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Monday, January 3, 2011


You know, this point marks a very healthy change in our attitudes towards each other, don't you think? A sort of teamwork? Don't get me wrong, I still want to see your guts in my hands but-

Shut up.

See? You always get touchy about the little things? Its what makes me wanna throw your guts to the dogs after I've just ripped them out, or-

Listen, you need to know that I didn't want this, its just that there really was no other way, and I'd thought of everything. There was no way I could escape from the Mossad. They had me under constant surveillance . Then again, the Mossad had all of its agents under constant surveillance, but I was a 'special case'. I could feel cameras all around me, and somehow, now I just happened to know where they were, just like that.

It's called elite training, you jackass, and you didn't have to run through those training tests, I had to haul our bloody ass across-

I'll admit it now, its probably the only good thing we learnt from the Mossad. We learnt how to survive everything else. In hindsight, you didn't screw up entirely

... Fuck you.

Erich Von Stahlien. 'The Butcher'. Third actually, the first two butchers having had as great careers that have now lead them to the grave. Stahlien, the Mossad felt, was overdue. I... he had done this before, he knew the tricks, he knew everything that would have accomplished the mission, fooled the Mossad, kept us alive. I couldn't trust him, but... what else could I do?

The first time I even suggested it, he flipped! Little cunt started screaming off the top of his head, threatening to blow it off! five seconds later, three guards kick the door open and barge in with hecklers at my head! Paranoid bitch, you are!

But after the second time,

And the third,



No, I think it was after some twenty times... I relented.

You know it was the only was we could live.

I do, but I can't believe I had to sell my soul for it.

Ha! You jackass! ...You did that a long time ago. 

Erich Von Stahlien. I almost forgot about him. By the time Hitler offed himself, Stahlien was already out of the country. He had seen the fall early, and sold out to the Russians, giving up secret stashes of treasures and weapons, totaling up to some 17 million in USD. A lot back then, a hell of a lot. In return, the Russians did him a favor and 'killed' him, then under complete secrecy had the KGB ship him out of Russia and into India, from where he disappeared for some sixty years. Intel had reports of him in South Africa during the seventies and a hit-and-grab was attempted. Failed badly, almost got public. Now he's in Colombia. Intel says he's been there for almost a decade, providing advice and experience to the new-rising cartels.

Stahlien boasted to me that he had been here before Escobar.

Stahlien was smart. Figures he was a Nazi. He knew something was off with us. Saw almost all the way through.

Didn't stop you from shooting him in the head, though, did it?

Nope, not a bit.

Mossad wanted him back in Israel. Alive. It wasn't impossible, it had been done before. Only this time the target was surrounded by one of the most powerful and dangerous criminal organizations in the world. The owners, suppliers and masters of cocaine. The Cartels. With a kilo of pure cocaine selling for $60,000 to $70,000 across the water, the Cartel spend hundred of millions equipping their private armies with enough weapons to level a city. And with each addict added, the money bills grew even higher. Which brought us to our number two man.  

Nilano Mosquera. Mossad told us he was the new Don of the North Valley Cartel, the biggest Cartel in Colombia. The previous Don had been caught, tried, and imprisoned. And then someone offed him in jail. Leaving the seat open for Mosquera to take control. Of course, he was advised on almost everything by Von Stahlien. As was the Don before him. And the one before him. All the way to Escobar.

Like I said, smart. Stahlien was gifted, the ultimate traitor. He knew just when to change sides, and he comes out beautiful because of it. And when he helped you, more often than not you became the head of all the pure coke in the world. It's probably why every half-decent gangster in that shit-hole wants to lick his wrinkly old ass to get him on their side. Its made of fucking gold.

When Mossad finally-

Oh shut up, you still don't know jack about how it went on. Choosing Katsas is never a problem. All of them could kill you in creative ways, were trained for way longer than I was, and would die in a second for their country. Losers. I picked the first three from the folder and met them only on the flight to Colombia.

But as for the drop. Parachuting into the night jungle is never fun. But Mossad likes to make you do it. Fucking Katsas would have jumped without a parachute if asked. That's the one thing I hated about being there. The Mossad let you have fun, but kept the kiddy gloves on sometimes. We had to infiltrate the target's mansion at night. Sneak in, bag, sneak out. No explosions.

Sneaking in? Not a problem. There were guards, only guards. Not even a single dog. Though I could see three machine guns held up behind sand bunkers. Two on the grounds, and one on the roof. The closest guard was already dead at my feet, neck broken. I passed him on backwards to where the last man would hide his body under a bush. Quick. Silent. We were inside the building in minutes, having crept in through the open French doors. With little time left, we headed up the stairs, kicked down the door and-


He stood there with his back to us, looking out of a huge widow that framed the entire wall. He was holding something in his hand, and when he turned around I saw that it was a glass of sherry. I felt the katsas raising their guns, and I knew he drill.

You shout, you die. You have crimes to pay for, Von Stahlien and-

"I have crimes to pay for? My boy, I know excatly what I have to pay for." All trace of German was lost from his accent, it was perfect fucking Oxford. But as I looked at him, I could see a weariness, a tired old man who really did want to give up.

"You took your time, gentlemen," He continued. "But I have been patient. I am ready for this, I was a long time ago. Please, don't waste time."

And as we rushed forward, an army of guards burst our of the closet, every door, from behind us, even the windows. In seconds we were nailed to the ground, weapons snatched. The bastard had even trained them to get to our mouths so fucking quickly that we couldn't even swallow the cyanide pills in our jaws.

Stahlien's got a sweet smile on his face, and the old bastard walks up like he's asking us out for a fucking date.

"Now, you will tell him who sent you. And then we will see what to do with their silly mistake."

My turn.

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