by David Nees
Before the morning cool had completely dissipated, two men came out of the front door. They were armed. Through his binoculars, Dan could see the weapons were military in style but very short. Most likely MP-5s. The MP-5 was one of the more popular submachine guns in the world. It was generally fitted with a thirty round magazine and was reliable, accurate, and very easy to control.
The weapon in the hands of most shooters was good for close up work only—up to one hundred yards at the most. Dan’s position was well beyond their range. The ranch was nine hundred feet below the mesa rim and about seven hundred and fifty yards from its base, angling to the east, which gave Dan a shot of eight hundred yards to the front door. It was long but well within his capabilities and the capability of his rifle.
The men walked around the outside of the hacienda, checking the walls and few shrubs growing along their base. They glanced out across the flat land but there was no cover for concealment. Dan could see they were relaxed. No one could sneak up close to the ranch and the surrounding hills were uninhabited and far away. He smiled at the thought. They never take the sniper into account. That oversight was going to cost them. A maid came out to sweep the porch and walkway out to the dirt drive. It looked like a futile effort to Dan. Maybe she just wants to show how industrious she is.
He went to his backpack and wrestled out the rifle case. He spread out a cloth on the dirt and opened the package. He had chosen a Barrett MRAD firing a .338 Lapua Magnum cartridge. The round could penetrate body armor at one thousand yards and was effective up to nineteen hundred yards. It was more than enough. The MRAD had a twenty-four inch barrel and was equipped with a 5-25 power Steiner scope. An AAC Titan titanium suppressor was screwed on to the end of the barrel. The suppressor would mask the dust signature and the source of his shot. The only thing anyone would hear would be the sonic boom which would give no clue as to the direction the shot came from. At the point of fire a forceful, squishy chuff would be heard followed by the sonic boom. The bullet would arrive at its target in just over eight tenths of a second.
Dan thought the weapon was a bit awkward. The design incorporated a sealed upper receiver, where the bolt retracted when ejecting a cartridge. This design made for a longer than normal receiver. The gun was heavy but Dan expected that from a large caliber, precision rifle. It was not his favorite weapon, he liked the M110 better, but it was the right tool for this job. The M4 felt more comfortable to him and, even with a suppressor mounted, did not create too long a barrel. The weapon could switch from semi-automatic to fully automatic fire. It had a familiar feel, being similar to the M16.
An hour later a woman appeared in the courtyard accompanied by two kids. Dan shifted his position in the dirt and focused his binoculars on her. She was tall and slim with model good looks. She looked and acted like she was the mother of the kids—definitely not the nanny. There was a boy, maybe nine and a girl that looked a bit younger. The woman sat down in a chaise lounge and the kids jumped into the shallow end of the pool to play. A maid brought the woman something to drink, which only reinforced Dan’s conclusion that she might be Mendoza’s wife. If that was so, these were his kids.
Instead of opening a book or magazine, the woman watched the kids. She seemed to be engaged with them, talking to them as they played. The boy flicked some water at her and she pretended to be shocked. She jumped up from the lounge and ran out of his range. Then she grabbed a cup and dipped it into the pool and threw some water back at the boy who seemed to scream and dove under water. It looked, from Dan’s view through the binoculars like the woman was laughing and enjoying her children as they played. Next the two kids began doing jumps off the diving board, twisting around and striking different poses while in the air, all to the delight and applause of the mother.
“Shit,” he said out loud. Why the fuck did he have to bring his family here? This is business for God’s sake. Dan didn’t like it. Kids shouldn’t be involved in this business; wives maybe but not kids. He knew many of the drug lords and their lieutenants had families but Dan always figured they were kept apart. There was some separation from business in the mafia families he encountered in Brooklyn during his vendetta and Dan assumed there would be even greater separation in this environment which was much more brutal than even the mafia. It seemed like the mafia of the thirties only with more firepower.
Back then they had Tommy guns; the Thompson submachine gun which fired a .45 caliber cartridge. They had a high rate of fire but were hard to keep on target. Now there were many more weapons to choose from. The choices included high powered rifles, automatic assault weapons that were more accurate, semi-automatic handguns that held seventeen rounds in quick change magazines, grenade launchers, and even rocket launchers. It was a deadlier business now, no place for kids…or wives.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll stay inside. Still Dan didn’t like having them present. They would see the results of his work first hand. No kid should see that. It didn’t matter if they were a drug lord’s kids. A sour taste formed in his mouth and his stomach tightened. What am I going to do? The SOB had to bring them. He knew Jorge had a mansion with lots of protection in the suburbs of Mexico City. You should have left them back home.
Mexico City was off limits to gang violence; drugs were okay but not gang violence. That, Jane had explained, was an unspoken pact between the cartels, the government, and the Policía Federal. Keep the violence out of the capital so they could pretend it wasn’t happening. Dan snorted. Fools, you made a pact with the devil. You allow the cartels room to operate, in exchange for what? Your souls and the soul of your country. And you, Jorge, you made your own pact and put your family in harm’s way. You should have kept this separate. Did you think you were untouchable? You’re not. I’m going to reach out and touch you. Touch you with a .338 Lapua round. You’ll never know it happened.
