The boy had been the first and only local to agree to identify the compound where El Loro Verde lived and, as far as the Estrella gangsters were concerned, there was no guarantee he was telling the truth or that he even knew where El Loro Verde lived.
‘We will know when Marron comes rushing out,’ said Lopez. ‘He will have to either come this way and meet our guns, or go north and meet the guns of our men stationed at the far end of the street.’
‘You are certain that Marron will panic, Patrón?’
‘Oh, he will panic, Gomez. I know him too well. You will remember that I was in charge of his personal protection for years, until I broke from Árbol. We often practised getting him away from the scene of an attack to a new, safe location. That will not have changed. El Loro Verde will make a run for it, heading for a safe house somewhere else, and run right into our waiting guns. Before the sun rises tomorrow, El Loro Verde will be no more, and we shall commence moving in to take over Árbol territory. Bring up the telephone number, Gomez, but only call it when I tell you.’
‘Sí, Patrón.’
In the dim light, Lopez and the others in the pick-up strained to watch José as he walked down the street. He stopped outside the largest house in the street, which was fronted by a high concrete wall and a large metal sliding gate. Keeping close to the wall beside the gate, and out of the view of a CCTV camera on the gatepost, José looked furtively up and down the thoroughfare. Nothing moved in the street. All was quiet in the neighbourhood. Edging closer to the gate, the boy slipped the backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of the gate. He took a step back.
In the pick-up at the end of the street, Lopez gave a command to his driver. ‘Now, Gomez. Call the number.’
Gomez looked around at his boss with surprise. ‘But the blast will …’
‘Exactly. We want no witnesses, no one to tell the police who did this.’
Gomez shrugged. ‘Okay, Patrón, whatever you say.’ He pressed ‘send’.
The silence was interrupted by the single ring of a mobile phone. José looked at the bag with surprise. In an instant, flame erupted from the backpack. Ball bearings, nuts and bolts scythed through the air, smacking into the gate and the wall. The phone had detonated an IED in the backpack. Moments later, the sound of the explosion reached the pick-up. A plume of smoke and dust rose from where the backpack had once been. José lay metres away, propelled across the street by the blast.
Lopez and his men clambered from their pick-up and prepared their weapons. Lopez smiled. ‘Get ready to greet El Loro Verde, amigos.’
In the Green Parrot’s house, all was mayhem. Vargas staggered from his room. Diego and Tommy were running past, each in his underwear and toting an MP5.
‘What is happening?’ Vargas demanded. Like the other two, he had been woken by the blast.
‘Bomb at front gate,’ Diego breathlessly replied.
‘We got to get el padrino away!’ called Tommy. He burst into Carlos Marron’s bedroom.
Blinking in the sudden light, Marron and Lola sat up in their king-size bed. Rosa, lying at the foot of the bed, began yapping at Tommy.
‘What is it?’ said Marron, reaching for the Glock he kept on the nightstand.
‘A bomb at the gate, Padrino,’ Tommy informed him, scowling at the chihuahua. ‘We got to go.’
‘Is it the cops? The army? Or Estrella?’ Marron said, half to himself. ‘Tommy, tell Vargas to get everything ready. Lola, get your things. We’re getting out of this place.’
‘My jewels!’ exclaimed Lola. ‘I can’t go without my jewels.’ She dashed to the other side of the room and pulled a picture from the wall, revealing a safe.
‘Tommy, bring the dog and the cop,’ Marron added.
‘There won’t be room, Padrino,’ Tommy protested.
‘We will make room. We may need to exchange them for our freedom.’
Marron and his wife quickly dressed and grabbed a carry bag each. Lola crammed her bag with jewellery and shoved Rosa on top. Marron stuffed his to the brim with cash and some of his favourite Elvis records.
Once they were ready, Tommy escorted them to the roof at the run. They emerged into the night via a trapdoor that opened up and out. The flat rooftop was swathed in wisps of smoke from the bomb blast. Two very anxious Árbol pistoleros were on guard duty in the rooftop watchtower on the northwest corner. The tower consisted of waist-high concrete block walls topped by a tiled roof on posts. That tiled roof was almost entirely covered with satellite dishes. From the waist up, the sides of the watchtower were open to the elements. Both guards were equipped with M16 rifles, which they pointed at the street.
‘What do you see?’ Marron called to the pair. ‘Is anyone trying to break in through the gate?’
