In the 21^st century, Costa Rica has become a popular backdrop for fictional thrillers. To this effect, The Costa Rica Star has previously published articles on spy fiction by sci-fi master William Gibson (Spook Country), literary crime novels by the dearly departed Elmore Leonard (Road Dogs), video games by Hideo Kojima (Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker) and by Sony (Syphon Filter), gambling crime films starring Ben Afleck (Runner Runner), and a new book by Charles Peterson Sheppard, The Specialist: The Costa Rica Job, of which we published an excerpt earlier this week.

Phillip Sheppard with reality TV actresses

The Specialist: The Costa Rica Job is a creative collaboration between Phillip Sheppard, a former United States federal agent who is known for his work on the popular CBS reality television series Survivor; he created the Specialist character who share his name and conceptualized the story around his own persona; his younger brother, Charles Peterson Sheppard is the author of the book, which will be the first in a series of The Specialist action adventures. The novel is written in a certain style that will appeal to fans of reality television.

Phillip Sheppard has explained that he chose Costa Rica as a fictional backdrop during the 22^nd season of Survivor: Redemption Island, which was filmed in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. Along with his brother, he became aware of how money laundering and drug smuggling were transforming Costa Rica and her relationship with the United States, and thus they decided to do research on our country and set the action herein.

Here’s the second excerpt from The Specialist: The Costa Rica Job. Click on the links to access factual reporting on certain elements of the story.

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Anjela led us on a dirt path heading to Los Guido […] We had to stay off the main dirt roads. Her family lived in the heart of the shanty town, where the gangs battled for the tiny drug turf and the street girls made their money, and everyone knew her. Eventually we hit a fence line that ran the entire northern length of the Los Guido slum, with El Hueco (The Hole) lying ahead on the far western end, surrounded by coconut palms, strangler vines and various other shrubs.

Los Guido is not a district that became a slum, but rather a slum that became a district. It started as a squatter’s town on public land. The squatters built shelters out of whatever scraps they could beg, barter or pinch. Once they built the shelters and suffered no legal consequences, more squatters moved in. So then the squatter town became a shanty town thirty thousand strong, and the dirt roads got paved. Soon, real homes got built. After that, power lines went up and streetlights came on. So the shanty town grew more… fifty thousand strong. That’s when churches and gangs grew prevalent… maybe to give people something ‘really real’ to live and die for.

We were well-concealed, voice connected and in triangulated viewing positions long before fi rst light. We soon realized that the security perimeter guarding The Hole consisted of a skeleton crew that became fully expanded at dawn. At that time, a Fuerza Publica unit rolled in with four vans and four small motorcycles. Supposedly, they were Counter Narco-Terrorism Operatives specially trained by the US Military at Fort Benning. They all wore ballistic vests over their black Policia jumpsuits and toted around high-end assault rifles like they knew how to use them. They also wore hooded ski masks called balaclavas [or pasamontañas]. Chava said the balaclavas hid their faces from the cartels, if they ever did real police work, which seemed unlikely.

It looked to us like these operatives protected the bad guys. They didn’t do much after arriving. They stood around talking and neglected to check their perimeter, where we lay unseen. They seemed slack. They were not there fighting crime. We minimized our own chatter and just watched their movement patterns.

Three makeshift housing structures had been built by the original squatters, two made of sheet metal and a third made of wood. Sandbag walls now surrounded each one. Based on post-dawn activity we concluded that someone was held captive in the wooden structure. The sheet metal structures served some other use.

“This is odd,” I finally said into the ears of the others. “No FARC forces, no [gang members], just locals.”

“Just because you can’t see them,” a new voice said in my ear, “doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

I nodded. “Ze’ev… glad you could make it. This channel—”

“Don’t fret, it’s a secure channel. We are private.”

“What’s the story…”

“Target is enroute to you now. Target is in the air.”

“Clarify, Ze’ev…”

That was Ze’ev Pinsky, formerly of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), a past employee of Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI) and an ex-member of Israel’s secret service, Mossad. Ze’ev’s U.S. friends called him Zeff , but he preferred the Israeli pronunciation, which translated to ‘wolf.’ As a master of the martial art Krav Maga, his name suggested a naked aggression that Ze’ev could definitely summon in the proper circumstances. Simply put, Ze’ev Pinsky was one hard-fisted, bad-ass Jew—and he liked it when I told him so.

“Here is something you should know,” said Ze’ev. “The U.S. currently has seven thousand troops and forty-six warships deployed in and around Costa Rica. Washington and San Jose claim it’s to combat the drug trade, but nobody really believes that anymore. Costa Rica is a strategic U.S. military base, plain and simple. Now, while that’s true, San Jose is touchy about just how true it looks.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “They are furious about the incident in Limon last night and what happened on Highway 32 [Route 32 from San Jose to the Caribbean]”

“Yes. All activity by the U.S. military is suspended.”

“Temporarily…”

“Of course.” said Ze’ev. “It will all blow over, but it does affect this mission on several fronts.”

By midmorning, the day of our rescue attempt, the rain had ceased. Feeling as wet as wind sails, we maintained radio silence and monitored the scene at The Hole. It was quiet.