“Sounds familiar. Mexico is like the drain in the sink of the world. Anyone who is running from something ends up here eventually, spiraling,” Evan concluded.
“You definitely are not right, my friend,” Roger said and refilled Evan’s cup but only halfway. “You’re cut off.”
“Hola, buenos dias.”
Evan and Roger turned to see a short figure standing in the doorway. It was Daniel, or El Coyote, the other leader of Green Team One. He wore black leather combat boots, camouflage cutoffs, and a green bathrobe. His bare chest was covered in tattoos of Bible quotes and pictures of Mexican cowboys. El Coyote always had his custom-made AR-15 with him. He unslung his rifle and lay it on the table. Evan admired El Coyote’s weapon. He had a red-dot optical scope and laser sight and had switched out the upper receiver and bolt so that it now fired a 7.62 round instead of the 5.56.
“You could deer hunt with this thing,” Evan said, smiling and picking up his rifle. “Mind?”
“No, not at all.” El Coyote was always smiling and liked to attempt telling jokes in English. His English was horrible, but he was learning. Evan would ofton poke fun at Roger’s accent by telling him to learn English from El Coyote.
On the first day Evan had met him, they were on the shooting range. He had tried to impress Evan and Roger with his English.
“I show you boys how we Mexicans lick ass.”
Evan had about choked on his dip, and Roger doubled over laughing.
“Did you hear what he just said?” Roger said and laughed.
El Coyote had looked offended and held up his hands. “Que es problema?”
“It’s kick ass, not lick ass!” Evan said.
El Coyote was an outstanding marksman, so he got a pass. From then on they stuck to Spanish.
“I did not sleep so well, kept feeling sick. The patches, they did not work for me,” El Coyote said and groaned.
“How much time do we have?” Evan asked.
“The ship’s captain told me that within one hour we should be there. He has been in contact with the receiving team. The sub, he says, is having trouble with its diesel engine.” El Coyote frowned. “They need another part.”
Evan cursed. He had cleared the AR-15, removed the upper receiver, and was inspecting the bolt. “We just left freaking Acapulco. Why the hell didn’t they tell us before we left? We came out here to fix their electrical problems, and now they have a new problem? We can’t very well let Mario’s guy know that the sub doesn’t work!”
El Coyote shrugged. “We don’t tell him anything. Everything works fine.”
Roger grumbled. “Evan’s right though. If we would have known earlier, we could have brought out some parts!”
“We can wing it,” Evan said.
El Coyote poured the last of the coffee into a plastic mug and frowned at the two men. “We have another problem: Mario’s man, he is a retired Mexican naval officer. He knows submarines. How can we fool him?”
Evan put the weapon back together, put the thirty-round, curved-style magazine back in, placed the weapon on Safe, and put it on the table.
“You should see my custom AR at home. You’d love it. I have a Beowulf fifty-caliber upper receiver and bolt.”
“Evan?” Roger spoke as if he were trying to speak to someone in another dimension.
“OK, sorry. We let Mario’s guy see what we want him to see. We tell him we are upgrading the engine, making it faster. We don’t say anything unless he asks. We can tell him there will be a delay. Too easy. Worse comes to worse, I shoot him.”
Roger ignored Evan’s last comment. “Aye, we will keep him sidetracked. Ye better go wake up the cargo.”
Evan looked at his watch. “OK. We do everything like we rehearsed.”
Evan made his way below by himself. The team had agreed that Mario’s observer was to see as few of them as possible and only when necessary. Evan and Tommy were to be the only actual faces that he saw, and anyone else was to wear a ski mask and remain quiet. Roger was the only one who was forbidden, for obvious reasons; his accent and size made him stand out.
Evan adjusted his H&K .40 in a nylon tactical holster attached to his thigh and then unlocked a steel cabin door.
“Hola. Get up!”
A short, fat man with a beard lay snoring on a mattress on the floor. His clothes were folded neatly and placed on top of his shoes.
