THE CONTRACTOR by R. SAINT HILAIRE

Author:R. SAINT HILAIRE [SAINT HILAIRE, R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

They pulled into Kapikoy in the late afternoon, when the sun was getting low against the mountains. Kapikoy sat mostly in a valley, though some of its small houses sprawled up onto the hillsides. Most homes were single-story mudbrick or cinderblock constructions. If there were fifty homes, it would have been surprising. There was also a customs office whose parking lot was often filled with all kinds of trucks carrying goods across the border. There were generally good relations between the Turks and Iranians in this area. Sure, there were various local tribes that squabbled from time to time, but in general it was a relatively peaceful place. Of course, armed border guards and gun turrets on the hillsides armed with large caliber weapons played no small part in maintaining said peaceful atmosphere.

Their arrival time was perfect. The sun would soon set behind the mountains, giving them the cover of darkness, they needed to move out to their illegal border crossing. But they weren’t doing this alone. Being big and bad means nothing if you have no idea where the hell you are going. They were going to need some local knowledge, and local knowledge was going to need some cash. Luckily, Dave was a cash man who always carried a nice stash of government money to entice cooperation.

Goldman had set up a local guide. Rusty and Dave just needed to find him and pay him, and then they could all take a joyous hike through the wilderness together.

The town was a strange mix of modern and ancient. The light that flickered from windows and doorways could be anything from a candle, to a firepit, to a single electric lightbulb dangling bare from the ceiling. There were mothers’ voices calling their children to dinner. There were the voices of goats, too. Cigarette smoke was as prevalent as the smoke from cooking fires. Men stood together in doorways discussing the many exciting things that didn’t happen that day, along with bits of gossip about neighboring villages and the goings-on at the border crossing. Their contact would be waiting in one of those doorways—but which one?

Rusty and Dave decided they didn’t have to decide. They didn’t fit in here at all. They could simply walk the streets, two giants enjoying a chat, and everyone, including their contact, would absolutely notice them. Hopefully, their contact would then pull them into a doorway or alleyway to discuss the plan and, more importantly, the cash. Goldman had provided them with a code phrase challenge-and-response. So off they went, just two heavily armed sightseers roaming the quaint streets of Kapikoy.

“Yo! Get your giant asses over here!” came a loud whisper from a dark alley to their right.

The big boys did what looked like a well-choreographed right-face and moved toward the voice, hands placed nonchalantly on their firearms.

“Come on—let’s move,” the voice ordered.

Rusty and Dave looked at each other with eyebrows raised as if to ask, “Who the hell does he think he’s talking to?” They raised

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