contra file (shake davis #5) by dale a. dye

8/10/2019 Contra File (Shake Davis #5) by Dale A. Dye

1/34


2/34

CONTRA FILE

Dale Dye

A singular achievement...vivid, terse, exceptionally moving...the ten-

sion builds and never lets up.

The New York Times

Dye fills this dialogue-driven thriller with plenty of action and lots of

military detailall of which (no surprise) rings completely true.

Marc Leepson, VVA Books in Review

Dale Dye has a flair for telling stories and evoking images. His details

about Marine life are accurateDye has the ability to draw the reader

far enough into the story that the reader sees with the author's eyes andfeels with his emotionsDye's ability to tell a story the way it really

happens is rare, and one sincerely hopes this book will not be his last.Orlando Sentinel

Here, in prose that positively crackles, he takes us along on what has

been one great ride.

Ed Ruggero: Veteran, Writer, Motivational Speaker


3/34

Also by Dale Dye

BEIRUT FILECHOSIN FILEPELELIU FILE

LAOS FILERUN BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS

PLATOONOUTRAGE

CONDUCT UNBECOMINGDUTY AND DISHONOR


4/34

CONTRA FILE

DALE DYE

WARRIORS PUBLISHING GROUP

NORTH HILLS, CALIFORNIA


5/34

CONTRA FILE

A Warriors Publishing Group book/published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORYWarriors Publishing Group edition/November 2013

All rights reserved.Copyright 2014 by Dale A. DyeCover art copyright 2014 by Gerry Kissell (gerrykissell.com)

This book may not be reproduced in wholeor in part, by mimeograph or any other means,without permission. For information address:

Warriors Publishing Group16129 Tupper Street

North Hills, California 91343

ISBN 978-0-9897983-4-1

Library of Congress Control Number 2014948076

The name "Warriors Publishing Group" and the logo

are trademarks belonging to Warriors Publishing Group

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


6/34

To Julia Dewey Dye who is rapidly turning Warriors PublishingGroup into a landmark source of excellent military books and a

rare outlet for old soldiers to get their stories told.

Also to Her Majesty's Brigade of Gurkhas who taught me a lot of

things including the truth about their legendary kukri.

And with a special, long-overdue salute to the Guardians of theUnited States Coast Guard who do so much for our nation with

little recognition and appreciation among the citizens theyserve. Bravo Zulu.


7/34


8/34

Gulf of Honduras

n a shower of saltwater and a shimmering display of irides-cent scales, the swordfish powered up out of his element and

tail-danced trying to shake the hook. Desperate gyrations of hismuscular body didnt help. Slashing viciously at the humid air hepointed his long sharp bill at the blue water and dove, heading forthe dark deeps and escape.

Ease up on the drag and let him run! Mike Stokey rushedfrom the beer cooler toward the stern of the chartered fishingboat and watched line strip off his friends reel in a fine mist. Igot this Shake Davis thumbed the drag button on his deep-

sea rig and reached for the cold beer tucked into the arm of hischair. He hit the beer, smiled, and waved for their charter captainto slow down. Tomelo con calma Shake caught himself andswitched to English. Take it easy, Juan. Just keep a little way onit while I play this bad boy. Nearly everyone in Belize spoke Eng-lish of one variety or another, but he was having a hard time re-

membering that and always seemed to be slipping into Spanishphrases hed learned working in other Central American coun-tries.

Id guess a hundred poundsmaybe a little more. Stokeyreached out to touch the taut line and felt the fish straining in thedeep below the keel. He showed a thumbs-up to the grinning,

mahogany-tanned skipper on the flying bridge above and behindthem. Morty P had it right about this guy. He knows how to findthe big fish.

I


9/34

Dale Dye2

He had it right about a lot of stuff. Shake pulled back on therod and reeled in some line, letting the big fish on the other endtire himself speeding back and forth near the reefs off the south-ern Belize coastline. This little family vacation was just what weneededall of us. The fishing trip was a highlight and they werehaving a good time off on their own, but Shake would have beenjust as happy ashore soaking up Central American sun on thewhite sand that fronted the little resort cabins near Punta Gorda.

Thats where Chan and Mikes wife Linda were, mixing margari-tas and re-hashing last years adventure in Lebanon. Hed prom-ised Chan a lot of time and attention on this trip, but both womeninsisted the guys take advantage of the free fishing charter thathad been arranged for them by parties as yet unknown.

