“Unless you’re Amish,” said Ray Jensen quietly. He had grown up in rural Pennsylvania not far from “Amish Country” in Lancaster. “They probably wouldn’t even notice.”
Apo chuckled. “Excellent point. We should bring them in on this for post-electro-apocalypse lessons. So anyway, we received a tip from the Mossad. One of their agents in Iran says the Iranians shipped one of these to Syria for an attack on the US. It obviously coincides with my firsthand observation while in Syria. Now, the president doesn’t want anything to derail his new treaty with Iran, and he says Israel is fabricating the story because they have their own reasons for wrecking the treaty. I have been adamant in my recommendation to listen to the Israeli intelligence, based on my own experiences in Syria, and have been told to stand down. The president heard my report and chose to ignore it.”
“Doesn’t that give you a warm fuzzy?” asked Ripper sarcastically.
Apo paused for a long exhale. “Look guys—I know we don’t do politics, and this is above our pay grade, but I had friends die to gather what I consider to be important intelligence. This isn’t the first time my facts have been ignored. I know I don’t get to see the big picture, whatever that may be, but when I know that vital intelligence is being ignored because it doesn’t fit some bullshit narrative, I get a little pissed, yeah.”
“You are so politically incorrect I think I really like you,” said Pete McCoy. “No disrespect to Mack or Cascaes, but we never had these kinds of conversations before you showed up.”
Moose stood up, looking angry. “Because these kinds of conversations aren’t good to have. Apo, I understand your aggravation—I really do. But bashing the commander in chief runs counter to how we operate. SEALs follow the chain of command to our death, period. This is counterproductive, dangerous, and smells like insubordination.” He looked at his men, one at a time. “I hear any of you bad-mouthing anyone, you answer to me, capisce?”
Apo’s face turned red. “Moose, I apologize if it seemed like insubordination. I have my people to answer to, just like you. The difference is, my people work alone out there without a net. And when we risk our lives to gather intel, and it’s ignored, it gets personal. I’ll try and keep my comments more objective, but remember who really has your six when the shit hits the fan.”
“Every man here has my six,” said Moose, stone faced.
“Including me. Moving on . . .” replied Apo coldly.
CHAPTER 15
El Gato’s Estate
Felix and Marco drove back to El Gato’s compound. At the front entrance, the bodyguards pressed the electronic wrought-iron gates, which rolled open to allow their black SUV to proceed on to the manicured grounds. The long cobblestone driveway led through English-style gardens, with manicured hedges and rose gardens. For a murdering sociopath, El Gato had excellent taste.
The SUV stopped at the tremendous oak and stained-glass front doors. There, another bodyguard stood with his Uzi. He nodded at Felix and Marco, who he recognized immediately from their almost daily visits.
The two men walked inside and followed the white marble center hallway to the rear of the house. The back of the house was all glass, with a breathtaking view of the countryside behind them. At twelve hundred feet, the hilltop mansion overlooked the flat jungle all the way to the ocean, miles in the distance. The shantytowns below weren’t visible through the thick canopy of trees.
“Marco! Felix!” El Gato greeted them warmly. One was never sure how his mood would be, and they smiled and relaxed at his demeanor.
“Good afternoon, Jefe,” they replied. Jefe, which translates to “chief” or “boss” in English, was how all the men addressed El Gato.
“Cold beer?” He snapped his fingers, and one of the beautiful young women walked swiftly in her high heels to get two beers from the fridge, her heels clicking on the marble tile. Marco’s eyes never left her legs and butt as she walked. “Yes, she’s something. You can borrow her if you wish. Good work today.”
Marco grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you, sir.” He accepted the bottle from the girl and gave her such an evil smile he terrified her. She handed the other bottle to Felix and quickly retreated to the kitchen to act busy.
“Come. I’ll show you your next project,” said El Gato.
