Jerome flashed thumbs up and tightened his seatbelt. There was a long runway, so the landing shouldn’t be a problem. He never really liked flying, particularly in a smaller plane. The pilot banked hard to port, positioning the plane for landing. Jordan heard the gear come out and lock into place. He gripped his armrests tightly and glanced out of the window as they descended, looking to see if he saw anything out of the normal. The airport appeared as it always did, so he faced forward, just as the rear wheels touched the runway. The weight of the plane was carrying them quickly down the runway. He heard the engines go into reverse thrust and felt the plane braking. The plane came to a stop about five hundred feet from the end of the runway, and quickly taxied off but, instead of heading toward the terminals, like every other plane, they headed instead to the far end of the airfield.
As they approached the rendezvous, the plane slowed and the engines became silent. For the first time, Jerome could hear the unmistakable sound of an approaching helicopter. He looked at this watch. Right on time, he thought to himself. The plan was working flawlessly. The plane stopped. Jerome looked out the window to ensure no one was coming out to the plane. It was dark and there was no sign of any vehicle headlights. He unbuckled and rose from his seat. The pilot emerged from the cockpit and opened the forward cabin door and dropped the stairway. Jerome began passing bags over to him and he lowered them slowly to the tarmac. The helicopter was now directly overhead and flying with no navigation lights. As it descended, it came to rest on the tarmac about ten yards from the jet, two men jumped out and ran over to help move the bags to the chopper.
In less than ten minutes, all of the bags were transferred and Jerome jumped into the helicopter. It lifted off slowly, turned to the south and headed out over the water.
The pilot and the other two men jumped in the plane and headed toward the runway. In less than two minutes, they were airborne and headed in a westerly direction. Each would be receiving a handsome pay day for the few hours of work. The pilot had purchased some beer and snacks while he waited for Jerome in New Jersey. Airborne outside of U.S. boundaries, the pilot turned on the autopilot and headed to the back to have a drink with his friends. He’d met Jerome through an acquaintance and when Jerome had laid out his plan and asked if he was interested and could he get a team together, he had jumped at the chance. The money he made today, even after his expenses, was more than he made in two years of flying charters. Even though he might get his pilot’s license suspended, it was worth it.
He grabbed a beer and toasted his buddies. They had clearance to land in Mexico in about two hours. The reduced weight factor would get them on the ground without having to run on vapor.
“Hey! What’s this?” one of his friends called out as he returned from using the onboard head. He held up a large Halliburton attaché case, one of the aluminum models that seemed to be the latest fashion accessory for international executives.
“The guy who was on the plane must have left it,” the other man who had been on the helicopter said as he took another long pull on his beer. “I guess it’s ours now.”
The pilot looked at the case and knew it was something you wouldn’t leave behind and suddenly realized he wasn’t going to get to spend the money he had earned…
There were numerous reports that night from several ships and planes in the area of a bright fireball being observed in the sky. Neither wreckage nor bodies was ever recovered.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Less than thirty minutes from the airport, the helicopter set down on the deck of a freighter heading west, toward Mexico with a load of products from various European companies, all purchased by and for the enterprises Jerome’s family controlled. The crew quickly offloaded the bags from the aircraft and placed them in two empty shipping containers that the manifest would show were part of a shipment of BMW auto parts for numerous dealerships in Mexico. Any sort of external scan would reveal a container full of small metal parts and the inspection wouldn’t go any further.
When empty, the helicopter was pushed off the side of the ship, which Jerome considered just part of the cost of doing business. In two days, he would be back in his home with his family. The Fernandez-Medina family had just entered a new business — minting U.S. coins —and he was looking forward to wreaking havoc on the U.S. He’d instructed the family’s financial advisors to begin to liquidate all of their U.S. holdings, except for some personal real estate assets, so there would be nothing to forfeit or seize if they were ever suspected of perpetrating this fraud.
He wouldn’t make money on this venture, but that wasn’t what it was about. He wanted to right the wrongs his people and his country had suffered. The economic success of America had come at the expense of the Mexican people, with the United States looking to Mexico as a source for cheap products and even cheaper labor. The United States did not respect the culture and history of his beloved country so, he’d called this “Project Alamo,” after the Mission in San Antonio where the pivotal battle for Texas was fought in 1836. When the Mexicans finally won the thirteen day siege, their victory turned into a rallying cry for Texans, which soon ended in the defeat of the Mexican army outside of modern day Houston.
Jerome wanted revenge for everything that had happened since that time to his country. Bringing the U.S. to its economic knees would be a defeat from which the Gringos might never recover.
He received word on board that the sheets of metal needed to produce the coins had arrived and were dispersed among the three locations where the coin production would take place. Everything was coming together.
Chapter Eighty-Three
FBI FIELD OFFICE-PHILADELPHIA
“We’ve got a lead.” Stan came bounding into the office. “The pilot of the helicopter was a DEA informant and he had a tracking beacon on his helicopter. They were able to track his route and then cross reference the shipping traffic. They have it narrowed down to three ships.”