Mario’s observer wore a blindfold, and despite having his hands cuffed and chained to a ring on the floor, he snored loudly as if he were comfortable.
“Wake up!” Evan tore the man’s blindfold off and uncuffed his hands. “You sleep OK?”
The man sat up, rubbed his eyes, refocused, and looked at Evan. “Sí, I always sleep best when at sea. How long I been asleep? Did you drug me? I no have slept that good in years!” The man laughed and moved to get up off the bare mattress.
“No, just tequila,” Evan lied.
Evan handed the man a cup of coffee.
“Yes, yes, no offense taken. Where is the sub?”
Mario’s observer rubbed his wrists and stood up. He was short, confident, and still had an air of superiority about him. He acted in control despite his situation.
“You were in the Mexican navy?” Evan asked flatly.
“Yes, how you know this?”
“Intelligence is our business. Took your fingerprints and picture while you slept. Same thing you did to me, screening.”
“Captain Miguel, retired. Good coffee. Then you know I am wanted all over Mexico?”
“Yes.” Evan changed the topic. “You brought a computer with you?” Evan pointed to a Pelican case that held a laptop and power cable.
Captain Miguel nodded and sipped his coffee.
“Here is how it’s going to work, Miguel. I give you this thumb drive. It has all the stats and dimensions of the submarine, what it can carry, and how it’s been updated. You can look over it until we get there.” Evan handed him the virus-laced thumb drive.
“I can keep this, Ivan?”
Evan responded to his cover name. “It’s yours. When we get to the sub, we take you topside, meet with Tommy, and then go for a tour. After that, we give you a satellite phone, and you call Mario. Keep it brief. You can transmit pictures with our camera.”
“Fair enough. You men are serious about not being found, eh?”
“We have been in business for many years, Miguel. A submarine is a big toy to hide—and expensive.”
“I need to shower, brush teeth before. Is that possible?”
Evan took the empty coffee cup and nodded. “Yes, we can do that. I will be back in ten minutes with stuff to shower. In one hour we will be at our destination.”
CHAPTER 16
Sunrise Near Veracruz
The Happy Mermaid moved through the waters off the coast of Veracruz, Mexico, without a care in the world. Only essential staff was on board, with the exception of Tanya and her team of computer technicians. They had finished their legitimate job of installing an encrypted Wi-Fi system and updating the ship’s computers to an encrypted network, effectively allowing Mario to stay in touch with the inner workings of his business anywhere. Mario’s sons could now handle the money laundering, bank accounts, and legitimate and illegitimate business with ease. Shipments could be tracked, payments could be made to government officials’ Swiss bank accounts, and private e-mails of Mexican law enforcement could be hacked.
Tanya looked at her watch and cursed. She could see the dim light of morning creeping into her cabin through the tiny oval window, or porthole. She stood up, stretched, and closed her laptop.
“They are up to something.”
She had been up all night with her team, reading through encrypted e-mails and financial records until her eyes had hurt. They were careful to not openly or loudly discuss what they were doing. Tanya was certain that her cabin was clean of bugs and microphones; they had scanned it, but one could still not be sure. She had been given the freedom to move almost anywhere on th
e yacht unbothered, but she chose to stay close to where she was working.
Tanya was actually quite proud of her team and had really moved Mario’s billion-dollar drug-shipping business into modern times.
Tanya showered and readied herself for the morning. She really did not like to allow herself to be happy for too long, but she could not help it. She alone now had almost complete access to every detail of Mario’s operation. If information was transferred electronically, she could find it. That being said, only about 39 percent of his massive empire was online. He wasn’t running an Internet business; he was running a cash-for-drugs business. Business was done mainly in cash and face-to-face. He had hundreds of subsets of people who took care of distribution, sales, and enforcement. Mario had several dozen warehouses hidden along both the Gulf and Pacific coasts that were rumored to be stocked with cash. The grand total was a staggering number in the billions. The seemingly fragmented, disjointed process of business was actually brilliant. You could not destroy a drug empire by taking out one distributer or even the top dog himself. The whole operation just kept moving, and many in the organization, especially on the bottom tiers, had no idea whom they were working for.
