Olympus Device 2: The Olympus Device Book Two (25 page)

The tension quickly dissipated when a senior officer approached the cartel boss and extended his hand and a warm smile. Friend. But what the hell was going on?

In fact, there were nine trucks in a convoy, each dispatching its soldiers in an orderly fashion. The huge warehouse soon became crowded.

Someone handed Tio a bullhorn
, and the low rumblings of the crowd silenced as the boss climbed onto a desk, his dark gaze sweeping the throng.

“For years we have been forced to endure the arrest, detention and death of our comrades,” Tio began, his voice slightly distorted by the electronic device. “Our livelihood has been assaulted by authorities, corrupt officials and competing organizations. We have all lost friends and family members, felt the sting
of money being withdrawn from our worthy pockets, and stood by helpless as the Yankee DEA has locked away our associates.”

Tio paused for a moment, scanning the crowd as if to judge their
collective reaction before continuing. “But our fight has been more than a battle of right versus wrong. The American policies that deny our brothers and sisters at the border… deny them a chance at a better life... this is wrong. They claim to embrace free enterprise and market driven commerce, yet they declare our product illegal and seize our hard-won gains. I could go on and on about how the Americans play with two faces, but you all already know the facts. And I, for one, have long harbored a desire to fight them… to set things straight… to right the injustice they impose upon our people and our land.”

Again he paused, noticing several heads nodding in agreement. “Today is a great day. Today an opportunity has presented itself… an opportunity to throw off the smothering veil of American imperialism and repression. Today we have a chance to change the course of our people’s lives. Today we have the chance to come out of the shadows and correct the stigma of evil that corrupt men hang over our heads. If we are successful, we’ll no longer be lurking criminals trying to eke out a living under the repressive boot
s of men who are truly holding down our people. Today we can become true heroes and set our family and friends free.”

Tio lowered the megaphone, giving his words time to sink in and judge the reaction of the men surrounding him. Most appeared simply curious, while a few others showed surprise.

“We are going to invade the United States of America,” he declared, a broad smile filling his face as murmurs of disbelief rolled across the gathering. “Now before you think your uncle has gone completely loco, let me explain. Just on the other side of the border, in the town of Laredo, a new technology is within our grasp. A device has been created that will change our world forever… a device that I intend to control with my own hand. We must take and hold only that one small slice of U.S. territory for a few hours and capture this invention. Once it is in my possession, the Americans will have no choice but to surrender.”

Like a jolt of electricity, shock circulated through the gathered men. Despite all of them being hardened veterans of extreme violence and urban combat,
they believed that taking on the United States was suicide. Tio had truly gone mad.

But the cartel boss had expected just such a reaction. With a simple nod of his head, Tio was joined on the platform by a Mexican Army colonel. The man’s uniform bore a significant number of ribbons and awards, a clear indication of authority and experience.

After Tio handed over the bullhorn, it was the officer’s turn to address the small army. “My name is Colonel Zeta. Many of you know me to be an honorable man. I say to you with 100% confidence that Tio is neither lying, nor crazy,” he began, getting right to the point. “I am aware of this device of which he speaks, and I agree with his analysis of the situation. If we can fight hard and hold Laredo until this super-weapon is in our possession, then the battle will be won. We can conquer the world’s most powerful military by just that one single action – a victory that will forever change our world. It is within our grasp.”

For many in the crowd, the army officer’s words carried significant weight. The colonel was known as a professional soldier and respected by men
from both groups. His further explanation of the situation sealed the deal.

“The opportunity that lies before u
s supersedes each of our own meager lives. Regardless of which side of the law you live, there is now a chance to make a difference for Mexico and her people. We can invoke a transformation… improve the world for everyone who strives for a better life. We only have to suppress our fear and doubt and execute to the best of our abilities. The rewards will far exceed anything any of you has ever imagined.”

Then it was Tio’s turn to address the crowd.
“We are going to invade the United States with over 2,000 comrades. When I leave this place, I’m going to another location where a similar number of men are gathered. And then another… and then another. We will overwhelm the American authorities, capture this device, and then withdraw before they can mobilize any military response. By then, it will be too late. I only ask that you fight well… that revenge fills your hearts and minds – vendetta for your brothers and sisters who have suffered under the yoke of American dominance.”

A
handful of the listeners was truly inspired and shouted their enthusiasm. In a few moments, the reaction spread throughout as Tio exited the building surrounded by his security force.

Without pause or delay
, another officer climbed on the desk and began issuing instructions for the distribution of ammunition, weapons, and supplies. 

There were four motor vehicle bridges crossing the Rio Grande River between Mexico and Laredo, Texas. A fifth carried rail traffic.

Since the signing of the NAFTA Treaty, cross-border t
raffic had become so congested that a sixth span was in the works. Daily, hundreds and thousands of trucks plied the bridges, carrying goods, sub-assemblies, and components back and forth between the heavily industrialized areas lining both sides of the great river.

To the massive presence of the
U.S. Border Patrol, a gridlock of semi-trucks crossing into Texas was a common sight. So voluminous was the traffic, that the largest bridge was restricted to commercial vehicles only. Eight lanes of trucks, trailers, tankers, and delivery vans carried their cargo back and forth between the two North American neighbors.