Chapter 6
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T hirty days earlier, after Dan’s meeting with Henry and Jane, Henry sat in Jane’s small office. “Dan seems to be more than just argumentative. Is he going to be reliable?” he asked.
Jane gave her boss a long, steady look. “Henry, you know how Dan came to our attention, how his family was killed by the mob and he went on a vendetta against them. He is a man who has suffered damage…emotionally, to his psyche. Remember he had no options when I recruited him and we have set him up for a life bordering on insanity.”
“So you expect him to flame out in short order?”
“I didn’t say that. I think he has a good moral compass, but he’s going to have quite a time squaring that with what we ask him to do.”
“He’ll be taking out the enemy, not innocents—”
“I understand, but there’s always collateral damage, you know that. It will weigh heavily on him. I’m going to have to work hard to help him maintain a semblance of balance if I want him to survive. And I do want him to survive.”
“I detect something personal there.”
“Maybe. He’s pretty emotionally needy even if he doesn’t realize it. It strikes a chord with me.” She shifted in her chair, sitting more upright. “But don’t worry about me. I’ll keep things professional. But he’s going to have my full attention.”
Just days before the mission to Mexico, Dan sat in Jane’s small office with two other members of Jane’s team. There was Fred Burke, Jane’s researcher. His strength was combing through the data that flowed into the CIA, looking for clues to terrorist activity and identities. With him was Warren Thomas who was Jane’s technical guy. He was a master at surveillance technology, as good as anyone in the firm. He was especially good at getting the most out of commercially available devices which couldn’t be tracked back to any government agency.
Today Fred laid out a list of equipment he had written up that Dan should take with him. It included a sniper rifle, a tactical carbine, sidearm, grenades, grenade launcher, flash-bang grenades, ammunition, listening devices, a satellite phone, a complet
e medical kit, a tent, MRE packets, water, extra footwear, and clothing.
Dan went over the list. He looked up at Fred who sat nervously at the side of the desk. “Did you calculate how much this would weigh?”
“It is a bit heavy, but I couldn’t see what could be taken out.”
“How heavy?”
“Seventy-eight pounds,” came the reply. Fred was nervous. He was sitting across from a trained killer. That was a first in his short career with the CIA.
Dan looked over at Jane and shook his head. “Almost eighty pounds. Jane, that isn’t going to work. My butt’s going to be on the line out there.”
Jane was nonplussed. “That’s why we’re going over all of this with you. We are all on a learning curve. But if we work together, we’ll learn quickly. Tell us what the problem is.”
Dan took a deep breath and turned, “Okay, Fred, here’s the learning curve. We start with the fact that eighty fucking pounds is too much to lug through the desert in the summer for two days. I have to be able to move quickly. So let’s walk through the list and see how we can reduce it.” Dan looked down at the paper in front of him. “Take this listening gear. I’m not going to be close enough to listen in on conversations, even with this hi-tech equipment. I assume we have the latest in hi-tech here.” He turned to Jane.
She looked over at the fourth person in the room. “I’ll let Warren answer. He’s the expert.”
Warren had unstylish, black framed glasses along with a large clump of curly hair that sat unruly on his head and looked like it would never submit to combing. He was dressed in baggy khaki slacks with a checked long sleeve shirt. Dan smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a checked shirt. As Jane had explained, Warren could tap into any computer and rarely left any traces. Banks and government officials were no match for his skills. He could tap calls, track calls, generate fake calls and get just about any electronic piece of information you might need.
Warren nodded. “As state of the art as I can get without looking like it came from headquarters.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Dan asked.
“It means it’s the best you can purchase commercially. If anyone has the knowledge and knows what to buy, this is what they’ll buy…if they want the best.”
“That’s good, but it still won’t help me.” He turned back to Fred. “Let’s get this right.”
Dan started lining out items on the list. “Forget the grenades, all types. The sniper rifle needs only half the ammo you listed. After the shot, I don’t plan on using it. If I need protection, the M4 is what I’ll be using. Skip the .45. I’ll take a 9mm. The gun and ammo weigh less. One change of shirt and pants, one change of underwear and socks, and no extra boots. I won’t need clean clothes until I get exfiltrated. Bag the tent but put in a reflective blanket. I’ll sleep under it.” Fred was furiously taking notes as Dan went on. “No MREs. Just some power bars. Let’s trim down the medical supplies. If I take a hit and it’s not fatal, I need to stop the bleeding, disinfect the wound, bandage it, dull the pain, and give myself a good general antibiotic, preferably in the form of a shot to protect against infection. If I have to treat more than one or two wounds, I’m toast anyway so don’t plan for that.” He looked over at Fred who appeared to be uncomfortable; perhaps from being in Dan’s presence as well as missing the mark so badly.
It was hard not to notice Fred’s discomfort. Jane was experienced, but her team was new. She had faith, though that they were smart enough to learn quickly.
