Now, in July 1992, Jacoby and his unit were back in Bogota to resume the hunt.
He was waiting at the U.S. Embassy when top American officials returned from an all-night session with Colombian President Cesar Gaviria at the presidential palace. It was during this session that Gaviria, breaking years of official reluctance to allow full-scale American involvement in the government's war against drug traffickers, had asked the Americans to do whatever they could to track down Escobar.
They conferred in the big steel vault upstairs in the embassy compound - Ambassador Morris Busby; Jacoby; Joe Toft, country chief for the Drug Enforcement Administration; and Bill Wagner, the CIA station chief in Bogota. It was July 23, 1992, the day after Escobar walked out of jail.
Busby looked as if he hadn't slept.
'How long do you think it's going to take for you to find him?' he asked.
Maybe a day or two, Jacoby said. They all knew that if Escobar evaded them for the first few days, the hunt would get significantly harder. The big question was how quickly the Colombians could get up and get moving once Escobar was pinpointed.
For all their determination, the National Police had proved repeatedly inept in the first war against Escobar. Despite solid leads provided by Centra Spike, he always got away. There was such fear of Escobar that the Colombians always went out in force, hundreds of men on trucks and helicopters. It was like stalking a deer with bulldozers.
Then there was the corruption issue. Among the hundreds of police involved in these raids, there was always someone willing and able to tip off Escobar for a fee.
'No matter how good our intelligence is, and how hard they try, they just can't close the last thousand meters,' Jacoby told the ambassador. 'With these guys, it just ain't gonna happen.'
Busby considered the resources at his disposal. The CIA was good at long-term intelligence gathering, not special ops. The DEA was good at street work, recruiting snitches and building cases. The FBI in foreign countries did mostly liaison work.
What Busby believed they needed were the manhunters of Delta Force, the Army's elite and top-secret counterterrorism unit. Busby was familiar with the unit from his years as the State Department's ambassador for counterterrorism. Nobody could plan and perform a real-world operation better than the men of Delta.
Colombian law forbade foreign troops on its soil, and it would really be pushing President Gaviria's invitation, but the ambassador felt it was possible on the Colombian end. Delta was stealthy enough that the Colombian press would never find out they were there. But Busby knew there was strong resistance within the Pentagon to entering the drug war, and he believed it was unlikely that Colin Powell, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, would order the move over such strong objection.
'What we need is Delta, but we could never get them,' Busby said.
'Why not?' Jacoby asked.
Jacoby and others in the special-ops community knew that Gen. Wayne Downing, chief of the Army's Special Operations Command, had been interested in getting Delta involved during the first war against Escobar.
What had stopped Downing was the possibility of getting one of his men killed. A dead American from Delta would provoke a crisis in Washington, bringing down scrutiny he was not prepared to accept.
'What are our chances of going in and not getting anybody killed?' Downing had asked one of his advisers.
'Almost zero,' he was told. 'None of these narcos is going to surrender peacefully. If you go in, you either have to take them all or kill them all.'
Downing had let it be known to Jacoby and others that if a situation developed that was the right fit for Delta Force - something clean, precise, and that could be done in a nonattributable manner - he was ready to send them.
So when Busby said, 'They'll never sign up,' Jacoby countered by saying: 'I think you're wrong. If you ask, I think you'll get what you ask for.'
'I guess there's no harm in asking,' the ambassador said.
Jacoby gave the ambassador some advice.
'Don't say you want them to come in here and go after Pablo themselves,' he said. 'That will never fly. Say you want them to offer training and advice.'
They all agreed that Delta was the answer.
There was one other thing that was understood: This time nobody expected Pablo Escobar to be taken alive. The Colombians had no stomach left for putting him on trial or locking him up; Escobar had just shown how pointless that was.
Even though Escobar had been indicted by American courts, Colombia would not extradite him to the United States. Escobar's terror bombings and assassinations had cowed the Colombian congress into outlawing extradition for the drug traffickers.
No, this time the hunt was for keeps, the men in the vault concluded. No one said it out loud, but they all knew: When the Colombians cornered Escobar this time, they all believed they were going to kill him.
Hopes at the U.S. Embassy soared when a Delta Force team led by Col. Jerry Boykin arrived in Bogota late in the evening of Sunday, July 26, 1992.
Ambassador Morris Busby's request for Delta to assist in the hunt for Pablo Escobar, much to his surprise, had sailed through Washington. The State Department had approved it and passed it up to the White House, where President George Bush consulted with Joint Chiefs Chairman Colin Powell and then instructed Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney to give the ambassador anything he needed. The word was that Bush, who had poured millions into a new effort to stanch the flow of drugs from South America, had taken a strong personal interest.
The order came through Gen. George Joulwan, commander of the U.S. Army Southern Command in
