La Mexicana

by Navi' Robins

  “Pero?” (But?)

  Caesar began shifting his large frame in the small wooden chair, causing it to squeal and protest from the weight. Aggravated from his silence, Hector placed his finger on the trigger, turned off the safety and fired a bullet that whizzed past Caesar’s head and struck the wall of cash behind him.

  “El cártel de Escorpión se está moviendo para interceptarlo. No tenía ni idea de quién era él y yo pensé que era un turista perdido. Rey Hector, te juro que no sabía que él era uno de tus hombres!”

  (The Escorpiones cartel is moving to intercept him. I had no idea who he was and I thought he was a lost tourist. King Hector I swear I didn’t know he was one of your men!)

  Hector thought, how would he know the Escorpiones was looking for him, unless he had an idea who the Arab really was and I never shared that with him, so who did?

  Exhaling forcefully and jumping to his feet, Hector signaled for both of his men to move out. Looking down at Caesar begging for mercy, Hector twisted his mouth in annoyance and fired one shot through Caesar’s throat.

  Caesar’s head snapped backwards from the force of the bullet and he immediately reached for his neck, as his blood poured over his hands like a red river. Hector stood there a few more seconds, watching Caesar choke on his own blood, before his sucked his teeth and quickly left him dying at the wooden table. Outside, while stepping into his Hummer, Hector instructed his men to clean up Caesar and move his money to another location. Immediately, six men aggressively moved inside the bar yelling loudly, instructing the patrons to leave immediately. Tapping the back of the driver’s headrest to get his attention, Hector signaled for him to hand him the phone in the glove compartment. Turning the phone on and making sure it was charged, Hector made a phone call and began blaring instructions to the person on the other end.

  “Busca Rosita ahora! Y te traes veinte hombres y nos reunimos en Chalco. Encontré Ahmed, pero creo que los Escorpiones también lo encontraron!”

  (Find Rosita now! Then gather twenty men and meet me in Chalco. I found Ahmed, but I think the Escorpiones found him too!)

  Disconnecting the call, Hector handed the phone to the driver and ordered him to drive to Chalco…

  TEN MILES AWAY

  A loud knock echoed on Donald Hamlin’s office door and he yelled for the person on the other side of the door to come in.

  “What is it, Peters?” Donald asked, staring at the short, brown-haired Italian like an annoying child.

  “We just intercepted a call made by Hector Ayala. He and the Scorpion cartel may have located the hacker, Ahmed Basara, and Hector is on his way to Chalco.”

  “How many men is he bringing with him?” “Twenty, sir.”

  Only twenty men? Arrogant, son of a bitch, Donald thought as he started to get up from behind his desk.

  “Peters, call Director Wilkes and let him know we are moving in with the Federales to capture Ahmed and retire Hector Ayala.”

  “Yes sir, but wouldn’t it be wise if you waited for the Director’s approval?”

  “We don’t have time to wait for that ‘D.C. candy ass’ to decide if it’s worth the risk. We have to move on this immediately, otherwise Ahmed will give that software to Hector. And the Scorpions aren’t remotely capable of taking on Hector and his men without our help. So stop second-guessing my orders and do what I said!”

  “Yes sir,” Peters responded and left Donald’s office to carry out his orders.

  Finally! Donald thought as he hurried around his office, gathering everything he needed for the coming assault in Chalco.

  Fifteen minutes later, Donald sat in the back of a Federales armored vehicle, giving his agents a run- down of whom and what they would face in Chalco. Adjusting the position of his thirteen-inch tablet so everyone could see, Donald began to scroll through the pictures of the major players of the coming confrontation and their history.