It had to be the general, Shake thought as he reeled in more

line and set the drag a bit heavier. Someone with serious pull inCentral America was ensuring they got whatever they wantedwhen they wanted itwith either no charge or just a nominal hiton the credit card. It had to be his old friend the general. Shakecouldnt think of anyone else in his list of pals or acquaintanceswith that kind of influence. Neither could Mike Stokey, Linda, or

Chan who all urged him to stop looking a gift-horse in the mouth,go with the flow, or just shut up and enjoy it, depending on whowas talking at the time.

The swordfish was clearly tiring as he broached a second timemuch closer to the boat. A deckhand gave Shake a congratulatoryslap on the shoulder as he maneuvered toward the transom witha gaff in hand. You got this one, man. Nice fish. Shake reeled in

more line and muscled the rod, trying to bring the big fish intorange of the gaff. Stokey leaned over the rail to stare at the dark


10/34

Contra File 3

other. Hes a beauty, Shake! Thats enough swordfish to feed usfor a week.

He wont last long if were gonna do that beach party thing.Shake felt the boat tremble as the fish bumped hard against thetransom, trying to avoid the gaff. Theres the four of us plus thelocals the girls invited. Tracey is due in tomorrow and Morty Psaid hes coming out of the field. Hell bring along some of hisMarines and Mr. Swordfish will be bare bones in a heartbeat.

Stokey struggled with the deckhand to lift the fish over thetransom and then danced away as it slashed at everything in sightwith a long, sharp snout. Thats a hundred pounds easy, Shake.You do the cleaning and Ill do the cooking. All anybody else hasto do is eat.

When the deckhand had the fish suspended by its tail on a

deck hoist, they posed for pictures and then helped wrestle it intothe saltwater tank beside a couple of mackerel theyd caught ear-lier. Shake eyed the catch with satisfaction and then squinted upat the hot sun just passing zenith. It was the hottest part of a Cen-tral American day and the dark water looked inviting. Weregonna need more seafood, Mike, and the brochure says theres

lobsters around the reef. Weve got the gear aboard. Lets get wetand cool off.Stokey eyed the SCUBA gear stacked in the shade of the

deckhouse and ran fingers through the unruly crop of red hairhed been cultivating since the CIA Clandestine Service uncere-moniously placed him onto the retired list. Two things, he said.One, its been a long time since we earned our Combat Diver

bubbles, and Two, the brochure says there are bull sharks aroundthe reef.


11/34

Dale Dye4

Addressing your concerns in the order posed, Shake beganto examine a selection of masks, fins, and buoyancy-compensatorvests. One: We are both old recon bubbas who will immediatelyremember everything we need to once we get in the water. AndTwo: Juan, who knows these waters intimately, will take us to aplace that has very few bull sharks and a shit-load of Caribbeanspiny lobsters.

Charter Captain Juan did, indeed, know such a place very

near his homeport and would be happy to take his passengersthere on the condition that the passengers share with him a por-tion of their swordfish which brings top Belize dollar at the localfish market. While Mike measured the fish in the tank and hag-gled over fair apportionment, Shake took a closer look at the div-ing gear. It was well-used, a couple of open-circuit U.S. Diver rigs,

not much different from what they used in the military course atKey West that had been part of his Force Reconnaissance quali-fication. The gear looked serviceable, the BCs inflated as re-quired, and the tanks were full. The key would be to find a divesite that did not involve descent below one atmosphere or about33 feet. A Chicom grenade that detonated way too close to

Shakes head in Vietnam left him with a shattered eardrum and agreat deal of painful difficulty in clearing his ears at depth.As the charter boat chugged toward the captains favorite lob-

ster spot near the mouth of the Monkey River, Shake and Miketested the gear and adjusted it for a shallow dive they hopedwould yield a bunch of spiny lobsters for the beach party they hadplanned for Master Sergeant Morty Potashnick, a former Marine

Security Guard from Beirut who played a significant role in res-cuing Shake from the Hezbollah on a mission that nearly cost him


12/34

Contra File 5

When Gunnery Sergeant Potashnick finished his tour in theMiddle East, he was transferred to a special operations unit of theU.S. Southern Command and notified of his promotion. He sentShake a special invitation to the ceremony and over a few cele-bratory drinks required to wet-down his new chevrons, Morty Pannounced he was heading up a Marine team destined for Cen-tral America. Marines from SOUTHCOM were working in Gua-temala, Honduras, and Belize as Security Cooperation Teams to

help the local militaries deal with drug and human trafficking thatwas rampant in the area. Shake swapped a few stories about histime in Central America in the mid-1980s on loan to the CIA,training anti-Sandinista forces in Honduras and Costa Rica thatwere aiming to overthrow Daniel Ortegas pro-communist re-gime in Nicaragua. At that time, the British were running an ex-

cellent jungle warfare school in Belize, but Shake had never hadthe opportunity to attend. Morty P said the school was still upand runningmostly manned by Gurkha troops these daysand he might be able to arrange a visit if Shake was still interested.

