Target Deck - 02 (37 page)

“I will never be safe in Mexico,” Cezar agreed. “I appreciate everything you've done for us.”

“I want to get you set up with the witness protection program in America. It means starting over from scratch but it will be in the United States and it keeps you and your family alive. I think I know someone who can arrange this, they work for the CIA. In exchange, he is going to want to debrief you on everything you've been involved with for the cartel.”

“Whatever they want, I will tell them.”

“Good.”

The source was one of the truck drivers that traveled in armored convoys loaded full of drugs, transporting them north along the drug corridors where they would then be turned over to other cartels for transport, or they would pay a tax in exchange for safe passage up to the border. From there, the drugs were smuggled into the United States by underground tunnels, concealed in vehicles, or even carried on the backs of drug mules who huffed it through the desert. He had traded information to Samantha's father for a quick buck here and there, then when the police chief had been killed, Samantha became his handler.

“Right now I need whatever additional information you might have about the cartel. The cell leaders involved, shipment routes, whatever you might have been holding in your back pocket. Now is the time to cash it in.”

The prisoner sat in the corner of the concrete cell hugging his knees while rocking back and forth. His lips moved silently, his eyes darting around the room yet oblivious to his two visitors.

“He's been like this since we captured him,” Pat told Deckard. “We bring him food and water but he hardly touches it.”

“You think he is traumatized or in shock?”

“Probably both but it makes you wonder.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should have seen it last night,” Pat explained. “When the base got hit those fuckers charged us in waves. They got right up to the walls a few times. Our boys had to drop hand grenades over the side of the outer walls to repel the attack.”

“Sounds like the NVA overrunning Lang Vei in 1968. My dad told me about it once when I was a kid.”

“He was there?”

“So the story goes.”

The prisoner's head shot up as he looked around frantically.

“Thebeastthebeastthebeastthebeast.”

“What the hell is he saying?” Deckard asked.

“Something about The Beast. Apparently that is the local legend about Jimenez, that he has some kind of pact with the devil or something. Useful for keeping people in fear.”

“And keeping them in line,” Deckard added.

“Talk to Aghassi about it. He saw all kinds of weird religious shit inside Jimenez' villa. It freaked the hell out of him. He told me that Jimenez is all into that satanic type shit.”

The prisoner continued to mumble incoherently.

“Looks like he made a believer out of those guys that assaulted our compound last night,” Pat said with a shrug.

“We'll see.”

Samantha reached down and picked up a monkey wrench she had found earlier in one of the garages. She held it in one hand and slapped the end of it against her palm, testing the weight of it.

Perfect.

Turning, she began heading back to the improvised jail cells where all of the cartel prisoners that the mercenaries had captured thus far were being held. Deckard had ordered that they be re-interrogated with a special emphasis on identifying key nodes in the enemy's organizational structure.

Two Kalashnikov totting Kazakhs were stone faced next to the door, standing guard. As the former policewoman's hand moved to unlock the door she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

“Hold on a second Samantha,” Deckard said. “Where are you going with that wrench.”

“I'm going to get answers.”

“I have an idea. Maybe something a little less invasive.”

Aghassi was with him, wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and flip flops he looked just like one of the locals.

“Which one of the prisoners is the hardest?” Aghassi asked. “I'll break him.”

“That has got to be Ricky. He's been cursing and spitting at me and the guards since you guys brought him in. A real son of a bitch.”

“Bring Ricky out here,” Deckard instructed the guards, switching back to Russian.

Aghassi brought out two folding chairs and set them up facing each other in the garage. He sat down in one of the chairs and stared down at the ground. In the other room Samantha and Deckard could hear a scuffle and curses getting thrown around in both Russian and Spanish. Finally, the Kazakh mercenaries dragged Ricky out with his feet trailing behind him on the concrete floor.

“Sit him down.”

The Kazakhs dully complied and slammed him down in the chair, opposite Aghassi. Restrained with handcuffs, the guards each placed a hand on the prisoner's shoulders to keep him in place.

