by David Nees
Hector got a second phone call from his man in the American embassy. He was surprised at the news. It was hard to think one man could be responsible for such an attack. Still it was the best news so far and would go a long way in stemming the growing violence. It would also help cement himself as the rightful successor to Jorge Mendoza. The first thing he would do is get these mid-Easterners out of the country and get back to business.
He called his men waiting at the crossroads to inform them.
“Remember, take him alive, however injured he may be keep him alive. I want to question him personally. Take him to the interrogation house outside of Chihuahua.”
The house had a basement dug under it. No one could be heard from inside it.
“I’ll meet you there with Carlos.”
Carlos was used as an interrogator. He was a brutal man who enjoyed inflicting pain. He had become very effective at it over the years and was much feared both in and outside the cartel.
“I’ll get the information I need and then he will die in a dramatic and grisly way.”
If the man was a gringo and connected to a U.S. agency, Hector would have to be careful. It was dangerous to openly go after DEA agents. Still he would exact his revenge in some manner.
Dan covered the remaining distance as fast as he could. He wanted to be ahead of the pickup. The phone call still didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to arrive early so he would have the opportunity to control the situation.
There were two boulders near the dirt road. They were ten feet high and between them, thirty feet across. Twenty yards behind them was a rock outcropping that sloped up from the desert floor elevating it above the dirt road. The boulders had probably split from the outcropping behind them and then had been worn smooth over thousands of years of sand and wind. Dan found a spot in the outcropping behind the boulders and slipped into it. He was shielded from the road and had a clear view of anyone coming around the two large rocks. A plan began to form in his mind. How it would play out he couldn’t tell, but it was good enough to start with.
He squeezed himself into the cleft of the outcropping, pulled out his 9mm and screwed on a silencer. Next he picked up his sat phone and called the pickup number.
Chapter 14
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T he phone rang and a voice said, “Hola.”
In Spanish, Dan said he had injured his foot a mile back and could not walk or stand. They would find him lying in the shade, behind the boulders. He needed them to come around and help him to the car.
“How many are with you?” Dan asked. There was a pause. Dan continued, “I need to know because I need to put my foot up. It may be broken and I don’t want it to swell too much. What are you driving and is there room?”
“Sí, there’s room. We have four-door pickup. A big machine. You will have plenty of room to be comfortable. Don’t worry.”
Dan hung up. Fat chance of that. He now faced a dilemma. He had better not kill an embassy employee, but he was becoming more and more convinced this was not an employee. And he was sure the man was not alone. How many would he have to deal with? It would be at least two and no more than four. That made the upcoming encounter tricky to play out.
Dan put away the phone and settled himself in the rocks. He would not be seen right away; that was a positive, but his position was not protected. He would be vulnerable if anyone fired on him. And there was no fall back. He could not retreat further into the cleft; he could only go forward and out which would expose him further to enemy fire. Dan didn’t like his position but he had few options.
The minutes passed. He waited patiently, going over and over how the scene would play out. The first thing was to take a moment to identify whether or not these were bad guys. It was dangerous, even fatal to do so, but Dan decided he couldn’t afford to kill a friendly. He knew it would not be just as he imagined, but he had to start with a plan and then improvise. It’s what you do well. You got to do it now to stay alive.
He heard the sound of the engine and saw the dust trail way off to the east. Coming soon. He adjusted his position and cradled the 9mm carefully across his arm as he lay in the rocks.
The beat up looking pickup pulled up and stopped on the other side of the boulders. Dan heard two doors slam shut. “Hola! Amigo!” a voice called out.
“Hola!” Dan called. “I’m around back, in the shade. I need some help.” He would have only a moment to decide whether or not they were friendlies or the enemy.
Two men came around the boulder to Dan’s left. They were dressed in jeans and light shirts. They had boots and cowboy hats on and carried what looked like MP-5s. We don’t issue those to embassy employees. The guns were held at ready, not a friendly sign and the men looked around, not yet seeing him. Decision made, Dan squeezed off one shot. The silenced pistol gave out a muffled pop and one of the men collapsed with a hole in his forehead. The second one turned to the rocks and raised his submachine gun. Before he could fire, Dan shot again and he went down with a hole in his forehead, just like the first man.
Two down, how many to go? The sound wouldn’t have carried out to the SUV, so Dan waited switching his gaze back and forth to either side of the boulders. There would be more coming.
“Luiz?” a voice called out. “Manuel, qué pasa?”
There was no answer. As Dan was looking to the left, a head and submachine gun peaked around the boulders from the other side. The man saw his companions lying dead on the sand; then he saw Dan in the rocks. He brought his weapon up but before he could shoot there was a shriek in the air. A black missile shot down from the sky and strafed the man’s head. He instinctively ducked. The sound brought Dan around. Before the man could bring his machine gun back up, Dan shot him. The bullet hit him in the face, below his right eye. His head snapped back. His hand tightened reflexively on the trigger and the machine gun fired off a staccato burst, the rounds flying harmlessly into the air.
