Chapter 1

Oliver Brown made his way through the jungles of Columbia. The lush green vegetation hid thousands of insects, snakes, and spiders. He stopped after pushing his way through another mass of branches to wait while another of the snakes moved out of his way. Unable to see the whole snake, he couldn't tell if it was poisonous or not, but with snakes down here you didn't take chances. He would have killed it, but it was here for a purpose that the Goddess had not explained to him. All creatures were on the earth for a reason. He touched the medallion around his neck with reverence.

The snake finally made its way through the brush. As the last glimpse of the snake disappeared, a flash of light caught his attention. He stepped forward, careful not to touch it. Kneeling, he examined the wire stretched across what was laughingly called a trail. One end was tied to a tree. Tracing the wire to the other end, he saw that it was set to trigger an explosive. He whispered to a butterfly, "Someone doesn't want me here. I think that's a very good reason for me to be here."

He carefully stepped over the wire and made his way forward. Keeping low and using the vegetation was a habit; his way of staying out of sight. Each step was taken with deliberation. It was the only way to avoid snapping branches, tripwires, and dangerous creatures of the jungle. He had no idea what kind of other traps were out here, but he knew there would be others. At a small break in the jungle, he looked out over a small valley below. Nestled in it was a building. It was surrounded by plants that grew in the kind of order that suggested cultivation. It didn't take him a minute to realize that they were coca plants. He had found his quarry, a cocaine farm.

He retrieved his binoculars from his backpack and used them to search the area. There were guards and patrols everywhere. So far, his skill had kept him from being caught. A truck drove up to the building, parked, and then unloaded a bunch of women that were herded into the building. A number of other women came out of the building, emerging naked and dressing only after they took a shower. Oliver watched as they washed and dressed themselves. Once all of the women had finished, they were taken to the truck. He realized that he had seen the women that worked in the extraction process. They worked naked so they couldn't steal any of the finished product.

He was about to move when he heard two male voices originating about fifty feet away. Lowering himself to the ground, he listened as two men passed with ten feet of him. Busy talking with each other about their families, they didn't notice his presence within the branches of the plant. Oliver thanked the God for his help.

He had to decide what action to take next. He could return to Bogota and let the embassy know what he found. That would be the easiest thing to do, but with the degree of corruption in the area, the entire operation at this site would probably be shutdown before any measures could be taken. That it would be shutdown wasn't bad, but the people involved would just move on to another area and the drugs here would never be found. What does one do when the people that carry out policy are corrupt and political reality prevents elimination of that corruption? Service to the Gods usually meant consulting, but in some cases it was necessary to take a more direct approach.

He returned to the deep jungle to think about his options. He traveled taking care not to step on any traps. The God had blessed him with an innate warrior sense and the Goddess had given him jungle sense. Between the two gifts, he was a formidable opponent in jungle warfare. It still paid to be careful, as in all other matters of life and death.

Oliver looked at his surroundings realizing that he was surrounded by the most dangerous creatures in the world and that he could use them to his benefit. The site itself included many weapons that could be turned against it. He could use the explosive traps to destroy buildings, trucks, and other assets. The first order of business was to get armed. Towards that end, he started carving a blowgun and darts. With a little luck, he would be ready by sunset tomorrow.

As he worked, his mind drifted back to his sixteenth birthday. It was an exciting day, as it meant he could get his drivers license and wouldn't have to depend on his brother or sister for rides. Rising early that morning, he got ready to go to the department of public safety and take his drivers test. Stepping into the living room, he immediately sensed that something was wrong. His mother was on the couch crying. His father looked furious and appeared to be barely restraining himself from killing his brother. His brother was saying over and over, "I didn't mean for it to happen."

He had asked, "What happened?"

His father lost what little control he had over his temper. In three steps, he had crossed the room and picked up his brother. Screaming in terror, his brother was afraid that his father would beat him to death. Oliver stood there, unable to decipher what was happening. Throwing his brother out of the house, his father had screamed, "You're never coming back here!"

He looked outside, seeing his brother on the lawn crying. He asked, "What happened?"

His mother looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Your brother killed your sister last night. He gave her some drugs and she died."

