“Tell him to bring the men to that hangar!” said Juan pointing to one of the Los Zetas hangars.
“We are both supposed to board the jet,” argued Luis.
“We’ll do it my way or no way. I am not getting on an American jet!”
Luis exited the car and walked alone towards Agent Smith.
“Is he not coming?” he shouted nodding towards Juan.
“He will meet in that hangar over there or not at all.”
Smith looked around; the area was devoid of any activity. His orders were to allow the meeting to happen on the plane, get the woman and get out. He did not have instructions to allow the meeting to happen elsewhere. He shook his head.
Juan opened the window and held up his phone. “If I don’t give the OK in,” he checked his watch, “two minutes, the bitch dies! Your call!”
Smith looked helpless but the voice in his head saved his indecision and said OK.
***
“Look unhappy and nod half heartedly,” said the voice in Agent Smith’s earpiece.
The Team Leader of the CIA hit squad sent to assassinate the Los Zetas bosses and the majority of the East coasts drug dealers, checked the infrared scope again. There was nobody in the hangar. No bright spots to indicate anything other than an empty hangar.
While the FBI and DEA were rousing the drug dealers, the CIA team was being quietly parachuted into a location as near to the airport as they dared. They had spent the afternoon securing the best sniper spots and checking the lay of the land. Nobody outside of the CIA was aware of the plan. The other agencies leaked like a sieve when it came to information regarding the cartels. The CIA was on foreign ground, Mexican ground and with five of their men down, there was a serious thirst for blood. This was their fight and their fight alone.
“Tell them they need to give us the woman and then we’ll send them in.”
Smith relayed the message but got a negative response; the woman would only be let go only after the meeting was over.
“Team 2, do you have the woman in sight?”
“Negative.”
“Thirty seconds!” shouted Juan. The Team Leader heard him loud and clear.
“OK, we’re going to kill the fuck anyway. May as well not lose the woman,” said the Team Leader in Smith’s earpiece.
Luis stood between the car and the jet as Juan dictated how things would be done.
Surprisingly, the CIA guy accepted and the two large Italians disembarked from one jet while four disembarked from another and another five from another. Eleven men in total walked towards the hangar. Luis noted that Juan made no attempt to move and realizing, he wasn’t going to exit the car, Luis ran back and drove Juan to the hangar. Juan remained seated as Luis first had to stop, exit the car, open the hangar door and finally drive in.
As the men started to enter the hangar, the first and most worrying thing Luis noted was the warmth in the greetings between Juan and the East coast drug dealers. These were men with whom they had had no contact since Fat Jake had been the intermediary. These were men who every time they had been contacted had suggested that there was a contact that supplied their product and they would need to speak with him first.
It seemed Luis knew the contact very well after all. Juan Torres was the East coast contact they had been trying to find for three months. It all became clear. Fat Jake was just a patsy who worked for Juan. Juan was skimming billions from Los Zetas and making up for El Jefe’s inadequacies.
Juan looked at the open mouthed expression stuck on Luis’ face.
“It doesn’t mean I love him any less!” promised Juan. “I just needed a fairer cut. After all, I made Los Zetas what it is!”
Luis couldn’t argue. Not because he agreed but because of the bullet that hit him right between the eyes.
Juan lowered the silenced revolver he had slipped from his belt and turned to his customers.
“Gentlemen, I suggest we board as a matter of urgency!” he indicated towards the aircraft that lay with its engines exposed.
They looked at him with some confusion but he herded them on. Walking to each of the engines, he pushed the tool carts aside and flipped the switches that lowered the engine covers.
Within a minute, he had them aboard and was preparing to start the engines. He picked up the cell and called his men.
“Take her out with all your men and release her. As soon as she is about to board the aircraft shoot her!”
“Of course, Mister Torres.”
“I’ll wait on the phone as you do it.”
The first sign that their plan had gone to shit was when the ten men appeared with the woman at gunpoint. The Team Leader watched in despair as she was let go and all ten Mexicans trained their weapons on her. It was a long walk to Smith’s airplane.
The sound of the jet engine kicking to life in the hangar was when he really knew he was screwed. He didn’t have enough men to protect the woman and stop a plane. He wished she would run but she had been clearly told that wasn’t an option. She walked slowly and carefully as though her life depended on it which was probably exactly what she had been told.
When the hangar doors opened, the Mexicans raised their weapons and assumed a stance that suggested they were about to fire. Ten shooters against five snipers. They didn’t stand a chance but he had to save the woman. That was his first order of duty. As it became apparent they were about to shoot, he had no option but to issue the order to shoot.
He instructed Smith to scream at Katie to get down. At least if any of them pulled the trigger, she’d hopefully get out of the way. As Smith screamed and Katie fell, the jet shot out of the hangar faster than the Team Leader thought possible. He would later discover that the plane was fitted with rocket boosters, allowing it to use much shorter runways than otherwise expected for a Citation X, perfect for picking up drugs in deepest darkest Columbia.
As the last of the ten Mexicans fell, each of the snipers rushed to catch the jet but it was already up and tearing into the sky. They lost the Los Zetas boss and every one of the East coast crime lords. Not only that, Katie remained stationery, flat on her face where she had fallen.
“Fuck!” screamed the Team Leader almost bursting Smith’s eardrum.
Chapter 62
El Jefe crossed himself as the ghost of the man he had killed all too easily stood before him.
A few of his men, those who had witnessed El Jefe carve the man to bits, stepped back; it had to be a devil of some sort.
Sean saw the fear in their eyes and realized this was going to end badly, just because they thought he was a ghost. Rifles were twitching and there was every chance that James was going to be killed just because of some silly superstitions.
“It was my twin!” shouted Sean. “My brother, identical twin!”
Those who understood English well enough translated and an audible sigh of relief circled the group. El Jefe was less convinced and strode towards Sean, eyeing him closely. He circled him two or three times before jutting towards Sean unexpectedly. Sean moved with lightning reactions, swinging James out of danger and readying for an attack.
El Jefe smiled warmly at Sean’s move and nodded his head approvingly.
“You are indeed a different man!” he announced confidently.
Sean bit his tongue. Of course he fucking was. The other Sean was in bits in an evidence box.
“The man that I thought you were when we first met.”
They had just met thought Sean. Luis was right his uncle was a psycho.
“I will offer you the same deal I offered that night!”
Sean waited, nothing came. He actually believed Sean knew what the deal was. He really was mad.
“What deal?” asked Sean quiet enough for only El Jefe to hear.
“We will fight to the death. If you beat me, my men will let you leave here alive!” he announced to the group of soldiers.