“Jimmy” told this story one night, sitting in a bar after we had all gotten tired of playing darts.

We were a scratch crew, put together from some guys who were hanging around in a bar that had a bit of a reputation as a “mercenary” hangout, looking for whatever they could pick up to make a their next rent check or pay off their bar tab. The job sounded dodgy as can be, but my wallet was empty and so was my stomach, and the offer was for enough to get me back home with something to spare, enough to get by for a few weeks any way.

I don’t know if the guy hiring us was from some government agency somewhere or if he was from some dodgy corporation. Could even have been some kind of criminal syndicate. Personally, I suspect it was syndicate, but don’t bite the hand that’s feeding you, you know.

The story was that there was a boat hauling contraband on a river a ways over the border, guns and munitions that were going to either a drugs and slaver gang or to a bunch of rebels. He wasn’t real forthcoming on that. It was important that the boat and cargo be stopped or destroyed. Not sure why the local authorities or military couldn’t or wouldn’t do the job, but whatever, it was cash in hand.

I knew and had worked with a couple of the guys before, “Dieter” and “Stretch”.

Dieter claimed to have been in the French Foreign Legion. He was very good with an automatic rifle or light machine gun. He had quite a few knife scars on his body. One ran from his lip to just below his ear, pulling his mouth into a permanent snarl.