The Shack: Necessary Evil

I looked up at Acosta as I pulled my vintage Beretta out and levelled it at the base of Cunningham's skull, just at the hairline above the rapidly greying skin of his neck. "And none of that means anything to me."

The snap of the little Beretta was almost like a cap gun compared to the rifles and machine guns that had been going off. But it was so oddly loud in the compound.

A moment of dead silence hung in the air before one of the women began wailing. The others closed on her, trying to quiet her, instinctively trying to keep attention off of them.

I walked over to Acosta while The Sergeant and his man pitched Cunningham's corpse onto the pile.

He stared at me wide-eyed. From his expression, Spooky and Candy were the only reasons he was still standing.

"Comisario Mayor Matias Acosta. You will do the right thing from now on. You will not take pay-offs from men like this. I am not asking you to betray your country. You will be a loyal Argentinian police officer, nothing more, nothing less. You will be as incorruptible as it is possible to be. You do not want me to visit again. Do you understand?"

He nodded, but couldn't seem to find words. That was fine. He kept looking between me and Spooky.

I turned and watched for second as flames began to creep up the mound of bodies from a road flare one of the soldiers had dropped onto it.

I waved Spooky over with me to the women. A couple of them stood defiantly and moved between us and the rest. Brave women. They deserved more than life was giving them.

I gave Spooky the keys to the remaining truck and the handcuffs.

"Give them the keys. Tell them to wait one hour after we leave, then drive into town. They can only take the handcuffs off of Acosta there, but do not mistreat him. Tell them this has nothing to do with them. And let Mister Acosta know I would be very unhappy if anything were to happen to these women."

Candy walked Acosta over to them as I headed back to the SUV where Trace and my Tech Sergeant were loading her treasures into the trunk.

When the snipers signaled that everything was still clear, we headed out. I looked back at the ruined compound as we left the gate and watched the last soldier, The Sergeant, slip out through one of the breached walls.

On the short drive down to the buses, I had to ask Spooky what she'd done to our captive, as he seemed singularly focused on her much of the time.

"I showed him some family pictures. I took them the last time I came down." She handed me a small tablet with pictures cued up.

Acosta's wife. His son. His little girls. Even a picture of him. All soundly asleep in their beds. Each one with a surgical scalpel resting delicately on their neck.

Candy smiled softly. "Cute kids."

They really were cute kids. Even Spooky's expression softened curiously when she looked at them. Spooky with kids. That's a really bizarre thought. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.

Trace seemed a little more comfortable with the pictures than I'd have expected, probably because he's convinced that as anti-social as Spooky is, she has limits. They have a rapport that comes from visiting the same corners of hell. Spooky always treats him with a level of respect, although she inevitably addresses him as "Mister Jackson" for some reason only the two of them understand. I've never bothered to ask.

By the time our two tourist buses reached a remote airfield, it was clear that Matias Acosta had not raised an alarm. I didn't really expect him that he would.

***

Another symphony.

During intermission, Trace lifted two flutes from one of the tables -- one water and one champagne. He very carefully handed me the champagne. I normally choose not to drink in front of him, but sometimes he does things like this. It's a ritual, a reminder of our pact, of the relationship we have. A reminder that he depends on me to keep him sober, and I depend on him to keep me human. As human as I can be anyway, with everything that has to be done.

The weight of the Beretta in my clutch always seems more noticeable when he does it.

Maria had to learn of the outcome of the mission through press and the normal intelligence reports; we wouldn't risk another meeting over this. It wasn't difficult for her; a suddenly cooperative Argentinian police Comisario Mayor granted full access to a small mostly-destroyed compound when evidence was found that the men in the compound were involved in the unsolved murder of four FBI agents.

Matias Acosta is reportedly very, very family oriented these days and even takes his family with him on official visits. He doesn't seem to like the idea of being away from them at all. And he is rapidly gaining a reputation for incorruptibility.

There's a story circulating that when he was recently approached with a bribe, he put his gun to his own head and informed them with tears in his eyes that he would rather pull the trigger than accept a single peso. Integrity is important.

The official report on the compound states that it is likely that the compound was wiped out by a rival organization in the same business.

Unofficially, of course, everybody understands.

Somebody is out there, somebody willing to do what they have to do.

Whatever they have to do.

//////

Post Production Notes:

Not too much to say here.

The EA6-B Prowler was the electronic warfare version of the venerable Intruder. Some remained in service until 2015 when they were replaced with the EA-18 Growler, having flown their last actual mission in 2014. Pods could be swapped out for very specific capabilities.

A Swallow is an agent who specializes in using sex to compromise or entrap their target.

And, of course, God Bless the Infantry.