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Authors: Scott Matthews
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cartels. He’s a good leader, but he doesn’t exactly have crack troops to lead. So keep your heads down. What he said about a cartel leader getting whacked is troubling. When the cartels are at war, it’s worse than anything the Godfather movies ever portrayed.”
“Does this assassination have anything to do with our guy?” Drake asked. “Barak had a working relationship with the cartels, and if our intel is correct, he just arrived in Tijuana.”
“Who knows. All the police here say is that the brother of the Architect—the former head of the cartel—was assassinated by two black Muslims with prison tattoos. Who the hell knows how they’re involved. An opposing cartel could be trying to throw us off. Make us think this was some outside group that did this.”
Drake looked at Casey, who knew enough to keep silent. If Barak was here using his men to carry out a hit, it made sense if he wanted the protection of the cartels for awhile. Or he was joining in their smuggling enterprise as he had before.
When the Black Hawks flew in low and landed in front of the hangar, Special Agent Cooper led them to the second helicopter and motioned them in.
“Since you are their special guests, they saved the window seats for you,” he said with a smile. “Of course, they’ll probably fly with the cargo doors open.”
Drake returned Cooper’s smile. He and Casey had flown more times in Black Hawks than either of them cared to remember. Flying with the cargo doors open was routine.
The flight south from Tijuana took less than fifteen minutes. They flew down the Guadalupe Valley and landed in a flat area next to a swimming pool below the villa. No sooner had they touched down than gun fire raked both helicopters as the soldiers jumped out and took positions behind the retaining wall around the pool. Major Castillo gave hand signals to his men to move out in three groups and up a slight hill toward the villa. At the same time, Drake and Casey took cover behind the retaining wall and watched the soldiers advance on the villa, firing controlled bursts from their AK 47’s.
Drake frowned. “Mike, there’s no sound from the incoming rounds. What are these guys using?”
“Only thing I know of is the Kalashnikov AK-9,” Casey said, ducking his head as rounds peppered the swimming pool behind them. “Almost no sound, fires 9 mm rounds that can penetrate bulletproof vests.”
“I hope Castillo knows that. If he doesn’t, he’s going to lose a lot of his guys.”
As the soldiers moved in on the villa, the fighting intensified, then suddenly stopped. In the silence, Drake signaled Casey to move to the right end of the retaining wall as he moved to the left end. Either Castillo had won or there would be men moving down to finish them as well.
When he looked up again, the light coming from the veranda revealed Major Castillo turning over a cartel defender with his boot. Satisfied the man was dead, he turned toward Drake and waved.
“Come up and look for your man.”
Walking up the gravel path to the villa, they saw that Castillo’s pincer tactic had caught the cartel men falling back to protect the villa, where they were mowed down in a crossfire. It looked like Castillo had lost several men.
In the villa’s main room, they found two men lying face down at the foot of a staircase and several others that had fallen around the doorway they had defended. Their bodies had been mutilated by the savage fire from the soldiers.
“These two were trying to reach the stairs when we came in,” Castillo said. “We haven’t been upstairs, so I don’t know if anyone is there. Would you like to wait for my men to clear the second floor? Or would you rather go look for yourselves?”
Drake picked up an AK 9 lying next to one of the dead men and headed for the stairs. “We have some experience at this,” he said. “We’ll go look.”
Casey picked up the other AK 9 on the floor and followed Drake up the stairs, at the top
“Does this assassination have anything to do with our guy?” Drake asked. “Barak had a working relationship with the cartels, and if our intel is correct, he just arrived in Tijuana.”
“Who knows. All the police here say is that the brother of the Architect—the former head of the cartel—was assassinated by two black Muslims with prison tattoos. Who the hell knows how they’re involved. An opposing cartel could be trying to throw us off. Make us think this was some outside group that did this.”
Drake looked at Casey, who knew enough to keep silent. If Barak was here using his men to carry out a hit, it made sense if he wanted the protection of the cartels for awhile. Or he was joining in their smuggling enterprise as he had before.
When the Black Hawks flew in low and landed in front of the hangar, Special Agent Cooper led them to the second helicopter and motioned them in.
“Since you are their special guests, they saved the window seats for you,” he said with a smile. “Of course, they’ll probably fly with the cargo doors open.”
Drake returned Cooper’s smile. He and Casey had flown more times in Black Hawks than either of them cared to remember. Flying with the cargo doors open was routine.
The flight south from Tijuana took less than fifteen minutes. They flew down the Guadalupe Valley and landed in a flat area next to a swimming pool below the villa. No sooner had they touched down than gun fire raked both helicopters as the soldiers jumped out and took positions behind the retaining wall around the pool. Major Castillo gave hand signals to his men to move out in three groups and up a slight hill toward the villa. At the same time, Drake and Casey took cover behind the retaining wall and watched the soldiers advance on the villa, firing controlled bursts from their AK 47’s.
Drake frowned. “Mike, there’s no sound from the incoming rounds. What are these guys using?”
“Only thing I know of is the Kalashnikov AK-9,” Casey said, ducking his head as rounds peppered the swimming pool behind them. “Almost no sound, fires 9 mm rounds that can penetrate bulletproof vests.”
“I hope Castillo knows that. If he doesn’t, he’s going to lose a lot of his guys.”
As the soldiers moved in on the villa, the fighting intensified, then suddenly stopped. In the silence, Drake signaled Casey to move to the right end of the retaining wall as he moved to the left end. Either Castillo had won or there would be men moving down to finish them as well.
When he looked up again, the light coming from the veranda revealed Major Castillo turning over a cartel defender with his boot. Satisfied the man was dead, he turned toward Drake and waved.
“Come up and look for your man.”
Walking up the gravel path to the villa, they saw that Castillo’s pincer tactic had caught the cartel men falling back to protect the villa, where they were mowed down in a crossfire. It looked like Castillo had lost several men.
In the villa’s main room, they found two men lying face down at the foot of a staircase and several others that had fallen around the doorway they had defended. Their bodies had been mutilated by the savage fire from the soldiers.
“These two were trying to reach the stairs when we came in,” Castillo said. “We haven’t been upstairs, so I don’t know if anyone is there. Would you like to wait for my men to clear the second floor? Or would you rather go look for yourselves?”
Drake picked up an AK 9 lying next to one of the dead men and headed for the stairs. “We have some experience at this,” he said. “We’ll go look.”
Casey picked up the other AK 9 on the floor and followed Drake up the stairs, at the top
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