The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5

by Pendelton Wallace

  Ted laid out the spread on the breakfast bar and they all took seats. He filled them in on the current status of the situation while they ate.

  It felt good to have them there, even Hope. Sure, he was worried about her, but she was one tough little Mama. He could count on her in a pinch.

  He had felt so isolated and vulnerable on his own. He leaned back and finished his cerveza. At least now he knew that someone had his back.

  “What about weapons?” Catrina asked. “You told me that you would have guns for us.”

  “No problem. When you’re rested up, I’ll take you out to the ranch and get you set up.”

  “Rested? We’re ready now,” Catrina answered. “I’ve felt naked for two thousand miles. I need a piece so that I can sleep.”

  The drive to the ranch took forty-five minutes. By now, the guards knew Ted well enough that they waved him through.

  “Theresa,” Ted said when Maria’s mom came out of the house. “This is my boss, Catrina Flaherty.”

  Cat took her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “And this is my best friend, Chris Hardwick.”

  “I can see where Maria gets her looks.” Chris broke out his best Sunday-go-to-meeting smile.

  Theresa’s cheeks reddened.

  “And this,” Ted put his arm around Hope’s waist, “is my little sister, Hope.”

  “Welcome to you all. Come in. I have some refreshments ready for you.”

  After the niceties, Ted led the group to the arsenal.

  “Holy shit!” Chris exclaimed when he saw all of the guns. “You weren’t kidding that Maria’s dad could equip an infantry brigade.”

  Catrina went to the wall and took down an M-16. “Where did he get all of this?”

  “The good old U. S. of A. Almost all of the weapons used in the drug war down here come from America.”

  “This is first rate. Military issue.”

  “Yep,” Ted said. “Old Ricky won’t settle for less than the best. Some Army supply sergeant probably sold it to him.”

  “What kind of machine gun is this?” Hope asked, pulling a white cover off of a long gun on a tripod.

  “It’s an M2A1,” Catrina said. “That’s the U.S. Army’s standard heavy machine gun.”

  “That’s highly illegal,” Chris said. “It looks like Ricky was preparing for an all-out war. That certainly would be more firepower than anyone else down here has.”

  “Don’t be too sure. If Ricky can get his hands on one of these, so can El Pozolero.”

  Hope poked around in some long wooden boxes by the wall. “Get a load of this.” She pulled a missile from the box.

  “That’s a stinger anti-aircraft missile.” Catrina took a step towards her. “I guess Ricky was expecting to have to shoot down some helicopters.”

  Ted opened the cabinet with hand guns. “Let’s concentrate on what we’re gonna need.” He handed Catrina a Glock 17. “I believe this is your weapon of choice, ma’am.” He tossed the same weapon to Chris. “Remember how to use one of these?”

  Chris grabbed the pistol out of the air. “It’s like riding a bicycle. You never forget.” He dropped the magazine out of the gun, then pulled back the mechanism to open the chamber. “Not loaded.”

  “Good for you, Chris.” Catrina smiled. “Always check to make sure the gun isn’t loaded.”

  “Hope, what do you need?” Ted asked.

  “I’m good. I brought my own little Beretta.”

  Catrina studied the guns on the wall. “We’re going to need long guns. Chris, you’re a good shot. I think we may need a sniper; you’re my favorite candidate.”

  Chris shrugged his shoulders. He’d grown up going to his dad’s ranch in Montana every summer. Chris and his father regularly hunted for everything from pheasants to elk. He knew his way around a rifle.

  Catrina pulled a weapon off the wall. “SR25. A good, semi-automatic sniper rifle. But I want something with a longer range.”

  “Crap, Catrina,” Chris pointed. “Look at that.”

  A large, long barreled gun with a bipod and telescopic site sat on top of a wooden case.

  “Just what the doctor ordered.” Catrina walked over to the weapon. “An M82A2. The best sniper rifle in the world.” She picked up the big gun. “.50 caliber. Range over a mile. It would stop a charging rhino in a heartbeat. Look around for ammo.”

