Client: Juan Miguel Senrio
Objective: Protection during his 55th birthday celibration in San Jaun, Puerto Rico.
Reason: Aids in the distrubution of company property between the regions of North, Central and South America.
He had little time to prepare, something that wracked his nerves. A good clean operation would take atleast two to three weeks of intelligence gathering and preperations. He had four days. His first mission for the company and it already began on a sour note.
The green horned Merc knew just enough Spanish to buy oranges, and Senor Senrio's translator was a shifty looking bastard at best. Every simple request was followed by several minutes of translation, followed by arguments until the merc reminded the man it was all for his own saftey.
"It is simple. I need the acaul blue prints to the mansion, not the bullshit you show the authoraties. If there is a panic room, secret tunnel or dildo cache I need to know about. You still havn't filled me in on who the hell wants you dead, or why for that matter you know they will strike in a few days. Your not giving me much to work with, and as things are going only Jesus himself could save your ass if someone comes after you!" His face glowing red with frustration. They had been going in circles all day. The view was nice from his portch, a good scene of the jungle meeting the beach, but the heat and lack of ceiling fans didn't help the stress level.
The translator looked to the anorexic figure in the tropical shirt and began blabbering away at such a speed the Merc wasn't sure if words of any language were being spoken.
Juan, looked down, lifted his sunglass over the top of his head and began speeking in a slow and steady tone.
The translator began to argue with him until Juan slapped him, urgeing him to tell the merc his message. "Senoir will have detailed blue prints sent to your room immediatly, along with the names and numbers of trusted guards he will put at your disposal. He also wants to relay that he can not speek of how or why he will be attacked, it is a family matter and not to be discussed with rapist and murderers. I added the last part gringo."
"Fuck off spic. Tell the Senor I will have an outline by tomarrows dinner meeting. It will not be complete, but will gives us a good idea. Oh yeah, and that aerial photo I saw in the entry way, I want that sent to me too and if you can get a more recent one that will help me figure out how much of a danger the tree line can be. I don't feel like paceing the sons-a-bitchs."
The translator flew off into another flurry of garbled spanish. He knew the paranoid rican didn't trust him, he was a white American getting paid more than he was while learning secrets the man didn't know. He was jealuise cause it took years to earn his bosses trust. He earned it in a few hours by playing up the machismo card, the crime lord especially liked the spiced up story of how he was kicked out of the Army.
With a slight migrain from the flight and then the constant argueing he decided to lay down for an hour or so before getting to work. He might as well enjoy this tropical paradise while he could. Hell, might even have one of the butlers throw some mixed drinks his way. Not too many of course, but just enough to take the edge off.
Objective: Protection during his 55th birthday celibration in San Jaun, Puerto Rico.
Reason: Aids in the distrubution of company property between the regions of North, Central and South America.
He had little time to prepare, something that wracked his nerves. A good clean operation would take atleast two to three weeks of intelligence gathering and preperations. He had four days. His first mission for the company and it already began on a sour note.
The green horned Merc knew just enough Spanish to buy oranges, and Senor Senrio's translator was a shifty looking bastard at best. Every simple request was followed by several minutes of translation, followed by arguments until the merc reminded the man it was all for his own saftey.
"It is simple. I need the acaul blue prints to the mansion, not the bullshit you show the authoraties. If there is a panic room, secret tunnel or dildo cache I need to know about. You still havn't filled me in on who the hell wants you dead, or why for that matter you know they will strike in a few days. Your not giving me much to work with, and as things are going only Jesus himself could save your ass if someone comes after you!" His face glowing red with frustration. They had been going in circles all day. The view was nice from his portch, a good scene of the jungle meeting the beach, but the heat and lack of ceiling fans didn't help the stress level.
The translator looked to the anorexic figure in the tropical shirt and began blabbering away at such a speed the Merc wasn't sure if words of any language were being spoken.
Juan, looked down, lifted his sunglass over the top of his head and began speeking in a slow and steady tone.
The translator began to argue with him until Juan slapped him, urgeing him to tell the merc his message. "Senoir will have detailed blue prints sent to your room immediatly, along with the names and numbers of trusted guards he will put at your disposal. He also wants to relay that he can not speek of how or why he will be attacked, it is a family matter and not to be discussed with rapist and murderers. I added the last part gringo."
"Fuck off spic. Tell the Senor I will have an outline by tomarrows dinner meeting. It will not be complete, but will gives us a good idea. Oh yeah, and that aerial photo I saw in the entry way, I want that sent to me too and if you can get a more recent one that will help me figure out how much of a danger the tree line can be. I don't feel like paceing the sons-a-bitchs."
The translator flew off into another flurry of garbled spanish. He knew the paranoid rican didn't trust him, he was a white American getting paid more than he was while learning secrets the man didn't know. He was jealuise cause it took years to earn his bosses trust. He earned it in a few hours by playing up the machismo card, the crime lord especially liked the spiced up story of how he was kicked out of the Army.
With a slight migrain from the flight and then the constant argueing he decided to lay down for an hour or so before getting to work. He might as well enjoy this tropical paradise while he could. Hell, might even have one of the butlers throw some mixed drinks his way. Not too many of course, but just enough to take the edge off.
