Mexican Heat (Nick Woods Book 2) (32 page)

Rivera
shifted his view from the stunned Secretary of Interior to the rest of his
Cabinet.

“Nor will
any of you.”

No one
said anything. Good, he had them where he wanted them.

“Now may
we proceed?” he asked.

The
Attorney General spoke up.

“Sir, if
there are Americans here and if they’re going to be impersonating police
officers and driving around in police trucks, then we better discuss the
implications immediately. You are quite likely breaking a number of laws by
this action.”

“You
seem,” Rivera said, “to always forget that I attended the same law school that
you did and I’m aware of what laws I may or may not be breaking. Your
suggestion has been noted and declined. With witnesses, so you can breathe
easier.”

The
Secretary of Finance, a reasonable man and friend of Rivera, said in a humble
and respectful voice, “Mr. President, what is going on? The armed men in here.
The tone of your voice. The statement that we can’t leave.”

“We’re at
war, Lorenzo,” Rivera said. “That’s what’s going on.”

“We’ve
been at war,” said Sanchez, the Secretary of Interior, though he had sat down
and his tone was a bit more deferential.

“That's
right,” Rivera said. “We’ve been at quote war,” he raised his fingers in the
motion of quote marks, “for nearly five years now and we’ve gotten nowhere. My
time as President could almost be up. I was elected to take care of the Godesto
Cartel and I’ve tried to do so within the letter of the law since the day I
took my oath. But we’re no closer today to accomplishing that task than we were
then. I campaigned on this goal and it’s what the people wanted. It’s also what
they wanted when I ran for re-election.”

He paused
and took a deep breath. “Now, since my time is nearly up, we’re going to move
more aggressively.”

No one
said anything to that, and Rivera’s tone made clear it wasn’t up for
discussion.

The
Secretary of Environment reached for his phone -- probably to tell his wife it
would be a long night -- but Rivera said, “Don’t touch that phone. No one is to
use any phone or device unless I directly instruct them to. And if any of these
security officers see anyone using a device, they have been ordered to
immediately arrest them.”

“Under
what authority?” blustered Sanchez, the Secretary of Interior, in an almost
weary voice.

“My own.
I’ll deal with the legal implications later, but for now, it’s my personal
opinion that some of you are working with the cartels and possibly even
planning a coup.”

“That’s
absurd,” the Secretary of Education said.

Roberto
knew it was, as well, but he couldn’t admit it in front of these officers.

“I must
take the threat seriously,” he said, in what was certainly the most ridiculous
statement he had ever made as President. He knew the statement cost him nearly
all of their respect with such a fear-based, off-the-wall remark, but it had to
be done. He could do damage control later, if he survived the next two days.

Rivera
shifted his attention to the Secretary of Communications.

“Olivia,
call your people. I want them to draft an emergency press release stating that
the Godesto Cartel and the Red Sleeve Cartel have broken their alliance and are
going to war with each other. We urge all citizens to be on full alert and as
cautious as possible.”

Olivia
was scribbling down Rivera’s words on a legal pad before her.

“But, Mr.
President,” the Secretary of Tourism said, “that’s not true. And such a
baseless -- and fear-based -- claim will only give the American media more ammo
to tell their people not to visit here. They may talk about this for two days,
and bring up the background of both cartels, and their history of reckless violence.
We really don’t need this hit on our already struggling tourism industry.”

“I’m
aware of that,” Rivera said. “Your objection has been heard.”

“Mr.
President,” the Secretary of Economy said, “this is irresponsible. Our
country’s finances are already gasping and our businesses are at their breaking
point--”

Rivera
held his hand up and stopped him mid-sentence.

“Sir, if
I may,” the Secretary of Defense said, his tone so reverential as to prevent
Rivera from cutting him off. As a formal general, Ignacio Arango was the oldest
and most respected person in the room. When he spoke, even the most puffed-up
politician stopped to listen. “We really need not spread misinformation. You’ve
said before that once you lose your credibility, you can’t recover. If we say
the Godesto Cartel and Red Sleeve Cartel have split and are about to go to war,
we’ll have no standing once it’s proven false.”