  “Here’s a box of .50 cal bullets,” Hope said, as she knelt by a metal ammunition box. “Those are big suckers.”

  “Armor piercing,” Catrina said. “Those bad boys are also incendiary. Grab the whole box.”

  Ted watched Catrina move among the firearms and boxes of ammo.

  “Okay, Higuera. We know you’re the world’s worst shot. I think you may need a shotgun.”

  Ted made a face at her. “Maria already has me hooked up with a twelve gauge automatic.”

  “Smart girl.” Catrina pulled two M-16’s from the wall. “Hope, can you handle one of these things?”

  “I think so. You might need to show me how it works again.”

  “Now we need one more thing.” Catrina glanced around. “I want a grenade launcher.”

  The four searched the crates and boxes until Ted shouted out.

  “Bingo! I think this is what you’re looking for.”

  He held up a squat, ugly weapon.

  “Higuera, you hit the jackpot. A Marine Corps M32.”

  Ted spun the big cylinder under the weapon. “Is this what I think it is? It looks like the cylinder on a six-gun.”

  Catrina walked over. “Precisely, that bad boy will hold six grenades and fire one every three seconds. The coverage is incredible.”

  She surveyed the room. “Wait a minute, we need something else.”

  “What’s that?” Hope asked.

  Catrina reached for a shelf on her right and produced a Kevlar vest. “These little babies might just save our lives.” She tossed the vest to Hope. “Will that thing go around your exaggerated chest?”

  Hope smirked at her and tried on the vest. Each of the crew tried on vests until they all had one that fit.

  What the fuck am I doing? Ted asked himself. What would Papa say? What would MAMA say? Here I am arming myself to go hunting for narcos. This is wrong. The police should be doing this.

  But that was a non-starter. They already established that the police were working for El Pozolero. Who else could he go to? General Lazaro already said he couldn’t come to their aid.

  If anyone was going to do this, it had to be them.

  I guess that makes us judge, jury and executioners.

  Ted turned off his moral compass and loaded up with ammunition.

  They carried their prizes to Catrina’s Explorer. She opened hidden hatches in the floor of the luggage compartment and they fit in neatly.

  “Okay, Tonto, ready to ride?” she said to Ted.

  Chapter 32

  Ted and Chris cruised up and down the Malecon looking for anyone that looked vaguely like a narco. Catrina and Hope headed for the police station. They thought that two “helpless” females might get a little more cooperation from the cops.

  The Jeep took the boys to the maze of marinas along the waterfront. Something tingled in the back of Ted’s brain.

  “See that yacht coming in?” he asked Chris.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “My spidey sense is going wild. There’s something funky about it.”

  The boat in question was a fifty-four-foot trawler with a dark Mexican man on the flying bridge.

  “What’s funky?”

  “I don’t know. Look at the name ‘El Destino,’ Destiny. Why aren’t they pulling into a slip?”

  The boat continued past the marina to the last float. On the end of the float a huge old wooden schooner lay tied up. She was obviously a derelict. She hadn’t seen a paint brush in the last decade. She didn’t even have sails on her tall masts.

  The trawler came to a halt alongside the schooner. Two men emerged from the cabi
n and tossed mooring lines to two men who mysteriously appeared on the schooner’s deck.

  “Don’t you think that’s funny?” Ted asked. “Why would a two million dollar yacht tie up to that old death trap?”

  Chris pulled the binoculars from his lap. “Hmmm . . . There’s more here than meets the eye, Watson.” He trained the glasses on the boats.

  The men tied up the yacht and disappeared below deck.

  Ted found a parking place in a small dirt lot with a good view of the two curiosities.

  Nothing moved. The day dragged on. Both Ted and Chris made ample use of the bottled waters in the ice chest.

  The sun dropped lower in the sky. The few clouds to the west began to burn bright orange.

  “What do we do, hermano?” Ted asked.

  “I trust your gut. Let’s sit here for a while longer.”