Shake wasnt much interested in another jungle warfare or-deal, but he did start thinking about a trip to Belize. Hed always

been a sucker for sandy beaches and waving palms. Chan had along leave coming from the DIA and she was under pressure totake time off after the ordeal in Lebanon. Mike Stokey and hisnew bride were always up for an adventure, and Mike had a pilotbuddy who flew into the Yucatan Peninsula regularly. It was allrattling around in Shakes mind as he toured the SOUTHCOMheadquarters near Miami looking for old friends. One of those

old friends was the commanding general, a three-star Marine thatonce led a rifle company in Beirut during the time Shake served


13/34

Dale Dye6

the opportunities when Shake mentioned Belize. He knew somepeople who knew some people and let him make a couple of calls.

As Shake was boarding a flight in Miami for the return trip toVirginia, his phone lit up with a text message from a number hedidnt recognize. The text-chatty person sending was confirmingan open-ended stay for Gunner Shake Davis (USMC, Retired)and party at a beach resort in Punta Gorda, Belize. No charge,please confirm estimated date of arrival and number in the Davis

partyhave a nice day. He forwarded the text to Chan and askedher to call and check it out if she wanted to spend a couple ofweeks down in Central America. That kick-started what was turn-ing out to be one of the best R&R jaunts of Shakes eventful ex-perienceand a nice tick-off on his bucket list.

Charter Captain Juan hauled his boat around into a hard star-

board turn and then throttled back to drop anchor on the insideof the reef that guarded the outlet where the Monkey Riverspilled into the Gulf of Honduras. The water was crystal clear andthey could easily see the rocky bottom as Mike and Shake sat onthe boat transom and pulled on their swim-fins. The captainsdeck-hand provided each of them with a stick that they could use

to poke at holes in the rock formations around the coral wherespiny lobsters sheltered. They were instructed to use the sticksbecause some of those likely lobster hides could contain morayeels.

I can deal with morays. Mike took the mask being offeredby a grinning deckhand and began to fiddle with the straps. Tellme about sharks. Shake grinned around his regulator mouth-

piece and executed a back-flip into the water. Stokey was one ofthe most fearless men hed ever known, but Mike did have a little


14/34

Contra File 7

ones The deck hand grinned as Stokey donned his mask andslid cautiously into the clear water. You dont bother MisterShark, he dont bother you.

The bottom was at about 20 feet and the water was relativelywarm and still, with only a mild current running from shore to-ward a stretch of colorful reef that fairly glowed in the sunlightbeaming down from above. Shake and Mike worked slowly downa line dropped from the surface to keep them oriented to the boat.

Shakes ear bothered him as usual but they kept the descent slowenough for him to blow and clear against the increasing pressure.He signaled OK as they hit the bottom and both divers began aslow-kick sweep around the rock formations.

It was a beautiful little spot, alive with colorful reef fish andthe occasional big grouper that eyed them curiously as they be-

gan to scour the bottom for lobsters. They had two lobstersapiece and only one close encounter with an angry moray whenMike rolled over on his back, nudged Shake and pointed upwardwhere a six-foot bull shark was weaving in and out of the shadowcast by the boats hull. Shake took a look, shrugged, and wentback to looking for lobsters. They had six each in the net bags at-

tacked to their weight belts when Mike nudged Shake again andpointed toward the surface.Shake rolled over to look and nearly bit through his regulator

mouthpiece. If the dark shape that was passing through shafts ofsunlight just beneath the surface was a shark, it was the biggestand ugliest one hed ever seen. Shifting to get a better look andkeep his back to the reef, Shake saw a four-bladed propeller spin-

ning at one end of the shape. As the surface light glinted on me-tallic skin, he could see it was a man-made vessel, clearly a


15/34

Dale Dye8

hed seen in some military museum. It was neither sleek nor so-phisticated but it was a sub of some sort. He touched Stokeys el-bow and shrugged. Mike just shrugged back. Whatever it was,Stokey had never seen the like either. Shake checked his compassto determine the submersible was heading north and watched itmotor on, holding a steady depth and speed. When it was out ofsight, he gave Mike the surface signal and they finned up towardthe boat.