“We’re
going to make it true,” Rivera said, causing several Cabinet members to gasp.

“But,
sir,” Arango, the Secretary of Defense, said, “we haven’t provided you any
counsel. Or approved any of these ideas. We’re not even sure what you’re
planning.”

“I
haven’t asked you for any,” Rivera said. “I’ve been asking and receiving
counsel from every person in this Cabinet for the past five years, not to
mention hundreds of experts in our military, intelligence, and police forces.
And if we’re honest, we’ve had more setbacks than progress.”

Rivera
looked away from the table and said, “We’re doing it my way now.”

The
trucks sat parked right where they were supposed to be, and on schedule to
boot. Nick had entered the abandoned warehouse grounds alone, with just his
vehicle and two Primary Strike Team members. If it had been a trap, then the
damage would be minimal and the rest could split up and make for the border,
with Marcus in charge.

But it
was no trap. Twelve green Toyotas, with blue police lights across the cab and
rails in the back for troops, sat in the parking lot. Keys rested in the
ignitions and they had full gas tanks. Nick radioed two of his vehicles to
drive around the perimeter confirming there was no trap. Then they repeated
their paths working further and further out.

Nick
trusted President Rivera, but as Ronald Reagan had said to the Soviets, “Trust,
but verify.”

Once it
was clear that there was no trap, the rest of S3 pulled in. As all the vehicles
piled in, Nick could feel their strength. Like an angry army of wolves waiting
to rip into another pack that had crossed over into its territory. It was going
to be a bad night for the Godesto Carte
l.

With S3
on site, footlockers were unloaded, gear tossed into the bed of trucks, and men
shifted into teams. Each of the members knew the plans, knew their assignments,
and knew the importance of spending as little time as possible in the pick-up
location.

Now, with
the trucks in hand and the most dangerous phase of movement to the assembly
area complete, Nick could breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, technically the
shooting still to come was more dangerous, but Nick could handle that kind of
pressure.

It was
moving as a large unit or having to rely on a politician that scared him the
most. Especially a politician trying his best not to drown.

The
Cabinet meeting remained tense and uncomfortable, but President Rivera wasn’t
close to done. The Butcher and the Godesto Cartel had backed him into a corner
and could taste victory, but in doing so, they had created a desperate man. A
man with absolutely no fear.

Nick’s
plans had been brilliant. With just one or two men of his talent in the right
place, Rivera could have crushed the cartels without needing the assistance of
the Americans. And no doubt Mexico had men of Nick’s talent, but the honest
ones in the military and police forces never lasted long. They were killed,
passed over for promotion by dirty leaders, or corrupted in many cases. Or they
just got pissed off and transitioned to other careers after being disgusted by
incompetence and corruption.

Mexico
had a cancer, and it would need to be cut out. Like amputating an arm. And it
started tonight with what were mostly Nick Wood’s plans.

Rivera
turned to his Secretary of Defense, Ignacio Arango.

“Ignacio,
I want you to get with the head of the Army and ask him for his best
hand-to-hand expert. One name. And I want this man delivered to the Federal
Social Readaptation Center No. 1 within two hours.”

Arango
had a questioning look, but didn’t say anything in reply.

Rivera
looked to the Public Security Secretary, Gerardo Jimenez, who managed all the
federal prisons. “Gerardo, by the time this hand-to-hand expert arrives, you
will have it arranged so that he is accepted into the prison without notice and
placed in the same cell as,” Rivera looked down at the yellow legal sheet,
“Edgar Argel. Make sure one of your men gives him an authentic shank, as well.
One that was actually made in the prison from scraps, and that was seized
recently.