  As the day slowly died, the temperature cooled down from shorts and T-tops to light cover up weather. Both Ted and Chris shivered a little, but made no move.

  Lights came on in the town and marinas. Ted could hear strains from a mariachi band playing at the outdoor restaurant down the street.

  He rummaged around in the back of the Jeep and found a windbreaker. “You want this?” he asked as he held it up for Chris to see.

  “Naw. You take it. I was born and bred in the Great White North remember, I don’t get cold.”

  “Your funeral.” Ted gratefully pulled on the jacket.

  “You gettin’ hungry,” he asked Chris.

  “The thought crossed my mind. I could eat half a steer right about now.”

  “There’s a place up the street,” Ted said. “I saw it when we came in. It’s called El Bandido. I think they do hamburgers and stuff.”

  Chris looked at this watch. “We can’t just leave these guys for a dinner break. Maybe we should take turns.”

  “Naw.” Ted climbed out of the Jeep. “You stay here. I’ll go get us something.”

  He headed up the street lured on by the aroma of broiling meat. He took out his phone and texted his sister.

  We may be onto something. We’re on a stakeout. Don’t know when we’ll be home. I’ll keep in touch.

  The lot was surrounded by an eight-foot-tall concrete wall. He entered through open wrought-iron gates. The lot was covered in gravel with rows of picnic tables under canopies. The bandstand was to his right.

  Straight ahead of him, a fire glowed in the engine compartment of a Ford F-150 pickup. Men in white shirts and pants hovered around the fire, putting meat on the grill where the engine had once been, turning it and serving it. There was a prep station to the left of the truck where two women prepared plates for the meat coming off the grill.

  A small whitewashed building sat at the back of the property, obviously prep kitchens and storage area.

  A pretty girl met Ted at the gate.

  “Table for one?” she asked.

  “No. I want to order something to go.”

  “Bueno, here’s our menu.” She pointed to a four-by-eight-foot chalk board propped up against a couple of chairs. “We can make anything to go. We get a lot of business from the marinas.”

  Ted perused the menu. It had everything from carne asada to grilled fish to hamburgers. Every plate he saw go by him looked delicious. But what to take back to eat in the Jeep? Maybe hamburgers were the best option.

  Ted got back to the Jeep with two bags in his hands. One held the burgers, the other the beers. It was going to be a long night.

  “Whatcha got, amigo?” Chris asked.

  “A bacon cheeseburger for the gringo. A jalapeño burger for the paisano.”

  Chris accepted the Styrofoam container and opened it. “Good God! There must be half a cow in here.”

  “They sure don’t skim on portions, do they?” Ted replied as he gobbled a French fry.

  After they ate, Chris climbed out of the Jeep.

  “I’m getting a little cold. I’ll walk up and buy us a couple of blankets.”

  ****

  “We need to dress strategically for the police,” Catrina said as she went through her suitcase.

  “What do you mean ‘strategically’?” Hope asked.

  “You need to understand the male psychology. These cops are pigs. They won’t want to help us. Hell, they’re probably being paid not to help us.” Catrina pulled clothes out and spread them on her bed. “They also don’t give women credit for being able to blow their own noses. We need to work these sons-a-bitches.”

  She held up a tank top in front of her and looked in the mirror.

  “We’ll dress a little provocative. Okay, a lot provocative, and they’ll be so busy tripping over their tongues they won’t notice we’re getting the information we need.”

  Hope plopped down on the bed and shook her head. “You’re about to single handedly set feminism back fifty years.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying it’s right. That’s just how the world works.”

  Catrina selected a short khaki skirt, a tight tank top and wedge sandals.

  “Okay, now let’s get you dressed.” She stepped back and looked at her young friend. “Hmmm, I can get away with the tank top. It shows my shape and gives a hint of cleavage. With your big boobies, we’d start a riot.”

  Hope put up a valiant fight, but ended up in a Mexican sun dress and sandals with leather thongs up her calves.

