Targets of Revenge (36 page)

He was determined to rally his people by raining fear on the Americans. Adina was convinced he could demonstrate how vulnerable and weak they were at their core. To that end he developed a plan that was as deadly in its execution as it was elegant in its simplicity. He had arranged a chaotic assault that would disrupt an entire city,
leaving millions in a state of utter panic. Then he would unleash the anthrax attack, murdering tens of thousands of innocent people trapped in the midst of this bedlam.

He had come to Mexico to ensure that the shipment of his goods proceeded as planned, that nothing interfered with his accelerated schedule. There were details to be sorted out that required his direct involvement, such as coordination with the operatives waiting to be mobilized, the loyalists who would execute the assault.

He also had to prepare for any efforts by the Americans to stop him. Adina learned from his Russian contacts that the agent, Jordan Sandor, was still a problem. Efforts to eliminate him had failed, which meant investigations into everything Sandor had seen or done would be intensified.

So he traveled to Mendez, where the goods had already arrived and were now being taken to the shore for inclusion on a container ship headed for the Port of Baltimore. His next step was to sit with the local head of the Sinaloa Cartel.

————

It took Mateo more than an hour to drive from the farm in Reynosa, where his men were holding Bergenn, Raabe, and Romero, to the country home outside Mendez where Adina waited for him. It was well past midnight when he arrived.

The two men had never met, having communicated through intermediaries over the past two months. Their greeting was warm, and Adina invited the Mexican to have a seat in the comfortable living room.

Adina was accompanied by Alejandro and Jorge. Mateo had brought three of his men for company. All five attendants were armed and alert.

“What a shame,” Adina said as he lowered himself into an armchair opposite his guest, while the five sentries remained standing. “So much violence, so little trust.”

Mateo smiled. “First things first,
compadre
. Since we have never met, we must each be sure we are who we say we are, no?”

Adina reacted by showing off his own treacherous imitation of a
grin. “Ah, such caution. I admire this, I truly do. Even under such, how shall I say, secure circumstances.” He then recited three passwords, and Mateo gave the proper reply to each one.

The two men nodded pleasantly at each other.

“So,” Adina said, “I understand the goods have been delivered to your care?”

“They have.”

“Then you have something for me.”

Mateo lifted the suitcase he had set beside him on the floor when they entered. He placed it on the table, snapped open the two combination latches, and lifted the top to reveal the neatly arranged stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills. “The deposit,” Mateo said, “as agreed.”

Adina nodded toward Alejandro, who came forward to take the case and place it on the breakfront against the wall. “I presume you will have no objection to my man making a quick calculation of these funds.”

Mateo responded with a throaty laugh. “He will be here for some time if he intends to count it all.”

Adina nodded. “As I say, just a quick calculation.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Now that we have that part of our business out of the way, perhaps you will join me for some tequila.”

Jorge went into the kitchen to arrange for the drinks as the other bodyguards relaxed, if only slightly.

“Are the goods on land or at sea at the moment?”

“Shall we say, they are in process.”

“That’s a bit vague for my taste,” Adina told him. “I believe I’m entitled to know where my goods are right now.”

Mateo blinked. “Still on the trucks. Ready to be taken to Matamoros for placement in containers tomorrow. From there the container will be taken to one of our freighters for a transfer at sea.”

“Why the delay? Have things not gone smoothly?”

“As smoothly as they do in these matters. We have had a slight complication.”

Jorge brought in a tray with a bottle and glasses. Adina poured. The two principals toasted their mutual success, then drank.

“Please go on,” Adina told him.

Mateo placed his glass on the table between them and leaned forward. “Two men arrived in Reynosa today. From the States. We got word that they were greeted by one of our own men.”

“Is that so?”

“Pacquito has been a good boy. But now we are being told he is a DEA agent.” Mateo shook his head.

“Which he denies, of course.”

“Of course. Claims he met the two Americans at a bar, tourists looking for drugs and women.”

