OPERATOR RECRUITMENT

OPERATOR RECRUITMENT: A prospective operator (a candidate), should
by the age of twenty-one, have made himself known to us. For the next
nine years, the candidate is monitored. During this time, an operator
should be employed to befriend the candidate, and be taken into his
confidence. (This can be achieved by the operator showing weakness,
insecurity and a susceptibility to intimidation. The candidate having
experienced or achieved little in his life, will not be able to resist
the temptation to show his worldly wisdom, and so tell the operator all
the information he possesses). Besides looking for evidence of
subversive or political behaviour, the operator should concern himself
with the talents and skills the candidate lacks and how he compensates
for this The ability to convince others that one is in possession of
what one does not have, is invaluable to us, and overrides whatever
inadequacies the candidate has. This is not to say however, that these
inadequacies are not considered when deciding upon what position the
candidate will be offered or allowed to rise to. Also, these
inadequacies should be noted for reference, to be used should he become
a liability.
* * *
William sucked the red glow onto the last of the tobacco. He felt the
heat through the cheap cigarette butt on his dry lips. Mosquitoes flew
around him, attracted by the light coming onto the balcony. He placed
the remains of the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb, and
flicked it over the balcony onto the part cheering, part rioting, and
part-looting crowd. William tucked the packet of 'El Gringo' cigarettes
into his shirt pocket. As he turned to go into his room he realised
what he had done, and smiled. What was the point of getting out of
South America on the best government issued, government denied false
papers, only to be seen with a packet of Mexican cigarettes? The
'Gringos' were tossed into the crowd. William watched them fall and
reminded himself that the assignment was not over. The operation was
complete: the coup had been premature and so would fail, its leaders
would be taken down with it, and more importantly, Steph had been
deactivated, but still William must stay alert, for now he was alone, e
had to get home.

Opium in a spoon, add limejuice, stir gently, heat, piece of lint,
eyedropper, release, vacuum, open wound, insert and squeeze.

The streets of Mexico City were filled with the emotion of a new
beginning. Panic mixed with joy, fear with celebration, loathing with
adoration. William slipped through the crowds. The turmoil rolled over
him in a soft roaring glow of sound and colour. Opium reaching out,
stretching the veins. Blood flowing, bathing the mind in a warm tide,
washing away the confusion. The street moved to the beat of the pulse
of the vein on the temple. Things were clear now; he would stay for a
couple more days, and wait for the collapse of the revolution. He would
hide away in the crumbling order, in the confusion of the people trying
to escape the country. Then, join the fight at the ports, pushing
through he crowds, his colour and height distinguishing him to the
soldiers on the gate, from the begging Mexicans, shoving babies and
suitcases and pleading to get aboard. William had some time to
kill.

A series of streets so narrow that the light never enters. A route only
known by forced landmarks. A knock and the appearance of glaring eyes.
An opened door and American money stuffed in the pocket of a cigar
chewing, sweaty, Hawaiian shirt.

William found space towards the rear of the gathering. In front of him,
men yelled and screamed, frantic to get the best price for their bet.
Despite their cursing and heckling, they managed to keep to the
invisible boundaries of the ring, in which sat two men at either end of
a small table. Both were naked from the waist up, with leather straps
tied around the left arm. In between them on the table, placed in a
plastic container filled with ether, was a human adrenaline gland,
freshly removed from the previous loser. An old Mexican man entered the
ring, and with well-practised ease injected and filled two syringes
into the gland. He held them up to the crowd, who began to bet who
would die from the intake of the adrenaline. As William surveyed the
two men, a European man stood beside him.
"Whoya putting it on?" he asked William.
William did not look at the man, but he could tell from the voice that
he was young.
"The one on the left. And you?"
"Hell, the other one. Can you not smell the fear from yours? Got so
much pumping around him inside him already he'll kill over with a
pinprick from that gland."
"Still, I think not," said William, placing his fifty dollars.
The old Mexican waited for silence to come across the room. Once the
bets finished, he gently slid a syringe into a vein on each man's arm.
Then, placing middle and forefinger either side of the syringes and
thumb on the plunger, simultaneously he pushed down, injecting the
adrenaline into the two arms. Immediately the man on the left fell
dead, cheers and cursing filled the ring. With a flash of silver, the
old man slit the dead man's throat. Ripping open the wound, he pushed
his hand inside, yanking out the adrenaline gland, ready for the next
competition.
"It's a shame you didn't place a bet," said William.
"No, I don't come here for the money," said the European.
"Why do you come?" William rummaged around in his shirt pocket for the
packet of cigarettes.
"Life's cheap here." The European reached into his trouser pocket and
pulled out a packet of 'El Gringos' offering one to William. "And I
like that."
William lit the cigarette. "What's your name, kid?"
"Jonathan."
"Jonathan, you look like you've been around. Can you help me get out of
this god-forsaken pace."?