When they broke the surface and spit out their mouthpieces,Shake and Mike tossed their lobsters to the deckhand and clam-bered up onto the dive-step. Shake twisted to look at the chartercaptain who was leaning over the flying bridge rail calmly smok-ing a cigarette. Juan, did you see that thing in the water?

Big bull shark He tossed his smoke and cranked the en-

gine. No problem. We will head into Punta Gorda now.That was no goddamn shark, Juan! Stokey shrugged out of

his gear and stepped onto the deck. There was a shark but thenthere was another thingsome kind of submarine. Didnt yousee that?

In these waters, is sometimes things better not to see. Juan

climbed down to help his deckhand retrieve the anchor.


16/34


17/34

Dale Dye10

reached for it but she turned her back staring at a text message onthe screen.

Shit! Chan looked like she was about to toss the phone intothe water. You talk about somebody that needs a kick in thenuts.

Just ignore it. Shake drained his margarita and headed forthe house and a re-fill. Chan fell in beside him and showed themessage: Just sending fondest wishes for a relaxing time on the

Mosquito Coast. The sender was the man who calls himselfBayer, a friend-cum-nemesis who was recently dragged out of thedarkest reaches of the counter-terror bureaucracy and into a sen-ior position with ICE, the U.S. Immigration and Customs En-forcement Agency.

How in the hell does he know where we are? Chan dumped

the message and slipped the phone back in her husbands pocket.Does he have some kind of tracker on your phone?

Not that I know of Shake pulled out the phone and ex-amined it. The guys got more shit than a Christmas turkey.Maybe hes got a drone circling overhead. Who the hell knows?He punched the power button to kill the phone and put it back in

his pocket. Anyway, dont worry about it. Ive got to clean somefish and get them on ice. Youve got some lobsters to boil.

GA balmy breeze stirred the flame under a small pot of butter rest-ing on a wrought-iron table set up on the beach just above the

high-water mark where gently lapping waves washed over theirbare feet. Freshly boiled lobsters were steaming next to the butter

d h l f h ll h l


18/34

Contra File 11

Shake, Mike, Chan, and Linda wrestled with claws and fenced foraccess to the melted butter. It was one of those great seafoodmeals where utensils were both superfluous and pretentious. Themain eating tool, available to all, was Shakes old K-Bar fightingknife which served to both crack lobster claws and dig out tendermorsels of meat.

Theres just something about fresh from the sea, Lindaswiped at her mouth with a wad of well-used paper napkin and

reached for another of the boiled bugs. You dont get this kindof flavor with lobsters from Albertsons or Ralphs.

I dont know what the big deal is about Maine lobster. Herhusband watched as Bear, Shakes big Golden Pyrenees, assumeda heart-rending pose, begging for a bit of the feast. Stokey tossedhim a morsel and grinned. You cant beat this for good chow.

Just ask Bear.That dog will eat anything, Mike. Linda reached to scratch

behind Bears floppy ears. Yesterday he gobbled up a tamale, hotsauce and all.

Where the hell were we last time we had Maine lobster?Shake leaned back and pried at the lid on a box of fat Cuban cigars

hed picked up at the local market.Old Orchard Beach, Stokey reached for the butter bowlwith a gob of lobster tail in hand. We ran into Ken Semple from2nd Force living up there and he invited us for a New Englandboiled supper. Lobster was good but the clam chowder gave methe shits.

That wasnt the chowder, pal, it was the vodka. Remember

Semple had that ice-carving of a mermaid and we were drinkingthe booze running off her boobs?


19/34

Dale Dye12

I dont remember muchexcept it was hell riding thatboomer out of Bangor the next day. A case of the Hershey-squirtsis not a good thing to have aboard a submarine.

It was a wasted damn trip too. Remember Bayer wanted usto

Cease and desist! Chan grabbed the K-Bar off the table andwaved it menacingly between Shake and Mike. Remember thedeal, you two. Tell all the war stories you want but we will not

mention that name! Go take a walk on the beachsmoke ci-garsfinish that story elsewhere.

Stokey declined the cigar. Since his marriage to Linda hedbecome a reformed smoker and was content just to walk down-wind of Shake, sampling second-hand the rich aroma of the pan-atela that his buddy was enjoying. Safe to say Chans got a very

big hard-on for our boy Bayer.Safe to say and accurate, Shake puffed on his cigar and

flopped down on a patch of sand still warm from the days barrageof hot sunlight. Shell get over it eventually, but its probably bestto keep him out of casual conversation for a while.

