Incitement (15 page)

He knew that the doubts would only grow but he had committed to this assignment, he needed to see it through to the end. Its successful completion would be a final testament to his ... career?
Life? One of these. It was not about redemption – he had slid too far for that – but there would be some measure of redress. This would make a difference. He knew he had to force a
culmination quickly. His growing uncertainty could not be allowed to ruin everything. If he was to have any hope of achieving the peace he had recently glimpsed, he needed to see this through. This
time, his last, he would determine how it played out. This time, he would determine what his work accomplished.

Sensing the change, the instructor released his grip to make room for the finish. Pushing back with one palm against the exhausted mass, he threw his whole body into an elbow
aimed to strike upwards under his defeated foe’s chin. There was no question of hesitation, this was a place for the elite only. Full-blooded combat had been requested and paid for, all
necessary waivers signed. Standards had to be maintained; the reputation of the gym among its exacting clientele was the issue. His blow never made impact, sailing past the intended point with no
resistance. The instructor felt a blow to his face and his vision clouded with blood. Strikes, too quick to count, assailed his ribs and his defences deserted him. He felt his feet leave the floor,
swept from beneath him. Falling heavily, he landed on his back with bone-shaking impact. The momentum whipped his head into the mat. His sternum groaned under a tremendous blow and consciousness
danced in and out of reach. The pressure around his neck mounted and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Darkness engulfed him, and then receded.

The client smiled and reached down to pull the instructor to his feet.

The opening graphics disappeared and a distinguished face filled the screen. Leonard Boswell had been the presenter of Behind the Headlines, IBNC’s flagship current
affairs magazine, for the past ten years.

“Good evening, everyone. Let’s get straight to it,” he began in an introduction that played to his no-fuss reputation. “First up tonight we’re going to be
looking at Plan Coca, and we’ll start by going over directly to Colombia to speak with Caroline Williams about the deaths earlier today of five US civilians.”

The picture split to show a tired looking Williams, reporting from a small village in Putumayo, on the right side of the screen.

“Caroline, earlier reports were that the US contractors died during a scheduled fumigation mission, has this been confirmed?” asked Boswell.

“Yes Leonard. Our latest information confirms the initial report and gives us a more detailed account of what occurred. So far, though, no comment from the US embassy in Bogotá
or the State Department.”

The first reports had come in thirteen hours earlier and competition to be first to give the full story had been fierce between the news stations. Williams had been growing more desperate
when it appeared a number of her rivals had pulled off surprising coups by convincing individual contractors to go on the record. She had been ready to admit defeat when help arrived from an
unlikely source. A contractor she had met only a couple of times and had always found to be particularly uncommunicative had approached her, saying he wanted to talk. With the clock ticking she
didn’t have time to dwell too much on his change of attitude. She had only finished talking to him thirty minutes before this live link-up to Atlanta. With no time to verify what he had told
her, she had decided to gamble, and use it as the basis for her report, rather than allow her competitors to steal the march on her. Taking a deep breath, she started to read from her hand-written
notes.

“We’ve learnt that three aircraft were brought down during the exercise. There were four in total taking part in the mission, three HUEY II helicopters and a fixed-wing
fumigation craft. Two of the helicopters were heavily armed escort aircrafts whose function is to act as a deterrent to any anti-aircraft artillery. One of these was hit by a shell and the pilot
quickly lost the battle to stay airborne, crashing down into the forest. The third helicopter, which had search-and-rescue responsibilities, flew over the crash site to determine if there were any
survivors. Subsequently this aircraft was also hit. The attack appears to have been carefully planned with the onslaught coming simultaneously from multiple locations. There were literally only
seconds between each aircraft being downed.”

She stopped for a moment, having to search her notes briefly before finding what she wanted. “The next bit is sketchy but it seems the remaining escort helicopter then split from the
fumigation aircraft which, now totally unguarded, abandoned the mission and returned immediately to base. Additional support aircraft had been scrambled once the first reports came in, but by the
time they reached the area the wreckage from the three helicopters was plainly visible. A check confirmed that there were no survivors.”

A group of children had congregated in the background, shouting and jostling for the camera’s attention, and Caroline tried to move away a little while continuing her report.

“I’m sure a lot of people will be surprised at the involvement of US civilians in this kind of operation on foreign soil. How did they come to be there?” enquired
Boswell.

