Jungle Job

The Amazonian heat was oppresive. It crept under clothes and painted
a chlostrophobic film of sweat over inch of skin. In the shade of a
large rock Michael Caninhan squirmed. A drop of sweat was slowly
rolling its way down his forehead towards his right eye, tickling his
skin as it went. Brushing it away would risk his presence being
noticed, his camoflage fatigues hid him well, but not that well. If the
sweat got in his eye, though, his sight would be compromised when he
needed it most. Cautiously he moved his fingers from the trigger,
raised them to his head slowly and halted the trail of salt water with
a swipe. His fingers immediately returned to the trigger and he
concentrated on the river again.

For two hours he had been laying motionless among the rocks lining the
river bank, waiting for Dante Coudrolo to arrive in his boat to
finalise the deal he had made to purchase 6 American stinger missiles.
At last Caninhan could hear the putt-putt sound of the boats engine
approaching from down river. Coudrolo was slowly approaching what would
be his final business meeting. Three minutes later the small white
launch appeared from between the lush green undergrowth. As it was
gently guided into the bank a short, skinny arab man made himself
visible among the vegetation.

Dante leaped from the launch and straight into the sight of Michael's
rifle. Instinctively his finger squeezed the trigger and a bullet
exploded from the barrel. Through the high powered sight Caninhan had a
perfect view of the projectile hitting its target. The bullet took
Dante straight though his upper lip, teeth, blood, brain matter and
skull fragments flew in a spray from the back his head and his body
flew backwards to land in a crumpled heap at the side of his launch. In
a state of panic the buyer span around frantically, trying to spot the
force that had just blown apart the head of his business partner. Among
the scrub Caninhan was perfectly hidden, his niche in the rocks
providing enough cover to render him practically invisible. Before the
buyer saw anything another bullet shot out of the barrel of Michael's
gun and drilled the Arab through his left eyeball, a cloud of blood,
yellow fluid, brain matter and bone exploded in a cloud from the back
of his head and he too crumpled to the floor. A quick check through the
sights showed the two men not moving and a macabre design of splattered
gore covering the previously pristine side of the launch. It was
another perfect execution, all he had to do now was drive the launch
two miles up river to where a chopper was waiting for him. With a sigh
of contentment he stood, shouldered the rifle and moved towards the
bank. In an hour he'd be back in a comfortable climate, $50,000
richer.