  “Wait a minute here, Mata Hari,” Hope said. “Where are you going to keep your gun? I can wear a thigh holster, but you’re trussed up so tight they’d be able to see a stick of gum in your pocket.”

  “Believe me, honey, they’re not going to be looking at my pockets.” Catrina broke into a wide grin. “I’ll have to go with my purse. Nowhere else to conceal it.”

  Dressed for combat, the two women took the elevator to the parking garage and found Catrina’s Explorer.

  The drive across town to the police station wasn’t far.

  Chapter 33

  It wasn’t until after midnight that a light came on in the big yacht.

  “Hey, Ted. Wake up.” Chris shook his friend’s shoulder. “Something’s up.”

  “Huh?” Ted wiped his eyes. Sleeping in the front seat of the Jeep under a serape was not his idea of a five-star hotel.

  Sure enough, he could see someone moving around on the boat. He grabbed the binoculars and put them to his eyes. “There’s two guys in the cabin. It looks like they’re making coffee.”

  He continued to watch. There was movement on the old schooner.

  A third man appeared on the yacht and stepped out on deck.

  Two men on the schooner opened a hatch. Another man stood between the hatch and the shrouds. The fourth man stood at the rail.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready to transfer cargo,” Ted said.

  A tall fat man stepped out of the sliding doors on the back of the cabin and handed a heavy-looking box to the balding man on deck. Baldy took it to the rail and passed it on to the schooner. The men on the schooner formed a bucket brigade and dropped the box into the ship’s hold.

  Ted and Chris watched the choreographed ballet for almost an hour.

  “We need to get on that old ship. Find out what they’re loading,” Ted said.

  “I don’t think we need to go on the ship to know what’s there,” Chris replied.

  “Okay, we have a pretty good idea.” Ted thought for a moment, then a wicked smile crossed his face. “Why don’t we show them a bit of American history?”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “How about we stage our own version of the Boston Tea Party?”

  Chris’s head swiveled towards his friend. “You’re absolutely out of your fuckin’ mind.”

  Ted stretched and smiled. “No, Chris, hear me out. We wait until they all leave the ship, then we sneak on board and toss all of those drugs in the harbor. That would hit El Pozolero where it hurts. He’d have to come after us. Then maybe we can find out where he’s holding Maria.”

&n
bsp; “You’re bat-shit crazy. What makes you think they’ll leave the ship when they’re done? They’re bound to at least leave a guard or two.”

  “No problema. We take them out before our little party.”

  Both men checked their hardware.

  “I don’t think we should take long guns,” Chris said. “We’re going to rely on stealth, not firepower to get us in.”

  Finally, the transfer of cargo was complete. El Destino picked up her mooring lines and pulled away from the schooner.

  “Well, there go three bad guys,” Ted said.

  “But there are still four guys on the old boat. We’re outnumbered two to one.”

  “The way I look at it, the odds should be about even then.” Ted put the field glasses to his eyes. They were useless. “It’s so dark I can’t see anything. I wish we had night vision goggles.”

  “Look, there’s some movement.”

  Ted fought to focus his eyes. He heard them before he saw them, four very drunk men stumbling down the dock.

  Ted and Chris held their breath as the men passed.

  The adrenalin kicked in and Ted jumped from the Jeep. “Time for ol’ Spidey to kick it.”

  Chris shook his head and followed.

  The lights on the float were out. Ted and Chris moved forward mostly by feel. There were no lights on the boat.

  They approached the old wooden vessel in stealth mode, she had to be close to a hundred feet long. Ted stopped and listened. Not a sound other than the gentle slap of the water against the boat’s hull.

  “No lights,” Ted whispered. “Nobody’s home.”

  Chris grabbed the shrouds and hauled himself unto the boat. Ted followed suit. They crouched down by the rail, waiting to see if there would be a reaction to their boarding the boat.

  Just like in a Bond flick, Ted thought.

  They listened for several minutes. No sound.

  Ted crept forward and opened the hatch they had seen the men drop the boxes down.

  “Lookie there.” He motioned to Chris. “Looks like Santa left us a present.”