Read Online Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4) by Ava Armstrong - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Armstrong
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location, two of them had disappeared. The team would split off and lie in wait to quietly pick off bodyguards and then get each target. At least that was the plan. By daybreak, the men were sorted into pairs. Then up-armored Jeeps took them for a five hour ride on bumpy back roads.
The Dark Horse Guardians were impossible to distinguish from the general populace. If anyone stopped them, they looked Guatemalan and were armed to the teeth. It was unlikely that they would be stopped, however, because the men had beards and dressed in old Nike shirts with body armor beneath and cargo pants. They did not look like Navy SEALs, or Americans, for that matter. With dark glasses and bandannas tied around their heads, they resembled runners in the narco trade. They would be given a wide berth if they were stopped by police. Ben already knew what to say to move the authorities off their trail, if it came to that. Each man had thousands of pesos rolled up in his backpack, and plenty of gold coins, just in case. Greasing the palm of a police officer in this part of the world was common practice, actually expected, as a tip would be to a waiter.
During the day, they used their regular coms, commonly called Tactical Ears, miniscule devices that were invisible in the ear canal with a tiny clip inside the collar of their shirts. But at night they’d use the G’s. Constant contact was critical in coordinating each hit. Ben and Elvis were paired and riding in the Jeep heading for the rendezvous point, a decrepit inn called The Cabana on the main street of the town of El Chulupa.
Ben had spent time there during work-ups between tours, so he had seen the place up close and personal, and none of it was pretty. Third-world poverty prevailed. The streets were crowded with open markets, donkey carts, cars, and scooters for those at the top of the food chain. It never ceased to amaze him how corruption ruled this sector of the planet. The war on drugs was called a war, but there were no battle lines drawn in this parched wilderness. Similarly, the war on terrorism wasn’t officially called a war, but the president was killing terrorists with drones and the CIA was hiring black-ops off the books to kill bad guys.
Damn it. Why didn’t the United States know when to declare a real war? Those running the country he loved were making a mockery of it. Misusing the word war had become a joke, like The War on Drugs or The War on Women . What was taking place in Guatemala was being run the same way as the fake War on Terror . Similar to Afghanistan, it didn’t take long before he realized he was in a no man’s land where the dead piled up in silence and the living had nothing to say. Hordes of beggars and gang members roamed the area seeking food, money or young women to rape. Life was cheap. People were killed for a pair of shoes or a handful of pills.
Ben knew that half of the problem was that wars were not formally declared on people, or organizations. The standard declaration of war was against a nation. No one had the brains to update an act of war against a group of individuals. Then again, even the concept of a massive non-governmental entity like al-Qaeda or the Islamic State wasn't around when the rules for declaring war were written. In his opinion, it was high time to formally declare war on the factions and ideologies they were up against. This wasn’t 1935, when war wasn’t declared on Fascism or Nazism, but on Italy and Germany. Changing the concept of war, updating the landscape of the battlefield to include everywhere wasn’t exactly a concept most politicians understood. And, as a result, Islamofascism continued its march unfettered, while politicians who knew nothing about the battle sat in air-conditioned rooms and worried about getting reelected more than protecting the United States.
The other half of the problem was a distinct lack of military knowledge and
The Dark Horse Guardians were impossible to distinguish from the general populace. If anyone stopped them, they looked Guatemalan and were armed to the teeth. It was unlikely that they would be stopped, however, because the men had beards and dressed in old Nike shirts with body armor beneath and cargo pants. They did not look like Navy SEALs, or Americans, for that matter. With dark glasses and bandannas tied around their heads, they resembled runners in the narco trade. They would be given a wide berth if they were stopped by police. Ben already knew what to say to move the authorities off their trail, if it came to that. Each man had thousands of pesos rolled up in his backpack, and plenty of gold coins, just in case. Greasing the palm of a police officer in this part of the world was common practice, actually expected, as a tip would be to a waiter.
During the day, they used their regular coms, commonly called Tactical Ears, miniscule devices that were invisible in the ear canal with a tiny clip inside the collar of their shirts. But at night they’d use the G’s. Constant contact was critical in coordinating each hit. Ben and Elvis were paired and riding in the Jeep heading for the rendezvous point, a decrepit inn called The Cabana on the main street of the town of El Chulupa.
Ben had spent time there during work-ups between tours, so he had seen the place up close and personal, and none of it was pretty. Third-world poverty prevailed. The streets were crowded with open markets, donkey carts, cars, and scooters for those at the top of the food chain. It never ceased to amaze him how corruption ruled this sector of the planet. The war on drugs was called a war, but there were no battle lines drawn in this parched wilderness. Similarly, the war on terrorism wasn’t officially called a war, but the president was killing terrorists with drones and the CIA was hiring black-ops off the books to kill bad guys.
Damn it. Why didn’t the United States know when to declare a real war? Those running the country he loved were making a mockery of it. Misusing the word war had become a joke, like The War on Drugs or The War on Women . What was taking place in Guatemala was being run the same way as the fake War on Terror . Similar to Afghanistan, it didn’t take long before he realized he was in a no man’s land where the dead piled up in silence and the living had nothing to say. Hordes of beggars and gang members roamed the area seeking food, money or young women to rape. Life was cheap. People were killed for a pair of shoes or a handful of pills.
Ben knew that half of the problem was that wars were not formally declared on people, or organizations. The standard declaration of war was against a nation. No one had the brains to update an act of war against a group of individuals. Then again, even the concept of a massive non-governmental entity like al-Qaeda or the Islamic State wasn't around when the rules for declaring war were written. In his opinion, it was high time to formally declare war on the factions and ideologies they were up against. This wasn’t 1935, when war wasn’t declared on Fascism or Nazism, but on Italy and Germany. Changing the concept of war, updating the landscape of the battlefield to include everywhere wasn’t exactly a concept most politicians understood. And, as a result, Islamofascism continued its march unfettered, while politicians who knew nothing about the battle sat in air-conditioned rooms and worried about getting reelected more than protecting the United States.
The other half of the problem was a distinct lack of military knowledge and
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