‘Nothing’s happening, Padrino,’ one guard replied. ‘We can’t see anything out there! Is it Estrella?’
‘I don’t know who it is. But what are they waiting for?’ Marron turned to the southeast corner of the roof. There, Vargas had pulled a tarpaulin from the large unidentified object that the GRRR team had spied from the U-2. The large object was a black Bell Jet Ranger helicopter. Vargas jumped into the pilot’s seat and began flicking switches. Before joining Árbol, he had flown Jet Rangers as a helicopter pilot with the Mexican Army. Back then, he had thought about perhaps getting a job in civil aviation once he left the military. He had never pictured himself as the lieutenant and personal pilot of one of Mexico’s most wanted crime bosses. The helicopter’s engine whined to life while overhead the rotors were beginning to turn.
With an MP5 in one hand, Diego escorted Juanita and Caesar up the stairs behind El Loro Verde and his wife. Juanita had Caesar on a short leash. When Caesar came out onto the roof, he stopped in his tracks. His nose was filled with the scent of explosive chemicals which filled the cool night air. It reminded Caesar of pitched battles with the Taliban in Afghanistan. The smell was so distracting that Juanita had to tug hard on his leash to get him to go with her toward the helicopter. ‘Come, César!’ she urged.
In addition to the pilot, a Jet Ranger could comfortably accommodate four passengers. Five humans and two dogs were about to fill the passenger compartment of this Jet Ranger.
‘Hurry, hurry!’ Marron urged Lola, clambering in first.
Lola was crying and clutching her bag. Rosa poked her head out, shaking with fear. Lola and Tommy followed Marron aboard the chopper. Once they were in, Diego pushed Juanita onto one of the plush leather seats, shoved Caesar in at her feet, then, clutching his submachine gun, clambered in on top of the sergeant, struggling to pull the door shut behind him.
‘We are overloaded, Padrino,’ called Vargas.
‘No, we are not,’ Marron yelled. ‘You worry like an old woman. These things can carry much more than they are certified for. Get us up, Vargas! Get us away from here!’
‘Where to, Padrino?’
‘Cabo. To the Velásquez brothers. Let’s go!’
Vargas nodded. ‘Okay. Fingers crossed we can.’
With a crack, Ben’s parachute snapped open and his chute pulled him up with a violent jerk. He was no longer a human missile. His shoulders absorbed the grip of the chute while his legs inclined toward the earth. The back streets of northern Monterrey spread below him. He checked the GPS on his arm. A glowing indicator showed that the target was to his left. As he turned his black silk chute in that direction, he spotted Charlie seventy metres away and about thirty metres below him. He knew that Baz would be around thirty metres above him – he had been the first to open his chute, and Ben and Charlie had deliberately dropped past him in the last stages of their freefall to ensure their landings were staggered.
Through the goggles of his SF-100 respirator, Ben saw the grey, concrete target building for the first time, to the south, as he descended gently toward it. Then, to his surprise, he saw a large black object lift off from one corner of its flat rooftop. He identified it as a Jet Ranger helicopter. He watched it rise into the air, nose down, t
ail high. It flitted away, still at an angle, flying south, before banking away to the west, gaining height as it went. Ben cursed to himself, guessing that the Green Parrot was probably making his escape. But was Caesar in the helicopter, too?
From the ground, along the street, a spurt of flame briefly lit the night. Someone down there was firing at the escaping heelo. But Ben couldn’t worry about the helicopter – he had to concentrate on his landing. After that, despite the sight of the fleeing chopper, Ben, Charlie and Baz would still have to go through the task of securing the building and looking for their two targets. After all, there was no guarantee that either Marron or Caesar was aboard the heelo.
Reaching down, Ben unfastened the flap on the thigh holster containing his Browning Hi Power pistol, readying it for a quick draw. Ahead of him, Ben saw Charlie sweep in for a perfect landing on the eastern side of the rooftop. Ben was on course to land right behind him. He swooped in, then dragged on the control lines to bring himself to a halt. Just a metre above the roof, he hit the parachute release and dropped casually to the concrete. His chute fell away, sliding over the side of the building and out of the way.