  “Hector Ayala, thirty-eight years old and one of the most ruthless drug kingpins in Mexico’s history. His uncle, a general in Mexico’s Special Forces unit “GAFE”, secretly trained his nephew since he was eight years old, and continued to train him until he was murdered four years ago. So keep in mind, this bastard has had twenty-four years of one-on-one training by one of Mexico’s most skilled soldiers and generals. That’s more years of training than all of us have combined, so don’t underestimate this asshole. He’s violent and hates the U.S. because he believes we murdered his uncle. He has a chip on his shoulder and will target U.S. agents specifically during this gun battle. So watch your six. Hector runs his cartel like a Fortune 500 company with operatives all over the globe. His influence reaches across every continent on this planet. With just a phone call he could have anyone killed, anything smuggled, or anyone kidnapped. But for the past four years he’s been trying to raise enough capital to buy back Optec Oil, which makes certain people in high places nervous. If he is allowed to use that virus, he’ll have the capital he needs and no one will be able to stop him. So our job is to retire him, permanently.

  Rose Ayala is Hector’s sister and is somewhat of an enigma. She’s a graduate with honors from Cambridge University with a doctorate in psychology. An IQ of 163, she is one of the most intelligent people in the world and equally manipulative. Although she wants no part of her brother’s drug cartel, she does harbor deep-seeded hatred for the U.S. as well, and constantly spies on Optec Oil posing as a janitor. She may appear harmless, but don’t let this bitch’s beauty and docile demeanor fool you. She has Mendoza blood flowing through her veins, so she also needs to be retired alongside her brother to close the circle.

  Then we have Ahmed Basara, a Syrian software engineer and hacker, who worked for the Switzerland banking commission until a couple of years ago. He accused the banking commission of cheating him out of his percentages and decided to create software that could circumvent the security measures he created and steal billions from them. Although Ahmed isn’t a soldier, he’s a genius and considered one of the most dangerous hackers in the world. It won’t be a surprise if he knows everything about each of us, our families, social security numbers, et cetera. If given a chance, he could murder your life digitally. But we need him alive, so that we can retrieve that software before he uses it.

  Next up is Jesus Marchez, leader of the Escorpiones cartel and our ally in this operation, but we still can’t fully trust him until Hector is supplanted and Jesus replaces him. Jesus was born in Chalco, poor and uneducated, just the way we like them. So, he’s nowhere near as intelligent and ambitious as Hector. Because of his lack of education, he runs his cartel just the way we like it, obedient and transparent. He will be a more manageable replacement for Hector.

  And our wild card goes to Special Agent Brian Turner…”

  After hearing Brian’s name, all the agents exhaled forcefully while moaning in protest. Donald looked around the vehicle in shock at their reaction and yelled at them to pull it together.

  “Brian Turner is one man. We can deal with him if he shows up in Chalco and he’s compromised.”

  One of the agents, alarmed by Donald’s dismissive demeanor towards, Brian cleared his throat and said, “Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but are we talking about the Brian Turner?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Sir, I’m not sure if this mission will have a high probability of success, if Agent Turner is compromised and fighting for the other team,” the agent responded, shaking his head. The rest of the other agents nodded in agreement, clearly worried about fighting against an agent as skilled and ruthless as Brian.

  Rolling his eyes and looking at all the agents in the vehicle, Donald responded, “Tuck ass and cup your balls, you pansies! Brian Turner isn’t the boogey man or fucking James Bond. He’s one man…that’s it!”

  “James Bond never killed over thirty men in less than three minutes on a solo mission without even a paper cut,” the agent responded, pointing at Brian’s picture on the tablet’s bright screen. “If there ever was a boogey
man for people like us…that motherfucker is it. Now, we are here and I’m sure we will all do our jobs to the best of our abilities, but please don’t downplay this agent’s influence on this mission. If he’s not on our side then this mission will be much more dangerous than it already is. We are all getting paid a great deal of money so it comes with the territory, but we still need to know the territory in its entirety…sir.”

  Inhaling and nodding his head in agreement, Donald looked down at the screen at Brian’s image and swore to himself.

  “You’re right, Special Agent Towers. But right now, we have to assume he’s compromised until he shows us otherwise. So keep your eyes open at all times for that slippery bastard. We are ten minutes out, so ready yourselves, men. I’m certain we are in for a very interesting afternoon.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mexican Monsoon

  “You’re a fucking pathological liar!” Brian yelled at Rose as she continued to get dressed. “You told me you were born in Chalco…that was a lie. You said you were born poor…that too was a lie!”

