C Squadron had originally been in Ceylon to prepare for the eventuality of participating in a conflict in Burma, however since their first arrival on the island, the euphoria of independence had subsided and a potentially dangerous political situation was materializing. The country's new government, mostly Buddhist and Sinhalese, had begun to suppress the indigenous population of the island as well as confiscate land belonging to Tamil Hindu farmers. While neither group was particularly interested in conflict of a non sectarian manner, the Soviet Union had decided to propagandize the ethnic conflict on the island as a new form of imperialism and claim that the new commonwealth Dominion of Ceylon was in essence a British puppet still run by it's white colonial overlords, et cetera, et cetera, and throw money and munitions at the Tamil political groups in hope of initiating some sort of ethnic conflict that would lead to the ousting of British imperialists form the island. Most of this was unfounded ideological malarkey, the Rhodesian Commandos had been assigned to infiltrate Tamil political organizations in an attempt to neutralize any communist sympathizers and destroy any caches of Soviet weapons and material.
A bunch of whites out at this time of night in Kantharmadam was probably not the most inconspicuous or covert way to conduct their reconnaissance, but in order to attempt to find Tamil rebels and communists, C Squadron had decided it would be best to pose as Russian agents looking to sell their weapons or to spread their propaganda to the natives. Nevertheless, the entire plan hinged on the fact that the Tamils in this Jaffna neighborhood had not already made contact with the reds as well as the fact that nobody in Ceylon knew what a Russian looked or sounded like. For what it was worth, Harry could do what he had assumed was the best accent of the whole bunch, so he was the one acting as "Tovaritch Ivanoff" for the duration of the mission.
Harry had dressed in some silly black overcoat and was being escorted by two of his squadmates, Lewis Edmunston and Mo Drinkwell, dressed in Suits but wearing no tie or ascot so as to appear unprofessional and brute. As they continued down the street, they were approached by two or three adolescents holding sten guns, motioning for them to follow. While none of the submachine guns these kids were holding actually had magazines,Harry imagined that if they had his escorts would have riddled them with bullets. Harry and his entourage were led to the basement of some small restaurant with some indecipherable name above the entrance. Inside, considerably more people, eyes fixated on the newcomers. After a short time, a short middle-age man with a funny mustache and a receding hairline in a very orange cloth stepped forward.
"My name is Salvaraja, and I would, er, no, no, that is not how it is supposed to be said - I would like to welcome you, and your, eh, menagerie, to Tamil Eelam."
"Da! Good day to you and your fellow partizani. I am Tovaritch Ivanoff We have come to help you in your struggle against the oppressive imperialist British and their Sinhalese dogs."
At the mention of the Sinhalese, a fierce and bitter argument had erupted in the back of the room. The chatter and clammer continued on for some time in Tamil and bastardized English until Salvaraja cleared his throat and turned back to his clearly perplexed Russian comrades.
"Magnificent information! So then your Comrade Stalin has finally come to see the arrogance of siding with the British and - no, no, I am sorry for insulting your comrade in such a manner, I am not your energy in this current simulation. What I believe is that we should get to business, you said that you had brought us the shipment of rifles we were promised by your superior?"
"I am sorry Tovaritch Sarjaja, I do no-"
"Salvaraja"
"Tovaritch Salvaraja, I am not quite sure I am aware of the shipment of rifles that you are speaking of."
"Are you trying to bamboozle me, Tovaritch, no, no, I know that Agent Grom had promised us a shipment of rifles, eh, where is the agent anyway, It was much easier for, well..."
It became very clear to Harry that this Agent Grom, whoever he was, had just become a loose end in C Squadron's mission to sabotage the Tamil communists. The problem now seemed to be that leaving Salvaraja alive could alert Grom to their meddling in the Reds' affairs, however Salvaraja let so much information spill out of his gab that it seemed too soon to put an end to their conversation.
Harry wouldn't get the chance to fire first, though. Out of the corner of his eye he had noticed a sleek black silencer sticking through the wood paneling of the ceiling above him. Mo and Lewis had noticed it as well. Three shots tore into the chest of Comrade Salvaraja, knocking him to the ground. In the chaoas of the moment, many of the people in the building had believed that their three Russian friends had fired the shots, and in an instant the three C squadron men had found themselves surrounded by outraged Tamil gunmen. fumbling for their sten guns and new Russian assault rifles, many of the Tamils tried to exact revenge on the Rhodesians for killing their leader, however none of them were as quick on the draw. In a matter of seconds, Harry, Lewis, and Mo had swept the room with submachinegun fire, killing all of the men. The cellar doof was kicked in by one of the men from the backup squad, who was now urging them all to hurry out of the basement and into the rover idling on the side of the road. There was still someone upstairs.
"We have to get after him."
"We are not supposed to be infiltrating rebel organizations in Ceylon, now get in the car!"
Somewhat stubbornly ignoring the Lieutenant, Harry and Mo barged into the upstairs of the now former headquarters of the small band of Tamil rebels while Lewis Sprinted down the alley behind the restaurant. A figure could be made out climbing over the low fence and into the neighboring yard. Sprinting after him, Harry drew his throwing knives and flung one at the runner, nabbing him in his calf muscle and causing him to collapse on the ground. As Harry and Mo drew closer, the man shot two bullets into his own head. A silver Tokarev lie in a pool of the man's blood. aside from his sidearm, Agent Grom carried nothing with him aside from a few hundred pounds, a pack of cigarettes, a map of Ceylon, and a picture of a woman.