“Great. What do we know about the ships?” Jordan was looking over Stan’s shoulder, reading the documents.
“One’s a cruise ship; so, I think we can eliminate it.” Stan turned to the next sheet of paper. “The other two are commercial ships. One’s a freighter out of Holland, heading to Mexico. The third one is a tanker, empty, heading to Venezuela to pick up a load of crude for a refinery outside of New Orleans.”
Jordan, Kate and Stan looked at each other. It was a crap shoot. You could land a helicopter on either one.
Kate looked up from the papers Stan had put on the desk. “Can we get some satellite photos?”
“On order. Told ‘em to hold the anchovies. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“What happened to the chopper? It didn’t fly back, right?” Jordan continued to shuffle through the papers as he asked the question.
“We think it was pushed off the side. Two other ships reported debris in the water and described what could be rotor blades bobbing in the water.”
“Wow! Someone’s got some big bucks on this if they can just push a helicopter off the deck,” Kate whistled. “We’re playing with some big boys, here.”
Jordan looked up. “Send Max, William and Jon’s team to Mexico. I think that’s our ship,” he said, pointing to the paper that described the vessel and its contents.
“What’s your thinking there, Jordan?” Stan asked, looking at Jordan.
“My gut,” Jordan replied. “They’ve got bags of metal dies. I’m not sure how you get them off a tanker. The crew would have to carry them off and, even though it’s Venezuela, I don’t see how you do it without raising suspicion. On a freighter, you could put the stuff in a shipping container. That gets hauled off the ship with the others. You arrange a pick up and you take it wherever you want. That sounds hard to do here but, in Mexico, my guess would be it’s a piece of cake. Since money seems to be no object, who knows how many people are getting paid off to make this happen?”
“We’ve got some Mexican Federales that owe us a favor. I’
ll get them in the loop,” Stan nodded.
Chapter Eighty-Four
MEXICO
Max, William and the Special Ops team arrived via a C-17 at one o’clock in the morning at the Mexican Air Force base. Arriving almost at the same time were Stan, Kate and Jordan. Upon landing, they were met by General Domingo Estrada, the commandant of the federal militia in Vera Cruz. General Estrada and Stan had worked together for twenty years and Max could tell from the moment they met that the relationship Stan had with this man was carrying over as they were greeted like old friends and promised that anything needed would be available to them.
They arrived at the Port ninety minutes before the ship was to dock. As they’d driven, the General had gone over a map of the port and his suggestions for securing the ship, the crew and the vessel’s content.
They confirmed with the General that the crew count was eleven and that Dutch Customs Officials, who had supervised the loading and debarkation of the ship, had verified this and the fact that it had made no stops since leaving the Netherlands.
As soon as the ship docked, the General and his team boarded the vessel and removed the crew. Max and William then boarded to search for the dies and when completed, they would interview the crew. During this time, the crew would be quarantined at the Port, the General assured them. Jordan and Kate would reconnoiter the shipyard to ascertain who might be staging to pick up the load of dies.
William and Max stood behind a bank of cargo containers as the freighter – enormous seeming from so close — was brought into the slip by two large tugs. Jon’s team remained in the vans in order to avoid arousing suspicion. The docking procedure itself consumed almost thirty minutes and not until the ship was tied up did the General and his men approach. Two squads, each led by an officer, raced up the gangplank, weapons at high port. Within five minutes time, the crew began walking down the gangplank. Ten men walked down and were escorted away by Mexican troops. An officer standing with Max and William motioned for them to board the ship. At the top of the gangplank, they were greeted by General Estrada and the vessel’s Captain. At this point, Jon and his men moved out of the vans and up the gangplank, joining Max and William on the ship.
The Captain seemed extremely nervous and Estrada made a subtle gesture to Max that he’d picked up on it also. They moved away from the rail, crossing the main deck, passing the bridge, where several of General Estrada’s men were reviewing documents spread out on the table. The Captain led them down into the main hold of the ship. It was filled from top to bottom with shipping containers.
“Where do we even begin?” William let out a sigh.
One of the Estrada’s officers appeared with two sheets of paper and spoke with the General in Spanish.
“My Major has found some inconsistencies with the container count, Captain. The number listed on the manifest at the Port in the Netherlands shows two fewer containers than the paper work you were going to present here. Why is that, Captain?”
The Captain looked down at the floor. “I did not want to do this. I had no choice. The owners ordered me to carry two empty containers and have enough room on the deck so a helicopter could land. I did as I was told.”
Max didn’t think it would be so easy. “So where are the two containers you brought on empty?”
The Captain pointed to two containers on top of the stack.
“Are you certain?” Estrada pressed. “If we open them and they are not what we are looking for, it will go badly for you.”
“If you are looking for heavy bags, that is what is in there.”
Max and William nodded.
“Major,” Estrada said, turning away, “get the harbor master to order someone he can trust to operate one of the on-board cranes, to put those two containers on the dock. And, make sure they are secured until we can be there for them to be opened. No one else gets close to them. Claro?”
