Mexico decided to rise up en masse against the gangs, they would remain trapped in a society ruled by fear.
It was into this milieu of chaos that Acerbi had chosen to build a temporary base of operations. No Europol, no FBI, no CIA. Even if they knew where he was, it mattered little to him.
“Let them come,” he told his men. “We’ll be waiting.”
The temporary move to Mexico had been part of his grand plan all along. Here, in the twenty-first century, he would be free to put his ultimate plan into effect from a part of the world that seemed closer to the Dark Ages, and Rene Acerbi reveled in it. It almost saddened him to think that he would have to leave this place in a few short days, but his time had come. Soon he would be free to be who he was really meant to be. The whole world would soon know his name, and they would come to fear him, for they would be powerless against him.
It had been two years since Acerbi first came to Mexico bearing gifts. He had been wise enough to realize that, by setting up a foreign operation in a country virtually free from the rule of law, he would be forced to deal with new kinds of threats, ones that were potentially even more formidable than those he faced back in the civilized world.
Instead of dealing with a civilized system of law enforcement that actually had the power to enforce the laws, he would now have to deal with psychotic, drug-fueled murderers who had no discipline and prayed only to the gods of money and power-which made them harder to control. However, in a move worthy of a master tactician, Acerbi had taken all of this into account when he first began planning the next phase of his operation.
By providing the most powerful drug lord in Mexico with some inside information on international law enforcement’s efforts to curtail the drug trade, Acerbi had quickly become the cartel’s new best friend. Over time, Rene had proven himself to be valuable in other areas as well, and keeping him safe had become their top priority, at least for as long as he remained valuable. But Acerbi was no fool. The unpredictable nature of the beast he was dealing with involved traits that were all too familiar to him, so he had taken the extra precaution of layering his security into rings of protection.
The inner ring had been hand-picked by Acerbi’s most trusted security specialists. At the center of this circle, a team of intelligence analysts worked twenty-four-hours a day acquiring information on everything and everyone Acerbi considered to be a threat. Most of the members of this inner circle were professional mercenaries recruited from Special Forces teams the world over. These men were charged primarily with Acerbi’s personal protection and the operation of the high-tech defense systems he had installed around the ranch.
The outer defense ring was mostly for show. These were the decoys. This was where Acerbi placed the undisciplined hired guns furnished by the cartel. This fearsome looking bunch of bloodthirsty killers not only provided the first ring of security, but kept rival drug gangs away by creating the illusion that Acerbi’s ranch was owned by just another drug lord in hiding.
The job of controlling these men fell to a team of elite mercenaries who served as Acerbi’s clandestine enforcers. With the knowledge that a war between rival drug factions in the area could disrupt their boss’s plans and bring unwanted attention to his presence, Acerbi’s mercenaries had given the Mexicans on the perimeter strict instructions to avoid any confrontations with other drug gangs in the area. The penalty for breaking this rule was death that usually came silently without warning in the middle of the night.
The centerpiece of Rene’s new kingdom was the rambling hacienda that had just been constructed on the top of a hill overlooking the desert. With a design dating back to the turn of the last century, it was a beautiful piece of traditional Mexican architecture. The one-story, white-stucco structure had a red-tiled roof and was completely encircled by a wide porch supported by heavy dark beams over a floor of Saltillo tile that also covered the large interior courtyard.
Having a central courtyard has always been an important element in Mexican architecture, even in the cities. The idea of an inner courtyard was nothing new. In fact, the design harkened back to biblical times. From the homes of Babylon to the medieval castles that stretched across Europe, all the way up to modern-day structures like the Pentagon in Washington D.C., the fortress mentality that had spanned the age of man had appeared in homes throughout the civilized world for thousands of years. It seemed that the need for a protective enclosure had been built into our collective architectural DNA.
The most famous inner courtyards were those found in ancient Rome. The inner courtyard of a typical Roman villa provided a private outdoor oasis free from the suffering gaze of those who lived beyond its walls. The design was perfect for a man like Rene Acerbi, and the analogy to a Roman villa was a good one for a man who believed he was destined to become the new Caesar.
Acerbi’s hacienda possessed a courtyard that came with a pool, and on this day Rene was taking full advantage of it. Floating over the clear blue water behind his bougainvillea covered walls with a cold drink in his hand, Acerbi peered through his designer sunglasses at the cloudless sky above. There was always the possibility that the outbreak of the pathogen could somehow be traced back to him, but that was highly unlikely. The time was rapidly approaching when he would be truly untouchable. Until then, he would remain in hiding in his Mexican hacienda, dependent on a fearsome array of men and weapons to protect him from those who would seek to interfere with a plan his ancestors had set in motion seven-hundred years in the past.
His thoughts drifted to the coming ceremony. Up until now, the anonymous displays of his ability to kill vast numbers of people had been kept in check by the other members of his clan, but after tomorrow he would be free from their meddling restrictions. He would finally have the power and authority he needed to unleash the full force of his wrath against all the ignorant and undeserving people in the world. They would soon be at his feet. He would rule it all. Life was good.
CHAPTER 53
It was the sort of cloudless, pale blue sky that pilots liked to describe as
After an early breakfast, the men had gathered for a briefing in front of a large screen filled with satellite photos of Acerbi’s compound. Right away, the soldiers could see that his Mexican hacienda had been built on a tall hill, providing an unobstructed view over the rocky Chihuahuan Desert that stretched for miles over open terrain dotted with small, volcanic-looking hills.
Despite the fact that the house had been built in the middle of a desert, it was obvious from the numerous windmills and lush greenery rising up the side of the hill that several water wells had been drilled deep into the earth. Red bougainvillea climbed the white exterior walls surrounding the hacienda, while down below, mesquite and
Spreading out from the base of the hilltop compound, small cactus and low-lying scrub brush covered the sandy desert floor as far as the eye could see, making it impossible for an intruder to approach the main house from any direction without being seen. The only deviation from the endless, prickly landscape was a long concrete runway and a new hangar that had just been constructed behind the hacienda, out of sight of the main highway. In short, the location had been perfectly chosen for defense.
After waiting for almost an hour, the men were told that the briefing had been postponed due to some disturbing new intelligence from an advance scouting party down in Mexico. Following their initial briefing with the men the night before, Lev and the force leaders had met to discuss the plan of attack. It had been decided at that meeting that it was essential to send in an advance team on the ground to scout the area around Acerbi’s ranch and report back. Even though they had received satellite photos of the area, nothing could replace boots on the ground for real time intelligence about what was really going on down in Mexico.
Disguised as college students wearing torn jeans and orange and white University of Texas T-shirts, a two- man Israeli surveillance team had made the five-hour drive to El Paso in a specially outfitted, four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup truck painted in brown primer. Due to the long lines, crossing the border into Juarez had taken longer than anticipated. When at last they had finally made it across the Rio Grande River, they could see the faint glow of dawn across the desert as the big Chevy headed down Mexico’s infamous highway 45 toward the city of Chihuahua. Thirty minutes later, their GPS confirmed that they were passing by the western border of Acerbi’s ranch. Right
