Plan B

October 16th, 1963

Today’s the day. Ten weeks of gaining his trust has led up to this day. The CIA has trained me well for this mission and taught me how to be able to see and look for signs of anything. Today seemed right to be the day for my mission to unfold and take place. But like all missions, I’ll have a plan B. These last ten weeks I have posed as Juan de Alvarez, one of Fidel Castros’ many guerilla fighter bodyguards that protect him everywhere he goes. My name is Andrew Strahn, and I have worked in the CIA for good and succesful seven years.

He has put me in charge of him and his family’s welfare. Marita Lorenz is his lover right now. She has my plan C. I gave her some poison pills and if I were to fail my mission, she would put them into some cold cream and give it to him. I hope it would not have to be that bad of a failure. He also had a son, Fidel "Fidelito" Castro, who is strong for a 14 year old. Fidel has a great sense of humor. After an assassination attempt by an American tourist, he laughed, saying, "If surviving assassination attempts were an Olympic event, I would win the gold medal."


Today started out like every other day. I woke up and woke the cooks to make his breakfast. At 9:00 am, I woke up Fidelito and Marita for breakfast. I then woke up Castro, when his breakfast was finished. I asked, “What are you planning on doing today, Premier?”

He looked up from his eggs and toast, and then said, “I’m not sure, Juan. Maybe we could go on an excursion with the new recruits and test their training to see if they are truly ready.” So, after breakfast, I called Lieutenant Vincent Deinz of the local military outpost. He acknowledged me and hung up. I called up the driver and had him bring up the brand new Hotchkiss M201 Jeep to the main building. We all hopped in when they arrived.

“You know what?” said Castro, “Let’s go out and about before we go to the base”. So we headed into the jungle for an alternate route to see the beauty. When we got to the base, we saw that they were doing gun training and target practice. I made sure my jacket was zipped up. Lieutenant Deinz met us when we got there.

“I’ll be right back, Premier, I’ll get the recruits.” He left and we got out of the Jeep. He returned a few minutes later with a small group of eight men. “These are our best in the top ten, reaching in the top 99th percentile in all of our training exercises, ranging from grenade handling to scuba combat. Names aren't important, so we call each other of down the line as Alpha, Beta, Centra, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Georgia, and Hotel.” They all shook their heads when their names were called. Over the next hour, they showed and astounded us with their expertise.


The sun was blazing overhead, and I figured this was the perfect time to roll the plan into action. “Premier,” I said, “why don’t we head into the building? It’s getting so hot out.”

He replied, “Sure, why not.” We headed into the building, and I shut the door; I then secretly locked it behind me. I pulled out my CIA issued Desert Eagle hand-pistol with attached silencer. I took aim, and shot two of the recruits in the back of their heads. Another turned to face me, and I shot him in the chest; blood exploding outward. I forgot about the recruit behind me, and he butted me with his AK-47 in the back of my head. I blacked out.

The lamp was blinding to the awakening eyes. I turned my head slowly and tried to get up, but my feet were shackled to the wall. “It’s no use to try to escape” Delta muttered, clenching his gun. I sighed. An hour later, Fidel came into the room.

“Why did you try to do this, Juan; or should I say, Andrew?” I moaned, due to the pain that was shooting throughout my body from my head. “Ah, get used to the pain, Strahn. You have only got a concussion, while Echo, Alpha, and Georgia have to be put six feet under. You have it lucky.” He walked a couple feet to the left and picked up an old-fashioned Smith and Wesson pistol.


He walked towards me and put the gun to my chest. “Any last words?” he asked. I figured this was the perfect time to execute plan B.

“Just two” I said.

“Oh, and what might they be?” he replied. I ripped off my jacket revealing the C4 time-release detonator strapped to my chest.

“F**k you!” I yelled, pressing the detonator. The last thing I saw was he running towards the door. The C4 detonated, exploding the room and the other recruits. Then, the world went black.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback