On the hood of Eduardo’s truck we went over the route I wanted to take to the target, I made sure that Jacob knew the location of the sniper position and that he had the M-79 and bandolier of grenades. The night sky was clear, but the moon was going into its’ last quarter and would not rise until 02:30hrs. Our ‘Eye in the Sky’ was about to go dark from the lack of ambient light, so Billy brought it to us and landed it on the road. We had it in pieces and stowed away in the Skywagon a few minutes later.
Everything was set; we were good to go, just waiting on the clock. The surveillance system I had placed on the hill south of the compound was still providing a strong signal, but there was not much to see. There were still five vehicles parked outside the wall, there were lights on inside the main house, but not much movement to be seen at the windows nor outside on the patios.
I had a talk with Jacob about the sniper hide, where I had set the camera, which was four hundred yards from the main house in the compound. That’s right at the maximum range of the 40mm grenade that the M-79 ‘Blooper’ fires.
Even though the primary effect of the grenade barrage was to provide a diversion during the breech and capture, and area fire would provide that, there was still that gnawing feeling that the rounds should be put accurately onto the target. To do that, though, Jacob would have to close the gap, and there was not much cover between the observation post and the target. If he moved the fifty to seventy-five meters needed to lay accurate fire on the target, he would be be out in the open and exposed to return fire. The secondary challenge was that the nearer he was to the compound the more his field of fire for the long gun, a M-21 sniper rifle, was diminished. His ability to cover our withdrawal from the compound would be compromised, if he was at the maximum optimum ‘Blooper’ range, which is about 325 yards.
“The answer is simple enough, Jack, as you guys infiltrate to the breech points, I’ll slide down to a good spot to launch the barrage, six rounds at what, eight or ten seconds per, that’ll take less than a minute, not any more than that. Then I bust ass back up the hill, while you’re in the building, and by the time you exit, I’ll have your backs from the high ground. If I start the ball, and you boys don’t breech until after the first grenade hits, I could be back in the hide before you have cleared the entry points.”
Rico and Eduardo were concern about where the pickup point would be, once we had the packages in hand and were leaving battle space. The preferred pickup spot was outside the front gate, but if it was blocked or locked, that could present a problem, Rather than worry on about what was really an unknowable, the consensus answer was for Eduardo to monitor the radio and make accommodations on the fly.
Each of us were carrying grenades, two flash bangs and two M67 frags, I really like to lead with a bang. During the surveillance, both from the fixed position on the hill and from the ‘Eye in the Sky’ we had not seen any dogs, which did not mean there were none. The absence of evidence is not always evidence of absence, so I decided to take a .22 caliber Walther P22 pistol, with a screwed on suppressor and left one of the 1911’s in the plane. Just in case there was a need for silence.
After we had been on the ground for about three hours, it was pushing 22:00hrs, time to start the dance. We loaded up in the the two trucks and headed over towards the compound, stopping about a kilometer away; still well out of sight of the compound, it was time to take a hike. We moved in single file, relaxed but at the ready, slipping unobserved through the trees and then using the ravine as an avenue of approach, before going up the hill just behind, to the west, of the compound. During the entire trek we were concealed from possible observation from lookouts at the compound, this was accomplished by staying below the ridgeline until in position directly behind the buildings. That’s when Jacob split off from our group to head for the OP, while we stayed belly down on the cusp of the ridge, with our eyes on the compound.
It took another twenty minutes for Jacob to get into position at the OP, he dismantled the camera system and stowed it in a rucksack. It was another fifteen minutes, all told, until we made our way to the wall of the compound. The Zetas had only just commandeered this property and I doubted that there were any sophisticated security systems installed. Truth of it, there was not even a lock on the back gate; it seemed the ‘Force’ was still with the Jedi knights. The lights were on in the house, on the first floor, but there was no sound of boisterous partying going on, the buildings were quiet, but not dark.
