Matt Hilton - Cut and run

Lower down the foothills we passed farmers toiling in fields, and we went through a few small villages where the signs were all in Spanish except for the obligatory Coca-Cola advertisements above cafe doors. I didn't see a McDonald's but if we looked hard enough I was pretty sure we'd find one.

Charles had studied maps the previous evening, so was ready for when a track edged up a hillside and disappeared though a canyon. He took the right turn and within minutes we were back in the wilderness. A river wound its way through the valley beyond, twisting and turning with the contours of the land. We abandoned the Cherokee where the trail ended and set off on foot, carrying our H amp;K MP5A5's ready. Rink took point and I brought up the rear, with Harvey and the two Jungla troopers spread out between us.

The going was slow, the trees hemming us in, the rumble of the river making it difficult to hear anyone approaching. Everything was green and wet. Beneath the green the glistening darkness could have hidden an entire squadron of soldiers. It was some years since I'd engaged in jungle warfare, but the lessons had stayed with me. The trick is to look beyond the darkness, use your peripheral vision which is better at picking up movement than looking directly. And remember to check above regularly.

We walked for hours.

The terrain was constant, high valleys and trees, the river a grumbling companion. It was easy to be lulled into a sense of security by the tranquillity of the forest or by the river's hypnotic music. But we were all on high alert. Without exception we were thrumming with anticipation. We were now within hailing distance of our enemies.

Hector Nunez called a halt and we huddled in a ring, each watching over our opposite's shoulder for anyone moving in on us.

Nunez pointed to the cliffs on our left. 'Beyond that ridge, we will find a trail that leads down into a valley. The house is directly below it.' He spread a diagram swathed in clear plastic on his thighs. Pointing to hand-sketched symbols, he indicated the house and outlying buildings. There was a clear space beyond them and the broken lines of a road coming from the opposite end of the valley. 'Sentries will be posted here,' he said, placing his finger on the map at the far end of the road, 'and here on the cliffs surrounding the buildings.' This time his finger danced over four different locations. One of them was directly above us.

'Do we dare take out the ones up there?' Rink nodded up at the towering ridge. The boulders looked ragged and had been invaded by growths of vines and trees that prickled with sharp thorns. Rink looked like he was upset that he wasn't going to get the chance to scale the cliff. 'If they're in regular contact with the others, we risk giving ourselves away.'

'We need to set up from other vantage points,' I said. 'Near enough to the sentries that we can take them out when the time comes.'

'No problem.' Rink nodded satisfaction. That was his kind of work.

On his map Nunez pointed out the cliffs on each side of the valley. At the base of both was a line of cross-hatching. 'The valley was cleared of shrubbery recently. There are mounds of logs piled all along the valley floor. They would make good observation posts.'

'Below the sentries on the cliffs?' Harvey looked incredulous.

'The sentries are watching the trails into the valley. If we got by them, we wouldn't be noticed hiding in the lea of the cliffs.' Nunez looked to his friend for support.

'We have done it before,' Charles confirmed as he batted an insect away from his face. 'They are more concerned with watching for anyone coming from the road and they are there to lay down covering fire from a high vantage. If we're careful they'll be unaware of us.'

'We don't want them above us.' Harvey was in agreement with me. 'Things will be different this time. When you've been here before it was only to gather intelligence. Sneak in, sneak out again. This time there's going to be shooting. I don't want to be pinned down by men on the ridges while reinforcements are brought in.'

'Then we must take them out,' Nunez concurred.

Rink withdrew his Ka-Bar and looked at its razor edge. 'I'll do the ones on the cliff above us, then move on to the others on the far ridge. We only need someone to do the guys on this side. Don't think we have much to worry about with the men at the far end. By the time they realise something's going down, we can be in and out again.'

I stabbed a finger at the cross-hatching nearest the houses. 'I'll take that point. I want to be the one that goes inside. Harvey? You happy taking the sentries on this side of the valley?'

'Sure,' he said.

Nunez and Charles looked at each other.

'I want you guys with me,' I said. 'Rink and Harvey can cover from up on the cliffs, but I'm going to need someone covering the house so I'm not disturbed while I'm inside. When I get Gutierrez I want to know I can fall back without having to run a gauntlet.'

'What about Cesar Calle?' Nunez asked.

'If he's the person responsible for sending Luke Rickard, I'll kill him.'

The best known of the Colombian drug-trafficking groups are the Cali, Medellin and Norte del Valle cartels. They're the most high-profile, but there are others. There are the North-Coast, Bogota and Santander de Quilichao cartels as well. Add the demobilised factions of the AUC, ELN, FARC and Aguilas Negras paramilitary organisations to the seething pot, and you'd think there was no room left for another enterprising group. But there were plenty.

Cesar Calle headed his own group, and though the meanderings of the trail twisted back and forth over the intervening seven years, Calle did have connections to Jesus Henao Abadia. Therein lay a motive for Calle ordering a hit on the team that brought down his old friend, but it was pretty weak. I still believed there was more to it than that.

Last night Juan Charles had mentioned the crimes that Calle was suspected of. They included torturing a pair of French students whose backpacking adventure had brought them unexpectedly to one of his cocaine production bases. The students – little more than children – had been found in a shallow grave, semi-decomposed, but their injuries were still very evident. Calle was never brought to book: a few well-placed bribes in the correct hands saw to that.

Even if he wasn't the person responsible for sending Rickard, I'd have no regrets about killing him. In fact, his card was already marked.

We did a controlled starburst, Rink and Harvey heading off on their tasks while I now led the Jungla troopers further along the forest trail. A cleft through the cliff marked on the map was about a hundred yards ahead, but it meant a climb to get to it. On our right the river twisted away in a tight curve, bottlenecking between massive algae-slick boulders. The noise from the gushing flume beyond was the same as the blood in my inner ears.

Reaching a small cliff-face that blocked our path, I slung my sub-machine gun over my shoulder and hauled myself up on to a ledge. I could see old boot prints in the mud that had gathered in a shallow indentation: proof that Nunez and Charles had been here before. It was bad form to leave such obvious evidence, but I chose not to comment. If anyone had noticed and was watching the trail we'd have been cut down long before this. I nodded to the troopers, then scurried up the cliff, using vines and protruding rocks to pull myself up. About twenty feet up I found the cleft and it was like a huge knife slash through the hillside. Taking my H amp;K in my hands I edged forwards as Nunez clambered up behind me. I indicated that he should keep an eye on the steep cliffs above us: until Rink was in place I didn't want one of Calle's sentries to spot us. I moved on, stepping carefully among loose rocks, while Charles made the climb.