Dan shoved himself forward out from the rocks and limped towards the boulders. The object that hurtled down from the sky was sitting on top of one of the boulders. It was a raven. He heard the truck start up. Can’t let him get away. Dan lurched forward. The raven flew up and towards the vehicle. As Dan came around the boulder the driver was turning around. In the middle of the turn the raven attacked his windshield, grabbing the wiper blade and spreading its wings to block the driver’s vision. There was a terrible raucous screeching coming from its throat. The driver flinched and didn’t complete the u-turn. He started to back up. By that time, Dan had gotten to the road and let loose three rounds through the passenger window. The driver slumped and the pickup stopped moving. The raven leapt into the sky with an exuberant cry. Dan watched it as it circled the scene and then flew off to the north.
He just stood there, in the road, in the heat and the dust. What had he just witnessed? He was not sure if he could believe what had just happened. But he was alive precisely because of what happened. He carefully reconstructed the events that had just unfolded. It had taken only moments, seconds for each scene to play out, but Dan slowed it down in his mind so he could examine each point of action.
He stood in the middle of the dirt road going over the scene. At great danger to himself, he had waited a moment to determine the men had not come to assist him, but to kill or capture him. He had taken down the first two with quick, accurate shots. That had been part of the original plan. Then things had gone weird. He had to watch both sides of the boulders. He hoped whoever would come around would still not be on full alert. But, that person had been on alert and was ready to attack. The man had suspected an ambush. Dan was looking the wrong way when it happened. Dan shuddered. That glance the wrong way could have cost him his life. Except…for the bird.
Where did it come from? Was it the same one he gave some water to? That dive bomb saved his life. But why would a bird attack a man with a submachine gun? And then, to make things stranger, the bird attacked the driver, keeping him from esca
ping. Dan looked around but there was no sign of the bird, only silence and the heat. He scanned the sky; it was clear and bright. He scanned the desert, nothing moved. He looked down the road. It shimmered in the heat, seemingly to float and undulate. There was nothing as far as his eye could see.
Shaking his head, Dan turned to the pickup. He pulled the driver out and shut off the motor. Next he went around to the back of the boulders and took the MP-5s from the three men. They were all dead. He unscrewed his suppressor and stuffed it in his vest pocket. He picked up his backpack and threw it along with the weapons in the back seat. There was more ammunition there along with rope and duct tape. The truck was older and beat up but had a winch and reasonable tires on it.
He got into the vehicle and was happy to note that the tank was almost full. There was a map on the passenger floor. Dan spent some time going over it. Going east, the dirt road reached a small crossroads. If he continued straight he would hit a paved highway in another thirty miles. But at the crossroads he could turn north, still on dirt. Pavement meant faster speeds but it also meant more chance of being seen or stopped. He had no cover and the weapons would insure he would be detained. Dan was reluctant to give up his weapons. He didn’t want the Barrett sniper rifle to be found and with his exit out of Mexico now being improvised, he wanted to hold on to the M4. The dirt road looked like a better option.
His thoughts turned to what might have happened to his ride. Had he been set up? Questions flew around in Dan’s head. These guys had a sat phone. It had his number programmed in. How did they get it? Were they the ones sent from the embassy? Dan didn’t think so, but what happened to the embassy team? Whoever sent these men would be looking for them soon. If they didn’t check in someone would suspect they had failed and assume that he was now driving the pickup. Would they expect him to head to a paved road and try to get away? Probably, it was the fastest route. But the police and cartels had too many connections for Dan to feel comfortable with that route; too many possibilities of running into a roadblock. The dirt road still looked to be the best option for going north. He decided to stay out of communication while he tried to figure out what had happened. Right now he didn’t know whom to trust. There must have been a security breech and someone had given the cartel the information. And they had gotten the sat phone as well.
It was tempting to call Jane and unload on her. But he held back. Would the call be monitored? Would it give away his position? He didn’t know. The CIA could have a tracking device in the phone that was transmitting even if he wasn’t using it. If that was so, why did they have to wait for him to call in? Why send planes to search the desert? Just to maintain appearances? Dan went around back and pulled the phone out of his pack. He laid it on the seat next to the one the gang members had used, not sure if he should throw either of them away. I’ll have to get out on my own. He started the truck and drove off to the east.
Chapter 15
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W hen Dan reached the crossroads, he didn’t stop. There was a gas station and little store, but he felt there was too great a chance that information could get back to the cartel. He needed to put miles between him and the recent ambush. He turned north and disappeared down the dusty road. Unbeknownst to Dan an old man was watching from the store. He noticed the pickup which had waited at the store with four men in it. Now came back with only one man, a gringo, and turned north on a road almost no one used. The old man picked up the phone and made a call as he had been instructed. He didn’t want any trouble from the cartel. Dan also didn’t see the pickup truck that was stashed behind the station. Nor was he aware of the two bodies that had been dragged off into the desert to be scavenged by the coyotes and ravens.
