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Sunday, March 6, 2011


Buenos Aires.

The second largest metropolitan city in all of South America and the capital of Argentina, the ankle of the world. The skyline looks damn beautiful at night. And here I'm standing on a barge in the middle of the Rio de la Plata, watching the waves kiss the shoreline as fireworks erupt gloriously across the sky.

What a night. 

The entire city, each and every building, is lit up like its a fucking competition. I can only hear the sounds of the waves hitting the side of the barge, and from the distant city, I can hear faint noises of a celebration, cheers and music that reach all the way to my ears. Argentina loves football, and a home win is always throws the city into ecstasy.

I heard footsteps as the katsa walked up to me, handing me a H&G. I cocked it, checked the sights once. The gun was perfect. Ready.

The katsa gave a patient sigh. "For once, Michael, use discretion. Not everyone we come across has to die."

"If they don't die," I lied, "Then they might tell anyone about us, who we look like. I can't take that chance."

The katsa frowned. "Why don't I believe you then?"

"That's not my concern. When do we leave?"

"The locals are parading their football team through the streets of the city. Many people are about, much celebration. We will need discretion and subtlety, Michael."

I ignored him. "The target?"

"Fredrick Ulrich is currently located in the Teatro Colon, attending an opera that is too end in another forty-seven minutes. He will then proceed to board his vehicle, a Rolls Royce Phantom, and will drive towards his safe-house. Given the current celebrations, there are five possible routes that his vehicle can take. We currently have scouts on each route. Once we have determined his choice, the strike team will move out and execute the mission."

"Execute the mission." I smiled. "Understood."

"We are not here to kill Ulrich, Michael. We are to transport him back to Israel where he will be held under trial for his crimes."

"After which you'll declare him guilty and spend three days thinking of the most creative way to kill him. He's going to die anyways, might as well save the cost of an extra flight ticket."

The katsa stayed silent. I turned around and looked back at the sky-line. The hypocrisy sickened me, but fuck it, who am I to judge?

Eight minutes later, he was back.

"We've got the signal. We need to move."


Two minutes later, a raft sped away from the boat, skimming over the waves. In it were four men, lightly armed, but ready to take on an army. The raft reached the shore and the four men got out, walking briskly up the beach and to the nearest road, where two bikes were parked and waiting. Coincidently, two of these four men each had a key that perfectly fitted in these bikes.

As we sped down the freeway, the voice in my receiver directing me where to go, I checked my Colt once. I had given the gun a quick clean on the barge, and I could see the barrel, in its holster, shining in the streetlight. Ah, my gun looks so damn beautiful.

Another right turn took us into thicker traffic. This was the road Ulrich's car was on, I could see the Phantom in the distance. We came closer and closer and I began to slow. I could feel a slight wobble as the katsa behind me stood up, grabbing onto my shoulders for support. Just as we reached the car he leapt, landing on the roof of the vehicle. The next second, the Phantom jumped forward in a burst of speed, and the katsa on top was almost blown off, gripping the sides of the roof at the last frickin' moment.

Revving the bike, I burst forward, dodging a bunch of cars and a truck filled with happy drunks, that took me right in front of the speeding Phantom. With almost no time left, I jumped.

And landed on the bonnet of the damn car.

Jumping of a bike and on a speeding car is not fun. But then again, compared to swimming under ice and crashing into a super-tanker, it kinda fits right in.

My feet had landed on the bumper for just enough time for me to plant my arms on the cars window-vipers, planting me flatly across the car's entire hood. The next second I looked up to see the driver raise a nasty looking pistol aimed right at my face. The second after that, I had to duck my head as the other katsa bike drew up on his side, and turned his head into pulp in a nasty burst of machine gunfire, along with the entire side window and windshield. I smiled a thanks and reached through the broken glass and grabbed the wheel. Ulrich had a panel between him and the driver, so I couldn't see shit beyond the driver's seat. 

I looked up to see the katsa on reach down for the handle of the car door as he tried to get it open. Just as his hand gripped the handle, the window he was leaning on burst in shards and bullets flew out, tearing his body to shreds. Now dead, the body just fell of the car on rolled onto the road, before a truck ran over it.

So Ulrich was armed, fine.

This is where the cool spy stuff comes in. If they know I told you this, they'd probably kill me. Then again, if they know I'm alive, then they'll probably wanna kill me either way, so I might as tell ya. They have this little device, shaped like a squash ball, that explodes and shoots this sticky goo everywhere. What this goo does, see, is that when it gets attached to any gun, then the damn thing clogs completely. You can't fire off a single round. 

I pulled one out of a pouch one my side after I slid through the window and into the driver's seat. I noticed the panel had a little door in it. I opened it and through the ball in before slamming it shut again.  A second later, a heard a slight pop, followed by a shout of anger. I smiled and drove on the other bike pulling up beside me as the katsa sitting shotgun jumped onto the side of the car and quickly got in. I felt some thuds behind me and some muffled shouting. Then silence, before someone tapped on the door panel.

I opened it and looked behind to see the same katsa from the barge's eyes looking back at me.

"The target has been subjugated."


He moved away as I slammed on the breaks, drawing the Royce to a halt. I got out, cocked the Colt, and pulled the door open, butting the gun against Ulrich's temple.

"Good evening, Ulrich. How was the show?"     

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