“It must have been quite a large debt.”
“Yes, but the alternative was for him to die. He’ll spend some time in jail, but I’ll pay his family something, and, most importantly for him, he gets to stay alive.”
“Plata o plomo?”
“Yes,” the Padre chuckled. “Silver or lead. It’s always an easy choice. Take me to the meeting.”
• • •
Avery hunched over his laptop. A half-empty can of Mountain Dew rested within easy reach. He took a swig and continued to work.
“Colonel.”
“Yes.” Cesar seethed with anger over losing his mark for the second time.
“Was the Padre involved in any major construction projects that you are aware of?”
“He has many different businesses under his control. He mainly uses them for laundering drug proceeds. It’s possible that one of them is involved in construction. Why?”
“Well,” Avery said, “there are a number of files here regarding the construction of a facility outside Monterrey. He’s been arranging major deliveries of equipment and supplies.”
“What kind of equipment?”
“Heavy equipment, including excavation and drilling machines and lots of chemicals, too. Looks like all the transactions were in cash.”
“There’s no way it’s legitimate.”
“There’s also the purchase of an abandoned building nine months ago.”
“Do you have the exact location?”
“Of course I do,” Avery said in disgust. “Do you think I’m stupid?” Avery scratched the stained armpits of his dirty yellow tracksuit.
• • •
Barquero was furious with himself. He should have known it couldn’t be that easy. He should have killed the attorney. Sitting in the cab of a pickup truck he’d stolen earlier, he cleaned and reloaded his pistol. Backed-up traffic slowly crawled past his spot on the side of the highway. The cell phone in his pocket hummed.
“I know he wasn’t there. Yes…where is it? Are you positive? Okay. I’ll handle it.” He hung up the phone and started up the truck. Horns blared as he forced his way onto the road.
• • •
Ziggy finished the bag of chips, got up, and switched out the DVD, while General X-Ray and his men stood sentry at locations around the farmhouse, watching for signs of the coyote pack. Fire Team Alpha was holed up in the kitchen.
“Team Leader?” Private Foxtrot asked. “What do you think that thing was I found in the desert?”
“What thing?” Fire Team Leader Alpha yawned.
“With the metal detector. The needle dang near flew off the dial.”
“Who knows, probably some old junk.”
“You think it might be gold?” Private Foxtrot asked hopefully. “Remember the General’s story about them Mexicans that buried it to get away from the Texans?”
“After the last couple of days, I’m not buying any more of the General’s stories. He’s crazier than a dog in a hubcap factory. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Don’t you think we ought to tell him, though? It might be worth checking out. I’m just saying.”
“Foxtrot, there’s a pack of half-starved coyotes out there, and you look like a fried pork chop with red-eye gravy to them. How’d you expect to go dig up some dang infernal desert junk with one of them chewing on your liver?”
“We got our guns back now. We can fight ’em off.”
“You couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with that single-shot twenty-two of yours, and you know it.”
“I’ll do the digging. You can keep ’em off me with your scattergun. They sure do like to come in close. You can’t miss.”
“Not me, partner. You know what has four legs and an arm? A happy coyote.”
“Can’t we at least tell the General? I bet he can come up with a plan.”
“Fine, tell the General. Anything to get you to shut up.”
“Thanks, Fire Team Leader. You know, you’re my best pal.”
“Lucky me.” Fire Team Leader Alpha picked up an apple from a bowl and took a bite.
• • •
It was getting dark, and Barquero was surveying the abandoned building forty miles outside of Monterrey. He checked his weapon and the two curved hand scythes in his waistband. Cesar and his men hadn’t arrived yet. That was good. He had a score to settle. Personally. He liked to work alone.
The building showed signs of decay and neglect, but there were armed men posted at locations around the perimeter. Barquero moved stealthily among the excavators and dump trucks surrounding the building. As dilapidated as the outside of the building appeared, there was clearly a great deal of work being done in and around the property. At one end of the building, an eighteen-wheeler was backed up to a loading dock. Men were using a forklift to unload pallets of materials into the facility. In front of him, two men with assault rifles waited by a door. He sneaked past them under the cover of heavy machinery, opting for a broken window on the side of the facility. Meticulously, he picked the remaining broken shards of glass from the window, one by one. To his right, he heard footsteps. Leaning up against the shadows, he reached for one of the curved blades at his back. As the man rounded the corner, Barquero attacked. It was over in seconds. The man’s quivering body spilt its blood on the dry sand at the corner of the building. Barquero returned to the window and pulled himself in. Room to room, he searched. Coming to a long hallway, he heard to men laughing. They were standing by a staircase.
“And the what?” one of the men asked, laughing.
“I swear to God, the next thing she did was…” the man said as he slumped against the wall.
“What?” his confused partner asked as a bullet from Barquero’s silenced pistol pierced his lung. “What the…” he said as he collapsed on top of his compatriot. Barquero ran down the hall and, in quick succession, shot both men in the head. He checked behind him and then went down the steps.
• • •
“I want every available helicopter in the air now!” Cesar shouted into his radio. Sirens blared and lights flashed as the long procession of military vehicles raced down the highway.
“Most commando teams sneak in without sirens,” Avery said. “Trust me, I should know.”
“Get me General Morales on the line,” Cesar said.
“Seriously, with the lights and everything, we look like a freaking neon snake out here.” Avery opened another Mountain Dew. “MI-6 would never do it this way.”
“Shut up,” Cesar said to Avery. “When we get there, you stay put.”
“Whatever,” Avery replied as he returned to playing the latest release of Zombie Slaughter on his laptop. “But can we stop for tacos on the way? No onions for me.”
“Not another word from you!” Cesar went back to his radio.
“What? No tacos here? This country bites ass,” Avery muttered.
• • •
General X-Ray and the rest of the STRAC-BOM listened intently as Private Foxtrot recounted the story of the metal detector and the positive reading he’d come across. When the private had finished, the General leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his bald dome.
“That big a reading?” he asked.
“Sir, massive, sir,” Private Foxtrot replied.
“But it was back near where we parked the bus? Near that pack of animals?”
“Yep.”
“Well, boys, we’ve found the civilian, and as far as I’m concerned, that fulfills our end of the bargain. I was planning for us to bug out back to the States once it gets light outside. But let’s face it. We’re still broke as beggars, and if there really is something down there of value, it just might be the ticket that keeps us in the militia business. It won’t be easy, but I think we can do it. That said, the mission is officially over, and you men deserve to head home for some well-deserved R&R. We’ll put it to a vote. But it needs to be unanimous.” The men looked around nervously at each other.