As soon as he was down, Ben slid his Hi Power from its holster. The pistol would leave one hand free. Ben heard a familiar silken rustle from behind, telling him that Baz was landing. Ahead, Ben saw a watchtower on the northwest corner of the roof. Charlie was running around the northern side of the roof toward it with the slightly ungainly gait of his Zoomers. His MP5 was levelled and ready. Ben set off around the southern end of the roof, to approach the watchtower from the western side.
As Ben ran, he saw two figures in the watchtower. Both had been facing the street out front, expecting an assault to come from that direction in the wake of the bomb explosion. One pistolero was bringing an M16 rifle around to bear on Charlie. The SAS sergeant let off a three-round burst. The gunman dropped. The second Árbol sentry, slower to react than the first, was bringing his long-barrelled rifle around when he spotted Ben. As the sentry paused to take aim at him, Ben raised his Hi Power on the run. Before Ben or the sentry could fire, three rounds from an MP5 were let off behind Ben, and the sentry threw up his arms and fell, dropping his weapon. Looking around while on the run, Ben saw Baz on the eastern side of the roof, still in his parachute harness, with smoke curling from the end of the barrel of his MP5.
Antonio Lopez and his men were stationed behind their pick-up, using it as cover. Gomez, the driver, had an MP5 to his shoulder and was firing at the Jet Ranger as it passed overhead. Two other Estrella pistoleros were struggling to get their MP5s into operation.
‘Get the devils!’ Lopez cried, drawing a Glock pistol from his belt and letting off several rounds into the sky. ‘Get them! Get them!’
Almost as soon as it had come swooping away from the compound, the helicopter had whizzed noisily overhead and disappeared to the west.
‘We didn’t think of that, did we, Patrón?’ said Gomez, lowering his submachine gun. ‘We didn’t expect Marron to have a helicopter. What now?’
Before Lopez could answer, another voice rang out from behind them. ‘Police! Lay down your weapons! Lay down your weapons, or we will shoot to kill!’
Swinging around, Lopez saw five figures in black running toward them from the southern end of the street. All wore black helmets and their faces were covered by goggles and face masks, which made them look like aliens. Four of the five had MP5s raised and pointing his way. The one doing the talking was armed with a pistol. This was the GRRR’s Beta Team, accompanied by Lieutenant Pedro Peters of the Federal Police.
‘Lay down your weapons and raise your hands!’ called Lieutenant Peters. ‘This is your last warning!’
‘Ándale! Ándale!’ yelled Sergeant Hazard.
‘Don’t fire!’ Lopez yelled. Gingerly, he bent down and laid his pistol on the ground, then lifted his hands into the air. ‘Do as they say,’ he commanded his men.
Two of Lopez’s men dropped their submachine guns and held up their hands. When Gomez hesitated, Duke Hazard let off a short burst with his MP5, sending dirt kicking up at the feet of the pistolero. Gomez got the message. He let the MP5 slip from his grasp and raised his hands. Seconds later, Lieutenant Peters and Beta Team were on top of the four cartel members, forcing them to the ground and locking their hands behind their backs with handcuffs clapped around their wrists.
‘They are Estrella,’ said Lieutenant Peters, spotting the trademark star tattoo on several of the gangsters. He rolled their leader onto his back to get a better look at his face. ‘Lopez,’ he declared with delight. ‘It’s Antonio Lopez, the leader of Estrella. We have made quite a catch, gentlemen.’
But Sergeant Duke Hazard didn’t look happy. ‘But not the catch we came here for.’
On the roof of the Green Parrot’s compound, Charlie and Ben were kneeling, pressed against the eastern and southern sides of the watchtower wall. Baz, now free of his parachute, came running along the north side of the roof and vaulted over the tower wall. Inside the confined space of the tower, Baz scooped up the sentries’ M16s and tossed them out. They fell to the ground several storeys below, landing with a clatter.
‘This is Alpha Three,’ came Baz’s voice over their personal radios, his voice muffled a little by the face mask of his breathing apparatus. ‘Two hostiles immobilised and disarmed. Will need medical attention.’
‘Copy that, Alpha Three,’ Charlie replied, similarly muffled. Charlie then changed to HF. ‘Birdcage, from Alpha One. Receiving?’
‘Birdcage receiving,’ Toushi replied. ‘Go ahead, Alpha One.’
‘Rooftop secured. Two hostiles in need of medical attention. Over.’
‘Copy that, Alpha One. There has been explosion at front gate, not related to operation. One child casualty. Heelo departed scene. Over.’
