Target Deck - 02 (48 page)

At the moment, the room was torn apart with empty ammo cans, wrappers, and other trash strewn about. Needless to say, the men had been constantly in and out of the loadout room for the last week. Now that things were winding down, the Samruk men were packing the deuce and half transport trucks with equipment, their personal gear would be hand carried on the aircraft.

Aghassi stood next to one of the ammunition tables with his notebook computer open. Nikita and Pat stood to either side of him. Kurt Jager, fresh off his assignment with the Zapatistas watched from a distance.

The men looked up as Deckard walked through the door with a bottle of water in his hand. His face was taped up but at least he was back on his feet. He had changed into a fresh uniform and cleaned himself up a little.

“How you feeling?” Aghassi asked him.

“I'm not dead.”

Deckard unscrewed the cap from the bottle but stopped short. Looking at the bottled water hesitantly, he dropped it in the trash.

“Is there any Gatorade in the refrigerator?”

“I got you,” Kurt said opening the fridge in the corner of the room and throwing him a bottle of the red colored liquid.

Deckard took a couple gulps and capped it.

“So what can I do for you gentlemen. It looks like you are in here planning a mutiny against me.”

“Not until your Samruk International corporate checks hit our accounts,” Pat joked.

“Here is the thing,” Aghassi said, spinning his notebook around so that Deckard could see the screen. “We uncovered our entire target deck and fleshed it out with the personalities we wanted captured or killed.”

The screen showed the link chart that they had been working on since their initial reconnaissance mission to Oaxaca. All of the blank spots on the chart had been filled in with names and pictures in recent days. Each picture had been crossed out with a black X indicating that they had gotten their man.

“We thought we were taking down the entire structure of the cartel, from operations, to logistics, to communications, along with the command node of Jimenez, Ignacio, and their most trusted men. But what if there is a secondary command node above Jimenez?”

“You know this whole deal smells like shit,” Pat added. “The high end US mil weapons? How the fuck did they end up with those?”

“You told me that Ignacio's parting words were to the effect that they did a smash and grab on some Zeta warehouse. It sounds like a weapons stockpile or bunker on a US military base got looted and the brass on the base is trying to keep it quiet. Meanwhile, the weapons were smuggled into Mexico by the Zetas to help them maintain control over their plazas. This would end the careers of dozens of Colonels and Generals.”

“He also mumbled something just before his expiration date passed. I asked him where the Zetas were getting the guns from and he said they were picking them up at AMIZ. I thought he was just babbling nonsense. He died a minute later so I figured he was delirious but when I was telling Aghassi about it he had heard of this place.”

“AMIZ,” Aghassi cut in. “
Academia Militarizada Ignacio Zaragoza
, no relation to our Ignacio, it is named after a famous Mexican General who kicked the shit out of the French in the 1860's. AMIZ is a training and operations center for Mexican police. It includes classrooms, a forensics lab, shooting range, helipad, everything needed to train modern counter-insurgency forces.”

“That many US military guns in Zeta hands,” Kurt said shaking his head. “No way was this just a simple theft from an American military base.”

“But we are not telling you anything that you don't already know,” Pat said as he sat down on one of the tables. “Right?”

Deckard took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall.

“Yeah,” Deckard said. “Yeah, I know.”

“What is problem?” Nikita asked.

“That massacre you guys found at the Christian mission is the problem. When I talked to Jimenez he told me that it wasn't him that ordered it, that it wasn't his crew that killed those people.”

“You believed him?”

“I'm afraid I do. Look, when we got attacked on Grand Cayman...”

Deckard rubbed his face.

“When we got attacked by those suicide bombers, we had successfully evaded the Mexican military. The CIA was supporting our mission with men and material. Whoever led that attack knew exactly where we were going to be and when. They also had the capability to move Middle Eastern extremists onto the island with a large quantity of explosives.”

“What are you saying?” Kurt asked.

“That whoever planned that attack had a sophisticated intelligence gathering network and previous experience running Islamic fundamentalist terrorist operations. It wasn't Jimenez, it wasn't the Mexican government, it wasn't the CIA up to some kind of hijinx. It was a fourth force, a new player that we were not aware of.”

“What the hell...” Aghassi trailed off.

“The massacre at the Christian mission was deliberately made to be as sadistic as possible. The message written in blood,” Deckard frowned. “I think was directed to me personally. It was a psychological operation.”

“A PSYOP,” Pat added, using the military terminology.

“Designed to draw me out Pat, just like you told me afterwards. They were trying to provoke a response, get me to do something reckless and effectively end our combat operations here in Oaxaca.”

“But who and for what purpose?” Kurt asked the obvious question.

“That prisoner that Pat captured in Guatemala called him The Arab. I think that is our guy, but he is as much a myth as a reality. The CIA can't find shit on this dude and they want him bad after killing their pilots.”