Funny you brought him up tonight. Stokey sat cross-legged

and began to toss seashell fragments into the surf line. I got a textmessage from him earlier this afternoon.No shit? How does he know youre down here?How does Bayer know any of the stuff he knows, Shake?

Hes wired into the spook world tighter than a tick. Maybe hesgot me under some kind or surveillance to be sure I dont trip offthe gun-line. Who the hell knows?

What did he have to say?


20/34

Contra File 13

Nothing much. Just congratulations on the marriage and hehopes were were having a good time down here on the MosquitoCoast.

Well, Ill be damned. Shake dug his phone out of a pocket,punched up the text screen and showed it to Stokey. That camein earlier this afternoon. Chan nearly shit a brick. Shes convincedhes got us bugged or something.

Maybe he does.

Whats that supposed to mean?You ever wonder about whos really footing the bill for this

little stay in paradise, Shake?Yeah, Ive thought about it and its gotta be Gordo Fowler,

right? I mean hes not putting it directly on his plastic or anythingbut hes a three-star running SOUTHCOM and that includes Be-

lize, so he probably knows a lot of people down here. I figure hepulled a few levers and got us comped for the whole deal.

If it was still back in the day when you and me were runningaround in soldier suits, Id say yeah, thats gotta be whats hap-pening, but things are a whole hell of a lot different now. Whatwith all the politicians and pundits and whistle-blowers, generals

cant just call in favorsespecially expensive favors that havenothing to do with military matters. You read the papers in oneform or another, right? The fucking Navy has fired something likefifteen or twenty senior officers in the past year or so. The AirForce just shit-canned a couple of generals; hell, even the Com-mandant of the Marine Corps has got his ass in a crack over someshitty little deal that nobody would have heard about ten years

ago.


21/34

Dale Dye14

Yeah, Ill grant you its a different deal these days, Mike, butyou know how it goes. Gordo probably just made a couple of dis-creet calls to people he knows and got an old war buddy set updown here

Discreet phone calls my ass, Shake. There aint no suchthing anymore. Gordo is a smart guy and he didnt get where heis by ignoring the political atmosphere that comes with exaltedrank. Hes not gonna risk his stars just to hook us up with a free

vacation in Central America.Are you saying you think Bayers got something to do with

this?Im saying hes probably in the mix somewhere is all. Think

about it, Shake. Maybe hes trying to quietly reward you for Leb-anon and a couple of other shitty missions hes handed you over

the years.Why wouldnt he just own up to it? You know, nice job, ap-

preciate the effort, so heres a little payback for services ren-dered.

Hes used to working deep and dark, Shake. Or it could behe just wants us both in the same place at the same time.

Shake took a final drag off the Cuban and then sent it off intothe dark in a shower of sparks. I think what we do, he saidwatching moonlight shimmer on the Gulf of Honduras, is wekeep the cell phones turned off and we dont say shit about any ofthis to Chan or Linda.

My recommendation exactly. Did you get hold of Morty P?Yeah. I called the number he gave us and he answered right

up. Had his phone on vibrate and it scared the shit out of him. Hehad to whisper because he was on some kind of OP near the


22/34

Contra File 15

Jesus, manhaving a cell phone chat while youre on anOP. Can you imagine that kind of shit back when we were doingrecon on the Ho Chi Minh trail?

Thats the way they communicate these days, I guess. Prob-ably works better than radio.

Did you have time to tell him about the submarine deal?Oh, yeahhe was very interested in that. I gave him the best

location I could figure. Too bad we didnt have GPS.

Did Morty P think the same thing we thought?Yep. Most likely narcotraficantes moving dope by sea. He

said theyve been getting reports about them using homemadesubs to run up the coast to Chetumal Bay where they offload thestuff and start it moving north through Mexico. Apparentlytheres some U.S. Navy and Coast Guard advisors working with

the locals to try and interrupt the sea routes but the focus hasbeen on fishing boats and high-speed surface craft. The subs area new wrinkle.

Kind of explains Captain Juans reaction, doesnt it.Uh huh. Taking too much notice of drug smugglers down

here is a sure way to wind up as fish-food with a bellyful of lead

sinkers.Is Morty P still gonna be able to make the party?He said hed be here with a couple of his Marines, including

the Detachment OIC. He also said he might bring one of thebrown water Navy guys to talk to us about the sub we saw.