He led the men back inside, and then down several very long flights of stairs. They walked a long hallway, lined with limestone blocks like a medieval castle. Two guards stood by a large wooden door that also looked as if it belonged in an ancient castle stronghold. They pulled the heavy oak door open for their boss. It moved slowly under its own weight, like the door of a vault.
The men walked inside a cavernous room, where pallets of shrink-wrapped bricks of cash were piled to the ceiling along the wall on the left. El Gato wasn’t even sure how much money he had anymore. It was more than five hundred million, almost all in American cash, although he did have a few pallets of euros and Swiss francs as well. In another room, in a vault, were thousands of kilos of gold bars. To the right side of the room were more shrink-wrapped bricks, but these were heroin and cocaine. Several tons of it. Felix and Marco had been in the room several times, and were always amazed at the sight.
El Gato pointed to a pallet of cash that was separate from the others. It was a perfect cube of hundred dollar bills, all neatly shrink-wrapped into bricks.
“Tomorrow, I will have this transported to a truck. You’ll take a dozen men. I’ll give you a route to follow, heading west. There are multiple stops along the way where you will spread good will. It’s a long list. Maybe a two-day trip with all of the stops. You’ll be paying the tolls for the next package that has to go next week along the same route. You’ll have to talk to Sinaloa and Mazatlecos representatives. Their leaders know you’re coming and you shouldn’t have any problems, but you’ll have plenty of men with you just in case. Bring as much firepower as you want, but no shooting unless you get ambushed. Your instructions for the amounts of cash at each stop will be specific, as well as locations and the names of your contacts. I don’t want any problems. You understand?”
Felix cocked his head. “You want us heading through Sinaloa and Mazatlecos territory with twenty million dollars in cash?” His face showed his surprise and worry.
“Don’t worry. I’ve spoken to the cartel leaders personally. We have a treaty and the prices were agreed upon with each of them. No one will bother you. You’ll simply make a down payment for the tolls in advance for next week and return. When you go back, you give them the rest of the money.” El Gato walked to a table where a brick of cash was open. He grabbed two bundles so large he could barely get each hand around them. He walked back to his two men and handed them each one of the bricks. “This should take away your worries. Now go have some fun and be here tomorrow morning at nine for your drive through the countryside.”
Felix and Marco looked at each other with wide eyes and large smiles. Payday, indeed.
CHAPTER 16
CIA Briefing Room
The mood had gotten more serious after Moose’s rebuke of Apo’s comments. The men were now all focused on mission details.
Apo was clicking through slides as he briefed the team. “The USS Greeneville will take you to the Mexican coast off the state of Tabasco, where you’ll transfer to the Advanced SEAL Delivery System. The ASDS can get you about a half-mile from the mouth of this small river, here. There are some oil rigs out there and it gets shallow. At 0200 on Friday, 27 May, under cover of darkness, you’ll deploy an F470 Combat Rubber Raiding Craft with a silent electric motor and head upstream to this point here. The CRRC will bring you up the small river into this lagoon. It’s big, but very shallow. Laguna de Michoacán. You’ll travel four miles across the lagoon to this point here. There, you ditch the boat and head towards Libertad. It’s about two miles through some thick jungle and mangrove swamps. You need to be here before 0600 when the sun breaks. Is it doable?”
Moose and Ripper looked at each other, thinking about the weight
of their full packs. They then glanced at their team. “No problem.”
“You’ll spend Saturday daylight hours out of sight near Libertad. There are farms farther south, so you need to overnight in the shit. When it gets dark on day two, Saturday night, you hump west-southwest to this point here. Almost six miles through farmland and some small villages, which means you go after 0200 and arrive again before 0600. If you follow the hedgerows you should be able to move undetected. This will put you in the forest right below El Gato’s estate up here on this hill for Sunday morning.”
“We gonna storm the castle?” asked Jon.
“Shooting up ain’t exactly ideal,” said Hodges, their sniper.