Maintaining radio contact with Jacob, who reported all was quiet to the front, we approached the rear of the building, Rico and Delwood went to the door at the rear of the house, on the west side. Billy and I took the north side of the house, where there was no doorway, but a large window. Luckily, for us, the drapes were closed, and while some light leaked onto the patio, we would be unobserved placing the breeching charge on the window frame. When both charges were set the four of us met at the northwest corner of the house, I handed the detonator, the ‘clacker; to Delwood and then radioed Jacob, telling him we were all good.
Jacob moved down slope, to a spot a little more than two hundred and fifty meters from the front gate. Another round of radio checks and then Jacob lit the fire; I thought I heard the ‘bloop’ of the M-79 being fired, but there was no mistaking the blast of the grenade when it hit the front gate, blowing it open. That was when Delwood, looking at the three of us said
“Fire in the Hole!” and squeezed both of the clackers, the dual blasts were almost instantaneous.
Not letting the moment slip away we all dashed for the breech points created by the blasts. Billy took the lead and cleared the remains of the window sill in a single bound, landing on both feet; he crouched low and then moved off to his left, the lights were off in the room, the blast of the breeching charge shattering the bulbs. As I cleared the window there were two pistol reports to my left, sounded like Billy had double tapped a target, that’s when I heard Delwood’s 10 gauge cannon go off. Billy had moved left, it was on me to cover the right side of the room, and that was when I saw movement on the floor, a groggy Zeta was trying to gather his senses, a full load of nine buckshot pellets from the barrel of my Remington 870 put him back down. The living room was clear; Billy was in the main entry hall, heading towards the ground floor rooms on the south side of the house. I followed him into the entry hall.
From the outside, towards the pool house to the south side of the compound, I could hear the muffled explosions of 40mm grenades as they were impacting the ground. The sounds of the blast were like the ticking of a clock, every ten seconds there was another blast. Jacob had the beat down; the fella had rhythm, no doubt about it. There was movement at the top of the stairs; two men, each with an AK-47 in their hands, were starting to come down the steps, one behind the other. I gave them about five seconds, until the lead man was half way down the stairs and saw me. As his eyes widened, in recognition of his imminent demise, the double-aught buck shot from my Remington 870 hit him in the groin and thighs. As he was falling forward I racked the action of my weapon, putting a fresh round in the chamber, while simultaneously stepping forward left to get a better angle on the second man. That man was trying to stop in mid stride, but instead of stopping, the fellow had lost his footing and fell, ass first, into a sitting position on the stairs; the look of fear on his face was priceless. The third load of double-aught buckshot fired from my Remington took him square in the chest.
Delwood’s 10 gauge sounded off, twice, as I quickly loaded three shells into the 870 before heading to the base of the stairs. The first of the stairway Zetas was laying there, moaning and groaning on the floor, holding the shotgun in my right hand and drawing the 1911 from the shoulder holster with my left, there was no feeling of remorse as one of those big .45 caliber hollow point bullets destroyed his skull. Holstering the Colt it was time to find the object of our hunt, from the sound of things outside, the mission clock was at plus one minute, as the grenade barrage was over. So far I knew that we had four
Zetas down, confirmed, in the house. That was when Rico sounded off, telling me he was coming up on my six, he followed me as we headed up the stairs.
Taking a frag grenade, I tossed it towards the three doors at the end of the upstairs hallway; they looked like the bedrooms, and then took cover. The blast came four seconds later, then I made a mad rush towards those the doors at the end of the hall, just half a heart beat after the steel fragments shredded the walls.. The door to the left had been blown open, and there was a man lying there on his back, disoriented by the blast, it was El Mamito. I stepped to him and kicked him in the face, with my left boot, disorienting him even further. Then reaching down I turned him over, onto his stomach, pulling his hands behind his back to put the zip-tie hand cuffs on him. As I straightened up it was my right foot that found his groin, poor El Mamito, he was really disoriented now. I started turning back to the doorway just as Rico’s Winchester went off; and I was the witness to another Zeta going down. Seems he’d gotten behind me while my eyes were on the prize. Rico had not been a victim of tunnel vision, he wasn’t focusing on El Mamito, good thing for me.
