Target Deck - 02 (54 page)

“We are not military advisers,” Nikita said with his heavy Russian accent.

The General's eyes widened as he looked at the mercenaries. An American, a Russian, and a Mexican looking guy working together didn't fit.

“Mercenaries,” he said under his breath. “Who hired you? Los Zetas? The Templarios? I know Jimenez and Ortega are out of the game. Did the Sinaloa cartel send you? This doesn't make any sense.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Aghassi agreed.

“Where are the guns going?” Deckard demanded. Using the Hooligan tool, he pinned the General's chin between the pry bar and the steel spike at the end of it to help get his point across.

General Gonzalez gulped.

“The Arab shit is getting shipped out across the country to the cartels, the AK-47s, old PKM and RPD machine guns, RPG-7s, that sort of thing is all getting shipped to the Zetas and the Sinaloa cartel. It goes out from here and from AMIZ.”

“Only those two cartels? Why not any of the others?”

“Because that is not part of the plan. The Zetas and the Sinaloa are the two biggest players in the drug trade. The guns go to them, they wipe out the smaller cartels and consolidate their power. Then we let the Zetas and Sinaloa cartels fight each other for a while until they are both weak, that's when OBI will order us to cut off the supply of weapons and equipment to the Zetas.”

“So the drug trade gets consolidated under one single cartel,” Aghassi stated the obvious.

“Yeah, that's right,” the General confirmed. “The plan has never been to end the drug trade but rather to manage it. The cartels have split into too many factions and have gotten too violent. OBI has been calling the shots and deciding who lives and who dies.”

“Why is the Sinaloa cartel being singled out to rule the drug trade?” Deckard asked.

“They are the oldest cartel in the country with the deepest institutional ties. They also launder their money through Wall Street which ingratiates them to our neighbors up north.”

“And you are just following orders,” Deckard asked, still holding the Hoolie tool under the Mexican Officer's chin.

“I've worked for the Sinaloa cartel since I was a Captain so I was practically a shoe in. I've been promised a top spot in the cartel once this is all over in another year or two. Most of the players out there slinging bullets will be dead by that time and OBI is going to want some kept men running the show for them.”

“And the dead piling up in the streets? The civilians caught in the cross fire? The families having their heads sawed off are just collateral damage?”

“War is an ugly thing,” the General replied. “You should know that with all the wars the gringos start all over the world.”

“What about the US Military hardware,” Aghassi cut in, seeing that Deckard was about to take the General's head off. “Is that going to the Zetas?”

“No, that is for safekeeping. The heavy shit is being stockpiled around the country, under the control of trusted Generals. People like me.”

“Then how did the Jimenez cartel arm themselves with American rifles and machine guns by breaking into a Zeta stockpile?”

“I heard about that. That was no Zeta stockpile, it was a cache that belonged to the Mexican Marines. They were supposed to be safeguarding those weapons as a part of contingency planning.”

“What contingency?”

“In case one of the cartels became too powerful and completely overthrew the Mexican government, or the violence leaked into the United States to the point that a real crackdown was needed. Mostly though, those armored vehicles and missile launchers are for the coup.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“God damn, just let me go!”

“What coup?”

“In case CISEN, the CIA, OBI, whoever the hell,” Gonzales said nervously. “In case they can't keep the Mexican government under their control they will arm the cartels with heavy weaponry. You saw some of it in our warehouse. Armored vehicles, Anti-Tank weapons, Surface to Air missiles, and more. Then we have a re-enactment of the Iraqi insurgency. Same as Libya. Same as Egypt. Colonels will replace Generals, the government will be killed or forced into exile.”

Deckard dropped the Hooligan tool. Even he was shocked by the balls on these people.

“Who?” Deckard asked. “Who is behind the weapons trafficking and these contingency plans?”

“I told you, I take my orders from OBI. I'm a made man and it isn't my place to ask questions.”

“Where are you getting the guns from Gonzales?” Deckard yelled. “They are not just materializing via fucking magic!”

“The planes come in during the middle of the night. Civilian chartered aircraft. I never even see the pilots. Our forklifts pull up and start unloading pallets until the plane is empty. Then it takes off back where it came from. Sometimes they pick people up-”

“What?”

The General coughed, realizing he'd been so scared that he started running his mouth and had volunteered information.

“Sometimes the same flights drop people off and then pick them up later.”

“What kind of people?”

“I don't know, I don't know!”

Aghassi pulled his notebook computer out of the Kifaru Koala pouch he wore on his kit. Starting it up he played the beheading video uploaded earlier in the day from Torreon.