“Si, General.”
“Call the base and have them dispatch a large flatbed truck to the docks immediately, to haul the contents of these containers to the base.” Estrada turned to Max. “I assume you will want them loaded on your plane.”
“Yes, General. That would be perfect.”
“We will go now and interview the crew,” Estrada said, nodding.
It took about ten minutes to get off the ship and walk to where the crew was being held. Estrada, Max and William walked into a large cinder block building and down a corridor to a secured door with two of the General’s soldier’s standing guard outside. They saluted as they opened the door for the group to enter.
William noticed first. “There are only nine here.”
Max and the General looked at him, somewhat perplexed at his comment. Then it registered. One of the crew was missing.
“Sergeant! Where is the other crew member?” Estrada demanded.
“In the bathroom, sir!”
“Is anyone with him?”
“Yes, sir! Corporal Ortega.”
William ran to the restroom door. He turned the handle, but the door would not budge. It wasn’t locked, but something was keeping it from opening. General Estrada waved several of his men over. With two of the men aiding him, throwing their shoulders against the door, William pushed it open. What had wedged the door was the body of Corporal Ortega, his throat slit and a crimson pool beside him. A window with a steel screen had been ripped open from the outside, providing an escape route.
William turned away, but turned back when he heard a shout from outside, a female voice ordering someone to stop. The command was in English. It was Kate. As he started to move to the window, his body recoiled with the sound of two shots being fired. He grabbed his side arm and fumbled in his pocket for a small mirror he always carried. He pushed himself up against the exterior wall and positioned the mirror to give him a view point of outside. It was an alleyway and he could see two men running toward a large parking area. He quickly maneuvered to the other way and again used the mirror to survey. That’s when he say Kate prone on the ground not moving.
He swung around to exit through the window and turned quickly to Max. “Kate’s down, we need medical, NOW!” He dove out the window and to Kate’s side.
Quickly, two men appeared with their medical satchels They worked feverously to assess Kate’s wounds.
One of the American medics approached Stan. She’s got a bad leg wound. It’s not life threatening, but if we want to save the leg we need to get her out of here as soon as possible. The closest hospital we know where she can be treated is Scripps Memorial in San Diego.
Stan didn’t hesitate. “Take my plane and get her there!” he turned to the General. “Can you get them escorted back to the base and get priority clearance for the plane to get to San Diego?”
Estrada grabbed Stan by the shoulders. “Consider it done my friend.”
Stan nodded and looked at Max. “You go with them and use my name every way you can to move things and if that doesn’t work, call me.”
Max turned without a word and followed the stretcher with Kate to the waiting Ambulance.
William walked over and joined Stan. A quick look from Stan told him they were now back to the matter at hand. “My guess is there’s a dead crew member on the ship along with the helicopter pilot. Our man escaped. I think we need to get the dies to the plane and get out of here. I trust the General, but I don’t know how much control he really has here. We should go.”
Stan walked over to the General. “Sir, we need to get those containers to the airport at once. I don’t think there is any further need for us to remain here.”
Before Estrada could say anything, they were joined by Jon. A little breathless sounding – he’d evidently run from the ship – Jon informed them, “We’ve found two bodies. One’s the pilot and the other is a crewman. Looks like our suspect killed the sailor and dressed in his clothes to disembark with the crew.
The General’s disappointment that all had not gone as planned was evident in his face. “Yes. The truck
will be here in five minutes. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to load the truck and I’ll have you escorted back. You understand, I’ll need to stay here?”
“Yes, General. We appreciate all you have done for us. I’m sorry about the corporal.”
“Thank you,” Estrada nodded.
At that moment Jordan came around the corner. He ran up to Stan. “What happened here?”
Stan looked at him and didn’t respond.
“Stan?”
“Kate’s been shot. She’s going to be all right, but her leg is real tore up. We’re getting her to San Diego. The man who shot her got away and we think he was on the ship. We lost him.”
“Maybe not. General can we get video of the cars leaving through the gate?”
“Sure that shouldn’t be a problem. But I don’t know how it will help. Once out of the gate they could go in many directions. We would never find them.”
“Possibly, but I have a hunch. As I was moving around the shipyard I found a Mercedes 500 AMG in the employee parking lot with it’s engine idling. Seemed to stick out amongst all the old beaters I imagine the dock workers are driving. I put a locater beacon on it. As I was heading back here I noticed it was gone.”
“Good thinking son.” Stan slapped him on the back. They jogged over to the main building to view the tapes. Sure enough the cameras caught the Mercedes flying out of the parking lot minutes after Kate had been shot.
At Stan’s request, Estrada dispatched a helicopter to pick them and locate the vehicle.
Chapter Eighty-Five
GATED ESTATE IN CENTRAL MEXICO
Jerome had traveled the one hundred miles from the port and was now safe in the confines of his walled and heavily guarded estate. He was tired, depressed and angry, having come so close to success, only to be on the run.
Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller Page 28