“This is the last time I’m gonna come to Mexico in a tropical state of mind.”
Chapter 30
The gunfire had been over for several minutes before Esteban, Incencio Aguierre, and Geronimo Manzano crept down the two-track lane, weapons ready and pointed at the silent, wrecked Suburban filled with their dead friends. It never paid to ride with the others. Most of the time the soldados were too impulsive, and felt they were invincible.
Incencio and Geronimo preferred their own vehicle, and because they spent so much time together on the road for their leader, no one ever questioned their actions. It looked as if habit and caution paid off once again when they killed the engine on a Suburban farther back and came forward on foot to intercept the retreating invaders, whoever they were.
Esteban wanted to cross himself in thanks. He’d almost gotten into the shot-up SUV, but because the seats were already full, decided to join the engagement with those he considered more professional.
* * *
Back at the ranch, things had already gone south when the drone operator, Carlos Tamayo, saw movement on his computer screen. The young man who’d been flying security drones for the past five years worked the controls and zoomed the camera in to pick out a man half-hidden under a bush. Half a second later the drone would have missed him, but the man tucked a leg into the shadows, giving away his position.
Watching the screen, he gently pushed the toggle with his thumb, moving the little aircraft forward a few feet, recording footage to be viewed later. Now that he knew what to look for, he picked up another human-shaped shadow, then another.
Carlos had orders to capture video but not engage, so he piloted the drone past the bush and continued on as if he hadn’t seen a thing. At the same time, he radioed Incencio, telling him that several men were creeping up on the ranch.
* * *
In response, Incencio alerted the guards that a team was advancing through the darkness and word spread among the soldados. Always loyal to their boss, and constantly ready for a fight of any kind, the heavily armed men boiled out of their barracon, or bunkhouse, like fire ants.
Many of the soldados were former Mexican soldiers and quickly formed up into two ambush teams that moved through the rancho’s gate and melted on foot into the darkness between the rancho and intruders. Minutes later, they moved into place and waited to ambush the intruders who dared to enter their territory.
Unfortunately for the U.S. team, NVGs work great in most situations, but against fighting men who lived in the desert and used the terrain to their advantage, the technology wasn’t enough. Had they been using thermal imaging, the results would have been dramatically different.
Through intel supplied by the drone, the soldados had the team’s position, and that’s all they needed. Assuming anyone moving on them in the darkness was using night vision, they dropped into depressions in the ground or used the low vegetation for cover and became as still as rocks, waiting for the men to pass.
The U.S. team advanced quickly, much too confident in technology, passing through the impromptu ambush zone. Fixed on the ranch compound only a hundred yards ahead, they completely missed the armed men scattered around them.
When the intruders took a knee, concentrating on their target, the soldados opened up on them. The fight was brief and vicious, and the only thing at the outset that saved the infiltration team was their body armor.
Many of the cartel members thought they were shooting at spirits, ghosts that bullets passed through without damage. But ghosts didn’t shoot back, and their incredibly accurate fire cut through the cartel gangsters like a scythe through green hay. But instead of standing and fighting, or pushing through, the huge camouflaged men fell back, covering their retreat in a manner none of the soldados had ever seen.
They kept up heavy fire even as the Americanos retreated. Their shouts in English cut through the darkness. “Moving!”
“Move!”
Their crescendo of gunfire increased, then decreased in a strange rhythm as the Americans fell back in increments, keeping up a steady stream of fire to pin the cartel members to the ground.
That was fifteen minutes ago, and now Geronimo knelt in the moonlight not far from the vehicle full of corpses, casting around for any sign of a second ambush. The other two followed his lead, heads almost touching.
Incencio dug a small walkie-talkie from his pants pocket and keyed the button. “They are close.” He spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. “We are near where the drone went down. They are moving in our direction, but someone killed Ricardo and four others.”
The radio clicked twice, indicating he was heard and understood.
Incencio pointed. “We go back to that game trail that drops into the arroyo. I know where it is, because this is close to where we used to practice with our weapons when Mapache was the head of our cartel, before you joined us, Esteban. They will be coming this way and will have to cross. We will wait until they get to the bottom of the arroyo and catch them in a crossfire.”
Fully immersed in his identity as a cartel soldier, Esteban peered into the surrounding shadows. After so long, he easily slipped back and forth between two worlds, one as an undercover agent in a world of violence and death, the other as a loyal cartel soldier without any moral conscience.
Right now, he was that soldado, wondering who had the huevos to try an assault on the Devil Woman’s rancho. It could be a rival cartel in the darkness, or Mexican soldiers working for the government or for themselves. In a world of changing alliances, you never knew who was planning a takeover.
For that reason, Esteban was ready to kill anyone who crossed him. He’d long ago released himself from any guilt associated with what he had to do in the crime-ridden country of Mexico. He’d pay for it some day when he finally returned home, finished with the business of drug and human trafficking, and ready to live a normal life that he’d looked forward to way back in high school, before the El Paso police recruited him.
Then again, late into the night, when he was unable to sleep, he lay awake wondering if he’d ever be able to return to a normal life in the U.S.
