In a sedan along a crowded highway, a man with a dark suit, wide-brimmed hat, and Roman priest’s collar talked on a cell phone. From inside his suit coat pocket, he took out a small silver case and removed a thin cigar. He lit it.
“Yes, I understand,” he said as he exhaled a ring of smoke and hung up the phone.
“Move, move, move…” Cesar exhorted his men. “We leave now!” Avery dragged himself into the dark SUV with another half dozen heavily armed troops dressed in black.
“Anyone have anything to eat?” Avery asked. A Mexican Army Special Forces operator next to him pulled out his pistol, stared at Avery, and chambered a round. “Why do you carry a forty-five?” Avery asked.
“Because they don’t make a forty-six,” the man with a ragged scar on his face responded with a cold grin as he pulled a black ski mask over his head.
“Going skiing?”
“We cover our faces. We can’t let them know who we are,” the special operator replied. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together.
“That’s really delightful,” Avery said in disgust as he looked out the window as the city passed by. It was a hard city, but anyone could tell it once was a seat of power. The old combined with the new to create a strange mix of architecture. Twenty minutes later, they reached their destination. Cesar led his armed men as they fanned out around the warehouse. They took up concealed positions in buildings around their target. From the rooftops, snipers scanned the area. Meanwhile, Avery continued to work on his laptop.
“Colonel, I think we may be in the wrong place.”
“My contact was very specific. This is the location,” Cesar replied.
“Colonel Beltran, come in, over,” a voice came from Cesar’s radio. He picked it up.
“What is it?”
“I’ve got a visual on a car approaching the warehouse.”
“I see it,” Cesar said. “All units hold until I give the go. Be sure to watch for a large Mexican national dressed in civilian clothes. He’s with us, over.” The car pulled up in front of the warehouse. A man dressed in black got out. “Is he wearing a priest’s collar?” Cesar asked into his radio.
“Affirmative,” came back a reply.
“Good, that’s our target. Stay on him, over.” The man in black took a key from his suit pocket and entered the warehouse as his ride pulled away. “Let the car go,” Cesar said. “Stay with the target. All units prepare to go in. I want him alive if possible. Take up breaching positions. Go now!” Cesar and his men moved quickly from their concealed locations around the building. Two of his men stood beside the main door. “Breach it now!” Cesar commanded. One of the men pointed a shotgun at the hinges of the door. Two quick blasts roared out. The door fell away as the second man threw a concussion grenade into the building. A deafening roar was followed by a procession of Cesar’s men into the warehouse.
“Stay down! Stay down!” the first soldier through the door yelled at a figure prone on the concrete floor. Using zip ties, the soldiers restrained the stunned man. Cesar used a flashlight to illuminate the man’s face. The man just laughed. It wasn’t the Padre. In the back of the warehouse, Barquero quietly made his exit.
“Who was the man?” the Padre’s driver asked as the armored limousine cruised out of Monterrey.
“Just someone who owed me a debt,” the Padre replied as he lit a cigar. “It was his misfortune that he happened to look like me. Vaguely.”
“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.”
“
“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.
