by Brent Towns
When he reached Ferrero’s desk, the DEA agent stood and stuck out his right hand. “Captain Arenas, I’m Luis Ferrero. I’m in charge of all this,” he explained, waving his hand in the air.
Arenas took his hand in a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you.”
Ferrero indicated to Kane, who was approaching them with Cara at his side. “This is John Kane. He’s in charge of our field team. Cara here is his second in command.”
They shook, and Arenas asked the obvious question. “What is here?”
“We are a task force that is currently trying to take down the Montoya cartel,” Ferrero explained. “Which is why you’re here. We requested you personally.”
The penny dropped. “It was you the other day when my team was in trouble.”
“Actually. it was Sergeant Teller over there who you talked to.”
Arenas glanced over to where Teller was seated, and the master sergeant nodded.
“Thank you.”
Ferrero said, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
Arenas nodded. “OK.”
“Good. What can you tell me about the other day?”
Arenas’ face changed, and he hissed, “We were betrayed.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It is the only answer. They were expecting and ready for us, and it cost me most of my men. I was prepared to die and were it not for your intervention, I would have.”
“Any idea who it might have been?”
“Hah,” sarcasm dripped from the outburst. “It would be easier to ask me who it was not. I trust no one except for those I command, and then sometimes not even those. It is why we always wear the masks. If the cartels find out who we are, they kill our families.”
“What about your family?” Kane asked. He’d been studying the special forces commander while he spoke. Kane figured him to be about his own age, but the lines on his face told of the hard times he’d endured in his current profession.
Arenas became immediately defensive. “My family are my concern.”
“What I mean is, are they in constant danger?”
“Sí. Yes.”
“How would you like to get them out of Mexico, Captain? Yourself included.” Ferrero asked.
“I would be crazy not to.”
“Come and work for us, and I can make it happen.”
“I thought I already was.”
Ferrero grinned. “I mean work for us, Captain. Not be a liaison.”
Arenas looked at him with suspicion. “Doing what?”
“As part of Kane’s field team. He currently has four people on it, but we need an extra man with your experience. It would be dangerous work.”
“And living in Mexico is not?”
“Point taken. The thing is, you wouldn’t be the man in overall charge. That is Kane’s job.”
“And if I agree, you can make this happen?”
“You and your family will be American citizens within twelve months.”
Arenas hesitated. “I think there is something you are not telling me. You brought me here for a reason. Why?”
“We know who betrayed your team, and we want your help to get to him.”
The special forces captain snarled. “Tell me who it is, and I will go myself.”
Ferrero held up a hand. “That isn’t how it works. Tell him, Reaper.”
“We need your help to get to this person in Mexico City,” Kane explained. “We think he knows where Montoya is hiding, and we need that information, so we can get him. It is not a revenge mission. I’d prefer to do it on the quiet.”
“Tell that to the families of the men who are dead,” Arenas growled. “Stare into the eyes of the grieving widows and explain to them why their husbands aren’t coming home.”
“I’ve done that more than once, Captain. I know what it feels like to lose men under your command and to face their loved ones afterward. But I need to know I can trust you if you’re going to be part of this team. If we go to Mexico City, and you go rogue on us, I’ll put a bullet in your head and not bat an eyelid.”
Arenas’ voice was abrupt. “If I cannot have this man then I want Montoya.”
“As long as it doesn’t endanger any of the team, then he’s all yours.”
Arenas stuck out his right hand. “Then I will join your team.”
Kane took it. “Glad to have you aboard.”
“Get the man settled and kitted out, Reaper,” Ferrero said. “Introduce him to the rest of the crew. Welcome to the team, Captain.”
“My name is Carlos.”
“Carlos,” Ferrero agreed.
“You have not told me who it was that warned Juan Montoya.”
“Secretary of foreign affairs, Ferdinand Morales.”
Retribution
“Can you do it or not, Mike?” Ferrero asked the assistant attorney general.
“Seeing as you told him it would happen, then I guess it will have to. He was happy enough to come on board then, I take it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When will your team go in?”
Kane said, “That depends on the general.”
Jones lifted his chin in curiosity. “How so, Gunny?”
“Carlos knows the area, General,” Kane explained. “But if I were back running a recon team, we’d have nice big satellite pictures of the area, so we could plan properly.”
“Consider it done, Gunny. Anything else?”
“I think that will do, sir.”
Jones nodded. “If you get into trouble, Gunny, the CIA have a safe house within three blocks of the location. Just so you know.”
“Let’s hope I won’t need it, sir.”
“Let’s. I’ll have the pictures for you tomorrow. Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The general was as good as his word, and early the next day, the team had two large satellite pictures to plan from. One was taken in the daytime, the other at night. He’d also supplied them with smaller ones of the security detail assigned to the secretary.
The not so small mansion stood on a substantial block surrounded by considerable gardens. There were floodlights, a high fence, and double gates at the front.