But now he knew what he had to do to stay alive. Esteban and Geronimo retreated back the way they came. Fifty yards away, a game trail angled down into the deep arroyo. In line like the deer that had created the narrow pathway, they filed to the bottom and hurried in what would have been downstream, if there’d been water.
Geronimo stopped and pointed. “What is that?”
They froze, looking for movement and to let their eyes pick out any irregularities in the terrain. Esteban felt his breath catch. There was still just enough moonlight to register the neon yellow of a Hawaiian shirt. It was the Ranger he’d dropped off with the black ops team.
Maldito! Dammit! Why was that man here? He was supposed to have left for the border and should have been out of harm’s way. Now Esteban was caught between a rock and a hard place, in that dangerous area between his two worlds.
“A man, standing just below the edge.”
Incencio raised his weapon and Esteban grasped the barrel, pulling it downward. “No. Shots will reveal our position. I will kill him.” He drew a sharp knife from the sheath on his belt and crept forward.
Knowing from experience how quickly Esteban could do the job, Incencio and Geronimo continued down the arroyo without looking back.
That bright shirt the man wore was like a beacon in the night. When Esteban got close, he saw the Ranger peering ahead. He was wearing a ballistic vest and had a daypack over his shoulders.
He was also armed with an AK-47. Esteban looked down at the Scorpion hanging from the sling over his shoulder, the one he’d taken from Alejandro’s truck back in El Cruce, and wondered where the anglo had picked up such a weapon.
Never mind. The knife in his hand would go through the vest, or he could slide the blade in under the bottom edge, taking out the man’s kidneys. It would be a painful death.
Each step was steady and
deliberate.
Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the dark shapes of Incencio and Geronimo picking their silent way down the sandy wash. Replacing the knife, he selected a fist-sized rock. Breathing as shallow as possible through his open mouth, he followed the slope leading upward to the Ranger he couldn’t kill.
But now that no one was watching, he could knock him in the head.
Gunfire exploded both up on the rim, and in the arroyo, covering his advance.
Chapter 31
Hurrying back to my arroyo, I slid down the slope until the edge was once again chest high. Some of my view was hindered by bushes and cactus, but anyone approaching would be silhouetted against the starry night sky. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d do.
“Two minutes out.” Victim’s voice was strong, tense. “Someone else is down. The whole thing’s a cluster. They’ve aborted the mission and left the Devil Woman behind. Didn’t even make the ranch. Going silent.”
Good thing the guns on both teams were now quiet or I’d have missed his loud whisper. My ears felt as if they were full of cotton from the gunshots. At least it helped muffle the steady ringing from tinnitus that reminds me each day that I should carry ear plugs everywhere I go.
Hooves coming my way told me the combatants had likely spooked a deer. I heard it pass and cut to my left, following the arroyo’s lip.
“People on foot. Coming from your left. Shit!” Victim opened up on to his right with a quick three-round burst.
I wished I had a set of NVGs.
Wish in one hand and piss in the other and see which one fills up the fastest.
The Old Man’s voice in my head was clear as a bell. I’d heard that old saw all my life. Mumbling under my breath, I shouldered the rifle and waited for those Victim’d warned me about to step into view.
Gunfire came from the arroyo behind us. Someone’d heard Victim’s gunfire. I couldn’t see the approaching running fight, but people shooting from slightly below would be easy to find. Cracks and snaps swarmed in his direction, whanging off limbs and whining away.
Pops and flashes filled the arroyo. My sixth sense told me someone was way too close and there shouldn’t have been anyone over my left shoulder at all. A single crunch reached my ears. Gut tightening, I spun a second before stars brighter than those above us exploded from a blow over my left ear, and I felt the earth go out from under my feet.
Chapter 32
The dark night was quiet when I opened my eyes to see the world turned sideways. Lying on my stomach, I was at the bottom of the arroyo with a headache as big as the sky above. Instead of getting up, I stayed right there, taking stock of everything around me.
If anyone had been watching during that time, they’d’ve thought I was still out, though I ran through a quick list to check out my fine motor skills. Wiggling my toes, I was pleased to find that everything worked. My fingers twitched, so all the electronic wires were in place.
Though it was sandy under my cheek, sharp rocks told me that I’d have a few indentions there when I finally stood up.
Two soft pops in the distance proved Judge and his team were still in the fight, and I hadn’t been out that long, but they came from the wrong direction. I figured that once he realized their original exfil had gone south, and they were cut off from their SUV, they’d moved toward the second escape plan.
No engines roared through the desert, and I didn’t hear any more drones over the roar of blood in my ears from the pounding ache that was about to split my skull. It felt like those old cartoons I’d watched when I was a kid. It wouldn’t have surprised me if happy little bluebirds and stars were whirling overhead as my eyes rattled around in their sockets.
I couldn’t lay there relaxing all night. Hoping no one was watching, I slowly sat up.
The world spun for a moment, and my stomach clenched. I had to hold down that rotten coffee and the energy bar I’d choked down earlier. My head was loose on my shoulders, and nausea came and went like rhythmic ocean waves. The good thing was that each wave was less intense than the previous one.