23/34


24/34

Contra File 17

on the airplane. Mikes pilot buddy didnt look too happy aboutBear sitting in the cabin with us once he got a look at the size ofhim.

You dont mess with Mister Bear. Shake laughed andlooked around at the shop signs. Why dont you take him andexplore a little bit? Im gonna look for a liquor store and lay in thebooze supply for the party. Well meet back here in two hours anddrive on out to the airport.

GThere was a mob of people milling around the Fort Street FleaMarket, but Chan had no trouble parting the sea with Bear lead-ing and tugging on his leash. She window-shopped for a block or

two and then hit the mother lode at an open-air kiosk where localhandicrafts were on display under an expanse of colorful canvas.Bear sent two teenage shop-girls screaming through the aisleswhen he barked a friendly greeting. Chan made him sit, then sit-up and shake hands before they would venture any closer thanarms length.

Chan spent about 45 minutes looking at finely-carved ma-hogany, polished seashells, exotic leather goods and jewelry, cap-turing the most interesting pieces with her phone-camera andmaking notes about prices for later comparative shopping. Shechecked her watch, decided the hard-selling shop girls deserveda reward, and bought a pendant for Tracey that featured a tarponcarved in lavender jadeite. It seemed perfect for a woman who

made a career out of studying fish and the waters in which theyswim. She was headed back toward the parking lot when Bear be-

k h l l h h ld h f


25/34

Dale Dye18

him to pee. She steered him away from the crowded bazaar andcaught site of a sandy open area about half a block away at the endof an intersecting street.

That street was clearly the Belize City bar district. As Chanlet Bear pull her toward the trees and bushes at the other end ofthe block, she could smell the fetid tobacco and stale beer odorsmixed with the sinus-clearing tang of disinfectant wafting fromopen doors. Most of those doors framed hookers in mini-skirts

and way too much makeup, lounging in what they hoped wereseductive poses. Realizing Chan and Bear were unlikely potentialcustomers, the girls mostly just cut them a vacant glance or madelewd cracks about the size of the dog. Almost all of the chatter wasin Spanish rather than the accented English spoken by most Be-lize natives. Scrub off some of the makeup, Chan thought as she

nodded and smiled, and there probably isnt one of the girls muchpast her teens. Most of them looked uncomfortable or distinctlybored, like broad-hipped farm girls way out of their element.Shed read a few articles about human trafficking and forced pros-titution in Central America. The girls might be hooking in Belizebut Chan was willing to bet that most of them were from Guate-

mala, Honduras, or El Salvador. Most likely Belize, with its rela-tively lively tourist trade, was just a working stop on their routenorth to Mexico or the U.S.

On the street corner near the little park was a clutch of hard-eyed, heavily tattooed men in gaudy shirts and even gaudier jew-elry, smoking and joking much too loudly. The handlersorwhatever term applies to pimps in Belize City, Chan thought as she

tightened Bears lead and ignored their lewd appraisal. They werewhistling, laughing, and jiving in a crude mixture of English and


26/34

Contra File 19

something worthy of lifting his leg. When hed done his business,she found a slat bench and sat for a breather with Bear curled upnear her feet. She was scrolling through the photos on her phonewhen she heard a woman screaming and crying.

Chan glanced up to see one of the pimps dragging a girl downthe street toward the little park with one hand wrapped painfullyaround her neck and the other pulling brutally on one of her ears.Bear growled and alerted as the struggling couple barreled into

the sandy area, the man screaming curses and the woman beggingfor mercy. None of the locals seemed to pay much attention andthose that were near the confrontation sidled away. Chan lookedaround for a cop, but there were no uniforms or patrol cars insight. She had her phone in hand but no idea if there was such athing as 9-1-1 in Belize.

When the pimp backed his charge up against a wind-twistedtree and began to use his fist on her bare midriff, Chan hadenough and tugged Bear toward the struggle. She tried to soundlike a cop or someone in authority as she shouted for the man tostop. He barely glanced at her, growled something she didnt un-derstand, and went back to work on the girls belly. When she got

close enough to put a shoulder into him and shove, he swiped atChan with a vicious backhand. She ducked it and stomped ashard as she could on his sandaled foot. He hopped back holdinghis injured foot and screaming for the gringo bitch to mind herown business. She aimed a kick at his balls that barely missed butBear was in the game by that time and lurched forward to planthis paws on the mans shoulders. The weight of the dog and the

proximity of some long, bared fangs sent him off on the run. Chanwas trying to regain control of Bear and check on the beaten girl


27/34

Dale Dye20

and both in the distinctly British-influenced uniforms of the Be-lize Tourist Police. The female cop talked to the bruised and an-gry hooker while the male cop began to conduct an interviewwith Chan from just beyond the length of Bears leash.