He collapsed on the floor, shocked that his beautiful sister was dead. How could that be? Shaking and crying in grief, he realized the true magnitude of his loss. The next few days had passed in a haze. They had the funeral for his sister and then a week later, he learned that his brother had died of an overdose. His parents refused to go to the funeral, but allowed him to attend. Even to this day, he didn't know who paid for the burial. His sister had a beautiful coffin with a silk lining; his brother had a simple pine box. His sister's funeral had been attended by her whole school. He and two other people were the only ones at his brother's funeral.

While watching the pine box get lowered into the ground, he declared war on drugs. He had fought them in school. When he graduated, he had joined the police to fight them on the street. Then one weekend, a hike in the middle of summer changed his life forever. He had encountered the God, who gave him better tools to carry on his war. His zeal for going after drug dealers was soon noticed and a real war followed. Life became filled with drive-by shootings, attempted assassinations, and death threats in the middle of the night. Shootouts with drug dealers were a weekly activity. He had barely survived, but his efforts had significantly impaired the ability of criminal organizations to move drugs through his part of the state.

When the woman had broken the chain on his medallion, he had gone to the woods again. This time, the Goddess had given him the gift of jungle craft. Quitting his job, he moved to South America to carry on his war there. Getting rid of the distributors had only slowed down the flow of drugs. He knew he had to go after the source. Since then, he had been tramping through the jungle, living off the land, and closing down every operation he encountered. He had encountered many of them. Those that he had called in help to eliminate had been moved before help had showed.

He finished his blowgun and looked up at the sky. It would be getting dark soon and time for him to hunt the frogs in the trees where they lived. He would boil them to extract the poison from their skin. The result would be a deadly brew that could stop a man in his tracks. The natives had used them against the Spanish Conquistadors to great effect. What had worked in the past, would work again.

He climbed a tree and waited for dark. The frogs would emerge from the crevices in which they hid during the day. He cut off a pair of sticks and trimmed them to use like chopsticks. The sticks would allow him to catch the frogs since touching their skin with his bare fingers could kill him. He got out a small leather bag in which to put the frogs once he caught them and then waited patiently knowing the Goddess would provide.

In the morning, he climbed out of the tree and stretched to restore his cramped muscles. Fishing out a small can of Vienna Sausages out of his backpack, he looked at it unwilling to open it. It was his emergency ration in case he was harmed and couldn't hunt for food. Necessity demanded the can, so he opened it and ate a simple breakfast. When he was finished with the sausages, he drank the juice they were packed in. His motto in the field was not to waste anything that had nutritional value.

Oliver went to the stream and rinsed out the can. Filling it with water and taking it back by the tree, he scrounged the surroundings for wood to use in a fire. It wasn't long before he had a nice little fire going. He set the can on the fire, piling branches around it to burn and heat it evenly. Once the water was boiling, he opened the leather bag and used the chopsticks to drop a frog into the water. He waited a minute before dropping another one into the boiling water. Setting aside the chopsticks, he up-ended the sack and shook it until the third and last frog fell out. He stood back and watched the water boil for another five minutes before pulling the can off the fire for it to cool down. A very thin oily patch floated on the surface of the water. Dipping each dart into the oil, he placed each one in the pouch that he had used to hold the frogs. The ends of the darts stuck out the top of the pouch, the little patches of fibers on the ends served dual purposes. They marked the safe end of the dart and they allowed the darts to be fired from the blowgun.

Once he was finished, he carefully emptied the can into the fire where it would dry without giving off stream. He set the small can on the fire to allow it to burn the inside clean. Dealing with such strong poisons was not something to be done lightly.

He climbed a tree and hung his hammock well above the ground. Carefully he lowered himself into the hammock and let the wind rock him to sleep. The day was beginning to get hot and he would sleep through the heat of the day. Tonight, he would engage in the next battle in his personal war on drugs.

He woke when the afternoon rain started. Swearing softly at having overslept, he slowly worked his way out of the hammock and then took it down. He packed his gear and got ready to break camp. After pissing on the place where he had built a fire, he threw some dead leaves over the spot. The can was buried in a small crevice at the base of the tree. Only the most experienced person in jungle survival would have been able to detect that a man had passed this way. None would realize that he had camped here.

He walked away, catching various insects and popping them into his mouth as snacks to hold him over until he found something better to eat. This was his normal way of traveling, eating whatever he found that was edible as he moved. It didn't matter if it was beetle, grub, worm, or fruit; if it was edible, he ate it.

