by Frank Perry
with Sergeant Blomstein had been forged in the deserts of the Middle East and Africa. Josh was Peter’s primary contact for intelligence information when planning special operation missions.
Josh Blomstein grew up in upstate New York and joined the Army after graduating from Utica High School. He’d served in the 82nd Airborne Division and was chosen to join the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, "Delta Force.” He’d married his life-long sweetheart, Sarah Hart, and they had two young boys together.
Peter told him, “Josh, they got him.”
“Got who?”
“John Stokes.”
“Oh, man, Stokes was captured by the Druggies?”
“I think so.”
“All right, Peter. Let me give you the Lat/Long of the last signal.”
“Send me a text message, I don’t have anything to write with.”
“You got it. And, Peter, watch six and keep your head down.”
“Roger. Out.”
Cardenas Scores
The Franklin Mountains run north and south across the border near El Paso, commonly referred to as Paso del Norte, leading from Mexico into the U.S. For centuries, Native Americans, smugglers, and entrepreneurs used the dirt paths through the mountains for trade, hideouts and raiding. Although they are protected as a state park above the border, they provide crude roads and smuggler lookout points into Texas from Mexico. These trails are seldom used because easier land routes and even interstate highways make truck transportation less treacherous and faster. Large shipments of drugs didn’t usually go through the highest pass called “Smugglers”.
Using more than a dozen SUVs in a caravan had not been tried before, but Cardenas had quietly prepared the route, improving dirt roads to the highway for his grand finale.
The shipment had been cueing for weeks in his main warehouse southeast of Juarez, down a deserted dirt road.
Throughout the day, Cardenas supervised the preparation personally. He was inside, out of direct sun when one of his lookouts shouted that a car was driving down the road toward them. It was a single vehicle, which presented no threat to the dozens of heavily armed men positioned around the compound.
When it arrived, Cardenas walked out to meet the man who had made his father rich and him even richer. Embracing him enthusiastically, Cardenas said, “Mi Compadre!” Jamie Montes was smiling like a billionaire, which he was about to become.
Cardenas offered, “Come my friend and see what is happening. The Americans will have their cocaine and heroin for months with this shipment.”
Montes looked at the vast array of vehicles and dozens of pallets stacked high ready to load into the reinforced trucks. Each truck would carry a thousand kilos (2,200 Lbs) of the highest value un-cut drugs ever attempted across the border.
Montes said, “Most impressive, my friend. Most impressive, indeed.”
“Yes, and it is my salvation. My wealth will be secure in the American banks with this shipment. And you, my friend, will inherit my business and my houses in Mexico. That is a fair bargain, no?”
“Hector, you have been most kind.”
“Not at all. You have been my partner in all successes since my father died, and him before me, so you have earned it all.”
“It is hard work and dirty, but I expect to read good things about you in the newspapers.”
Montes responded, “I do envy you. No more danger from other gangs. No more brutality to maintain order. You must be looking forward to it. Living in a nice warm climate along the beach.”
Cardenas gave a wry smile, “Yes, it will be nice, but no one, not even you my friend, will know where, or who, I am. It is all arranged.”
“Believe me, I am not asking to know. But do not be surprised if we are neighbors in the future.”
“Yes, if you sell my property and have some money in the bank already, you will be very rich also. It is a matter of timing. If the Americans legalize drugs, all the cartels will cease.”
Montes responded, “The American politicians will never let their “War of Drugs” end. It keeps them in office! I’m more worried about being assassinated.”
“Yes, well. Keep all my men, your men, under close observation. They will betray you when given the chance. You can only communicate to them through fear. You must make them fear you at all times.”
“I have never killed anyone before.”
“It is not easy the first time, but it becomes easy. To kill freely is to rule the illiterate masses. They only respect violence and an occasional girl for reward.”
Shaking his head, Montes responded, “Hmm, it’s a simple model. When will you depart?”
Cardenas knew the plan Montes had set in motion with the DEA. They had agreed on the details and timing together. “At nightfall, we will begin our drive into the mountains. We should be over the pass at nine o’clock when my line of semi-trucks drives across the river in El Paso.”