“Something that this Pacquito might normally provide?”

Mateo nodded. “He is only a soldier in our organization. We let our people make money on their own, provided of course those activities do not interfere with their primary obligations.”

“So he would buy the drugs from you and resell them.”

“Of course,” Mateo said, as if any other possibility would be absurd.

“Have you discovered anything about the other two men to make you suspicious?”

“They drove into town this morning. Rented car. Not much luggage.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the passports he had taken from Bergenn and Raabe, then tossed them on the table. “These may be real or fake, who knows. But they were armed. Both of them.”

Adina picked up the passports and had a look at the names. “What sort of weapons?”

“Automatics. Could be government issued or not. A Glock and a Walther P-99. The main point is that they didn’t buy those in Reynosa, not within hours of arriving in town. I would have been told, believe me.”

“Which means they were carrying when they came across the border.”

“It would seem that way.”

“So this Pacquito, he actually met them in a bar, that was the contact point?”

“No, that’s the story all three of them are telling. When we got the call we were told they met at an abandoned farmhouse outside of
town. Problem is that no one saw them, so we have no way of knowing if it’s true.”

“And I’m sure you were persuasive in questioning your man Pacquito.”

“Extremely.”

“And he still denies knowing these Americans. Beyond what he told you.”

“That’s right. In the face of death.”

Adina rested his elbows on the chair arms and pressed his fingertips together. “Where are they now?”

“We’re holding them at my farm. We put all three of them together.”

Adina could not hide his surprise. “Why?”

“I want to know the truth about Pacquito. If he is a traitor, this will give him the chance to make his move. My men will take care of the rest.”

“But the Americans, they may have value to us. I’d like to question them first.”

Mateo thought that over. “I know your reputation, and I respect that. That is why I waited for our meeting before taking further action against these men. But you are in my world now, and betrayal is something that we must punish quickly and decisively.”

Adina sighed. “Do whatever you like with this Pacquito, but find out what you can from the Americans. We cannot afford to have anything go wrong with our shipment.”

Mateo reached out and grabbed the bottle, then poured each of them another shot. He threw his tequila back and fixed Adina with a look intended to inform everyone in the room who was in charge here. “The shipment is fine,” he assured him. “As to questioning these
yanquis,
I’ll see what I can do.”

I
NSIDE THE SERVICE
shed on Mateo’s farm the three Americans had no intention of waiting to see what their host had in store for them. They were huddled together, still speaking in whispers. The walls of their makeshift prison were constructed of wooden planks and, even if there were no electronic bugs, they might easily be heard from the outside, just as the three of them heard Mateo barking commands before he headed south to Mendez.

At one point, when they heard a car start up and drive off, Romero said, “Mateo just left.”

“You’re sure that was Mateo?” Raabe asked.

Romero, who was doing his best to regain his strength as the other two continued to work on his cuts, managed a painful shrug. “You heard him out there. He was giving orders before he took off. And his Escalade is the biggest vehicle here, makes the most noise. It had to be him.”

“Where would he be going?”

“To meet someone. To figure out what to do with us.” Romero closed his eyes for a moment. “He could have killed us already if he wanted to. You two must be right, there must be a shipment in play.”

“Then why wouldn’t he interrogate us before he left, find out what we know?”

Romero shook his head. “Not sure.”

“So he’s going somewhere for instructions.”

“To see the man,” Romero agreed.

“Jaime Rivera?”

“Could be. The good news is that he wouldn’t go anywhere without three of his men.”

“Why is that good news?”

“By my count that only leaves five of my former friends out there, plus the two sentries at the front gate. Of the five, two are probably in the house.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Bergenn asked. “That we bust out of here and rush three armed guards?”

Romero looked up at them, his eyes bloodshot, his face gaunt. “If we wait, I can tell you our fate is certain. When Mateo comes back we will be tortured and then killed. Whether or not we tell them anything, it will not matter. And believe me, what you saw them do to me was nothing compared to the pain they are capable of inflicting. Remember, I have been here for two years. Even if I survive this night, I will never live long enough to forget what I’ve seen during my time here.”