Tanya ran her team much the same way. They gave her the puzzle pieces, and she put them together and shared just enough to let them know they were doing a great job. Some on her team had been with Mario for as long as ten years and had switched sides out of a promise for a new life. Tanya was thrilled with the power that she had accumulated for herself. She did her best not to draw attention to that fact and did her best to hide it, but the fact was, she could wire millions to herself from Mario’s secret accounts no matter how secure. The virus she created, Centipede, was like a nuclear bomb to computer systems. Tanya actually felt kind of sad. She knew everything she had worked so hard to build could be destroyed in a few hours. She recalled the conversation that she had with one of her teammates.
“You know you have to turn over the keys to Nathan eventually. Give him the password,” Sebastian had told her. He was one of the younger, yet smartest, members of her team. He was savvy and shrewd, and he loathed people as much as she did. The other members of her team seemed cliquey and she felt as though they really did not care for her.
“Once the virus is launched, Tanya, no one steals anything from Mario. Nathan could steal it all and then destroy the evidence, leaving us nowhere.”
“Screw him,” she whispered.
Tanya closed her laptop, locked it up, and left her cabin. She had much to think about.
She had joined Dark Cloud six months ago with her boyfriend, Ivan. Nathan had bought his freedom from a Russian prison. He and Tanya had agreed to a one-year contract. Tanya was a member of Ivan’s gang of computer hackers and underworld arms dealers. They had made millions until their betrayal and arrest.
Three years she had sat in prison in the cold mountains of Siberia.
“You should be grateful to me, Tanya. Ivan wanted you free, and I arranged it. You and he are a package deal. If anything happens to him, you still must pay your debt.”
Tanya grimaced at the words spoken by Nathan just weeks before Ivan died from a fire on the cursed Russian submarine. Nathan had tried and tried again to seduce her, implying that if she did not comply, she could go back to prison.
Tanya made it to the top deck of the yacht just in time to see the orange ball of the sun begin to rise. She thought for a long moment about the convoluted e-mails she had just read, the funds hidden in front groups routed through false identities. She thought about her own betrayal and her many enemies who would love to find her. Ivan was a manipulative liar. Dark Cloud was a suicide mission, and now some overgrown ex-spy was trying to fulfill Ivan’s original mission. Tanya stared at the horizon and for a moment forgot about her fear of the water. She had the capability of stealing millions of dollars and vanishing.
Knowledge is power, she thought. Jorge Valdez wants to kill Mario and overthrow the Mexican government.
Her hands shook at the magnitude of what she had just thought. She was not sure how he was going to do it yet or if it would work, but the implications were clear. Months of sifting through data and analyzing bits of seemingly unrelated information had brought her to this conclusion.
She yawned and leaned on the rail of the yacht. She thought she saw some dolphins in the distance.
“Good morning, Tanya.”
Tanya felt her heart skip a few beats and the color drain from her face.
“We meet again.”
Tanya reached out a trembling hand. “Yes, Mr. Valdez.”
“Jorge,” he corrected. “Come eat breakfast with me. You are the computer-security expert, yes?”
“Uh-huh.”
His charming smile did little to comfort her. She felt as though he could see into her.
“Think you can help me with something? Seems that we have a hacker.”
Off the Coast of Isla de la Juventud, 0730 Hours
The whole ocean looked different now that the sun was up. The ocean was a dark blue-green with white-capped peaks, and the sky was a brilliant blue. No clouds were in sight.
Evan stood on the deck, leaning against the rail of the rusty salvage ship. A breeze chilled his bald head. Miguel looked up at him and cupped his eyes from the sun.
“How do we get on board?”
Evan spat and pointed to a ladder that was being hoisted overboard by two masked members of Green Team. They had AK-47s slung across their backs.
“Is he going to make it?” Miguel pointed at Tommy who was still heaving over the side of the ship.
