Bullet Catchers

Chapter 4

Bullet Catchers

Four

Serene darkness surrounded him. Silence invaded his ears. Numbness disturbed his touch. To be senseless for a brief moment detached his entire being from time. Sometimes, it was the only way to rid his mind of memories that were best left forgotten. Had he never learned this technique, he would have surely killed himself or harmed others. Barbaric tendencies that civilization had always attempted to weed out of the human psyche could never be fully eradicated. Only those that had seen the true horrors of a battlefield understood. Some embraced it. Others, like the one they nicknamed "Hadji," tried to conquer it.

Meditating when Pluto was around was nearly impossible. Having arisen early to find the Czech native had never come home from the night before, Hadji had taken that as his moment to get some quiet time in. Just when his mind had stepped into the next realm, the loud shrill of Pluto's excited voice shattered any hope Hadji had.

"Hey Hadji!" Pluto shouted.

At first, Hadji pretended not to hear him. Closing out his ears again, he gave it another shot. A deep breath calmed him. Slowly his mind was adrift again. Traveling to his subconscious, he was within reach of a deep state when something ruffled his skull. Broken from thought for the last time, Hadji reached up and smacked Pluto's hand away.

"Look at you, kid! Cut that mop, eh? Betcha the girls are all about the cute face of yours now!" Pluto said. The s**t eating grin that adorned his face made it obvious what he'd been up to the night before.

"I see you found yourself a bed partner," Hadji commented. When the grin turned devilish, he knew he was right.

"Some hot socialite that was using her dad's money to throw a party. Dumb blonde didn't even know half the people there. Convinced her I was on the board of directors for an investment company. Don't worry, I took pics," Pluto said with a wink. When Hadji frowned and went so far as to look away from Pluto completely, he asked, "What is it? You like women, right?"

"I am just surprised at your total lack of respect for women," Hadji said.

"Really? Don't your people mutilate their c**t so they can't enjoy it?"

Hadji purposefully and forceful turned back to him to give stern eye contact. "Pluto, not all brown people are barbarians."

"Oh. I thought it was a religious thing?"

"I am atheist."

"Oh, I see," Pluto said as he took a seat in front of Hadji. Fifteen seconds passed of Pluto just staring intensely at Hadji. Was he trying to read his facial muscle twitches? Or was it just to annoy him?

Pluto was considered quiet around most. He wasn't a chatterbox and he never asked personal questions. Yet when it was just Hadji and him, Pluto could not keep his mouth closed for long. One time, Pluto had admitted it was because he was deeply curious about "you Muslims," at which time Hadji had informed him he was atheist. Then Pluto tried to correct himself by saying, "I meant you Arabs," which again required clarification as Hadji's mother was from Bhutan, with his father originating from Pakistan. Confused by this string of information as it shattered his expectations of the man, Pluto consistently forgot it and had to be reminded.

"I just thought your codename was because of religious reasons," Pluto said, finally breaking the silence.

To took all of Hadji's effort not to roll his eyes. Here they go again. "It's from a western cartoon about a young Caucasian who gets himself into trouble. His friend was named Hadji. The dog's name was Bandit. Sound familiar?"

Pluto thought for a few seconds before he recalled that there was once a member of the Bullet Catchers that they called "Bandit" but it was before he was recruited. He was a casualty a few years back. "So, since I'm the dog's replacement, am I named after the dog Pluto?"

"No, you are named after the object in our solar system. The way Pluto is not quite a planet, you are not quite a man."

This left Pluto speechless. Satisfied, Hadji decided it was time to stand up and start the day. A breath of fresh air on the deck would be great. It was felt good to stun Pluto into silence. Based on the deep furrow of Pluto's brow, he wasn't even irritated by the comment. Since it came from Hadji, he was trying everything he could to decode what it meant. One thing that Pluto had made clear was that he certainly looked up to him in a weird way. If there was anyone he'd called "big brother" it'd have to be Hadji. As for Hadji, he'd cautiously accepted the role.

Pluto was broken from his personal soul searching when the phone in his pocket vibrated. The old flip phone was getting worn out. The edges were almost rubbed away and the hinge was loose. It opened with a flick of the wrist and he greeted the caller with an unenthusiastic, "Hello?"

"Pluto? It's Boss from Payload. I heard you guys needed a drop but I can't get ahold of anyone," a female voice said. Payload was the one group of the Circuit that everyone got along with. Other organizations paid them to provide airstrikes on targets they couldn't get. The Bullet Catchers rarely called on them; they were much too expensive for their liking.