The house itself was a two-story adobe building with a multi-vehicle garage, and a small bungalow was situated out the back near a rectangular inground pool. The team studied the details intently.
“I don’t see any security cameras,” Hawk observed.
Traynor said, “He doesn’t need them. Did you see the security detail? They’re packing plenty of hardware. All ten of them.”
Kane moved from the daylight one across to the one taken at night. “Carlos, take a look at this.”
Arenas moved to stand beside him and stared at the picture.
Kane drew a circle with his finger around a dark patch close to the fence on the east side. “We could get in here. It’s dark enough. The trees create this shadow that the light doesn’t penetrate.”
“Someone has been careless. Once we get over the fence, we can use the shadow to make our way along here,” he ran his finger across the picture, “and that will take us up to the pool area. But then there is the problem with the lights in that area. Once past them, we can get into the house,” Arenas said.
“That’s all well and good,” Cara pointed out, “but there’s still the problem with the security. Are they private contractors?”
Arenas held up a hand as an idea came into his head. “Wait.”
He crossed back to the smaller pictures and riffled through them carefully. He studied them one at a time until he found what he wanted. He held it up and exclaimed, “This one. This picture.”
He lay it flat on the table for them all to see. It was a picture of one of the security detail near the front gate. It was a closeup, and the facial features were relatively clear. But the special forces commander wasn’t pointing at the face. He was indicating the neck.
“What are we looking at?” Hawk asked.
; “There,” Arenas said and stabbed his finger at the picture again. “Do you see it?”
Kane looked closer. “A tattoo.”
“Yes. These are not private contractors, they are cartel.”
“Son of a bitch,” Hawk muttered. “What does that mean?”
Kane said, “It means, if push comes to shove, we can take them down and not feel bad about it. It’s not like the secretary can scream down the roof. How’s he going to explain his security detail being cartel?”
“Exactly.”
Kane’s face grew stern. “When we go in, we’ll be dressed accordingly. Full tactical gear with balaclavas. We don’t want to be recognized. If you have to shoot, shoot to kill.”
Arenas spoke in a low voice, “With pleasure.”
Chapter 20
Mexico City, Two nights later
Three almost indistinguishable shapes moved through the shadows with the stealth of a panther stalking its prey. Soft, rubber-soled boots created no sound, each step carrying them closer to their target. NVGs were down for this part of the insertion, however, when the team moved closer to the house, the goggles would become useless.
Kane paused in a deep shadow and waited for Cara and Arenas to close the distance. So far, so good. Cara came to a crouch beside him, and they were soon joined by the special forces captain.
“This is where it gets hairy. Carlos, watch our six. If any guard pokes his head up, put him down.”
Arenas nodded. “Copy.”
Kane looked down at his MTM watch. It was two in the morning. Some of the rooms inside the double-story house were still lit. The worst part was that they were going in blind. Unable to lay their hands on any plans for the place, they had no idea how many rooms there were or which one the secretary might be in.
“Listen. We clear the rooms one at a time until we find him. Copy?”
“Copy.”
“Zero? Reaper One. We’re about to breach, over.”
“Copy, Reaper One. Good luck.”
Reaper flipped up his NVGs and said, “Let’s go.”
They moved forward in a crouched position. Reaper had his silenced H&K USP up and ready. Its laser sight not as visible as with the NVGs down.
Behind him, Cara covered their right while Arenas covered their rear.
They emerged into the floodlit area around the large inground pool. Kane went left while Cara and Arenas circled it to the right. Under the bright lights, the clear water seemed to sparkle like a tropical oasis. The canopy of palms reaching out from either side made it feel even more so.
Cara weaved between a couple of terracotta pots planted with large, leafy foliage. Kane strode between some powder-coated aluminum outdoor furniture and suddenly stopped.
“Tango,” he hissed into his mic and backed up a few paces. He was too far away from the small bungalow for it to be of any use, so he dropped behind the only cover there was for him. The outdoor table.
Cara and Arenas stepped into a small garden and positioned themselves against the wall of the main house, sheltered behind a small palm.
“Hold your fire,” Kane whispered.
The guard walked along the path, part of his normal patrol route, oblivious to their presence. He was armed with an AK and had a walkie-talkie fixed to his belt. However, one thing was certain, if he held his current track, he would discover Cara and Arenas.
Kane waited until the guard was almost upon them, then scraped a chair-leg beside him along the top of the sandstone pavers.
The Mexican whirled around to identify the noise, and as he did so, Cara came away from the wall.
With swift movements, she reached over his left shoulder with her left hand and clamped off his mouth. Her right hand drove the barrel of her silenced Smith and Wesson M&P into his back and squeezed the trigger three times.
There was an audible grunt after the first shot, and he stiffened. By the time the third bullet had smashed into his body, his knees weakened, and he began to slump.
Arenas hurried forward and helped Cara drag the body into the garden, out of sight before blood went all over the paved area.
Kane whispered into his mic, “You all good?”