“Yeah,” the General confirmed. “The guy with the scars on his forearms. He's been through here a couple times. Sometimes he has a team with him. Sometimes it is just him and one other guy. They come in at night, do their work, and fly out the next day.”

“You knew that this was the kind of work they did?”

“I suspected. OBI freezes the area to deny my soldiers from entering the area. These massacres occur, and the area is opened back up as this guy is getting back on the plane and flying out. We never speak to them, just provide vehicles for them as instructed from OBI. I don't think they speak Spanish or English. They look Arab.”

The Arab.

Deckard raised the Hooligan tool high over his head. The General closed his eyes, accepting what was coming. With a thud, the mercenary slammed the metal spike into the General's desk. Papers and office litter flew across the office as Deckard growled, upturning the desk and spilling everything on the floor. Walking away, Deckard flung the door open and walked outside.

“Where is this Arab?” Aghassi asked.

“Flew out this afternoon. They didn't say where they were going,” the General said around the sweat running down his face.

“The next arms shipment. When is the next airplane due in?”

Gonzalez didn't even hesitate in answering as his eyes shot to the clock hanging on the wall.

“Look out the window.”

Deckard watched as an airplane touched down on the Torreon airport runway. It was flying blacked out with all of the flight and interior lights switched off. The only way you flew into a war zone without getting shot down.

Slowing, the cargo carrier plane turned off onto the taxiway the led into Militar No. 3.

“This is Six,” Deckard said as he clicked the transmit button on his radio. “How are those charges coming?”

“Almost done,” Pat reported in. “How long you want on the time fuse?”

“Ten minutes.”

“That's it? I can cut an hour's worth,” Pat explained. “That would give us enough time to make it back to the van and be out of the city before the blast.”

“We're not taking the van,” Deckard told him. “Change of plans.”

Outside, the aircraft was lit up by the lights above the hangar doors. He could now identify the airplane as a Lockheed L-100 cargo plane, the civilian equivalent of the military's C-130 Hercules. As the rear ramp began to lower, a forklift was driven up to the back end to begin removing the pallets of weapons and ammunition.

“Save one of those charges to bring with you and start the count down on the time fuse as soon as possible. Let me know when it is burning.”

“Roger,” Pat acknowledged. “I can't wait to see this plan of yours because this is going to be a big bang. Big enough to shatter half the windows in the city.”

By now, Aghassi and Nikita had finished using a roll of duct tape to secure General Gonzalez to his chair.

“Leave him,” Deckard said. “We're leaving.”

Locking the door behind them, they left the General secured inside his office. He was going nowhere fast. Taking a knee, the three mercenaries watched as a crew of Mexican soldiers climbed onto the L-100 aircraft and began pushing pallets across the rollers set into the floor of the plane and onto the forklift where they were set down next to the hangar.

“Six,” Pat's voice crackled over the radio. “Ready to initiate?”

“Do it. Then meet us in front of the General's office across the way from your position.”

“Roger, we're burning. Ten minutes.”

Thirty seconds later, Kurt and Pat ran up to meet them.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Pat urged. “We'll be lucky to escape the blast as it is.”

“That's our freedom bird right there,” Deckard said, pointing towards the airplane with the barrel of his gun. “Nikita, you're on overwatch. The rest of us will assault from where they are downloading those pallets next to the hangar. We don't stop until we go right up the fuselage of the aircraft and into the cockpit.”

“Now that's a plan,” Kurt Jager said with a grin.

“The General knew a lot but didn't know the source of the weapons he was receiving. Time to find out.”

Nikita's uniform shifted colors as he stalked off into the night to find an acceptable overwatch position while the remaining four men cut across a road and crept up behind the pallets that were now sitting beside the hangar.

Taking cover behind them, Deckard took one final look as the forklift was re-positioning itself to carry off the next pallet.

“There are three pallet pushers and one forklift operator. The pallet pushers look to have side arms. I don't know about the driver behind the forklift.”

“Let's move,” Pat urged. “We're talking about less than eight minutes here.”

“Nikita, do it,” Deckard said over their radio net.

The crack of the gunshot couldn't be heard above the jet engines but the forklift operator suddenly slumped over in his seat. As the mercenaries sprung out from behind the pallets, Deckard let off a single shot that caught one of the pallet pushers in the chest. He bobbed forward and took a swan dive off the back of the ramp.

Climbing up the back of the forklift, Aghassi and Pat stood on top of it and took careful shots at the remaining two men. They had to be careful not to damage the aircraft in the process or they would all be shit out of luck if they couldn't get off the ground. Luckily, the human body was an acceptable bullet trap. One of the Mexican soldiers was caught completely by surprise, the other reached for the pistol on his hip but was just a second too late as Pat cut him down.