Hoping I wouldn’t find any fresh bullet holes with my shaking fingers, I probed my scalp with light fingers, dreading the discovery of a new orifice proving someone shot me. I was as pleased as possible under the circumstances to find that my skull was reasonably intact, but a knot big enough to have its own zip code stuck out behind one ear. While I lay on my side, blood from a wide gash in my scalp matted my hair. When I finally sat up, a small trickle went down my neck.
What’n hell are they doing hitting me in the noggin instead of shooting me?
Someone wanted you taken out of commission, son. The Old Man’s voice made my head ache even worse. But they want you alive for some reason.
His ever-present voice in my mind was right. Bullets do more damage and are likely to be permanent. Someone wanted me out of action for a while.
The AK was lying in the sand beside me, the stock shattered.
The vertigo-like symptoms were already fading, and I remembered the firefight that broke out around me just before everything went blank. Still seated, I cast around, looking through the fading moonlight for Victim. He was nowhere in sight.
I creaked to my feet at the same time a skinny coyote came loping along the arroyo’s lip. Seeing me standing there, it whirled and disappeared toward the ranch. “Vic?”
My whisper faded into the silence.
A quick scattering of shots came to me as soft as popping corn. I wasn’t sure they sounded that way because the shooting was so far away, or because of the cotton that was in my heard from the recent gunfight, or the bonk on my noggin.
Vic must have followed orders after I was hit and covered for his men as they passed through. All I had to do was follow our original tracks back to the Suburban and drive off, hoping they’d made their escape as planned.
But then another thought popped into my aching head.
Judge and his team hadn’t reached the rancho. The operation was aborted. That meant the Mujer Malvado, the Devil Woman was still there, and likely with minimal protection. With the majority of her soldados off chasing the black ops team, it was the perfect time to do something completely stupid.
You’re being impulsive again, son.
The Old Man is always talking, no matter where I am. I’m probably the only guy in the world who argues with the ghost of a man who’s still living.
I prefer to think of it as being innovative, though somewhat impulsive. Miss Russell always said “use your time wisely.”
Of course, that same seventh-grade teacher always told me that every bad thing I did in class would go on my permanent record, too.
I climbed back up that game trail one more time and knelt beside the greasewood bush, listening. The moon was resting on the mountain ridge to the west and not providing as near as much light as it did. Just to make sure Victim was gone, I crept across the hardpan toward where he’d been hiding. Maybe he’d left a message of some kind.
A dark shape lay on the ground. The bottom of my stomach fell out, because he was way too big to be Mexican.
“Vic?”
He didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. Kneeling beside the body, I found him lying in a black puddle of blood still soaking into the ground. “Dammit, Vic. You still with me?”
I rolled him onto his back and half his skull was gone. Still not believing what I was seeing in the faint light, I felt his carotid, but there was no pulse. There was nothing to do for the man.
Though I hated to, I tugged his AR’s sling free and slipped it over my shoulder. I thought about swapping shirts with the dead man, but that was a little too much.
His NVGs were around his neck like a loose tie. I needed them, badly. Gritting my teeth at the gruesome job at hand, I worked them over what was left of his head as gently as possible, even though he was way beyond feeling anything at all.
The bullet that killed him missed the glasses, and they seemed to be in good shape. Choking down that cof
fee and energy bar again, I pulled the strap through my thumb and forefinger to strip off the blood, then wiped my hand on the leg of his pants.
Swallowing, I settled the NVGs over my eyes to reveal a bright, green world. Everything stood out in sharp relief and I found myself acting like a kid, examining my hands in the strange light.
Sonny, you’re gonna get yourself laid out beside this man if you don’t straighten up and fly right.
I said “yessir” to the Old Man in my head and got back to business. I left the daypack on the ground and pulled Victim’s pack off. It wasn’t as heavy as I thought it would be, but I was sure it had more of what I’d need before the night was over.
Settling the straps over my tactical vest, I took off toward the nearby glow made much brighter by technology borrowed from a dead man.
* * *
To avoid a potential ambush on the team’s trail, I looped around through the countryside and quickly drew close to the ranchero. There was enough vegetation growing close to the compound’s low walls I wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb. Had I owned the place glowing like a jewel in the desert, and been in the business of running drugs, I would have cut everything within a hundred yards down to the ground for a clear sight line.
Even from that distance and in the dark, I could tell the place had been there for a long time. It was likely a real working cattle ranch, but decades under a corrupt government probably drove the business into the ground.
Even through the green world, I could tell a lot of renovation had taken it from a simple ranch house and likely bunkhouses and barns, to an upscale villa, if that’s the right word. Palm trees rose over thirty feet in height over the walls, and I guarantee some struggling rancher didn’t plant those. Landscape lighting both within the compound and outside the walls had two functions, aesthetics and security.
The whole thing was built up against the steep slope of a ridge, probably for protection from south winds. The one-story main house rose up against that ridge. I scanned the elevated area as best as I could but saw nothing. If it were my place, I’d put security cameras up there, looking down in the courtyard, and a couple of guards, too, but I didn’t see any human movement, up there at least.
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