“It’s late,” Raabe said, nodding in agreement. “These guards are probably tired, hopefully a little drunk, and not expecting us to make a move.” He looked to Romero. “What’s your plan?”

————

The three men worked quickly and quietly, piling boxes of supplies and bags of grain, one atop the other in the rear corner of the small building. Romero rallied as best he could, using his energy more to direct the action than to lift anything.

There were various crates and burlap bags on hand, but unfortunately no tools. As Romero explained, Mateo was a sadist, not a fool. The space was loftlike, with a high ceiling, and the only things resembling windows were two openings a dozen or more feet off the ground. They were small, designed for ventilation and light, not for ingress or egress. Yet once the mountain of cartons and sacks was stacked high enough the three men could use them for their escape. They had no glass, just slanted wooden canopies on the outside that kept rain from pouring into the building.

Romero chose the window on the right since the voices they could
hear seemed to be coming from the left, in the direction of the main house. This side would be darker and out of sight.

“The problem is the roof,” Romero explained. “This is just a shed and it won’t hold our weight.”

“Not even one of us at a time?”

He shook his head. “Corrugated metal. It’ll make a lot of noise and then you’ll fall through like a dead weight.”

“Bad choice of words,” Raabe said.

Bergenn frowned. “So once we get to the window, we’re going out and then straight down.”

Romero nodded. “The drop will only be four or five feet. Just hang from the edge and then let go. The faster all three of us are on the ground the better.”

Bergenn, who stood several inches taller than Romero, asked, “You going to make it okay?”

The young man forced a smile. “Hell, I’m going first.”

Romero headed up the makeshift ramp and poked his head out through the rectangular opening, having a look around. It appeared he had guessed right, there was no one in sight. Better still, the lights from the main house were on the other side, blocked by the building, so he was in almost total darkness.

He forced himself through the small opening, the pain intense as the wooden frame of the window seemed to tear open every one of the cuts on his chest and back. He fought his way outside, managed to spin around, hung from the ledge for only an instant, then dropped himself to the ground.

The fall was longer than he anticipated and he could not stifle a groan as he collapsed in the dirt. Bergenn and Raabe heard him, which meant some of Mateo’s men might also be on the alert. Raabe had scrambled up right behind Romero. He began working his long, lean frame out the window much faster and with far less effort, twisting into position and ready to make the jump.

Just then one of the guards came charging around the building.

For the next few seconds things seemed to Raabe as if they were happening in fast foward. Romero had not even gotten to his feet as the sentry was drawing a pistol from the holster on his hip, his full
attention on the man on the ground. Romero lashed out with one of his legs, a futile attempt to take the larger man down as the guard began to level his weapon at Romero’s head.

At that moment Raabe pushed off the side of the shed with his feet and let go with his hands at the same time. He plunged downward, landing on his back atop the guard and driving him to the dirt in an unconscious heap. He quickly spun around and, using a reverse choke hold, broke the man’s neck.

Bergenn followed right behind him, engineering his fall closer to the building as Raabe grabbed the sentry’s automatic. The two agents got to their feet but Romero was not moving.

“Go,” Romero urged them in a hoarse whisper. “Go.”

“Bullshit,” Raabe responded, grabbing Romero under the arm and pulling him up. “We’re all going.”

But as Bergenn also lent a hand, two other guards came from around the rear of the building and fired the first shots, one of them hitting Romero in the thigh.

He cried out in pain as the two Americans dragged him around the corner of the building for cover. The fusillade continued, some of the rounds tearing through the wooden slats of the storage shed.

Raabe made a quick lunge back to the edge of the building and fired off two shots in the direction of the muzzle flashes aimed at them, then ducked back for cover. “Had to let them know we’re armed,” he said, and for the moment the onslaught subsided. “I guess there are no heroes on the other side of the wall.”