Apo ignored the comments. “El Gato’s estate is going to be crawling with security. He’s paranoid, and has every right to be. The Sinaloa cartel would love to whack this guy and take his turf. This has to be meticulous. Slow and quiet, one guard at a time. You can’t call in air support, and help isn’t coming anytime soon. You’re supposed to get inside after you take out the guards and we grab El Gato. Once he’s secure, you’ll make the call for the Mexican Marines. Remember, if El Gato gets tipped off, he’ll be long gone when you get there.
“If I’m able to get inside ahead of you, that will help. I may end up rendezvousing with you outside before the attack starts if I can’t smooth-talk my way into an overnight visit. My plan is a Saturday night party at his compound that goes very late, and I’m invited to stay over. He has some pretty large parties.”
“Hardship assignment, huh?” said Ripper sarcastically.
“If they end up using me as the piñata, yes.”
“Any civilians inside? Rules of engagement?” asked Moose.
“There may be a few unarmed females. Gato has a taste for the finer things in life now that he’s a billionaire, including women, who he pays for. He has no family inside—was never married, no kids. Try not to hurt the female civilians, but anything else that moves inside that compound is armed and dangerous. You aren’t cops here to arrest someone—you’re special ops. Kill everyone you see. Except me. Don’t kill me. We want Gato alive, though. He’s our only solid lead on the container. We good?”
“If you can get us those pictures of the compound to study, that will help. And better maps.”
“We’ll have to retool our kits for silence,” added Ripper. “What about you, Hodges? Can you provide overwatch without any noise?”
Hodges shrugged. “Sound suppressor on the M40A5 definitely will help, but if it’s dead silence out there, they gonna hear some pops. Biggest problem I see is a good location. House is on the hilltop. Until I can get up there, it’s gonna be tough. I can help in the approach where it’s flat, but the woods look pretty thick. Not sure what the range will be. Vision will be hampered with the foliage. We’re going in before sunup, so maybe night viz will help. Might be easier to see heat signatures than bodies in the woods.”
Moose thought about it. “Okay. Sounds like we stay together until we clear a route up to the hilltop.” He pointed to the satellite picture of the compound. “Looks like masonry walls here and some decorative towers. Maybe you can find a perch up there.”
“Aye, aye, chief,” replied Hodges. He was staring at the map, using his hands to mimic an imaginary route in his head. The boy was always thinking.
Moose looked around the room. “Ray, can you be spotter and security?” Earl Jones, Hodges’ spotter for many years, had been killed on their last mission and left one of the holes in their team.
Ray nodded. “Aye, aye, chief. I’ll watch his six and look for targets.” He smacked Hodges in the arm. “I got you, baby.”
Eric forced a smile, thinking about his friend Jonesy.
“Okay, so Ray and Big E are overwatch when we get topside. Ripper, Ryan, and I will be point coming from the side of the house. Jon and Pete, right flank over there in what looks like the backyard. Looks like these are cabanas or pool houses. Hopefully, we’ll have better pictures. Secure that area, and then we’ll all move on the house together. K9 units will have to be taken out first. The dogs start barking, we’re screwed. We have no idea how many guards this guy has, but you can bet we’ll be outnumbered as per usual. Silence and surprise, gentlemen.”
Ripper turned to his team and leaned forward on his knees. His arms were over-muscled like a bodybuilder’s. “Remember those pictures of the dismembered bodies. These guys don’t take prisoners, and if they do, you’ll wish they hadn’t. Stay alert and stay alive. Make sure your KA-BARs are sharp and your sidearms have new silencers. We got our asses kicked in the Congo. That shit’s never going to happen again, clear?”
It was answered with a singular “Aye, aye!” from the team.
CHAPTER 17
Office of Desk Chief Darren Davis
Dex Murphy was sitting with Darren Davis. The two of them had just returned from the White House Situation Room where they had participated in a briefing with the Joint Chiefs, Homeland Security, the Joint Interagency Task Force South Coast Guard admiral, SOUTHCOM, and the NSA, as well as a few of their own top people.
