order, hopping from one country to the next working down the body of Europe picking off targets on their list.

They had a timetable and itinerary for each of the hits. From this they knew that they would be able to plan out surveillance of the targets and what type of weaponry would be needed. Both men knew that the biggest risk was traversing the various borders of the many countries that they would have to operate in. It was going to be difficult certainly, but not impossible.

Following their initial meeting in Vienna, they had reconvened to a safe-house that Marquez had rented for them in Auvers sur Oise, a quiet village thirty kilometers from the center of Paris. The small chalet just outside the main town was overlooked by acres of woodland and came complete with a barn adjacent to the main building. It was quiet, isolated, off the beaten track and was perfect for hiding out and planning the rest of their operations. It was to be one of their main bases over the next few months. Once inside, they had spread out their target list in front of them across an old oak dining table and stared at the scale of the operation.

“What about weapons,” asked Gioradze. “I could have a word with some people in Belgium, but it would need to be a big order for them to be interested.” The bullet headed killer knew that in order to accomplish the terms of the contract they would need a wide range of equipment, weapons that would be far beyond the range of small time gangland arms dealers whose limit would be an untraceable revolver or a few hand grenades.

Marquez shook his head. “No, we keep our regular weapons sources out of the loop. You know these mercenary arms dealers; they"re leaky when it comes to who"s buying what and where. We could never trust that they wouldn"t simply tip off someone in Russian intelligence and double cross us. Besides, we have an alternative option thanks to our American friends, although it will mean a short trip for you.”

“Where?” asked Gioradze.

“Up in north east Italy, near the Gorizia gap,” replied Marquez.

The CIA had a hand in a secret project known as "Gladio. Gladio"s aim was to fund and run a stay-behind network in the event that the Soviets planned a full out invasion of Europe. The network spread across Eastern Europe and had access to a wide range of equipment, resources, personnel and weapons hidden in a number of concealed caches. Most of the weapons caches were deep in the forests of Italy, Switzerland and Belgium and were far away from prying eyes. Mr. Knight, their CIA contact, had given them the coordinates of several weapons caches that they could access. The two assassins studied the map and the coordinates and routes that would be needed.

“We"ll need silenced pistols, explosives, grenades, rifles, sub-machine guns. Take a bit of everything, that way we"re covered for most eventualities,” said Marquez, drawing a circle around the three weapons dumps that they intended to "dip" into.

“The big problem is getting them stored away and across the borders,” said Gioradze.

“It"s something I"ve considered. Did you notice the barn out back?”

Gioradze nodded. He had seen the old building as they had driven up the road to the rented property.

“Inside is a VW camper van. It has specially fitted compartments that I had an old smuggling contact of mine in Paris rig up. It has three metal containers on the under carriage, two behind the seating and two over the wheel arches. Not large compartments, but big enough to stash a few rifles, pistols, explosives and grenades in,” said Marquez.

The two men went out to the barn and Marquez gave the smaller man a tour of the secret fittings, allowing him to judge for himself the feasibility of the plan. After inspecting it Gioradze nodded. “Okay, it seems good. What about a decent route? The less entanglement I have with police or border guards the better.”

“If you set off tomorrow and drive down past Lyon and cross the border into northern Italy. It should take you about ten hours hard driving,” said Marquez.

“Wouldn"t it be quicker to cut through Switzerland and then drop down into northern Italy?” asked Gioradze.

Marquez shook his head. “No, the last thing we need is to be alerting the Swiss authorities. The Swiss are more thorough than the Italians. A flash of a passport, a quick wave and the Italian guards will just wave you through, whereas the Swiss if they smell something"s wrong, will strip the van down to bare metal.”

Gioradze nodded, accepting Marquez"s wisdom. “Okay, then what?”

“You lay up for the day. Sleep in the van and then visit the three weapons sites. All are in woodland, so at least you won"t have anyone looking over your shoulder.”

“And if someone does see me?”

Marquez laughed. “I think you know the answer to that. You can"t be captured or identified. Kill them.”

“Even if they are part of the CIA"s operation down there?”

“The message I have from Mr. Knight is that this mission supersedes everything else. So just don"t get spotted.”

“And then?”

Marquez shrugged and folded up the map before handing it to Gioradze. “You do the same in reverse. Take your time. Think of it as a slow getaway. You have five days to get there, get the weapons and get back here safely.”

The next morning Gioradze had set off in his little camper van and travelling on a Swiss passport in the name of Blattner, began the long and dangerous journey south. Marquez had stood at the door of the chalet, gave a quick wave and then returned to his desk inside to make sure he had covered every part of the planning.

They had enough real time intelligence in the files that the American had given them. They knew where the targets lived and their day to day routines, and only that morning he had made arrangements for travel and accommodation that they were going to use while they were in Hamburg, Lichtenstein and Zurich; the locations of the first three hits.

What he didn"t know precisely at this moment, and wouldn"t until Gioradze had returned with his "booty", was how they were going to carry out the respective killings on the targets.

preciselyhowFour days later the little Georgian returned. The camper van struggling to climb the hill that led to the barn at the rear of the property. Marquez immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed outside to open the archaic wooden doors so as to allow the van to drive straight in.

The Georgian climbed out of the driver"s side and shook his partner"s hand. Marquez thought he looked like a man worn away from travelling across Europe in an old camper van that was stocked with illegal arms.

“Any problems?” asked Marquez.

Gioradze shook his head. “No, just a lot of driving, a lot of cold nights, and a lot of praying every time I passed a police car.”

“And the border crossings?”

“Smooth as silk, couldn"t have been friendlier,” replied Gioradze. “Want to see what we"ve got?”

The two men set about removing the seals from the hidden compartments in the van with spanners and screwdrivers and carefully extracted the items inside. Thirty minutes later the stash of weapons and munitions was laid out in front of them on the floor of the old barn. To Gioradze it was a treasure trove. “Where do we store them,” he asked Marquez.

The Catalan waved a hand over to the far corner of the barn. “There is a hidden cellar in that corner, concealed underneath the old bales and hay; I think it was once used as a wine cellar. We"ll put the equipment in there.”

He looked down at the arms. Gioradze had picked well, as he knew he would. Pistols with silencers, grenades, a silenced rifle of some kind, plastic explosives, detonators, sub-machine guns, even a bazooka with three grenades. “And you"re sure no one spotted you at the Gladio caches?”

“Don"t worry, Juan. They were all in the middle of nowhere. I went when it was dark and started digging until I hit a fiberglass box, the size of a wardrobe. They were huge. I took what I needed and covered it all up again.”

Marquez placed a hand on his partner"s shoulder. “An excellent job, David.”

The Georgian"s chest swelled with pride. “Which ones do we take first?” he said, nodding at the equipment.

Marquez pondered for a few seconds and then seemed to make up his mind. “We"ll start with a big bang; the bazooka. You take it to Lichtenstein, visit the arms dealer and take care of him. I"ll deal with the diplomat in Hamburg.”

The next day they travelled by car, but would, before they reached the border, break off and go their separate ways. One would travel to the cold north of Germany by train, whilst the other would head south by road.