The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  "Yes, sir." The bartender humbly bowed and made his way back around the counter, behind the bar, and reluctantly returned his attention to the game.

  "When were you going to tell me your name is Carlito Esperanza?" Dak wondered.

  The man let out a snort, then grinned mischievously. "When you asked. Yours?"

  "Dak. Let's leave it at that."

  "Okay, Dak. Like the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. Should be easy to remember."

  "I get that a lot."

  "I'm sure." Esperanza raised his glass, and Dak took his, lifting it toward Esperanza. "Salud."

  "Salud," Esperanza echoed.

  The two men took a sip and set the glasses back on the table.

  "I like a man who can appreciate good tequila," Esperanza said. "Now, I would love to hear this plan of yours."

  Dak leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. He steepled his fingers and tilted his head. "Do you always trust a stranger this quickly?"

  Esperanza shrugged. "You took out some of my best guards in no time."

  "They'd been drinking."

  "And you keep trying to blow off your efficiency. Most men, if any, who were able to do that, would probably be boasting about it right now, demanding I make them my second-in-command. Which means you aren't here with some egotistical demand. You have a plan. And you have cojones. You've earned my ear."

  Dak appreciated the man's assessment. Esperanza was no fool. For a moment, Dak wondered how the man hadn't been able to take his organization ahead of the Aguilas.

  "Mendoza isn't satisfied with this region. Or with Mexico. He wants to expand beyond the borders."

  Esperanza let his head tilt back and he blinked a few times while he looked at the ceiling. Then he brought his head down and leveled his gaze with Dak's. "I'm not sure how much you know about what we do, but we're all beyond the borders of Mexico, amigo."

  "Oh, I'm well aware. I wasn't talking about the United States." He paused until Esperanza's eyes gave away the fact that he was interested. "Mendoza wants the rest of the world."

  Esperanza's cheeks tightened, eyelids narrowing to dark slits.

  "He wants to have ports on either side of the country. Having those will make him the unrivaled leader in the drug trade for years to come."

  "Ports?" He shifted uncomfortably and reeled in both arms, resting his hands on the table around the tequila glass.

  "My guess is Mendoza is figuring out which ones he wants. Once he decides, he'll use the usual tactics—sabotage a boat, burn down a warehouse, whatever it takes to lower the value of the business he wishes to buy. Once that happens, he'll have easy access to the Gulf, and to the Pacific. Shipping lanes to the east and west, the Caribbean, South America, Africa, you name it."

  Esperanza let out a scoffing exhale. "Every marketable nation has a coast guard, radar, it would be impossible to move that many ships out of Mexico alone, much less land them safely in other ports around the globe. Moving product by boat isn't a new idea, amigo. We've been doing it for years. Everyone has." He flashed his hands. "We don't do it much anymore. Too many profits lost to the patrol boats on both sides of the shipping lanes."

  "I know," Dak said, leaning back. He stopped when he felt his shoulder blades touch the seat, then stretched out his arms across the upper edge. "That's why I think he's going to choose two companies that both run medical supplies to several countries."

  Esperanza cocked his head to the side. "Medical supplies?"

  Dak confirmed the question with a nod. "Medical supply ships will get first priority to ports, especially in times of crisis. They'll be ushered through the usual channels with fewer checkpoints, fewer questions." Dak knew that was only partially true, but he also knew that the argument made so much sense that Esperanza would almost certainly bite.

  "Medical supply ships?"

  "Yep," Dak said.

  Esperanza pondered the idea for a moment. Dak knew the man was intrigued, and not just by the idea of Mendoza utilizing it. His eyes betrayed his own designs on such a grand scheme.

  "Tell me, Dak," Esperanza said quietly. "If what you say is true, how does this information help me get ahead of Mendoza?"

  Dak smiled. "You make an offer to both companies that Mendoza can't beat."

  The cartel boss scoffed audibly, blowing air through his lips. "That's not possible. Not yet."