“Don’t feel bad. You’ll get this right. Go with what I said and get this load down to fifty pounds. Can you do that?” Dan asked.
Fred nodded his head vigorously.
Jane indicated that he could leave so Fred quickly got up and rushed out of the office. “He’ll get used to this,” Jane said after he left.
“I hope so, or you’re going to have to do his work for him,” Dan responded.
“His real strength is researching, finding the bad guys from money trails, getting information on their habits, travel histories, living arrangements. This is the information you’ll need to find them.”
“Did he find out about this cartel meeting?” Dan asked.
“No, that was Warren,” She said.
“It wasn’t hard,” Warren said. I learned of something going on from the NSA intercepts. Then I just monitored Mendoza’s calls along with his lieutenant, Ortega. It didn’t take long to verify our suspicions about a meeting, or to find its location.” He paused for a moment before going on. “You have to take the sat phone though. That’s how you’ll contact us for picking you up.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. Who am I going to call?”
Jane spoke up. “My number is in the phone and we’ve got a number for the people who’ll extract you. You call it and just let them know you want to be picked up at their earliest convenience. They’ll know what to do and where to go.”
She pulled out a satellite photograph of the desert north of the target. “You see this road?” Her fingers traced a dirt road, almost a trail running east to west across the mesa. “You’ll cross it on your way to the target. It’s a day’s hike from the canyon rim. After the shot, when you’re half a day away from the road, you call the phone. Someone will acknowledge your request and they’ll come out to pick you up.” She pointed to a mark on the picture. “I’ll give you the coordinates. This is where you’ll meet.”
“This is secure?”
“The phone is, plus your communication will be simple and general. Also the roads not traveled. It dies out twenty miles west of where you are going to meet when it gets to the mesa rim. No one travels it because it doesn’t connect with anything. There used to be a few farms to the west, the road serviced them, but they’re abandoned now. Twenty-six miles to the east, there’s a small crossroads with a gas pump and a few houses about ten miles before you reach the paved north-south road. You’ll take that road route north, away from Chihuahua. You’ll go north and then west to Hermosillo where a private plane will pick you up and fly you to the U.S.”
“And if something gets screwed up? The car doesn’t arrive or the plane doesn’t arrive?”
“If the car doesn’t arrive we have a problem.”
“Damn right. I won’t have enough water to hike north. And I can’t take enough with me.”
Jane ignored Dan’s response. “If the plane doesn’t arrive, you can still be driven north to the border. Either we smuggle you out, like I did in Massachusetts, or you can get out and cross over with all the other illegals who walk into the country.”
“Thanks for that.” Dan said.
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Jane replied with a smile on her face.
“Just don’t forget who’s stuck out there if the connection isn’t made.”
“Henry assures me that everything is set up. The embassy doesn’t have any hint of what is going on. All they know is that they are supposed to send someone to pick you up and drive you to Hermosillo.
“After the shot, the shit will hit the fan, you know that,” Dan said.
“Yes, but no one will put you together with the shooting, at least for some time. And the driver will not know anything about what is going on. He’ll be pre-positioned and just awaiting the pickup call.”
Dan shook his head. “The pickup is the weak link in this adventure. I guess I’ll have to take your word that it’s all set up, but will you double check that yourself?”
Jane nodded. “I’ll go over all of this with Henry again.
Dan remained worried, but as Jane had said over and over, he had to rely mostly on himself. There would be operations where all he was given would be the target’s name and last known address and Dan would have to devise a plan all on his own. He decided that if the pickup didn’t happen for whatever reason, he’d hike east to the crossroads and improvise from there. He would be about one hundred miles from the Texas border. He’d figure something out. The key was avoiding both the cartels and
the federal police. Piece of cake, right?
Chapter 7
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T ariq slept little that night. He awoke early with anticipation. This was the day. The ship was due to dock at noon. One large hurdle was about to be overcome. He would be reunited with his men by that evening. Mendoza had arranged for a car to pick Tariq up and take him to the docks. They would wait nearby while Mendoza’s drivers hooked up to the containers. When they departed Tariq’s driver would follow and join the convoy when out of town. From there on, Tariq would be with the trucks. There were orders to stop at night so that the containers could be opened and the men inside get some relief. Then it would be back in the containers; the goal was to drive through the night to reach Chihuahua and the warehouse by late the next day. Once there the men would be able to begin their recovery. Tariq would oversee their activities. They would probably stay a week before moving on to the border. A section of the Arizona border had been selected. It avoided the Rio Grande and the increased focus on the Texas border areas. Once on the U.S. side, the men would be transported by members of the cartel to a safe house outside of Phoenix. After getting some forged documents they would disperse separately to infiltrate the country.
Tariq’s plan was to see them off from the warehouse in Chihuahua and then wait to hear they had crossed successfully before departing the country. Although Rashid had encouraged him to kill Mendoza he knew he wouldn’t, at least not yet. It was not out of good will. There was still too much business to do, delivering drugs and men to the cartel to be smuggled into the US. Maybe when they were not going to do business any more he could try to satisfy his sponsor.