He eased his way back towards the spot he had come across the day before. Pausing on the way, he spread dirt on the exposed parts of his body and affixed leaves to his clothes to break up his outline. The closer he got to his target, the more invisible he became. His step became softer as he became one with the jungle.

He glided up to the wire without leaving a trace of his passing and without making a sound. The God and Goddess guided his step. Taking apart the trap, he put the explosives in his backpack before going on to search for others. He took his time, happy that he wasn't on any schedule but his own. Dismantling the traps as he encountered them, he finally ended up with nine of the explosive devices.

During one of his frequent pauses in which he stopped and listened to the environment around him, he heard two men were coming down a path. They were moving and making the kind of noise that indicated that they belonged. They weren't afraid of being spotted or heard. He readied the blowgun and waited for them. They passed within five feet of him, too busy talking to notice him. When they passed, he fired a blow dart into the one on the right. The man collapsed almost immediately. His buddy stopped and laughed at him thinking he had tripped and fallen. Oliver readied another dart., firing at the second man when he bent down to check out the first. In seconds they were both on the ground.

Oliver waited where he was for a moment, listening to the sounds of the jungle around him. He moved over to the bodies and stripped them of their weapons, taking them with him. Easing towards the road, he set up half of the explosive devices along the road. A truck moving down the road would set them off and explode.

He moved through the field, taking great care to avoid the few traps they had within it. These guys didn't trust anyone, even the people that worked for them. He slowly made his way to the building. The smell of chemicals hung heavily in the air. The building was too small for processing all of the plants in the field. Oliver realized that it must be an entry point for an underground facility and rigged a trap at the door of the building.

There was a truck parked near the building that he rigged to blow as soon as it moved. He had only a couple more explosives and wondered what to do with them. He decided that he would not use them yet since there was a chance that he would be required to set more traps before the night was over.

Stashing his pack amongst the coca plants, he waited nearby. Two men showed up near the building having finished their security watch. He took careful aim and fired several rounds at them. They both collapsed without getting off a shot. He changed his position, taking the time to move fifty yards away. He was in position before anyone was close enough to fire. Gunfire emerged from several places around the property as other guards converged on the site he had been.

He waited until the guards were close together and opened fire. This time, they did return fire. He hugged the ground hoping not to get hit. At a lull in the action, he returned fire, taking down more of the men. After a few exchanges, all of those that were charging towards him had been shot. The door of the shed swung open as more men started to charge out. It exploded and created a huge fireball that shot high into the sky. The building had been full of ether.

The ground heaved with the force of an earthquake. Oliver watched in amazement as fireballs emerged from various places around him; the charge had set off explosions throughout the underground structure. He moved again wanting to get away from the building to where he could watch the road that led to it.

Three trucks carrying armed men came rumbling down the road. The first one in the caravan hit one of his traps and exploded. There were two more trucks behind that one. One stopped and the other drove on around it. He prepared himself to fire on the one that stopped. The truck that had passed the first exploded when it hit the next trip wire. Oliver opened fire on the stopped truck. Men scrambled out and approached his position. After several exchanges of fire, he had wiped out the handful of men that had actually made it off the truck.

He waited in the silence that followed, watching the flames lighting the dark at several points around the field. The flames continued to spread, appearing further and further away. He was shocked when a huge explosion sounded further up the valley. A fire ball rose from almost a half mile away. Even at this distance, he could see burning people running away from the flames. The fire lit up the field and it was time to move. He returned to fetch his backpack and then moved away from that place until he found a dark spot where he had good cover.

Oliver used the cover to hide while he checked his weapons, discovering that he was almost out of ammunition. Carefully approached the truck that had stopped, he encountered the dead men on the ground and paused to pick up their weapons and ammunition. Keeping to the shadows, he moved up the valley following the fires. He moved slowly, pausing frequently, to keep from being seen or surprised. The sounds of men shouting instructions to each other floated on the wind.

He listened and used the knowledge of what they were doing to move to locations where he could ambush them. When a group of four or five men came into the open, he fired upon them. After assuring himself that he had stopped them, he moved on to another location. It was a true guerilla war and Oliver wasn't going to allow himself to loose. Well before dawn, he moved to higher terrain and climbed a tree where he could watch what happened below with little chance of being seen.