Corsican Jazz 3
by Zulfikar Ahmetovic
Days rolling by in the lost in the woods farmhouse.
The Land Cruiser well hidden in a barn, front to the exit in case me must flee.
Ange never talkative, then all of a sudden he picked 3 beers - chestnut beers - from the cool cave. One for each other, one for the shepherd - almost mute except when recalling his dogs.
"Do you guess why we're here? do you guess whose the one - or ones - we'll wipe off Mother Earth?"
I said my own patrons - I said it in French - intend to resolve a tactical problem involving some French Army officer.
I said France pretends to weigh in too much in its former colonies, I say I know, I say it's my job to analyze geopolitical and military situations.
I said there's an officer in Corse who is liaison to a non-statutory entity we - we US - label rogue, passing through official statutory entities thus unofficially providing the, hm, terrorists with somewhat advanced French weaponry otherwise regular on their destination, I said Middle East.
I said you guys oppose the central power that made your island a mere colony.
This is what Brinks instructed me to say when to the point.
Almost midday, Ange attentive.
The shepherd, not caring. A man in his mid sixties, a grey-whitish long beard, a flat hat always on even when he slept, maybe bald, maybe not
"So three sniper guns and you alone? Wake up, big kid. The kitty isn't so short. Get some food, then we'll go hiking."
The three of us dressed up like shepherds, each of us with a sniper gun over the shoulders, goats preceding us, guard dogs running back and forth.
We walked two hours into the wilderness of the mountains, across gorges and clefts, always under the trees. Non path to be seen, the shepherd ahead - make his name Jeannot, Ange addressed him this way a couple of times.
We stopped on the edge of a depression, sort of a basin. Ange stopped and told me to stop. Jeannot went on. Almost a deep hole in the ground. The dogs, the goats around us.
Jeannot went down to the bottom of it, a steep descent. After a while we almost couldn't see him anymore, tree branches, shadows and light making almost impossible to recognise his presence.
Jeannot went down to the bottom of it, a steep descent. After a while we almost couldn't see him anymore, tree branches, shadows and light making almost impossible to recognise his presence.
We heard three shots from distance, handgun likely. Almost muzzled by the thick vegetation and by the peculiar geology of the site.
"Good," said Ange. "Nobody will hear us. Can you manage down there?"
I grinned, I'm a mountaineer from Rumelia.
We left the goats and the guard dogs unattended.
Dog would bark in case somebody should approach.
We made some targets. A dead tree, a chunk of a tree trunk. Each of us tested all M91s, a 200 yards distance, maybe not enough but it worked somehow.
"Damn good devices indeed," Jeannot said. Good English of his. Almost native. These amazing islanders.
Then he pointed at something and told me: "D'you see that last branch on top, next to the hem of this hole?" I said yes, I used the optical sight. There was the branch, a bird of prey on its top.
He picked the Crna Strela. He said "One shot is enough before we have all the world on us."
He placed the bipod, he placed just one - huge - 50 BMG round in.
Ange and I stood silent.
It took almost one minute for Jeannot to get ready, a proper position, comfortable and firm enough. Ange put his hands on his ears, so I did.
Then Jeannot shot his round.
A big BAAAANG, no huge fumes, no nothing.
Like firing a cannon weighting on your shoulder.
Craazy recoil, but Jeannot didn't bolt.
The tree branch, the bird of prey, disappeared.
"This thing can blow up an armored car, a full size rig, I used something like this many years ago, my friend. When I was a soldier, a marksman in the regular army and I did my own mission in Bosnia, that's where you come from."
He patted me on the shoulder.
"I didn't like it too much, if this does alleviate the pains all you people endure."
I was surprised, I nodded.
"I'll be the one in charge of this jewel, I'll be the one to take the dirty king off. Sorry, my friend, you're not experienced enough."
We walked back to the farm. Almost dark by then.
