‘Price is not the issue here, Colonel. I assure you, we at Huntsmen Inc do not lack for money. However, my predecessor here did not see things in that light, unfortunately. He thought that he could get away with cutting corners and pinching pennies in the defence budget by keeping a few million for himself and hiring out a local militia group to deal with the situation.’
‘I read about that in the files y’all sent. The local rebel group y’all initially hired t’ protect this here mine an’ eradicate the threat, they was all massacred, t’ a man.’
‘Wiped out completely, yes. Needless to say, my superiors were not happy. My predecessor was … removed from the situation and dealt with … appropriately for his short-sightedness and ineffectual handling of the situation. Thereafter I was sent here, to this filthy, godforsaken shithole, to properly take care of matters.’
A look of raw disgust briefly crossed her face, but she covered it up quickly. Rudd merely grinned smugly.
‘Takin’ care a’ things is my specialty.’
‘Exactly. I understand that in order to achieve the desired result you need to get the best person – or people – for the job.’
‘And you can bet your bottom dollar that we’r—’
‘The best of the best. I know. I’ve got connections in the mercenary world, and I’ve read up on some situations that you and your men have taken care of. You have a very impressive track record.’
‘Spotless, Hutton, fuckin’ spotless. We are fuckin’ perfection personified. Anyways, enough a’ this dick-strokin’. I don’t need that shit, I already know how good we are. Give me details, all a’ ‘em, an’ don’t spare none neither.’
Ms Hutton nodded as she clasped her bony, freckle-flecked hands together on her desk.
‘Do you have any game hunting experience, Colonel?’
Colonel Rudd raised an eyebrow, suddenly puzzled.
‘Uh, yeah, I sure do. Every time I get some R ‘n’ R between missions I do me some huntin’. I done bagged trophies from every continent on God’s green Earth. Shit, I got a dining hall full a’ ‘em on ma’ ranch back home. I don’t see what that’s got t’ do with the job y’all are hiring me for though.’
Whatever her unwavering, thin smile was concealing remained indecipherable.
‘Good. I’m just confirming what I’ve read in the briefing files. My question may not seem to make much sense to you now, but trust me, it will.’
Rudd remained unconvinced, and regarded her with a scowl that was equal parts sceptical, mocking and aggressive.
‘If y’ say so, honey. But please, how ‘bout you start debriefin’ me on the actual mission at hand, huh? The boys an’ me are fixin’ t’ oil up our rifles, lock an’ load, an’ head out int’ the jungle. We don’t like wastin’ time on chitter chatter.’
‘Very well. Like I said though, the previous mercenary outfit we hired – a local group, called Rambo’s Rage – were completely destroyed by our enemy.’
Colonel Rudd laughed uproariously at this, slapping his muscular thighs with his hands.
‘Rambo’s Rage? Who in the fuck do these jungle bunnies think they are? That ain’t the first re-donkin’-diculous name I done heard outta this neck a’ th’ woods, though. Anyways, go on.’
‘The entire army was slaughtered. A few captives were taken, or perhaps they simply fled into the bush after being defeated. Either way, none returned. The coltan mine of ours that those fools were supposed to be protecting, Mine CF-3HV, around seventy kilometres southwest of us, was overrun by the enemy.’
‘So now your rivals are controlling the mine, huh?’
‘No. The mine was destroyed.’
Colonel Rudd leaned back in his chair, cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow. He clasped his hands together and rubbed on his calluses with his thumbs, narrowing his eyes with perturbation.
‘What? Destroyed? Ya mean, totally wrecked?’
‘Yes.’
‘That sure as shit ain’t the usual modus operandi ‘round these parts, in these types a’ situations. Last time me an’ the boys was called in t’ pull off an operation here in Central Africa, well, West Africa anyway, was t’ rassle a diamond mine in Sierra Leone outta rebel militia control an’ back inta’ the European diamond company’s hands. Ha, not that it mattered none for the niggers that was workin’ there, they was as much slaves under militia bosses as under a rich Austrian multinational. And b’fore that, we did a mission in Sudan, ‘cept that was for zinc mines. Same story, rebel militia took control a’ th’ mine, then used the profits from sellin’ the minerals t’ finance an’ expand their military campaign. Same shit all over this fuckin’ continent. But hold up: now you’re tellin’ me that these motherfuckers y’all are up against took down the troops y’all hired, then they took over the mine … but instead a’ takin’ the tantalum an’ makin their stinkin’ wallets a lot fatter by sellin’ it on the black market, they jus’ up an’ destroyed the mine? Trashed a perfectly workin’ fertile mine t’ shit, an’ then jus’ up an’ left? That’s what went down here?’
Ms Hutton nodded slowly, drumming her fingers in subtle polyrhythms as she did so; the last ghostly vestiges of hours of forced piano lessons as a child. She spoke in a calm, even tone, like a schoolteacher reciting a carefully planned lesson as she described what had happened.
‘They liberated all of the miners, paying them all equal shares of the money they seized when they cut open our on-site safe – which, I must mention, contained a substantial sum in US dollars – and then they broke the dam walls and completely destroyed what little industrial equipment was there. And I mean annihilated to the point where not even a single part or chip was salvageable.’
‘Sounds like they was exactin’ vengeance a’ some sort,’ Rudd
