Here is a preview from my latest novella, PROMIS: Rhodesia. In this scene our protagonist has been temporarily exiled to a Selous Scouts training program called dark phase. The Selous Scouts were an amazing Special Forces type unit that specialized in so-called pseudo-operations. Take a look:
Sean stood eyeball to eyeball with the terrorist gang leader, his face illuminated by flickers of light from the camp fire.
The terrorist was naked, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. True to form, once his gang rolled into the village they had demanded everything the poverty stricken Africans had, specifically their alcohol and their women. The gang leader had just emerged from one of the thatch huts having been the first to partake in the wares of the village prostitute.
Taking a swig of whiskey, he set the bottle down, retrieved his AK-47 and fired a celebratory burst of gunfire into the air. Hot brass glinted through the night as the fire reflected off each piece sent spinning from the ejection port.
Deckard held his ground as the gang leader motioned him forward, imploring him to hop in the queue with his men. The .45 tucked into the waist band of his OD green uniform felt entirely too far away for Deckard’s taste. The communist uniform and black is beautiful face paint might have fooled the drunken terrorist from a distance, but his disguise wouldn’t stand under scrutiny for long.
Jerusalem stood by the fire, chuckling at Sean’s extremely dangerous predicament.
A live pseudo-operation would be considered his final exam, proving that he had learned what he was supposed to in Dark Phase, and god willing, earn him another shot in the SAS. He’d been holed up in a clandestine observation post with another white operator, an experienced Selous Scout, while Jerusalem infiltrated a local village that had come under control of a terrorist gang. After gaining their trust, he told the terrorists that he had a friend he wanted them to meet, a terrorist named Sean Deckard as it turned out.
Cutting loose with another burst, Sean held his breath. What the idiot didn’t realize was that those bullets had to come down somewhere, hopefully not on their heads.
Motioning Sean forward again, the gang leader held his erection in his other hand to help make his point. Sean already understood all to well.
Jerusalem spoke something in his native language, Shona, to the gang leader. Laughing, the terrorist waved his hand dismissively and went back to his whiskey bottle.
His former instructor swaggered up to Sean, playing the part like the experienced professional that he was.
“He was getting suspicious so I told him that an RLI call sign shot your penis off last year.”
“Thanks for that,” Sean remarked dryly.
“I’ve been listening to them for two days now. They plan on laying in a ambush tomorrow night on a nearby road. The gang wants to kill some soft targets, farmers, civilians, whoever, they don’t care. Afterwords they will run across the border into Zambia before the RLI can catch up with them. So this is your final test white man. What do you want to do?”
Sean reached inside his cargo pocket and pulled out a curved piece of plastic housing with extendable metal legs. This side towards enemy, was written in English on one side. Grabbing a spool of wire from his other pocket, Sean popped the shipping cap off the end of the wire with his thumb and attached a trigger mechanism. The other end of the wire ended in a blasting cap that went into the plastic device.
“Give this to the gang leader.”
“Then what?” Jerusalem asked.
“Tell him it is a radio. Robert Mugabe has a special message for him.”
“As you say white man, but you wait until I am back here with you before you do anything.”
“I’d never do you wrong, hoss.”
With a smile, the former terrorist walked back to the camp fire as Sean unwound the wire from the spool. Giving the gang leader the Claymore mine, Jerusalem spoke to him before hurrying back to Sean’s position.
Laying down in the dirt, the two pseudo operators looked at each other for a moment as the terrorist spoke into the side of the anti-personnel mine, waiting for his great leader to respond. Flicking the safety off the squeeze mechanism, Sean detonated the mine, the blast washing over their heads in the hail of metal ball bearings.