“Ricky, you probably don't know who I am,” Deckard explained while mentally switching back over to Spanish. “I'm in charge here. I run this compound.”

“Fuck you,” Ricky spat, glaring at him.

“Yes, fuck me. Now, listen. This guy sitting across from you came to me with some grievances. He walked all the way up here from the town and told me that I was holding someone prisoner who he wanted to speak to. That prisoner was named Ricky and he was responsible for killing his family.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don't know exactly which of your actions affected this man. Was it a random bullet you fired that punched through a wall and blasted his son's brains out? Was it one of your deliberate contract killings? Was one of the women you raped his wife?”

“Hold on, hold on!”

“I don't know, I didn't ask, but his family is dead by your hand.”

“Who is this man, I've never seen him before?”

Ricky was getting frantic. Just where Deckard wanted him. Walking over to Samantha he relieved her of the monkey wrench she had wanted to use on Ricky and handed it over to Aghassi. The Samruk intelligence agent's face was a blank screen. He looked like a ghost as he stared straight ahead at Ricky.

Deckard extended the monkey wrench to Aghassi and he slowly reached over to take it from him.

“I have some questions to ask you Ricky. Questions that you've been giving us a hard time with. Now we are going to try something different.”

“What do you mean? You can't do this!”

“I'm going to ask you some questions. The first time you lie to me, the first time you break my balls, I leave the room. My guards leave the room. You remain in handcuffs and this man in front of you gets to keep the wrench.”

Ricky swallowed.

“Now Ricky, tell me, who knows the most about cartel operations after Jimenez and Ignacio?”

Taking a deep breath, Ricky began to sing.

32

“Get me Kurt Jager on the Iridium phone,” Deckard said storming into the Operations Center. “Get in touch with our Agency contact Grant as well and tell him we need to talk. Bring up our target deck on screen, it's time to start filling in the blank spots.”

Cody's fingers danced across the keyboard.

“Frank, go get me the source we brought in last night. The truck driver. I need to have a word with him so have him wait outside.”

Frank got up and walked out. Leaving the crutches behind, he still had a slight limp.

“Pat, go wake up Fedorchenko and tell him that I want the men on standby and ready to go on a moment's notice.”

“You got it,” Pat said as he followed Frank out the door.

“Kurt is on the line for you,” Cody announced.

“Put him on speaker.”

“Kurt?”

“I'm here Six, what can we do for you?”

“I need you to mobilize the Zapatista militia. We are getting to the end game and it's time to put the pressure on Jimenez. Is Commadante Zero ready to go?”

“Are you kidding me?” Kurt laughed. “We've been trying to hold him back since you gave him all these new weapons.”

“Good. Samruk will handle urban targets inside Oaxaca City. I want the Zapatista soldiers to action targets in the rural areas that they are more familiar with.”

“That's my opinion as well and it is shared with Commadante Zero. We've been prepping that mini-submarine you captured and have identified a landing zone on the western shore where the drugs are coming in.”

“Get that mission rolling as soon as you can. Any other targets that Zero is looking at?”

“These people have lived here their whole life. They know where the cartel is out here in the hills and what they are up to. Their intel is pretty solid.”

“Grant is holding for you,” Cody interrupted.

“Okay, Kurt. You know the deal. Make it happen.”

“Will do,” the German said, signing off.

“Grant?”

“I'm here Deckard,” the CIA officer's voice came over the speaker phone.

“I have an informant who's been outed. I need safe passage for him. He's willing to do a debrief.”

“Who is he?”

“A drug courier. It's him, his wife, and his kid.”

“What are you asking me for?”

“Witness protection.”

“Give me his information, if he is who you say he is I will make it happen.”

“Any progress on tracking down the Arab?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. This guy is a ghost. Nobody knows who he is or where he is. I've got people working this around the clock, people are starting to get freaked out about it. There is nothing on this guy but myths and rumors. People have heard of him, are scared of him, but he's like some kind of boogeyman that no one can actually pin down.”