Mexican Heat (Nick Woods Book 2) (33 page)

Then, the
Secretary of Defense had another thought. With a slick grin, the former general
said, “What if a fire accidentally started during their escape attempt and
unfortunately killed the majority of them?”

“An even
better idea,” Rivera said, “but anyone running out gets shot down.”

“Might
look bad,” cautioned Arango.

“Just
some soldiers fearing for their lives,” Rivera said.

He
glanced down at the unfolded sheet of yellow memo paper and then lit it with a
lighter. No way did he want these notes falling into anyone’s hands. The paper
caught, the flame rose, and he dropped it on the carpet, ensuring it burned
completely before stamping it out. They could worry about the burn mark on the
carpet later.

“Finally,
Mr. Secretary of Defense, you will call up your generals and devise plans to
invade at least three of the Godesto Cartel’s strongholds. I don’t care which
three, but they are to be surrounded, hit hard, and as many weapons and drugs
seized as possible. Oh, and make sure cellphones among troops are seized prior
to the orders being issued. The units are to be isolated so that no warning
gets out before their departure.

“Meanwhile,
our Attorney General, you will get with our best intelligence experts tonight
and by the time the banks open tomorrow morning, you will have judicial orders
seizing every possible account that could be tied to the Godesto Cartel.
Practically any account in Mexico that looks shady and has more than two
hundred thousand dollars in it, I want it seized. Period. And I want it seized
one minute after each of these financial institutions open. No warning to any
of those affected, of course.”

“Since
you went to the same law school as me,” the Attorney General replied, “I’m confident
that you know this isn’t legal.”

“I know,”
Rivera said, “and I don’t blame you all if in a couple of days you all inform
the media that I was acting like a madman and breaking dozens of laws. I’m okay
with that, but I’m not okay with the Godesto Cartel ruling Mexico for a single
day longer. I’m not okay with the Godesto Cartel being able to attack the
Presidential Palace, kill influential citizens such as Juan Soto, or conduct
any operation they can conceive of. I know we’ll have to release the funds, but
they can see what it’s like to operate without them while we hold off their
high-priced attorneys.”

Rivera
projected as much confidence and fight as he could muster. Hands on his hips,
an edge of fear upsetting his stomach, he stared down his Cabinet and prepared
to give his war speech. And perhaps some of his last instructions as President
of Mexico. Make it look good, he thought, and stood even taller. It was time to
stand bravely in complete defiance of the Godesto Cartel and those in Congress who
were trying to bring him down.

“Tonight,
my esteemed Cabinet, we finally fight back and commence all-out war against the
Godesto Cartel. Maybe it’s true that if we destroy them, another will replace
them, but we will set the precedent that no cartel can threaten the government
of Mexico as the Godesto Cartel has done. Our entire focus will be on the
Godesto Cartel. Leave the Red Sleeve Cartel alone. The other, smaller cartels,
as well. If we have Red Sleeve men awaiting trial, let them out. We’re going to
shift the balance of power and we need the much weaker Red Sleeve Cartel to
make as many gains as possible in the time that we have left. Just as a
monopoly will damage a country, so too will a cartel that becomes too powerful.
Tonight and tomorrow, we reset the balance of power.”

Rivera
walked to the door and looked back.

“As far
as I’m concerned, this meeting is over. Those of you with tasks to do, please
jump on making them happen. And I apologize, but you all will need to place
your phones and internet devices on the table before leaving the room. I’ve had
rooms in the Presidential Palace prepared for you, but none of you will be
leaving the building tonight. Some of you will be busy, others bored, but it’s
what the job requires for the next day or so. And I have several staff members
prepared to call your families to alert them that you have been tied up in an
emergency meeting, but none of you will be allowed to make outgoing calls
except as duty requires, and that will be in the presence of a witness.”

And with
that, Rivera shut the door. Firmly. 

Chapter
36

The
trucks were crammed with equipment and boxes of ammo and supplies, including
jugs of water. The mission called for a two- or three-hour timeline, but Nick
and Marcus weren’t ones for taking chances. They absolutely could end up cut
off and surrounded.

The
entire team of S3 had geared up in assault vests and helmets. The team had
packed the stuff away for the transit here, but now it was “go” mode since they
had the trucks to hide behind. And their S3-issued olive drab cammies combined
with the vests, helmets, and trucks would make them look like a police force to
casual passers-by. At least close enough for an operation in the middle of the
night. And where they were going, most people didn’t want to go looking too
closely at cops. They’d be moving in the other direction, most likely.