“This
hand-to-hand expert will kill Edgar Argel, who, for those who don’t know,
happens to be one of the highest ranking members of the Godesto Cartel that we
have incarcerated. And once Argel is dead, then our man will slash the symbol
of the Red Sleeve Cartel his back. Have him study precisely how it should look
according to prior times they’ve left their mark in the backs of other victims.
I’m sure we have police photos of this.”

“That’s
impossible,” said Jimenez, the Public Security Secretary. “You can’t just sneak
someone into Federal Social Readaptation Center No. 1 and then sneak them out.”

Rivera
slammed his hand down on the desk.

“That is
precisely what the Godesto Cartel did to kill Hernan Flores. Surely, if the
cartels can do it, then you can do it. Otherwise, you will hand in your
resignation and I will personally lead the prosecution against your corruption
and involvement of the death of Flores.”

The
Public Security Secretary said nothing.

“Finally,
once we’ve removed our man from the prison, and provided him with a good ten
thousand dollar bonus, Jimenez will issue a press release tomorrow claiming a
member of the Red Sleeve Cartel killed Edgar Argel of the Godesto Cartel. And I
expect someone from the Red Sleeve Cartel to be named.”

“That’s
unconscionable,” the Attorney General chimed in. “You can’t just frame someone
for something they didn’t do.”

“I’m
betting,” Rivera said, “that the worst man of the Red Sleeve Cartel that we
have incarcerated has probably done everything from execute people to burn
women and children alive. I don’t care who’s picked. Ask the warden to name the
worst one. If it makes you feel better, pick one of them that raped little
girls. It doesn’t matter to me. Either way, I’ll sleep fine. But we
will
have
a name and photo of a Red Sleeve Cartel member to accompany the news release of
the death, and that news release better have a good-sized picture of Edgar
Argel’s carved-up back in nice resolution and detail. I want everyone in the
country, even those who can’t read, to know the Red Sleeve Cartel killed Mr.
Argel.”

Rivera
looked back to the Secretary of Defense.

“Finally,
one last thing before we adjourn this meeting. General, it’s my understanding
that the inmate population of the federal prison in Nayarit is mostly composed
of Godesto Cartel members. Some of their best men, all corralled off on their
own so there’s no prison violence with other cartels. That makes sense, I know,
but it also provides a unique opportunity. Given that more than eighty percent
of their prisoners are Godesto Cartel men, you will create a disturbance
working with Jimenez, who’s going to be a busy man tonight.

“I want this
disturbance to lead to a break out. I literally want you, Jimenez,” Rivera
grinned, nodding to his Public Security Secretary, “to open the doors of this
prison. Call it a malfunction in your after-action report. Or maybe gross
corruption. Whatever plan you can concoct, I don’t care. But Ignacio, what I do
care about is this: I want a platoon of your coldest, hardest killers waiting a
quarter of a mile away, standing by to move in. Once the doors are open and the
break-out begins, your men will rush in to support the out-numbered nightshift
of jailers, who will certainly be calling for help against this set of mad
men.”

Rivera
leaned forward and stared as hard as he could into the steady eyes of the
former general.

“And they
will kill as many of the cartel members as possible. The cartel members will
probably stop running quickly, once they see all the automatic weapons open up
on them, so it’s important your men kill them in a way that provides plausible
deniability. No execution shots to the head. Instead, have your men lay in the
prone and shoot into them sideways if the Godesto members immediately lay down.
Or come up with a better plan. I don’t care. But, I want at least seventy
percent of them killed. Killed. Do you understand?”

Arango
understood completely, and hadn’t felt this good about a set of orders since
the day he had taken his oath of office as a young man, more than thirty years
ago. Thinking of all the men he’d lost to the cartels over the years, the
former general was eager to get started. His leash had finally been removed and
the Godesto reign of terror and violence was about to run into an angry and
vengeful Ignacio Arango. He would personally make sure that the best and most
loyal men were selected for the task. And by “loyal,” he meant men who also
knew how to keep their mouths shut.