“You think The Arab and these US military weapons are related?” Pat asked.

“I have no way of knowing but I've got a bad feeling about it.”

“Shit,” Pat grunted.

“Tell me what else you know about AMIZ?” Deckard said looking to Aghassi.

“It is a police academy in Puebla that was built and stood up just a few years ago. While they train police officers it also serves as a staging ground where Mexican military forces can conduct training and rehearsals for major operations. Right now the Mexican Marines and select Infantry units are using it to launch their missions against the Zetas and other cartels. It's a major offensive across the whole of central and northern Mexico at this point with pitched battles on both sides.”

“Let me guess, it is all a part of the Mérida Initiative?” Deckard asked, referencing the international security cooperation agreement between the Mexican and American governments.

“That's right. Our government and theirs share intelligence information and we also provide them with war material, helicopters and whatever else they need to battle the cartels.”

“Including hundreds of rifles and machine guns?”

“Most of their guns are bought from overseas vendors, they are not using straight off the shelf US military weapons so it doesn't make sense for them to turn up in massive quantities like this.”

“We've been down this road before. The Mérida Initiative must also be serving as a cover for a number of covert operations.”

“Yeah, American military advisers. I've heard the rumors but I'm going to have to make some phone calls and see if I can get something specific.”

“Make those calls right now.”

“I will,” Aghassi said, stepping out of the loadout room.

“What do you think Deckard?” Pat asked.

Pat, Kurt, and Nikita stood by, waiting.

“This isn't over.”

“What's the plan.”

“Whoever is behind this is running an off the books unsanctioned operation. That, or it is compartmentalized to the point that no one who could take action against it is placed in a manner to know the full picture. That said, there are going to be simple physical requirements, logistical issues involved in moving large quantities of war material. It sounds like this operation is piggybacked on a Mérida Initiative project. This would allow it to use official government transportation to move the weapons around.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We chase the logistics tail and ride right up along it to its source. Find out who is behind it and skull stomp those fuckers.”
“I like it,” Nikita grinned.

“I've asked these men to sacrifice so much and too many of them are flying back to Kazakhstan in bodybags,” Deckard added. “They are exhausted and we have fulfilled out contractual obligations in Mexico. Understand that it is just going to be the five of us. We stay light, mobile, and agile. That way we attack and move on to the next target before the enemy can figure out what we are up to, but we will be on our own. I'm having Frank and Korgan take these boys home.”

“We understand,” Pat said.

“Once Aghassi makes his calls task him to find and hot wire a vehicle for us. Pat, I want you to set up the vehicle, Nikita you load contingency supplies before everything else gets packed on pallets and sent back to Kazakhstan, Kurt I want you to start building some charges. If we find another cache or a trans-shipment point I want to blow it sky high.”

“Roger that,” the German answered.

“So we are really going to do this?” Pat said smiling.

“Fucking A we are.”

42

The An-124 created a pall of white smoke as its wheels touched down.

The massive Russian cargo plane was a welcome sight. The remaining assault trucks that hadn't been shot to hell or blown up were standing by with the three deuce and a half cargo trucks in a single file. The entire compound had been packed up and turned over to Samantha as she was the only local police presence. Taxing down the runway, the An-124 spun around, as the rear cargo door opened.

One of the largest cargo carriers in the world, the Samruk-owned aircraft had to lower its hydraulics so that the rear end of the plane could get low enough to the ground to start loading vehicles and equipment. There was even a crane inside that ran down the length of the fuselage in the cargo area and could be loaded from both ends as the nose of the aircraft could rotate up and swallow everything from train engines to smaller aircraft hulls.

Sergeant Major Korgan ran up to talk to the flight crew since they were all native Russian speakers and could communicate easier. They would hash out a load plan as fast as possible to make sure all the vehicles were distributed correctly inside the An-124 to avoid weight and balance issues.

Deckard sat on the hood on one of the assault trucks, watching the flight crew drop two metal struts down to the tarmac for the vehicles to drive up. The shadows were growing long and everyone had a rough day. It wouldn't be until later that they would be able to process it all.

Several pickup trucks pulled onto the airfield nearby and disembarked several passengers. As they walked towards Deckard he only recognized one because of the pipe sticking from the corner of his mouth.

“No scary balaclavas?” Deckard asked as he got closer.

“Not anymore,” Commandante Zero answered. “It is time for the people to see our faces and know that we stand with them.”

The rebel leader was older than Deckard would have thought, maybe close to sixty years old with his hair having gone mostly gray. His face and nose were broad, displaying clear indigenous Mexican heritage going back to the Maya.

“This is where your fight really begins. The cartel served as the only functioning institution in Oaxaca for a long time now, completely replacing the systems of government. Now that the cartel is gone, it won't be easy for you.”