  Rose looked up at Brian as she seductively pulled up a pair of jeans over her ample backside, jumping and pulling it up over her butt cheeks and eventually around her waist. Remaining silent, she slowly zipped up her jeans and fastened the button. She turned towards the bed and grabbed a white t-shirt, and threw it over her head. After adjusting her wet hair, she sat down on the bed and stared at Brian like a child throwing a tantrum.

  “So, you’re gonna sit there and not say anything? Oh, I guess you’re waiting for your lesbian friend in the living room to come in here, so you two can go at it again!”

  Holding her hand up in the air with her head turned slightly to the left, Rose responded, “I know you didn’t just judge me with the taste of both of our pussies still fresh on your tongue. Did you just… I am a woman, not your property or your fantasy to fulfill your own manly desires. I am a woman, a human being, and I am your fucking equal and don’t you ever forget that! I have desires just like you do and I won’t apologize to anyone for them. Neither you nor Hector will ever make me feel less of a woman. The last I can recall, you climbed your ass in the bed with me and my lesbian friend without hesitation, papa! So, what does that say about you? You lied to me about who you were the first night I met you, and you kept lying until you didn’t have a choice but to come clean. So don’t stand there yelling at me like you’re in a position to judge me. How about we both agree we’re both liars in love with each other’s lies and truths and move on from there, huh?”

  Hearing her say she was in love with him caught Brian off guard and his anger subsided as he leaned back on the wall behind him. Everything inside him warned him that if he didn’t get rid of Rose and continue his mission he would regret it, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Brian stood there looking at Rose, shaking his head in disapproval and his attitude towards her ignited her blood until she couldn’t contain herself and she leaped to her feet screaming.

  “Your employers are monsters, your people are monsters, and your entire country is a monster! You stand there judging me and my brother, but you have no idea what your people have done to us! I wasn’t born in Chalco, but I was definitely raised there! We were raised poor and without parents, because certain people can’t stand the idea of having to do business with a proud Mexican! I’m sure that rat mouth, Ahmed, told you everything about our family and Optec Oil, but did he tell you that your CIA killed every heir to the Optec Oil Empire, including our parents? Just so that they could take over our family’s company. We were just babies when your agents stormed our home and gunned down my parents like dogs. We had to be smuggled out and forced to live in Chalco and change our names, just to stay alive. We grew up poor but not from a lack of hard work. Even today, we are forced to go through all kinds of shit just to disassociate ourselves from our birthright. My uncle, General Tito Mendoza was the last of my family to openly carry the Mendoza name and look what your country did to him; blown to pieces along with all six of his sons.

  You wonder why my brother is so violent and hateful? He had to watch that first hand, the man he considered a father and cousins that were more like brothers, murdered and no justice served. But we’re the monsters? You and your country are in no position to judge anyone!”

  “General Mendoza was the head of a violent drug dealing cartel. The same cartel your brother runs now!”

  Laughing loudly, Rose responded, “You’re an idiot! Although I hate what my brother has been doing, I understand his motives. America destroyed us, so he’s returning the favor!”

  “Two wrongs don’t make it right―”

  “But it definitely makes it even!” Rose yelled back. “So you do agree with his actions!”

  “No I don’t. If it were up to me, I would find the men responsible for all the pain and suffering my family has endured, and kill them slowly. But I’m not in control of anything, Hector is, and he makes the rules.”

  “Even the rule of letting me go, knowing who and what I was?”

  Brian’s question took Rose off guard and she blinked repeatedly, trying to process the question. Looking down at the floor while shuffling her feet, Rose quietly responded, “I begged him to let you go, promising I would never see you again. I told him you were looking for a nuclear device and not a computer virus and now that you’ve killed Ahmed, he’s gonna be pissed. Even putting a bullet in his only sibling kind of pissed.”

  “I didn’t kill Ahmed, I let him go.” “Wait…what?”

  “Yeah, I let him go. My mission was the nuclear device, not a bank robbery.” “So where is he?”

