“That may be because I just stepped into the building.” He entered his office and peeled his suit coat off. “What is so urgent that you felt the need to come directly to me?”
“Well, sir,” the tech began, “we had to pull the surveillance drone for refueling. There was a twenty-three minute window of non-coverage before we could get the satellite into position.”
“And?”
“Well, sir…” The tech cleared his throat. “During that twenty-three minute window, the two vehicles that were parked outside the subject’s property have been removed.”
Jameson raised a brow. “And the subject’s SUV?”
“Still in its original position, sir.”
Jameson sat down behind his desk and pondered the possibilities. “I suppose he could have moved the vehicles to throw off the cartel members.”
“Sir?”
He held a hand up. “Nothing. Just…thinking out loud.” He looked up at the tech again. “Can you tell if the subjects are still inside the compound?”
“Negative sir. The place is too well insulated to discern body heat from within.”
“Microwave?”
The tech shook his head. “The satellite isn’t capable, sir. For walls as thick as we suspect, it would need to be within a hundred meters.”
Jameson raised a brow. “At that distance, even our quietest surveillance drone would be heard.”
“That’s affirmative, sir.”
He scratched at his chin. “I hate to do this…” He picked up his phone then looked back at the tech. “That will be all.”
He watched the man leave then punched the buttons and waited. “This is Director Jameson. Assemble the strike team and have them deploy.”
He waited a moment for verification then nodded. “I need confirmation that the subjects are still within the compound. Tell them to bring the Doppler microwave unit. I need a current head count.”
He hung up the phone and looked up at his office door. He half expected Robert Ingram to pop in with a nickel’s worth of free advice.
He actually sighed with relief when the spindly man didn’t appear. “This might turn out to be a good day after all.”
Houston, TX
Mario paced the lush penthouse waiting for word that his army was prepared. He continued to flick the ashes from his cigar into the carpet and would pause to look out upon the city only to resume pacing.
He knew that the sun would soon be up and Bravo team would clearly see them coming. He felt his body tensing until he forced himself to consider the numbers. Over a hundred men compared to Bravo’s handful. The odds were easily twenty to one in his favor.
If only the numbers were the deciding factor.
“Jefe?” Fernando called quietly. “The men are assembling.”
Mario stood and squared his shoulders. “Then it is time.” He turned and marched to the bedroom, stripping his silk shirt as he went.
He emerged a moment later in faded fatigues, a bullet proof vest strapped to his chest. Fernando stared open mouthed as he tugged a BDU shirt over it and began to button it.
“Señor?” He cleared his throat. “Surely you do not intend to—”
“This is my fight, Fernando,” Mario stated plainly. He tugged a utility belt around his middle and buckled the straps to a drop leg holster. “I cannot expect my people to fight a battle that I am not personally ready to fight myself.”
He slid the .45 caliber pistol into the holster and two tactical knives into the sheaths on the belt.
Mario stepped back and studied his image for a moment. He snapped his fingers then turned back to the closet. He pulled down a faded boonie hat and slipped it on, adjusting the edges to curve up then snapping them into place.
“I am ready, Fernando.” He turned and faced the man. “My AK?”
Fernando swallowed hard and nodded, “It’s in the car, señor.”
“Then let’s bring an end to this nonsense, shall we?”
Mexico City, Mexico
Raul Ortega stood over the rustic table and studied the papers spread out upon its surface.
“Señor?”
He lifted his weary eyes and nodded to the man who entered the makeshift war room. “What is it?”
“We have received word from el jefe. He wants us to send all of the men we can spare to Texas.”
Raul stared at the man blankly. For a moment, the enforcer feared that he had fallen asleep or didn’t hear him. He was about to open his mouth and repeat the order when Raul stated simply, “No.” He lowered his face to study the papers again.
“Señor?”
Raul lifted his eyes once more and shook his head. “No. We have too much to do here and the timing must be perfect.” He slid the paper away and pinched his eyes shut. “We are this close to either destroying the Sinaloa or being destroyed ourselves. I won’t risk everything that Don Murillo built for this…” He sighed and gently sat down. “This vendetta.”
“But, Señor Ortega, he is still the head of the cartel. Don Murillo himself—”
“And he placed ME in charge!” Raul stood so suddenly that the chair shot out from under him. “We will not be sending assistance to him, do you understand?”
The enforcer nodded quickly and backed away. “Si, señor. I will pass the word.”
Raul gave him a weary stare. “Tell the men to prepare. We strike the Sinaloa this morning. If our intel is correct, and with any luck, Esmerelda will be there. We can cut the head from the snake and absorb their assets in one fell swoop.”
“And if she is not there, Jefe?”
“Then we were betrayed and we will fail.” Raul rubbed at his eyes and bent to pick up his chair. “Our people will be killed, our own assets will be absorbed by that lying puta and our distributors will be spread amongst the remaining cartels.”
The enforcer swallowed hard and nodded. “How can we be certain that we were told the truth?”
Raul scoffed. “The only way to know for certain is to act on the information. We attack. If we succeed, then El Fantasma returns to a fresh start with the