Naturally, the word that Payload was supposed to be doing work for them raised Pluto's brow. "Oh? I haven't heard. I'm on house arrest. Dingo has a team in Guatemala right now, though. Ranger is in the East, could it be him?"

"No, I got ahold of Ranger and they're fine. Wonder what they would need in Guatemala. Well, no matter. We'll do a flyby of the area. Expect a bill for that, at least," she said. The faint click of the receiver meant the conversation was over. There was no way she would allow Pluto a chance to argue.

Pluto finally got up from the floor and he went to join Hadji outside on the second-story deck. A cola in one hand and a tablet in the other, Hadji was going over current events and breaking news when Pluto approached. At first, Hadji didn't even look up to greet him. "Hey, Hadj… you know Payload?"

"Hm? Yes. They just finished a bombing run for the United States in Pakistan."

"Paki - ? Um, no. I mean, yes them. Boss just called. She said we ordered a drop," Pluto informed him.

Now Hadji looked up. For a moment he examined Pluto's face to see if there was a sign he might be joking. There was none. "Where?" he asked. There was no hiding his absolute bewilderment over such news.

"She wasn't sure," Pluto said.

After taking a moment to process what was said, Hadji decided to ignore it. A swig of his cola was followed by, "Well, she is mistaken." Then, it was back to the news reports.

The matter was dropped as far as Hadji was concerned. Pluto never told him about the flyby Payload planned. He'd find out when the invoice reached their hands. Due to the mere expense Payload would have to fork over just to get their jets over Guatemala, the Bullet Catchers would be trying to pay that bill off for a decade.

"What are Dingo and the others doing in Guatemala?" Hadji inquired. The question seemed to come out of nowhere.

Pluto shrugged and said, "I don't know. Jabiro said it was contracted by the United States to protect the route there."

"Doubtful," was Hadji's cryptic response.

Aware he was getting no more conversation out of Hadji, Pluto decided to make his exit. Left to his own thoughts, Hadji tried to piece together what was going on. While it was considered common knowledge on the black market that the United States and most other nations kept the drug trades propped up intentionally, it seemed unlikely that they would contract a group like the Bullet Catchers to protect a South American trade route. The prescription drug market was much more important than raw coca and opiates. It was easier to control and less suspicious to support.

So then, what was in Guatemala? With the appearance of the Southern Bells, much of the illegal markets were being wrestled to the ground. Koala and his team had secured contracts from suitors all over the world to get that place under control. Some of them were legitimate nations and people; many of them came from the Golden Triangle and organized criminals from Asia. For a patriot like Koala, bringing law and order to South America would be a win for his home nation of the United States. If the Bullet Catchers had received a contract for work in Guatemala, it would not have come from the United States. There was simply no way they would risk having a former operative run into a mercenary group they paid for.

The news reports on tablet blurred as he focused his mind on a map of Central and South America. He ran the trade routes over the land in an attempt to determine where Dingo and the squad might be. Timelines from previous runs were added, giving him an idea of where the convoy would be at the approximate time of their landing. There was no convoy near their drop zone. In fact, they were several hundred miles away and several days behind. Whatever they were doing, it had nothing to do with drugs.

His vision left the internal workings of his mind and returned to focus on the tablet. Fast fingers tapped away at the screen. Minimizing the web browser and opening a messenger app, Hadji decided it was time to ask some questions. Within seconds he was virtually face-to-face with Moses.

The scornful look on the face that greeted him would've unsettled anyone else. Clearly, Moses did not want to be bothered, yet felt it must have been essential to answer the call. Upon seeing it was Hadji that had contacted him, he seemed to lighten up. His lips twisted into a half-grin and he said, "Oh, Hadji! What is it? Any word on Malta?"

"No, not yet. I'm actually curious about another mission," he said.

"Ranger's drive in the East?"

"No. It's about Dingo's squad in Guatemala."

That was it. In an instant Moses's smile was gone. All of his emotions were displayed on his face when it twisted and turned. There was confusion laced in every muscle movement. He asked in a low tone, "Dingo's where? Doing what?"

"Were we not contracted for work there?" Hadji inquired. It was becoming obvious he had walked into a situation that could easily blow up in someone's face. In work such as theirs, to betray someone's trust meant certain death. If Dingo had really moved for personal gain without the okay from Moses, it wouldn't take more than one dollar to get him killed.

"Hadji… I'll call you back."