Hector was in downtown Chihuahua City, in an office used by one of the cartel’s attorneys. The office was his command post where he was trying to control the fallout from the shootings. In the middle of trying to control the police and their investigation, reassuring the surviving cartel bosses that he had nothing to do with the attack, and preparing for attacks from the other cartels while doing what he could to placate them, he pulled out his phone and answered a call. He didn’t recognize the number and almost canceled the call, being so busy, but decided to answer, hoping that any call might bring more information to help him solve this mystery.
“Hola,” he said.
“Señor,” an old man said, “I was told to call this number if I saw anything unusual.”
“Who are you?” Hector asked.
“Just an old man. I run the gas and roadside store north of Chihuahua City. It’s just a small crossroad junction in the desert.”
Hector recognized the crossroads where he had sent his men. “So you talked to my men? Are they there?” He wondered why they hadn’t called him as instructed.
“Sí. I did talk to them. They found two men waiting in a pickup. They took them into the desert to question them. I do not know what happened—”
“I know what happened. Where are my men now?”
“They drove off on the road going west. It goes nowhere.”
“Did they say anything to you?”
“They told me to call this number, to call you, if I saw anything unusual.”
“They haven’t come back? So, what did you see? Why are you calling? Quickly. I do not have much time.”
“The men…your men waited for three hours. Then they drove off, all four of them, as I said, west on the road that goes nowhere. An hour later their truck came back. It had only one person in it…a gringo.”
“Maldita sea! Damn it!” Hector swore. “Where are my men?”
“I do not know, Señor. But they did not come back.”
“Which way did the truck go?”
“North, Señor. It turned north without stopping. That road goes bad many miles into the desert. The driver, he cannot get through and if he goes too far, he cannot get out.”
Hector sat at his desk, his mind running over the possibilities of what had happened.
“Señor?” the old man interrupted his thoughts.
“Gracias. You have been helpful. I will remember this. Say nothing to anyone and call me again if the gringo comes back. Do not fail me.”
“Sí, Señor. I want no trouble. I will watch.”
Hector ended the call. He slammed his fist on the desk. One man? One gringo did all of this? Shot up the meeting and killed all four of his men? He didn’t doubt they were dead. That is the only way the gringo would be driving their truck. He tried to settle his anger in order to go through what he had learned.
Someone had traveled, probably from the dead end road, to the mesa rim. By foot? That someone had shot Jorge and two other cartel leaders along with other lieutenants and bodyguards. But he had not shot the helicopter that had taken María and the kids away. Now that one man had hiked back to the road avoiding all the air patrols he had set up. And there were two men, also gringos, waiting at the crossroads to get a call to pick him up. This man had also been able to kill four of his armed men.
Hector had the pieces but still couldn’t figure it out. This was a well-planned operation. It involved a serious assassin and many people to get him in and out of his target area. But who would do this? And why? Was there a connection to María? He had let her escape. Hector shook his head. There were so many possibilities and none of them made sense…yet. If the goal was to disrupt the cartels, make them war, it was close to being successful. Now the question was who would gain from such an action?
He picked up his phone. Ramón was one of the men Hector had brought from Mexico City. He was ruthless, like many, but showed himself to be smarter, able to think as well as kill.
“I want you to get two pickups ready for the desert,” Hector said when Ramón picked up. “Get ten men together. The assassin is heading north on the dirt road, the one from the crossroads with the gas station. It goes into the heart of the desert. But the road does not go through. He will not make it. Catch up with him
and capture him, if you can. He must not get away.”
“Ten men? For one man?”
“Do not be a fool. He killed more than ten at the hacienda and just killed four more of our soldiers and took their pickup. He is dangerous.”
“Madre de Dios. One man did all of that? How did he get to the mesa rim?”
“I do not know. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you find him and stop him. If we are to keep a war from breaking out, we need to give the others this man’s head. Hopefully after we have emptied it of what he knows.”
“Sí, patrón. I will find him.”
“I am ‘patrón’ for now, but not for long if you don’t find this man.”
“It will happen. I will take my hardest men.”
“Take Rodrigo as well. Rodrigo was the lieutenant in charge of Chihuahua. I am counting on the two of you, Ramón. There is much reward for success in this mission.” Hector hung up. There was much reward, but only if he could solve the mystery of what had happened and show his leadership. With that he would be able to settle the others down, especially with a united front formed by him, Escobedo, Chacón, and Beltran-Levya. The other two cartels would back off if he gave them the killer’s head so that their honor was assuaged. And with success, he would consolidate his leadership of the Sinaloa cartel. And he could inherit María. Where else would she find protection and continuation of her lifestyle?
Ramón said goodbye to his wife and jumped into his pickup. He called one of his men and told them to round up two trucks and eight more men. They were to take extra gas and weapons. The trucks should be ones with good tires; they were going deep into the desert.