I kicked in the remaining closed door and Rico charged through into the room, there he was, the accountant, El Adal, crouching in the corner, yelling “No Fuego, No Fuego!” (Don’t Fire!). He stood up when Rico approached him, that’s when Rico performed a text book ‘Horizontal Butt Stroke’ and hit him with the stock of the Winchester up side El Adal’s head. Set our boy Adal right down to his knees, and then he was thrown to the floor. Rico was on top of the prone and crying man, and had him quickly cuffed. Then Rico jerked him back up and onto his feet and then shoved him towards the stairway. I went to the still prone and moaning ‘El Mamito’, grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to his feet. Then shoving him towards Rico, who pushed him to the stairs. El Adal was mentally beaten, you could see it in his eyes, as he complied with Rico’s instructions to go down the stairs. When the Mamito failed to perform, Rico threw him down the stairwell, the take off was flawless, but oh, the landing had to have hurt.
Glancing about the room where El Mamito had been captured, there was a medium sized duffle bag, on the floor next to the bed. It seemed to be ‘out of place’, and when opened, it appeared to be full of cash money, US green. I zipped it back closed, put the carrying strap over my shoulder and headed to the stairs. Over the radio I announced we had the two packages in hand, and were ready to leave the building. Jacob reported the front gate was down, but the Zetas had established a strong point in the pool house, on the south side of the compound. He, Billy and Delwood had ‘em pinned down, but the path from the house to the front gate was not secure. He reported no movement from the building to the immediate north of the compound; the lights had come on, then they were quickly turned off again.
Eduardo was already on the move, he had both trucks rolling, one would be approaching the north wall and would be our ticket out of the trap, and the other truck would cruise on by the front of the compound to pick up Jacob. Rico had taken charge of Mamito and Adal, who had become even more compliant after staring at the bodies strewn about the first floor of the house. When the four of us got to the wall of the compound, Eduardo was there with the truck, backing up to it. One of his men was standing in the truck bed, ready to help to manhandle the prisoners over the wall and into the truck. Once those two were loaded Rico used the radio to update Billy and Delwood. They broke contact with the Zetas in the pool house, beating a hasty retreat through the house and then towards the north, to the truck. Jacob‘s rifle barked in the idstance, four times in less than fifteen seconds, then a lull fell over the compound.
Billy and Delwood were still clambering over the top of the wall, before falling into the bed of Eduardo’s truck.
I was standing in the back of the truck bed, holding on to the metal construction rack, watching the other truck. It had stopped on the road in front of the vehicles that were parked outside of the compound’s front wall. The interior wall of the compound blocking any kind of firing angle for the Zetas as they were leaving the pool house. Jacob was moving with his normal fluidness, jumping out of the back of the truck and then running to the Mercedes SL600 Sports Coupe, the vehicle parked furthest away from where they had stopped, reaching the car he turnedaround and stuck the butt of his M-21 into his shoulder. Moving swiftly he started back towards the truck. Jacob began shooting the radiators and tires of each vehicle as he came to it, stopping only for a moment, as he rolled his grenades underneath the fuel tanks of the two larger SUVs. The M-67s were barely out of his hands beore he was sprinting hard, before vaulting into the back of the truck, as it started speeding towards the highway.
Just as the driver of Jacob’s truck was spewing dust and gravel into the air the grenades ignited the gasoline in those fuel tanks. The two big SUVs exploded in twin balls of red and orange flame, with the smoke disappearing into the black of the night sky. Eduardo still had a firm grip on the wheel and his foot stomped down on the accelerator. The two Bills were now standing next to me in the bed of the truck, as we sped through the night on the way back to the planes. So far, so good.