Williams had known about the heavy presence of foreign contractors from the little research she had done even before arriving in Colombia. They had been there for years in steadily
increasing numbers. In fact the foreign journalists and contractors often socialised together when off-duty. There was an unwritten agreement that their presence here would never constitute a
significant part of any of the news reports. She had once raised this curious omission with one of the main news editors. All he had said was that some feathers should not be ruffled and to leave
things as they were. Well, all that was about to change. The death of their colleagues and the downing of the helicopters had struck a chord with many of the contractors and convinced them to talk
to the media. They could not be ignored and consequently the disastrous mission was set to become a major news story.

“Well, although the State Department has yet to comment officially, some people have been at pains to point out that the involvement of US civilians here significantly pre-dates the
Plan. These civilians typically work for large companies and are ostensibly here only to provide training.”

“But surely training wouldn’t extend to participation in actual missions?” the host of the current affairs programme probed sceptically.

“It’s a grey area. There’ve been repeated categorical statements that the US military will not be directly involved in any engagements down here. Special Forces instructors
work closely with the counter-narcotics battalions of the Colombian army but they maintain that this is in an advisory capacity only.”

“But we’re talking about civilians here,” interjected Boswell, “civilians who certainly can’t be classified as advisors.”

“Exactly,” agreed Williams, feeling rushed by the host’s habit of interrupting her planned presentation of the situation. “In the case of civilian contractors, the
policy isn’t as clear-cut. Guidelines are implied rather than spelt out and may vary from company to company. In relation to Plan Coca, the intention has always been to reduce the high
incidence of contractors but that’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Because?”

“Well for the simple reason that the Colombians rely on their expertise. According to the contractors themselves, it’s been a common occurrence for years for them to be present
on missions.”

“Earlier there had been some speculation over whether the number of five US citizens was accurate; has this been confirmed?”

“Not officially, DefenCorp AeroSpace, for whom it’s believed the dead contractors worked, refuse to talk to any reporters but as far as we know the figure is
accurate.”

“Okay, Caroline, no doubt we’ll be hearing a lot more from you in the coming days but for the moment, thank you.”

The database query Diane Mesi had kicked off was likely to take at least half an hour. It was only when she started looking for something to do while she was waiting that she
realised how hungry she was. She had arrived at the office before seven after skipping breakfast, over six hours earlier. She walked down the hall to the vending machine and on the way back picked
up a newspaper that had been lying on a desk. Campas had said that he would drop by around two o’clock, after his meeting.

She scanned the paper while she ate. Her eyes were immediately drawn to an article on the front page, a report from a news conference in Detroit chaired by the police commissioner. He had been
commenting on a fire-fight which had occurred the day before in one of the city’s most notorious areas. A cab company had come under attack by a group of gunmen. The company was subsequently
discovered to have been used as a distribution point for a notorious drug gang. Four Jamaicans were found dead on the premises while two other men, believed to be Russians, were in hospital
receiving treatment for their wounds. The commissioner had conceded that the attack marked the latest in a spate of similar incidents in Detroit in recent weeks. He defended the police
department’s record, saying that the attacks were virtually impossible to predict and, by extension, prevent. The article ended with speculation as to whether the department was as committed
as it might be, given how many of its members were privately expressing satisfaction at seeing these elements wipe out one another. Mesi knew it was a popular sentiment.

She opened the paper to read the editorial comment referenced at the end of the article. The commentary dealt more with the ongoing political battle raging on Capitol Hill than the specific
Detroit incident. It bemoaned the opportunistic sniping that was being directed at the administration and argued that too much was being made of the escalating violence in the inner cities. An
analogy was drawn with a painful purge which would benefit the patient in the long term. The writer pointed out that as Plan Coca squeezed the drug supply, people who traded illicitly would become
more and more agitated in their struggle to control the remaining scraps. If the public could just harden themselves and see this difficult period through, it would all come right eventually. He
went on to condemn the theorists who tried to promote the idea that something other than Plan Coca was in motion. If there was an international battle for supremacy between the drug powers, he
argued, it was a by-product of Plan Coca’s successes and was nothing to be overly concerned about.

She envied the author his certitude.

“Diane?”

Mesi turned around, greeted Campas delightedly and then brought a chair over for him from the empty desk next to her.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Fine. So how does it feel being on a diplomatic junket? Big time now, huh?”