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Authors: Scott Matthews
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friends.”
14
When their Gulfstream landed in Tijuana, where the sultry night air was heavy with the smells of burned jet fuel and pollution, it was met by two black Suburbans and men wearing blue and black fatigues.
“Mike, keep our guys here,” Drake said, as he climbed down the ladder. “No use showing them what we bring to the party before we know if there’s a party.” He walked toward an agent walking toward him.
The agent extended his right hand. “Drake, I’m Special Agent Cooper. Welcome to Tijuana. Have your men join us and we’ll talk.”
“I told them to stay in the plane until I know if we’re staying.”
“Oh, you’ll be staying, all right. Washington pulled in some favors Mexico owes us. They’ve agreed to raid the villa.”
“Do we get to join you?”
“Only two of you as advisors, and no guns. They want to be able to take full credit if the raid is successful. My men will be armed, but Mexico’s go in first.”
Drake nodded. “Fine, but I want to be right behind you. I’ll go tell my guys.” He turned and went back to the Gulfstream.
Back in the forward cabin, he sat across from his friend. “Only two of us get to go,” he said loud enough for the others to hear. “No guns. And we’re only allowed to observe. Mike, you still have those Glock 30’s and ankle holsters?”
“Sure do. I thought we might need them.”
“Are they here in the cabin or stowed with our luggage?”
“In the back, I’ll get them.”
As Casey stood up, Drake turned to Gonzalez. “Roberto, you can monitor us on the team radios. Let me know if you hear anything hinky from any of the Mexican army around us. The DEA might trust them, but we don’t have to. We’ll be too far away for you to get to us in time if we need help, but stay with the plane. I don’t want anything missing when we get back.”
“You want a vest?” Mike asked when he returned with the Glocks. “The radios are in the vest pockets.”
“Only way to dress for a party like this,” Drake said as he strapped his Glock on his right ankle and pulled on the bulletproof vest. “Now let’s go see if we can find our terrorist.”
Special Agent Cooper stood beside his SUV talking with a Mexican army officer. “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding at Drake and Casey, “this is Major Rafael Castillo, head of Mexico’s war on the cartels in this region. He will lead the raid tonight.”
Major Castillo did not look like a Mexican commando. Tall, with blue eyes and a light complexion, he looked more like a California beach boy than a soldier. Those blue eyes, however, showed the toughness required to fight the cartels in Mexico.
“Gentlemen,” he said in almost unaccented English as they shook hands, “Special Agent Cooper has worked with me before and assures me you will not get in my way. Make it so. We know of the villa you have identified. It is owned by a man we have been watching. He has no connection to the cartels that we have found. He is connected, however, to many of our politicians from Baja Mexico. For that reason, we will be very careful tonight. We will also be very careful because an important cartel member and his family were assassinated at a birthday party this afternoon. The cartels will have blood in their eyes for anyone moving against them. You are welcome to observe, but that is all I can allow you to do. Is that understood?”
“It’s your call, Major,” Drake said. “The man we’re after is a danger to both of us, but he’s here in your country. We appreciate you being willing to take him on. We won’t get in your way.”
“Good. My two Black Hawks will be here soon. You’ll ride in the second one,” Major Castillo said as he turned and walked toward a nearby hangar, where soldiers were mustering.
“Castillo’s good,” Special Agent Cooper told them. “He attended college at Texas A&M, ROTC, then enlisted in the Marines. He has dual citizenship, but came back home to fight the
14
When their Gulfstream landed in Tijuana, where the sultry night air was heavy with the smells of burned jet fuel and pollution, it was met by two black Suburbans and men wearing blue and black fatigues.
“Mike, keep our guys here,” Drake said, as he climbed down the ladder. “No use showing them what we bring to the party before we know if there’s a party.” He walked toward an agent walking toward him.
The agent extended his right hand. “Drake, I’m Special Agent Cooper. Welcome to Tijuana. Have your men join us and we’ll talk.”
“I told them to stay in the plane until I know if we’re staying.”
“Oh, you’ll be staying, all right. Washington pulled in some favors Mexico owes us. They’ve agreed to raid the villa.”
“Do we get to join you?”
“Only two of you as advisors, and no guns. They want to be able to take full credit if the raid is successful. My men will be armed, but Mexico’s go in first.”
Drake nodded. “Fine, but I want to be right behind you. I’ll go tell my guys.” He turned and went back to the Gulfstream.
Back in the forward cabin, he sat across from his friend. “Only two of us get to go,” he said loud enough for the others to hear. “No guns. And we’re only allowed to observe. Mike, you still have those Glock 30’s and ankle holsters?”
“Sure do. I thought we might need them.”
“Are they here in the cabin or stowed with our luggage?”
“In the back, I’ll get them.”
As Casey stood up, Drake turned to Gonzalez. “Roberto, you can monitor us on the team radios. Let me know if you hear anything hinky from any of the Mexican army around us. The DEA might trust them, but we don’t have to. We’ll be too far away for you to get to us in time if we need help, but stay with the plane. I don’t want anything missing when we get back.”
“You want a vest?” Mike asked when he returned with the Glocks. “The radios are in the vest pockets.”
“Only way to dress for a party like this,” Drake said as he strapped his Glock on his right ankle and pulled on the bulletproof vest. “Now let’s go see if we can find our terrorist.”
Special Agent Cooper stood beside his SUV talking with a Mexican army officer. “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding at Drake and Casey, “this is Major Rafael Castillo, head of Mexico’s war on the cartels in this region. He will lead the raid tonight.”
Major Castillo did not look like a Mexican commando. Tall, with blue eyes and a light complexion, he looked more like a California beach boy than a soldier. Those blue eyes, however, showed the toughness required to fight the cartels in Mexico.
“Gentlemen,” he said in almost unaccented English as they shook hands, “Special Agent Cooper has worked with me before and assures me you will not get in my way. Make it so. We know of the villa you have identified. It is owned by a man we have been watching. He has no connection to the cartels that we have found. He is connected, however, to many of our politicians from Baja Mexico. For that reason, we will be very careful tonight. We will also be very careful because an important cartel member and his family were assassinated at a birthday party this afternoon. The cartels will have blood in their eyes for anyone moving against them. You are welcome to observe, but that is all I can allow you to do. Is that understood?”
“It’s your call, Major,” Drake said. “The man we’re after is a danger to both of us, but he’s here in your country. We appreciate you being willing to take him on. We won’t get in your way.”
“Good. My two Black Hawks will be here soon. You’ll ride in the second one,” Major Castillo said as he turned and walked toward a nearby hangar, where soldiers were mustering.
“Castillo’s good,” Special Agent Cooper told them. “He attended college at Texas A&M, ROTC, then enlisted in the Marines. He has dual citizenship, but came back home to fight the
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