  “If I’m a gambling man, I would say on his way to your brother’s compound.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked, with a building alarm in her voice that immediately concerned Brian.

  “Ahmed has sixty-four billion reasons why he would risk everything to see this thing through; even after I threatened his life.”

  “Oh, my God!” “What?”

  “We have to go now!” “Why?”

  “Hector’s in trouble!”

  “And why would I want to help your brother?”

  “Because if anyone else gets ahold of Ahmed or that virus: you, me, Hector, my lesbian friend, all of your friends and family, and a bunch of other innocent people will die to cover up this heist.”

  Brian stood there with a blank look on his face as he calculated everything that Rose just said. The ramifications of going against “The Agency” could be a deadly offense that he might never be able to outrun. But so far, everything Ahmed has told him was true, which meant his superiors have no intentions of him making it out of Mexico City alive. He was a fugitive, labeled a traitor and he would need that software and Ahmed alive, if he were to prove his innocence. After a few seconds of consideration, Brian concluded he didn’t have much choice in the matter than to help keep the people alive that he was sent to kill.

  “Wait for me in the living room with your friend. I have to gather a few things before we leave.”

  Ahmed wandered through Chalco trying to appear comfortable, but the fear he felt gripped him like the sharp talons of a giant bird of prey. Looking around at the people that lived there, going about their day as if everything was normal, but from the devastating look of the surroundings; nothing in Chalco was normal. Being that he grew up in a similar slum in Syria, the strangling stench of decay, urine and death, only heightened Ahmed’s anxiety. Several times, he considered turning back and heading towards the airport, but he’d come so far and he only had a few more miles up the side of a very tall hill, before he reached his destination. Over the past few hours, the Mexican sun bore down on him like a furious inferno, but suddenly, a navy blue overcast moved above his head and when he glanced up, the sudden violent flashes of lightning made him jump. A few pedestrians noticed his reaction and laughed at him while murmuring something in Spanish he couldn’t quite make out.

  The sky grew darker with each passing
second; appearing as if the hand of God was reaching across this mega-slum, with the intention of opening the floodgates of heaven to wash away whatever caused the rancid odors that filled the air. The wind’s force intensified as it began to blow garbage and dirt through the air, while the loud, hair-lifting crack of the thunder raged above Ahmed’s head. Afraid he would get struck by lightning, Ahmed fled to what appeared to be a restaurant and bar, constructed out of metal and sandstone. As soon as he crossed over the threshold of the restaurant, the sky opened and the rain came down with such intensity and volume that it was difficult to see right outside the windows. Ahmed stared outside the restaurant’s windows in such a daze, he didn’t hear the bartender angrily call out to him.

  “Oye, no te puedes quedar aquí a menos que vayas a comprar algo!” (Hey, you can’t be in here unless you’re buying something!)

  Suddenly, the blinding flash and sonic boom of a lightning strike jolted the Syrian from his daydream and the bartender’s voice filled his ears. Turning abruptly, Ahmed looked at the bartender and nodded meekly.

  “Dame una Horchata.” (I’ll take a Horchata.) Ahmed responded, in a Spanish accent with such a perfect pitch, it impressed the bartender. Ahmed really needed something much stronger, but he was still a long way from doing what he came here to do and the last thing he wanted was to be intoxicated while doing it. So the sweet rice water drink seemed like a great choice. The bartender smiled and went about filling Ahmed’s order and Ahmed returned to gazing outside the window, like a sad child whose day at the beach was just ruined by the rain.

  “Sientate,” (Sit down) the bartender said, while placing Ahmed’s glass of Horchata on the table behind him. Exhaling forcefully, Ahmed sat down at the table in front of his drink and forced a smile. The bartender smiled back and quickly left him at the table alone with his drink. Ahmed continued to languish in his fear, until he heard the restaurant’s door swing open and the tiny bell ring, alerting the bartender that he had more customers. Within a few seconds, Ahmed was surrounded by a host of armed men as more continuously poured into the small restaurant. The nerves on the back of his neck jerked and twitched as a cold sweat began to run down his back.