  "Perhaps you underestimate Mendoza's penchant for a deal. Like I said, he's going to try to drive down the price."

  "You don't know that."

  "It's what I would do," Dak admitted. "It's what you would do."

  Another chuckle. "So, why don't I just step in before his men can do it?"

  "You don't have that kind of time. Besides, you don't have to buy the properties. Not yet. Just get the owners to agree in principle. Once you have a verbal agreement in place, it will block Mendoza. Then nothing he does will matter. If he comes after your ships, your warehouses, it still keeps him from building out his empire. And it gives you cause to go into his back yard and raise hell."

  "You're leaving out something." Esperanza didn't wait for Dak to ask, and he had a feeling he already knew the answer. "What's your role in all of this?"

  "As I stated, I'm going after Luis Martinez. With Mendoza focused on the coasts, I'll make my move and eliminate the man I'm sure has become a bane of your existence."

  "Mm," Esperanza agreed. "Yes, he's made things much more difficult. His men are better trained than they were before. I fear we would be annihilated if we risked an all-out assault on their compound." His eyes played around the room to his fallen guards, still nursing their wounds.

  "I'm going in alone," Dak said. "It'll be easier for one man to get in than an army."

  "That's suicide," Esperanza said.

  "That's my problem." He slid out of the booth and flipped a few pesos on the table to cover the drinks.

  "You don't have to pay for that," the cartel boss stated.

  "I like to leave a good tip."

  He turned and made for the door.

  "Dak," Esperanza stopped him when he neared the exit. Dak turned around and locked eyes with the man. "When should I make this… offer?"

  "Immediately. I'm sure you have an accountant or real estate person who can run the numbers and put in a bid. Make it over the top. And do it soon. Mendoza might already be sending his goons there."

  He pushed through the exit and stepped out onto the street, letting the door creak to a close behind him.

  Inside, Esperanza stewed with thoughts of cutting off Mendoza's grand scheme. He looked over at the woman next to him. "Make it happen," he said. "And find out who this Dak person is."

  "You want me to kill him?"

  Esperanza considered the question. "No." He glanced around at his fallen guards one more time. "I have a strange feeling that man might actually be able to pull off his plan."

  Twelve

  Uruapan

  Mendoza stormed through his castle like a tyrant king. His navy blue button-up shirt fluttered in the breeze. The brown, Italian leather shoes on his feet clicked hard with every step, causing the sound to echo throughout the corridors. Two guards hurried to keep up with him on either side, but staggered just behind.

  Anyone within earshot knew the boss was angry, though most of the people in the compound were working security detail, patrolling the main building, or the perimeter of the grounds.

  He tore around a corner into a wide foyer with arched windows and a matching door that lead out into the courtyard. Through the glass, he saw Luis approaching with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore a look of utter disbelief mingled with a hint of panic.

  Mendoza flung open the door, unwilling to wait on one of his guards to do it for him.

  When he stepped out into the warm evening air, he drew the gold-plated pistol from a holster on his right hip and pointed it at Luis. Quetzalcoatl, a feathered flying serpent similar to a dragon, adorned the shiny yellow metal, engraved into the side with its to
ngue ending near the muzzle. The beast represented a deity in ancient Aztec mythology, one of the key players in the creation of mankind.

  Luis had been uncertain if the man thought himself to be some kind of messenger of the ancient deity or if he merely liked the way it looked. Either way, with the gun pointed at his head by a man with zero reservations about killing anyone, he knew he was going to have to talk fast.

  "What happened to the plan?" Mendoza demanded.

  "I'll call you back," Luis said and pressed the red button on his phone to end the call.

  "Who was that?"

  "One of our men on the Pacific coast."

  "You mean one of my men." Mendoza offered the correction as he shook his weapon threateningly.

  "Yes," Luis agreed. "One of your men." He was unshaken by the sight of the gun. Having stared down the barrel of men every bit as nasty as Mendoza, Luis felt almost accustomed to the gesture.

  "What happened?"