In a flash the call was ended and the application closed. Facing the web browser once more, Hadji decided to lay the tablet to rest for the time being. As he approached the door to enter the house, a sound caught his ear. He craned his neck upward and searched for its origin. Coming in fast was a helicopter – their helicopter. His eyes followed it as it went above and beyond him, certainly headed to the small heliport. It looked as though Dingo and his team had returned. Perhaps Hadji would just ask him outright, and risk the bloody nose that would come with asking too many questions.

He thought over whether it's his place to question Dingo as he made the small trek from the house to the port. Dingo was the All-American military standout with enough medals to forge a suit of armor. All the combat experience of the team combined barely scratches what Dingo has done. There's something very rouge about him that fellow soldier Jibaro lacks. Danger warnings popped up in Hadji's mind the first time he'd ever met up, and those warnings tripled the moment he shook his hand. For a few years now Dingo had been their leader, no questions asked. Things just fell into place that way.

Hadji, on the other hand, had no such record. Combat was his enemy. He was a quiet man that could take a punch a million times over before he'd dare to throw one. While a leader in his own right, Hadji was merely respected while the others feared Dingo. They would never be the same on any level. Their friendship was uneasy at best, yet they were both so driven by the desire to succeed that they had always worked together for what was best for the team. Whenever they disagreed, Hadji's tactfulness kept things together but it was only a matter of time before Dingo's wrath won out.

As he mentally wrestled with his decision, Hadji intercepted the returning team as they hurried toward the house. Jibaro and Tank were carrying Arai as they sprinted by. There was no time for Hadji to see the extent of his injuries, but everyone appeared calm enough that it probably wasn't life threatening.

Hadji reached Dingo and was about to extended his hand for the customary return shake when he noticed a large splotch of blood on his fatigues. "Are you alright?" was his greeting due to the sight.

Thus it was Dingo that extended his hand. The sight meant that he was fine so Hadji accepted the gesture. "I'm fine," Dingo said with a small laugh. "Just stumbled down a small hill and got skewered on a stick. It looks worse than it feels."

"I'm pleased you've survived. Was the mission a success?" Hadji asked. There was no need to ask what the mission was; Dingo would certainly reveal more than enough information just based on whether they accomplished their mission or not.

Dingo gave him a cheesy and dramatic shrug. "Afraid not. The Four-Eyed Fleet moved in and took everyone out," he said.

"What happened to the drugs?"

"Drugs?" Dingo asked, seeking clarification. Not one to act well, it was impossible that his surprise was a faade. Another laugh escaped his lips, this time a tad awkward and nervous. "Hadji, you know all the drug routes by heart. You know, right?"

"I know what exactly?" Hadji questioned. There was no denying the slight edge in his voice. It wasn't intentional. "Wes, what were you doing in Guatemala?"

The use of his real first name meant Hadji was determined to find out. For Dingo, he was more surprised that Hadji hadn't already figured it out. He said, "You know the drug routes but you don't know the new s*x trafficking routes?"

The dirtiest of all the black market trades, it was something that Moses refused to touch. Occasionally, he would help disrupt any known rings. Yet never once had he accepted a contract to protect one, and generally speaking would not have sent in a group to ambush one. Most of the hotspots were on the other side of the world, so if he was going to make a move it would've been over there. This is probably why he didn't know anything about it. More than likely, there was no contract at all, and Dingo was acting purely out of self-interest.

"Ah, so that is why you lied," Hadji said, having surmised the situation rather well. Even if Dingo was a complete asshole, there were certain things he could not put up with. Even if he had to move alone, if he knew there was a human trafficking route within striking distance, he was going to destroy it. Hadji asked, "How will you compensate the others?"

"Out of my own damn pocket. And if Moses keeps taking these shitty government contracts to incite war I'll be owning the bank," he warned.

"Watch your words, friend."

"As though you don't feel the same way," Dingo accused.

Hadji was not about to argue that. His entire reasoning for mercenary work was to be a protector of those that were not protected by the state. Whatever it took to save the exploited was fine by him. To create war for profit wasn't in his interest. He said, "That may be true. But I think few others here feel the same as us."

"Well, f**k those terrorists' assholes."

With that, Dingo walked away, having no more interest in conversing. All Hadji could do was sigh and accept the condition of their little group. In truth, everyone had some ounce of good in them. Few that aligned themselves with the Bullet Catchers would be caught dead assisting in slavery. Yet these were the same people that could slit an innocent man's throat for the right amount of money. Everyone had a price. It was only a matter of time before the right buyer made their appearance.