Montez nodded his head approvingly. “Do not delay when the time comes.”
“To be sure my friend. Tonight I achieve my destiny.”
Josh
With a green light from the Director, Rachael began searching databases containing any information regarding Montes. As the search continued, she planned to contact the Mexican intelligence services in an official capacity to research his parents.
Around mid-day her mobile phone chirped. She answered, “Hello.”
“Rachael?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, Rachael, it’s Josh Blomstein.”
She had met Josh at the awards ceremonies that followed the raid into Iran by Peter, John Stokes and Josh. She became apprehensive, “Hi, Josh, how are you? Are you enjoying those metals and accolades that none of us can talk about?”
“You’re right, Rachael. Fame and fortune didn’t follow, but some of us will have bragging rights in very small groups when we grow old. I don’t know if Peter told you, but I was offered a commission.”
“No. Congratulations!”
“Yeah, I turned it down. I’m up for E-9 (highest enlisted rank) and just plan to live out my career as a grunt. Officers need more charm than me and spend too much time kissing ass.”
She grinned to herself. “So what’s up?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you. I know you and Mr. Action Hero split after our last adventure, but I wanted to see if you could tell me what’s going on in Mexico.”
She paused for a moment, not wanting to share her private thoughts with Peter’s friend. “Josh, I was meeting with him yesterday when he got a phone call from John Stokes. It wasn’t good. Peter thinks he was captured by drug gangs in Juarez. Peter left last night to help rescue him. I haven’t heard from him since then.”
“Okay, that’s pretty much what I expected. Is he under orders? Is the op approved?”
“Actually, Josh, I worry about that. John went across the border alone and unarmed. I don’t think Peter will have a much different experience.”
“You know, Rachael, Peter is good, but even the Lone Ranger had Tonto.”
“Josh, you’re not making me feel any better.”
“Oh, I thought you two weren’t ‘an item’ anymore?”
“That’s not the point, Josh. I saw you two on wide screen in the DoD Ops Center fighting the whole Iranian Army. You got shot, but we couldn’t tell who it was with the night video. I didn’t know if it was him or you, and I didn’t want you hurt either ... look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sorry, Rachael. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds, no pun intended. Your feelings for Peter are private and not why I called. Does Peter need my help?”
“I wish I knew, Josh. I really do.”
Down Town
Guy wasn’t what Peter expected. His old Ford Falcon would have been scrapped in the U.S. years ago. He was probably sixty years old, short with a pot belly and salt and pepper hair. His skin showed the signs of decades of outdoor work without any
sun protection. On the positive side, he found Peter immediately.
He stepped out of the doorway and quickly entered the car. Guy said “Buenos Noches.”
Peter extended his hand across his body, “Hello, Guy, I’m Peter Shields.”
In surprisingly clear English, Guy responded, “Welcome to Mexico, Señor. I hear from Mr. Leo that you may need my assistance?”
“Yes. I don’t know Juarez and need you to show me.”
Putting the car into gear, Guy steered into the dark street with no competing traffic. In the distance ahead, they could see a dog scavenging through a trash can, but no other life as the predawn color became barely visible over the mountains to the east.
Guy asked, “Where do you go?”
Looking down at his smartphone, Peter responded, “I’m putting the coordinates in now and should have a street map soon.” About a minute later, he handed the phone to Guy saying, “Can you take me to this address?”
Without reading glasses, Guy held the phone away and squinted. “Yes, it is in the southern part, a bad area.”
“I need to go there.”
“As you wish.” To Peter, it sounded like he wanted to add, “It’s your funeral.”
Without traffic, the drive took about twenty minutes. When they arrived at the address, it was the only lighted building on the street. It also had an old neon sign reading “Policia.”
There were no vehicles or people in view, so Peter asked Guy if he could park at the front while he went inside.
Guy pulled to a stop in front, but warned, “Mr. Peter, you should not go here.”
“It’s okay Guy, I’ll be careful.”
He exited the car. The first noticeable feature of the