GShake was strolling through the Fort Street Flea Market beside a

smiling bearer from the local booze emporium who was pushinga hand-cart loaded with liquor. Once he found the right spot, itdidnt take Shake long to buy six cases of local Beliken Beer andLighthouse Lager for the beach party. The stuff was available inPunta Gorda, but a local told him it was cheaper and available involume in Belize City. On the recommendation of the shop-

keeper, he added a case of high-octane One Barrel Rum. Shakestopped on the way to the car long enough to buy a basket of freshfruit that hed been assured would blend well with the rum. Hehad his shopping done and was right on time to meet Chan at theparking lot.

Just ahead of him at a produce stand, standing out blatantlyin the crowd of shoppers in shorts and t-shirts, were three soldiersin uniform. Shake called a halt, bought the sweating bearer a coldbeer from a street vendor, and studied the military men hagglingwith a shop-keeper over prices. He recognized the British patternsummer-service uniforms and the curved kukriknives in leathersheaths hanging from their belts. Shake had seen that same uni-form and a variety of Gurkha field dress when he was serving as

an exchange NCO with Britains Royal Marine Commandos. Asproud and insular as the British Bootnecks were, they had a greatd l f f h d l d h


28/34

Contra File 21

vaunted fighting ability, especially after a sterling performance bythe 7thDuke of Edinburghs Own Gurkha Rifles during the 1982Falklands War. One of the items that held pride of place inShakes eclectic collection of military souvenirs was a ceremonialkukripresented to him by a Havildar Majorafter a grueling train-ing exercise with some Gurkhas in horrible weather conditionson the Brecon Beacons training range in Wales.

The three Gurkhas were apparently on some sort of liberty,

likely shopping for local produce to supplement their military ra-tions. They had sacks of rice stacked at their feet and they wererapidly filling plastic shopping bags with fresh mangos and papa-yas. Insignia indicated the senior man was a Havildaror sergeant.All three of the short, solidly built soldiers wore the broad-brimmed Hat Terrai Gurkha at a rakish angle. Each hat was

wrapped around the crown with a khakipuggareehatband in sixneat folds and bore the crossed kukrisof Britains Brigade of Gur-khas.Probably students or instructors at the Jungle Warfare Schoolin Belize, Shake decided. He pulled one of his cards from a case,scribbled the name of the resort in Punta Gorda on the reverse,and waved for the bearer to finish his beer.

Their path to the parking lot led them right past the Gurkhas,and Shake paused to catch their attention. They smiled back athim curiously as he templed his hands beneath his chin. Na-maste,he said with a slight bow and handed his card to the Hav-ildar as all three surprised soldiers automatically returned hisHindu greeting. You have my greatest respect, he said andpulled a bottle of rum out of the case. He handed over the liquor,tossed off a salute, and led his assistant down the street. If he knewGurkhas, his card would find its way to the senior man before


29/34

Dale Dye22

long and that might lead to an interesting little detour on his va-cation. Multi-tour Vietnam Vet Mike Stokey had never servedwith Gurkha troops as far as Shake knew, and hed get a kick outof watching them work in the jungle. There were few troops bet-ter at it in the world.

GDid they get the guy? Shake was still questioning Chan abouther encounter with the hooker and pimp as they milled aroundthe airport arrivals area waiting for Tracey to clear customs.

Beats me, Shake, but I doubt it. The cop didnt seem overlyupset about the whole deal. I gave him as good a description as Icould recall, but when I started talking about tattoos you could

see the glaze come over his eyes. I got the distinct impression thatkind of thing happens all the time.

What kind of tattoos?Looked like bog-standard gang stuff to me. He had em all

over his arms and running up his neck. The one I could remem-ber best was kind of military. It was a skull wearing a beret andthere was a big letter Z underneath it.

Los Zetas, Shake shook his head and wrapped an armaround his wife tightly. He was recalling a briefing hed beengiven by a CIA handler back in the mid-1980s when the Zetasbe-gan as a very secretive, very vicious element of the Mexican ArmySpecial Forces command. They were for hire to the emergingCentral American drug cartels and rapidly spawned chapters in

the military forces of El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras.Theyre genuine bad-asses and most of them are ex-military of

k d h l k h f f d


30/34

Contra File 23

him. Those dudes are stone killers, and theyve got their mitts ineverything illegal north and south of the border.