Darren Davis, a desk chief who had served under three presidents, was beyond irate. “Why don’t we just close for the weekend? Maybe give everyone the weekend off. Hell, let’s take the rest of the month off. Fuck it. Let’s just close altogether. Why are we here again?”
Dex had never seen his boss lose his cool, but then again, he wasn’t feeling any differently. “We’re here to keep Americans safe in their beds,” he said softly, in an attempt to soothe his boss. “Are we out of loop? Maybe there’s some bigger picture we aren’t being brought in on?”
Darren stood up and started pacing around his office. “If there is, they sure as shit haven’t told me about it! I spoke to General Blackstone on the QT. Just him and me. No bullshit. I asked him what the fuck was going on. Everyone in the room knew the locations of the oil fields and the truck convoys. We should be annihilating them, and instead, we sit back and let them pump a few million dollars a day worth of oil to fund their war. Know what he said to me?”
Dex stared and waited.
“We need the Turks. We need the Turks? We need the Kurds! At least they know how to fight! Fuck Turkey. Give the Kurds their own country and move our air base there. They’d be thrilled to have us.”
Dex made a face. “You know we need Turkey.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He took a deep breath. “I’m just sick of the bullshit! The Turks look you right in the eye and swear to you that they aren’t buying oil from ISIS, and we watch the trucks roll right into Turkey on live satellite. They’re full of shit, we know they’re full of shit, they know we know they’re full of shit, and the president just lets it happen. He should have given the order three months ago!”
“He’s in a tough spot. And now with Putin moving in the new fighters . . .”
“Oh, please, Dex. Don’t make excuses for him. The Russians have the balls to move their squadron in because they know the president ain’t gonna do shit!”
“Well, we don’t need a full-blown war with Russia.”
The phone rang and Darren punched the speakerphone button. “Davis,” he said curtly.
“Mr. Yessayan to see you, sir.”
“Send him in.”
Apo walked in and looked at the faces of his two bosses. “Everything okay?”
“Just fucking peachy. What’s up?” replied the desk chief.
“Team’s ready. We need some better satellite pictures if you can get them for me. Any word back about the shipment?”
“You’d be the first to know.”
“Let me rephrase. You were at the White House today. Did you bring up the Israeli intelligence again?”
Darren’s eyes shot daggers. “It wasn’t a good day at the White House. Anything else?”
Apo looked uncomfortable. “No, sir. We could just use the images. We’ll be heading out tomorrow morning.”
Dex stood up. “Follow me down to the toy store. I’v
e got something new that may help. We done here, boss?”
“Go,” said Darren, sounding defeated.
Dex led Apo down the hall to the elevators, where they took one to the subbasement. Apo tried to lighten the mood. “I always feel like James Bond right about now, except you still haven’t gotten me one of those really cool cars.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Besides, you need to blend. Maybe I’ll set you up with a donkey and cart.”
They arrived at the subbasement and walked down to another secure room. Inside, one of their people was busy at a computer, while three others sat at a table discussing one of their ideas.
“Rachael!” called Dex as he walked in. “I have a customer for you!”
The woman at the computer stood up and smiled. “Double oh-seven,” she said to Apo.
“Q.”
The two of them knew each other well, and always greeted each other with their James Bond references.
Dex said, “Apo needs a little help with surveillance. While we await new photos, I wanted to show him that little ‘Dr. Who’ you were showing me last week. Is it ready for the field?”
“Yes, sir. Ran it all week with zero issues. Well, one issue, but it shouldn’t be a real problem. It’s over here.” Rachael walked them over to a table where a beautiful dragonfly was sitting. Apo stared at it.
“Is it real?” he asked, squinting at it.
“Well, that was the one issue we had. Another dragonfly tried to mate with it in the middle of a flight. But no, it’s a drone.”
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