This was
where a leader was supposed to give a speech, Nick knew.

“Pull it
in,” he hollered.

He
dropped a tailgate and jumped up to the bed.

He took a
knee, leaned his M4 against his leg, and removed his helmet. The team slid in
close, forming a half circle around him.

“Well,
gang, this is it,” Nick said, fiddling with his helmet strap. “I can’t deny
that the whole shebang has been a clusterfuck up ’til this point. Hell, Marcus
and I didn’t even know if we would have trucks waiting on us until we arrived
just a few minutes ago. And you all have served long enough to know that lining
up logistics is Planning 101.”

Nick
looked at his band of forty-four warriors.

“I’m not
one for speeches, and you guys aren’t the type to need them. But I still wanted
to say a few words before we go in. You all haven’t given me or Marcus a lick
of trouble and we’ve certainly jerked you around from the beginning. Most of it
was beyond our control, but in war, a commander is supposed to protect his men
from silly games and unnecessary stress and Marcus and I have failed you in
that regard.

“But goat
rope or not, we’re here now and this is exactly what we all signed up for.
Tonight we finally --
finally
-- get a chance to really go after these
bastards. We’ve been issued our hunting licenses, and there’s no bag limit.”

“Hell
yeah,” Red hollered with a smile. Nick noticed how small Red looked, even in
his combat gear.

“Now,”
Nick continued, “you all know the plans, and you know there aren’t hardly any
plans at all. It’s ‘hey diddle diddle, right up the middle.’ This shit-hole
slum we’re going into -- Neza-Chalco-Itza -- is one of the largest slums in the
world. And not even the Mexican government knows if there’s one million or four
million people in it.

“But we
do know practically the entire slum is loyal to the Godesto Cartel. It’s the
heart of their operation and we know it’s dangerous as hell and rarely entered
by police forces. Every time they go, they end up in a big fight, so they don’t
go much anymore. Haven’t in years. But we’re not going in to arrest people, and
we’ll see how eager they are to mess with us when we’ve splattered a few of
them.

“I have
no idea if we’ll be fighting our entire way in or if we’ll drive in, pull up to
the Butcher’s building, and just take it down. As you all know, we have no
snipers providing intel and we aren’t even sure if the Butcher will be at home.
If he’s not, we grab every computer and piece of intel that we see and we get
the hell out of there. With luck, the intel will give us more clues on how to
break the back of the Godesto Cartel and hopefully tell us where the Butcher
might be hiding if he’s not there.

“You
don’t have to be a genius to know this mission has about a hundred things that
could go wrong. Hell, it has ‘catastrophe’ written all over it and with any
lesser unit, I’d cancel the entire thing right now. But tonight’s our only
chance and I think you all want this as bad as I do.

“Remember,
we have no support. It’s just us. If you get hit, administer self first-aid. If
we’re under fire, ignore your buddies who get hit. We’ll need every weapon
facing outboard so this doesn’t turn into something like Blackhawk Down in
Mogadishu. And don’t think if we get in deep we’ll get rescued. We won’t. We’re
on our own. We know this is the reality before we even step off, so don’t go
expecting anything different. We fight in, we try to grab this bastard, we
fight out.”

Nick put
his helmet on and stood, now towering over them. “That’s how this plays out. We
either accomplish the mission or we all go down together in the middle of one
of the biggest shitholes in the world. I suppose that’s how most battles play
out. Been that way since the Romans marched off to war. Probably earlier, but
I’m not much on history. Anyway, if dying together is what it comes to, I can
say that I’m proud to be your skipper and there’s not another set of guys I’d
rather go down fighting with.”

Nick
looked at each of his men, from left to right, and nodded solemnly. Not a
single one broke off their eyes. They were as ready as him.

“Let’s go
do this,” he said, his voice quiet and soft.

A few of
the men screamed war yells, while others said a few words to their buddies.
Others just had a look of determination that Nick appreciated.

What they
lacked in numbers, they made up for in experience. They were older than most
armies, had been blooded, and they’d definitely give better than they received
tonight. Whether that would be enough in Neza-Chalco-Itza, Nick wasn’t sure.