I was more worried about the girl, Shake. She was absolutelyterrified and the female cop was no help at all. I spent a little timetrying to calm her down and gave her a couple of bucks before Ileft.

Shouldnt have done that, Chan. What you gave her willwind up in that pimps pocket.

Well, I wanted to do something. She seemed so helpless andlost. I heard her tell the cop she was from Guatemala.

She is helpless and lost if shes being run byLos Zetas, Chan.Those guys, plus MS-13, the Mara Salvatrucha, the 18th Streetgangs, theyre all over down here and up to their eyes in drugs,prostitution and anything else that turns a buck. Theyve mor-

phed into a well-heeled bunch of domestic terrorists. Theyve gotthe cops either cowed or paid off so if anything effective is evergonna be done about them, its up to the military. Thats one ofthe reasons the Marine Corps is sending people like Morty P withteams to work with and train the Central American military. Itsa way to give the good guys some effective muscle and a little tac-

tical edge.Shake was about to change the subject and tell her about theGurkhas he met at the bazaar but Tracey trundled through thepneumatic door from the immigration area and waved to get theirattention. She looked healthy and tan, wearing a big smile as shedropped a backpack and gave them both enthusiastic hugs. Wel-come to the Mosquito Coast, honey. Shake shouldered her pack

and stepped back to get a better look at his only child. You lookgood, Tracey, really good. Im guessing youve found a way to


31/34


32/34

Contra File 25

Im told you can still catch em down here, Shake com-mented as he pulled up at the first police checkpoint on the out-skirts of the city. Weve found a guy with a good boat who canfind the fish. Maybe well try for some tarpon while youre downhere.

Works for me, Tracey said as she retrieved her passportfrom a Belizean cop and stuffed it into her purse. Unlike someother oceanographers and ichthyologists of my acquaintance, I

like to study them andeat them. As the vehicle accelerated onthe other side of the checkpoint, Tracey fished around in thecooler on the floor. Damn airplanes always leave me thirsty. Itllprobably take me a week to get re-hydrated.

Well, you take as long as you want, girl. Chan leaned backand wrapped an arm around her knees. Weve got no plans be-

yond having a good time. Shake glanced into the rearview andcaught Traceys big smile as she watched the tropical terrain flyby on the other side of the window. His wife was wearing a similarsmile and it made him feel terrific to see them both so happy.Theyd been through a lot lately, physically and emotionally. Itwas time for some carefree recuperation.

Dad, didnt you do some work down here one time? Traceyscooted forward and rested her elbows between the front-seatheadrests.

Not in Belize, honey. I was mostly in Costa Rica and Hon-duras. You were about five at the time.

Yeah, I cant recall details but I remember Mom was highlypissed. You said you were gonna work for the CIA and she

thought wed be heading for Washington.She had a little trouble with the distinction between an ana-


33/34

Dale Dye26

our domestic situation did not improve when the whole deal blewup into the Iran-Contra Affair.

Im a little sketchy on your role in that, Shake. Chanplucked a beer out of the cooler, opened it and took a sip. Shewasnt a big beer drinker, but the tropical atmosphere seemed tocall for cold beer on hot sands, and shed taken a shine to the localLighthouse Lager. I know you and Ollie North are pals, but Ididnt know you were in on Iran-Contra.

I wasnt precisely in on it, Chan. I was more like millingaround on the perimeter. I was only involved in the Contra partof Iran-Contra although that didnt matter much in the end. Allof us subcontracting for The Company in Central America gotcaught by the fallout. When the shit hit the fan up on Capitol Hill,we had twenty-four hours to bail and get our asses north of the

border.Yet another chapter of Americas murky military history that

features my dear old Dad, Tracey laughed and rummagedaround in the cooler. It looks like theres enough beer to keep usquiet if you want to spill some highly classified beans.

Not much thats still classified about that goat-rope. And

now that I think about it, what Im starting to see down here re-minds me a lot of the Contra days back in the mid-eighties.Shake checked his watch and dialed in the cruise control.


34/34
http://www.amazon.com/Contra-File-Shake-Davis-Book-ebook/dp/B00NG5PH54/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1414472096&sr=8-1&keywords=contra+filehttps://itunes.apple.com/us/book/contra-file/id917491176?mt=11http://bookshout.com/search?query=contra+filehttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/contra-file-dale-a-dye/1120330236?ean=9780989798341http://www.warriorspublishing.com/?p=536

contra file (shake davis #5) by dale a. dye

Documents