It was due to this congestion that the 40 over-the-road semis hauling Tio’s private army approached the crossing
s unnoticed. When the lead units of the cartel’s convoy were next in line at the border control station, all of that suddenly changed.

The back doors of the first five trucks sprang open, armed men in balaclava masks pouring out of the trailers.
All of the disembarking hoard wore load vests bulging with pouches, spare magazines, and hand grenades. Battle rifles with folding stocks, holographic optics, and stout slings swept in all directions.

Two
-man teams began boiling out of the trailers, deploying heavier weapons equipped with bi-pods and belt-fed strings of ammunition that dangled from their breeches. They formed up quickly and then began hustling toward the small booths that signaled the U.S. border.

Each of the small glass and plywood enclosures was manned by a single,
lightly armed agent. The outcome was inevitable.

Automatic weapons
’ fire shattered the otherwise uneventful afternoon, short bursts by the cartel’s lead units overwhelming the stunned border agents in a matter of moments. More armed men appeared at the bridge, their mission to direct traffic and clear the way for the rest of the cartel’s invasion force.

Frantic 911 calls soon flooded the Laredo Police Department’s system, the
initial reports claiming active shooters were robbing trucks on the bridges.

Laredo was the 10
th
largest city in Texas with a population numbering over 200,000 residents. The border city boasted a well-trained and equipped city police department as well as county, state, and federal lawmen. Within minutes, over 100 patrol vehicles and two SWAT units were responding to the disturbance at the span over the Rio Grande. Before they arrived, the situation got worse – a lot worse.

Pleas for help
began coming in from all of the bridges. Reports flooded the emergency lines, frantic voices describing dozens of armed men firing automatic weapons and storming the Border Patrol facilities. Other calls claimed the US Customs facilities were under attack. The responding patrolmen were confused, the dispatchers unsure of exactly where to send them. The bedlam didn’t last long. Less than three minutes into the assault, the 911 system was overwhelmed and ceased to function.

The first officers to arrive were met with a hailstorm of b
ullets from both AK47 and G-3 battle rifles. Completely surprised, most fell before they could even exit their shredded cruisers. The handful that managed to broadcast a warning to their fellow officers merely added to the confusion.

The few patrolmen who did
achieve defensive positions were quickly overwhelmed. Department-issued sidearms, shotguns, and the occasional M4 patrol rifle were no match for RPG rockets and belt-fed weapons.

Tio’s invasion force wasn’t entirely dismounted infantry
. A second wave of invaders was soon pouring across the border, a hastily gathered assortment of pickup trucks and busses allowing the cartel’s forces to quickly press its advantage and expand the riverside beachhead.

There was a list of primary objectives assigned to the
various teams from Mexico. The city police station, courthouse, television, and radio stations were high on the Uncle’s military inspired agenda of targets.

Three lead elements of the cartel’s army headed directly for the Laredo International Airport, their mission to deny any counter-attacking force the long concrete runways.
Trucks full of armed men burst through the chain link fence surrounding the facility and sped across the tarmacs. As hundreds of horrified passengers watched, masked men brandishing military weapons commandeered every available fuel truck, forcing the stunned airport employees to drive their mobile bombs onto the runways.

Air traffic controllers, seeing their landing strips blocked by thousands of gallons of jet fuel, began diverting all incoming flights. The tower supervisor, thinking the facility was under attack from terrorists,
managed to get off a brief warning before heavy combat boots kicked in the door, and the main control room filled with shouting, masked invaders. Laredo International Airport was closed.

A few of Laredo’s finest managed to barricade themselves inside the police headquarters, keeping the attackers a
t bay with concentrated small arms fire from the cover of the brick and mortar building. For a brief time, their pocket of resistance slowed the wave of conquest spreading rapidly throughout the south Texas berg.

Colonel Zeta, surrounded by a company of his most trusted troopers
, was monitoring radio traffic a short distance away. “We have twenty to thirty enemy fighters holding out at objective number three,” sounded the report. “I have four men down.”

Zeta didn’t recognize the voice, but knew that the target
had been assigned to one of the cartel’s units. The colonel quickly rallied his troops and began running toward what he knew was the county’s main law enforcement complex.

He arrived to find two clusters of Tio’s men occupying the parking lot. Numerous police vehicles dotted the area, most showing batt
le damage. Smoke poured from several windows, piles of glass and shredded metal evidence of the ongoing firefight.

The c
olonel’s arrival drew a hail of bullets from the barricaded defenders, the incoming fire forcing Zeta’s reinforcements to scramble for refuge. “Give me covering fire!” he ordered.

The Mexican officer watched as two of his men rose and began spraying the complex with controlled bursts of automatic fire. Small puffs of mortar and stone erupted from the building’s façade as his men began walking suppressive lead into the structur
e. A moment later, another, deep baritone voice joined the chorus as the squad’s machine gun came on-line, the heavy weapon slamming rivers of high velocity death into the foe.

With the enemy hopefully ducking for cover, the colonel sprang forward, zigzagging across the lot as random, hastily aimed shots cracked through the air past his head.