The
forty-four members of Shield, Safeguard, and Shelter loaded up and the twelve
trucks lined up, their police lights now flashing in the dark parking lot. All
of the trucks had rails that encircled the entire bed, and the rails had been
well designed. Not only were they round and padded, they also rose about a foot
higher than the top of the cab and came roughly chest high. The height allowed
the men to loop their arms over them to hang on or lay their rifles across them
for additional accuracy.

“Hold up
here,” Nick said to Truck, his driver. Nick’s vehicle was the lead truck, and
Nick sat in the passenger seat, with two GPS’s and several maps spread across
his lap.

Nick
looked back over his shoulder and made sure his men were lined up and ready. He
pressed the push-to-talk button on his vest and spoke into the microphone that
hung down from his helmet.

“Task
Force Leatherneck, this is Six Actual. Radio check and confirm you’re ready to
move.”

Nick
listened as each truck checked in. The formation was set up in a KISS simple
formation. The Primary Strike Team provided the tip of the spear. The eight
members of the Primary Strike Team were spread out in the first truck.

Nick and
Marcus had decided to place as much firepower as possible up front in case they
needed to shoot through any roadblocks. Thus, Nick’s truck had the most
shooters in it. He had Truck, the most experienced driver in S3, driving the
lead vehicle with him.

Behind
Truck and Nick in the bed of his truck were Bulldog, Red, and Preacher. Bulldog
manned a light machine gun, an M249 SAW, which rested on the rail above the
cab.

Bulldog’s
M249 Squad Automatic Weapon faced forward, or twelve o’clock. On Bulldog’s
left, Red stood with his M4 watching the nine to eleven o’clock sector, while
Preacher leaned over the rail on the right watching one to three.

Behind
Red, Bulldog, and Preacher were Lizard and Isabella. Lizard leaned out the left
alongside Red. Lizard was responsible for seven to nine while Isabella watched
the right behind Preacher. Isabella covered three to five. And in the middle of
the truck bed was Marcus. He was there for command and control reasons and to
provide additional firepower to whichever side might need it.

Behind
the crammed, lead truck -- or, Truck 1, as it was named -- came each of the
three remaining squads, in their numerical order for the sake of simplicity.
The squads were spread out among eleven trucks. And in the rear of the convoy,
in Trucks 11 and 12, were the six Scout Sniper teams.

Everyone
in S3 carried M4 carbines tonight. The M4s were the upgraded version of the
long-serving, military-issue M16-A2s. These M4s were shorter and lighter than
the full-sized M16s, and far better suited for close-quarters battle. They also
had upgraded handguard rails that allowed all manner of sights, lasers, and
attachments to be added, and Nick’s unit had the budget and brains to soup the
weapons up to their most optimal level.

The
entire team, including the six Scout Snipers in the rear truck, toted M4s on
this mission that included Aimpoint red dot sights, as well as AN/PEQ-16A
modules on the side of their carbines. The AN/PEQ-16A was a sighting tool for
use in low-light situations. It was currently issued to Marines and other U.S.
special operators and the little device did nearly everything. It had a
super-bright flashlight that could easily be turned on and off by a button on
the rifle, as well as an infrared aiming laser that couldn’t be seen by the
naked eye, but only by night-vision devices.

And since
each of the members of S3 was well-supplied and had a night-vision monocular
attached to their helmet (the top-of-the-line, military-issue AN-PVS-14), they
would have a significant advantage over the Godesto Cartel members in combat in
the dark. They could see and shoot in nearly complete blackness. The Godesto?
Not so much.

The unit
had also packed some light machine guns before leaving America, as a
just-in-case measure since they wouldn’t be operating in conjunction with government
forces. Hence, each squad had two M249 SAWs, the standard light machine gun of
the American military.

These
M249 SAWs fired 5.56 mm rounds -- the same caliber as the M4s -- but they had
plastic drums attached with 200 rounds of ammo instead of a mere thirty-round
magazine.

Nick
figured he had enough men and firepower to allow the unit to get in and fight its
way out, but he had ordered the six Scout Sniper teams to pack their sniper
rifles and plenty of heavy 7.62 ammo just in case. If they were stuck in the
middle of the shithole come morning, Nick wanted the snipers putting full-size
hunting rounds through anyone dumb enough to lift their head. The snipers,
being good snipers, had brought hard cases to protect the rifles and scopes,
since the weapons would be bouncing around in the back of the trucks with the
rest of the gear.

They were
ready, Nick knew. They had the guts, they had the weaponry, and they had enough
ammo to invade a small island. Now it was time to see if they had enough skill
and men.