Cara’s voice betrayed her heavy breathing when she came back to him, “Roger, all good.”
“Let’s keep going.”
Down the path from which the guard had emerged, Kane discovered an entry point. He reached out to try the door handle, but Cara grabbed his hand. “What if it’s alarmed?”
“I don’t think it will be because the guards will be going in and out.”
Cara raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
He tried the handle. It moved, not locked. Kane dropped his NVGs over his eyes and swung the door open. He stepped through, his gun up, and swept the room. A bedroom. Empty except for a single bed, a dresser, a hand-tooled chair in the corner and a picture on the wall.
Behind him, Cara and Arenas entered. The latter pulled the door to behind them. On the far side of the room, a small sliver of light showed beneath another door. Kane crossed quickly to it then raised his NVGs again and cracked it a mite to look out.
On the other side was a well-lit room with large sofas and a tiled floor. He could make out the edge of a large fireplace, but that was all. The sofas were vacant, but that didn’t mean there was nobody there.
With his eye still at the crack, he held up his left hand all fingers splayed apart. Then he began to drop them one at a time in a slow countdown.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
He swung the door wide and walked through, swept left and right. Cara emerged behind him, and he directed her to the left where he sighted another closed door. Arenas moved right.
Now that he was in the room, Kane could see everything that hadn’t been visible from his limited aspect of the doorway. The fire, a bar along the far wall, a large television, billiard table, and a small coffee table with bottles on it.
“Shit,” he breathed into his mic. “This is where the guards hang out. Cara, clear that room. We need to leave.”
A few moments later Cara said, “Room’s clear, Reaper.”
The three of them hurried towards a doorway on the other side of the room. Kane paused before he walked through to check for cartel men. There were none, and they kept going …
… into the largest foyer he’d ever seen. It was magnificent.
The floor was marble; white, unblemished, sterile. From the ceiling, on a golden chain hung a large chandelier. Twin, curved staircases led to a second floor, the balustrade made of fancy fretwork and edged with handcrafted terracotta trims.
This was obviously a small sample of the luxury that cartel money afforded you.
Kane waved Cara across to the stairs, and Arenas to the large timber front doors. He tried a door opposite, and it swung open. It was a library and study wrapped up in one. There was a large desk, and many shelves of leather-bound books, ornate furniture and fittings, and large mullioned double doors which led out to another part of the garden.
He closed the door and silently moved along to a wider opening which led into a spacious dining room. With the H&K still raised, Kane traversed the room and found the kitchen. Voices from within gave him ample warning of their presence, and he peered around the corner to see two men standing near a large island bench.
Kane backed away and retreated the way he’d come.
When he reached the foyer, he found the other two still there. “Two Tangos in the kitchen.”
They nodded and followed him up the stairs.
The landing was clear. It swept around the front of the house and out onto a balcony.
A long hallway ran off the landing, with three doors along each side and another closed one at the end. Kane figured that room to be the master and the most likely place they’d find Morales.
He situated Arenas at the start of the hallway, to w
atch their backs, and then he and Cara proceeded towards the door. They had almost reached halfway when the middle door on the left opened, and a woman in her forties stepped out into the hall.
Without a second thought, Kane closed the distance between them and clamped a hand firmly over her mouth. She stiffened and was about to struggle when he whispered into her ear. “If you try to cry out, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
Not knowing that he wouldn’t, she nodded.
“Good. Are you Ferdinand’s wife? Ferdinand’s esposa?”
She nodded as best she could.
“Is that your room?”
She shook her head.
“Where?”
She indicated the last room with her hand.
“Good. You walk in front. If you try anything, you know what will happen.”
With his left hand on her shoulder, Kane walked her quietly along the hall until they reached the door. Once there she opened it, and they entered the room.
Ferdinand Morales must have had some sixth sense that something was amiss because he was instantly awake. He turned the bedside lamp on, and his eyes widened when he saw the black-clad figure standing next to his wife.
He rolled violently in the bed, and Kane thought he was going for a gun in the bedside dresser. Kane squeezed the trigger on the silenced USP, and splinters erupted from the front of the drawer. Morales’ wife let out an involuntary half scream.
The sound of the ejected brass casing hitting the tiled floor rattled around the room. Kane shook his head. “The next one I’ll put in your head, amigo. Get out of bed.”
With great hesitation, Morales did as he was ordered.
Kane signaled to Cara. Careful not to use her name he said, “Tie his wife up and gag her.”
“What do you want?” Morales asked.
Kane took a small recorder from his pocket and placed it beside the secretary. “We’re here to ask you a couple of questions. If you answer correctly, then you might get through this night alive. Ready?”
“You are a gringo. What are you? A soldier? A hired killer? You will not get away with this. You have no idea who I am.”
Kane quickly lost patience with the man’s false bravado. “Shut the fuck up and listen, asshole. I know who and what you are, and I don’t give two shits about it. Tell me where Montoya went.”