“Tommy, you going to make it?” Evan spoke in English.
Tommy, who was wearing cutoff shorts, blue deck shoes, and a red suit jacket from the ’80s, shook his head. “You two go ahead. I…I can’t go inside that submarine.” Tommy slumped against a large spool of wire that probably weighed a thousand pounds, took off his sunglasses, adjusted his long hair, and opened a new pack of Camels.
“Fair enough. Stay here.” Evan went over to his team members and spoke quietly in Spanish. “We won’t be long. If any unwanted guests show up, do as we planned.”
“Sí.”
The biggest concern was that a plane belonging to the Cuban air force or a ship might spot them.
Evan, Miguel, and the two masked members of Green Team climbed over the rail of the salvage ship and began the slow, precarious process of climbing down the rusty ladder to the deck of the sub. Evan was the first to reach the deck of the Cold War–era sub and helped Miguel gain footing. The sub seemed to pitch slightly but seemed steadier than the salvage vessel since most of its weight was below the waterline.
“OK, we have to hurry. It’s daylight, and we don’t like to stay surfaced too long.”
“Can we take it for a drive?”
Evan shrugged and made it to the hatch, which led below deck. “Up to the ship’s captain. We are going to dive, I believe, and stay out of sight for a while. You’ll get the complete tour.”
Evan hoped and prayed that the sub would not be spotted. They were well outside of Cuban and Mexican waters; however, it was satellites and planes he was worried about. The States had the technology and resources to spot them even though they were a tiny spec in the middle of nowhere.
Tanya tried not to show her hands as they would not stop shaking. She had been hungry when she first got up, but now she felt sick.
Jorge sat across from her, eating an omelet and toast. The Happy Mermaid had a formal dining room on the third deck that opened up to a wide, covered outside-dining area with brilliant wood decking and custom-made glass tables. She was always amazed at the brilliance of Italian designs. Leather, wood, polished brass, and hand-etched glass made Tanya feel as if she were among royalty on the floating palace. She heard laughter behind her and turned to look toward the stern of the yacht. Two naked girls, tee nagers perhaps, got into a hot tub with a muscular man whom she recognized as Blaise. Flying Rat, she thought.
&nb
sp; “You said hacker, Mr. Valdez?”
Jorge laughed and sipped his orange juice.
“Yes, yes, not really. Saboteur is perhaps a better term. One of the many cats that lounge around on this floating strip club knocked over a glass of water on my computer. Fried my keyboard. Can you fix it?”
Tanya relaxed, smiled, and started breathing again. “Where is it?”
“I’ll have it brought to you. It still turns on, but…” Jorge spoke to her in an easygoing manner, as if they had known each other for years.
He was a very handsome man with an intensity that made you want to stand up straight and speak clearly. He reminded her of a shrink, and she had seen many. His eyes dissected her, evaluated her.
“After breakfast I have a meeting. I will have one of my men bring it to you. I need it fixed in three hours.”
“You going to shore today?” she asked, trying to turn on her charm. She was not a naturally charming person, so when she did smile or flirt, it usually caught men off guard.
“Yes.” Jorge looked past her now and began to stand up. She knew he was watching the acts taking place in the hot tub.
“Excuse me.” Jorge began to head toward the commotion on the lower deck.
“Can I ride with you when you go ashore?”
“The yacht is pulling into dock tonight, needs some supplies—some mechanical problems as well. Can you wait?”
“Mechanical?”
“Engine related, very boring.” Jorge did not wait for her to say anything else. He walked away, down the ladder, and to the hot tub on the deck below.
She turned to watch him briefly. Jorge was talking to Blaise Gerard. She assessed the body language and realized that it was not a good conversation.
Tanya turned back to her coffee. She thought briefly about the cold prison in Russia, the snow, and solitary confinement.
“What are they up to? I have to get off this boat. That bastard Nathan. I have no choice; I have to tell him.”
Silver Lead and Dead (Evan Hernandez series Book 1) Page 17