  Luis exhaled in irritation. "You told me to pick two locations. I did. They are the two that best fit all of our needs, and both are medical supply companies. I've done my best to keep you in the loop for all of this."

  "Do you think me a fool, Luis?" Mendoza growled.

  "No. If I did, I wouldn't be working for you. Do you think me a fool?"

  The boss tightened the muscles in his face, clenching his jaw at the absurd question.

  "Only a fool would hire one, Gio," Luis said calmly. "And you're no fool."

  He saw the man's face relax. It wasn't much, but Luis knew his point was made.

  "Tell me what happened," Mendoza rumbled.

  "Only a small group of people knew about our plan," Luis offered. "So, if you think someone in your organization had something to do with it, you'd be right. Except that we have been extremely careful about all of this. Everything was planned out in fine detail."

  "Perhaps the details weren't fine enough, no?"

  Luis tightened his jaw, doing his best not to be insulted. He wanted to tell the man that if there were any leaks; they were with the men he'd hired, the ones that Mendoza had brought on. Insulting the cartel leader's vetting skills, however, would prove unproductive and dangerous.

  "I don't think anyone in the organization did this," Luis stated. He said it with a confidence that hinted at a greater conspiracy.

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  The two guards behind Mendoza waited patiently. They were both armed, but hadn't drawn their weapons. Mendoza lowered his, probably not because he was willing to let go of his outrage, but due to his arm growing tired from being extended for so long.

  "Someone figured out our plan," Luis said. "I don't know how, but they did. Maybe they noticed how we were expanding and told the Guerreros."

  Mendoza rubbed his left temple as if the action would somehow massage the stress from his mind.

  "Why would they be interested in those ports, Luis? Huh?" He wagged the gun at his hip. "They don't have the infrastructure. And we control the routes they would need to use."

  "Which is all the more reason why I believe this came from outside. I just don't know who yet."

  "Americans? The Mexican government won't touch us right now."

  "No, I don't think it was the Americans," Luis hedged, "though we have to be open to that possibility."

  Something about this reeked, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Luis wanted to tell his boss to just outbid the Guerreros, but they'd offered such an insane amount of money, there was no way Mendoza would go for it. As extravagant as he was with his home and lifestyle, he proved to be extremely frugal when acquiring assets that could benefit his business.

  Luis had been surprised to find out how much the Guerreros offered for the properties. It was more than he thought they had on hand, and they'd used no subterfuge to lower the values.

  When Mendoza's men arrived on site, they immediately withdrew, recognizing dozens of Guerreros guarding the gates into the ports.

  Luis had only sent a handful to both locations, so they were right to retreat. Now, however, their plan was crumbling. Another option, however, popped into his head. It was a strategy he'd used before when with the military.

  "The Guerreros are over committed," he blurted.

  "What?" Mendoza asked, eyebrows furrowing.

  "They sent too many men to the coast," Luis explained. "They're weak in their own compound." He could feel the adrenaline of excitement pumping through his veins. "This could present an excellent opportunity for us, Gio."

  "How so?"

  "Carlito sent many of his men out to handle the deals. With them gone, we could overrun their compound and eliminate the Guerreros in one swift strike. With Carlito dead, we will be free to pursue our plan, and we will be unrivaled in the entire region."

  "What are you saying?" Mendoza's eyelids closed to slits.

  "You know what I'm saying."

  "You think we should attack them." It wasn't a question.

  "Now is the time to strike. I realize this isn't typically how things play out here. No one goes after the other guy in his own house." Luis inclined his head. "Maybe it's time to change the rules."

  Mendoza considered the proposal, rubbing his chin as he often did when contemplating something serious. And as a cartel boss, almost everything was serious.

  "How quickly can you put the plan together?"

  "It's already done."

  If Mendoza was surprised, he hid it under a stoic mask. "Good. Tell Marco to lead the men."

  Luis puzzled at the order. "You don't want me to go with them?"

  "I need you here," he said.