As we pulled up to the wide spot in the road where we’d left the planes El Mamito was no longer as disoriented as he had been. He started to speak and really, some of what he said was just plain vile. It didn’t matter that he was speaking Spanish; we all speak Spanish well enough to understand the gist of what he was saying. He didn’t quiet down until Billy took a Taser to his neck, which shut him up. There was no sign of any Zeta pursuit, they must have thought they’d been hit by the Alto Mando of the GAFE, it was either that or it was because their vehicles were still burning. There was a faint orange glow off in the distance to the north-west, visible to us because it was higher on the southeastern slope of the Sierra Piachos than we were; it sure looked like the location of the fire was right about where the Zeta compound was.
That was when the text was sent to Bob, it provided the GPS coordinates of the vehicle fire, just in case Tom Sunday wanted to report it to the appropriate Mexican fire department. Also included was confirmation of Putz’s Field as our rally and rendezvous point for the exchange. Billy grabbed a hold of Adal and pushed him towards the Skymaster, there were questions to be asked.
“How much money is in the bag?” I demanded of the accountant.
“In the bags, one million US in each bag, but I see you only have one of the bags. You can keep it, if you let us go.”
“I can keep the money and you too amigo. When I let go of you, it’s another million dollars, for me and mine. You have nothing to trade.”
“That is where you are wrong, I have a lot to trade, it is all in my head, the passwords to the numbered accounts, millions more in banks in the Cayman’s and in Belize.”
Rico was standing there, taking it all in, so that’s when I asked him.
“Well, Rico old buddy, what do you say?”
“I say that you, which means we, have a contract with the US government. We are honor bound to fulfill that contract.”
“I must agree with that , Rico.”
Then I said
“Billy, take one of the stowage bags from the 180 and put one hundred thousand of the loot in it, for Eduardo, will you please?
“On it, boss!” he said, as he trotted towards the other plane. That’s when the last ray of hope disappeared from the eyes of ‘El Adal’.
We used more of those zip ties to secure both of the prisoners ankles, then for the Mamito, we connected the ankle ties to his wrist ties, our little pretty boy, ‘El Mamito’ was hog tied. Both of the prisoners were loaded into the Skymaster, the loot and heavy weaponry along with the rest of the fellas, would take the 180 Skywagon. The plan was to fly, nose to tail, right to Putz’s Field, when I would call Bob and abort that rally point and send him the new coordinates for the meeting. I’d delay that part of the message, to ensure being on the ground first. Still flying in close tandem formation our pair of planes would fly on to Falcon Lake, w
here the two prisoners would be turned over to Tom Sunday.
Eduardo was happy as a clam to get the one hundred thousand in cash, he didn’t even ask about a timeline for payment of the balance, trust is a wonderful commodity. That and he knew about dealing with the Feds and getting paid, so why bring up a question that we all knew there was no good answer to.
The overflight of Putz’s Field went as planned, Billy went lights out before crossing the river and we flew on, to a destination that was unknown to Tom Sunday. It’s not that far to Falcon Lake, from Mission, Texas so no matter what mode of transportation Mr. Sunday was utilizing he’d be along soon enough. The field at Falcon Lake State Park is not used much these days, Bob was the one that first turned me on to it, and because it’s a State Park the local sheriff deputies do not patrol it on a regular basis. They will come if called, but they mainly leave security to the Park Police and the Texas Rangers, both groups of fellas whom Bob knows well and works with on a regular basis. The south end of the strip is being covered by blow sand; it even looked to be drifting in places when I overflew it a few days back, didn’t think much would have changed, not in three days. The north end of the runway was still clear of obstructions.
The Skywagon flew the length of the airstrip, with the passengers dropping chemical light sticks out the windows. When wearing commercially available night vision equipment those sticks really light up the night. Billy set her down perfect and let the boys out on the south end of the runway, then, just as we had planned he taxied to the north end of the strip and parked. I followed him down and went to the south end of the strip, stopping the plane close enough so the fellas wouldn’t have far to walk.