‘Roger to that, we saw the heelo,’ Charlie confirmed. ‘Get the EITS to track it. Over.’
‘Roger that. Birdcage on it. Over.’
‘Alpha One, this is Beta One,’ reported Sergeant Hazard. ‘We got ourselves a situation here.’
‘Go ahead, Beta One,’ Charlie urged.
‘Just arrested the boss of the Estrella cartel and three of his hoods, all taking pot shots at the heelo that overflew us. You want us to continue to execute the original assault plan?’
‘Roger to that. Move up to the compound gate. There’s a civilian there in need of medical attention. Get Willy onto that when the situation allows.’
‘Roger that. Moving up to compound gate. Beta One out.’
‘Alpha One, this is Gamma One,’ reported Sergeant Bruce. ‘In position and ready to move in on your word.’
‘Copy that, Gamma One,’ Charlie replied. ‘Will advise. Birdcage, are you copying all this?’
‘Roger that, Alpha One,’ Toushi confirmed.
‘Alpha proceeding to clear lower floors. Alpha One out.’
‘Copy that. Birdcage out.’
Charlie returned to the personal frequency. ‘Alpha Three, cover Alpha Two and me. We’re going to the trapdoor.’
‘Roger that.’ Baz took up a position behind the watchtower wall with his MP5 aimed at the closed trapdoor. If anyone attempted to emerge from that trapdoor, Baz would blast them. ‘You’re good to go, Alpha One and Two.’
Charlie and Ben rose up and scurried to the trapdoor. As both knelt beside it, Charlie signalled instructions to Ben by hand. Ben nodded, then removed a long, cylindrical CS tear-gas grenade from a pouch on his belt. At the same time, Charlie took out a flash-bang, an M-84 stun grenade, which looked much the same as the tear-gas grenade. Both removed the circular pins, and Charlie yanked the trapdoor open, then dropped the stun grenade in through the opening. Ben followed suit, delivering his tear-gas grenade. As the grenades bounced down the concrete stairs to the floor below, Charlie let the trapdoor drop shut again, and both men pulled back and bent low, clasping their gloved hands over their ears.
From below came the dull sounds of the grenades detonating. Th
e flash-bang, which contained mercury and magnesium powder, burst with the bright, blinding flash equivalent to 300,000 candlepower, and a deafening concussion of 160 decibels – the engine of a jet fighter taking off emits 140 decibels. The combined effect of a flash-bang was to temporarily blind and deafen anyone in close contact with it. Ben’s grenade, meanwhile, began emitting tear gas, which would quickly fill the stairway’s landing and adjoining rooms, incapacitating anyone it reached who wasn’t equipped with a respirator.
With ringing ears, Charlie and Ben waited crucial seconds, giving the tear gas time to spread. In the pause, Ben holstered his pistol and brought out his MP5, clapping a magazine into place and flicking on the torch fitted to the top of the sleek black submachine gun. Charlie likewise turned on the light atop his weapon, then reached over and opened the trapdoor. Ben immediately rose and entered the stairwell with Charlie following right behind him. Baz promptly jumped over the watchtower wall and ran to follow them down through the opening.
The tear gas had filled the stairwell by the time the trio descended. Wearing their respirators, they were unaffected by the gas. With Charlie and Ben covering him, Baz slipped past them and in through the first open doorway he came to. The other two followed him. They were in Marron’s palatial living room, in complete darkness. Their torches lit up the leather couches, LCD screens and the portrait of Marron’s mother. The trio checked the room and the adjoining kitchen, finding no one, before moving to each of the four bedrooms and bathrooms spread around the four sides of the building’s living area. All the rooms were empty, with the bedrooms displaying signs of having only recently been vacated. Alpha Team moved back to the stairs.
‘Alpha One, from Beta One,’ came Sergeant Hazard’s voice. ‘In position at front gate.’ He had left Lieutenant Peters with the four Estrella prisoners. ‘Beta Four is attending the civilian casualty from the IED blast, who is still alive. Beta Team awaiting your “go”. Over.’
‘Copy that, Beta One. Alpha Team has secured the top floor. Moving to next floor. Beta and Gamma Teams keep your eyes peeled for hostiles we flush out, trying to make a run for it. Alpha One out.’
Caesar the War Dog 4 Page 14