  He turned abruptly and stalked back into the mansion, leaving Luis with a bag full of questions.

  One answer glared at him, and he realized it was probably correct. If his plan failed, Mendoza would have him executed.

  His thoughts wandered to his family again, the parents he wanted desperately to protect. As long as Mendoza was alive, they would never be safe. Perhaps, he thought, that was the solution to it all.

  Thirteen

  Uruapan

  Dak held the binoculars against his face, watching the flurry of activity from his perch in the tree across the street.

  Twenty vehicles had converged on the circular driveway in front of the mansion. All around the Mendoza compound, men rushed to SUVs, checking their weapons, and storing more in the rear compartments. When the trucks were loaded with their cargo, the men climbed in and took off. The convoy snaked its way down the long, winding driveway, through the front gate, and out onto the road.

  The roar of the engines reached Dak's ears as they sped toward Esperanza's.

  Dak felt his heart skip one, and only one, beat when he saw the face he'd been fixated on for the last several days, although in his thoughts for much longer. Luis directed the men like a general sending his soldiers off to war.

  It had been a gamble to lay out the plan this way. The strong possibility that Luis went along with his men to take out Esperanza certainly loomed. In Dak's mind, it was 50/50. But he'd set things in motion in such a way that he felt confident Mendoza would ask him to stick around—for more than one reason.

  Mendoza would be suspicious of how everything fell apart, how Esperanza had somehow managed to acquire the two key pieces of property that Luis was tasked with selecting.

  Several assumptions went into the plan, but Dak knew one way or the other, Luis would get his.

  If Mendoza sent him along with the troops to Esperanza's complex, he would likely be cut down in the ambush that waited.

  Esperanza made quite the show of his offer to purchase the shipping businesses. He'd dressed up workers from his manufacturing locations to look like his security detail, sending them to both locations simultaneously. To Luis, it would look like the ultimate invitation to wipe out the rival cartel once and for all. And it was a temptation Dak knew his old friend couldn't resist, nor could Mendoza.

  Dak figured it didn't take much to convince the A
guilas boss to take action. And the man's choice to keep Luis at the mansion showed—at least to some degree—the man wasn't foolish enough to put all his eggs in one basket. He kept a skeleton crew on hand for personal protection, including Luis.

  Now, however, the odds were tilted. Infiltrating the compound would still be a challenging endeavor, but with more than half of Mendoza's men gone, Dak liked his odds.

  He climbed down from the tree and approached the outer wall in a section between where two security cameras hung along the exterior. He carried a lightweight, aluminum ladder, careful not to let it rattle as he moved. Carina had also equipped him with two concussion grenades, two flash-bang grenades, four 9mm pistols—one on each hip and one strapped to the outside of both legs—a hunting knife, and an AR-15 with a 10-inch barrel for easier maneuverability. A black, Kevlar utility vest carried extra magazines for the weapons.

  Even though it appeared Dak was armed to take out a small army, he knew the resources were finite, and he couldn't just recklessly sprint into the compound with guns blazing.

  Carina had also provided the best layout of the mansion she could obtain. Dak had studied the blueprints for hours, making certain he memorized it forward and back.

  He stayed low, sticking to the remnants of shadows that faded ever darker as the sun dipped over the hills to the west. In the hours since he'd arrived, Dak hadn't seen any guards walk along the narrow ledge atop the wall. He also saw none patrolling the exterior along a beaten path that wound around the perimeter. Mendoza leaned heavily on his encompassing camera system, which proved to be one of the few weaknesses Dak could find in the man's security array.

  He crouched when he reached the base of the wall and gently raised the ladder, extending it until the top rung was nearly even with the upper edge, and the rails overlapped by several inches.

  Dak looked to his left and right, scanning the path. No threat approached. Confident he wouldn't be easy pickings, he scaled the ladder, careful with every step not to make even the slightest sound. Once at the top, he slithered over the other inner edge, clinging to it with his fingertips, then let go and safely dropped to the ground on the other side.