Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller (41 page)

In less than ten minutes, all of the bags were transferred and Jerome jumped into the helicopter. It lifted off slowly, turned to the south and headed out over the water.

The pilot and the other two men jumped in the plane and headed toward the runway. In less than two minutes, they were airborne and headed in a westerly direction. Each would be receiving a handsome pay day for the few hours of work. The pilot had purchased some beer and snacks while he waited for Jerome in New Jersey. Airborne outside of U.S. boundaries, the pilot turned on the autopilot and headed to the back to have a drink with his friends. He’d met Jerome through an acquaintance and when Jerome had laid out his plan and asked if he was interested and could he get a team together, he had jumped at the chance. The money he made today, even after his expenses, was more than he made in two years of flying charters. Even though he might get his pilot’s license suspended, it was worth it.

He grabbed a beer and toasted his buddies. They had clearance to land in Mexico in about two hours. The reduced weight factor would get them on the ground without having to run on vapor.

“Hey! What’s this?” one of his friends called out as he returned from using the onboard head. He held up a large Halliburton attaché case, one of the aluminum models that seemed to be the latest fashion accessory for international executives.

“The guy who was on the plane must have left it,” the other man who had been on the helicopter said as he took another long pull on his beer. “I guess it’s ours now.”

The pilot looked at the case and knew it was something you wouldn’t leave behind and suddenly realized he wasn’t going to get to spend the money he had earned…

There were numerous reports that night from several ships and planes in the area of a bright fireball being observed in the sky. Neither wreckage nor bodies was ever recovered.

Chapter Eighty-Two

Less than thirty minutes from the airport, the helicopter set down on the deck of a freighter heading west, toward Mexico with a load of products from various European companies, all purchased by and for the enterprises Jerome’s family controlled. The crew quickly offloaded the bags from the aircraft and placed them in two empty shipping containers that the manifest would show were part of a shipment of BMW auto parts for numerous dealerships in Mexico. Any sort of external scan would reveal a container full of small metal parts and the inspection wouldn’t go any further.

When empty, the helicopter was pushed off the side of the ship, which Jerome considered just part of the cost of doing business. In two days, he would be back in his home with his family. The Fernandez-Medina family had just entered a new business — minting U.S. coins —and he was looking forward to wreaking havoc on the U.S. He’d instructed the family’s financial advisors to begin to liquidate all of their U.S. holdings, except for some personal real estate assets, so there would be nothing to forfeit or seize if they were ever suspected of perpetrating this fraud.

He wouldn’t make money on this venture, but that wasn’t what it was about. He wanted to right the wrongs his people and his country had suffered. The economic success of America had come at the expense of the Mexican people, with the United States looking to Mexico as a source for cheap products and even cheaper labor. The United States did not respect the culture and history of his beloved country so, he’d called this “Project Alamo,” after the Mission in San Antonio where the pivotal battle for Texas was fought in 1836. When the Mexicans finally won the thirteen day siege, their victory turned into a rallying cry for Texans, which soon ended in the defeat of the Mexican army outside of modern day Houston.

Jerome wanted revenge for everything that had happened since that time to his country. Bringing the U.S. to its economic knees would be a defeat from which the Gringos might never recover.

He received word on board that the sheets of metal needed to produce the coins had arrived and were dispersed among the three locations where the coin production would take place. Everything was coming together.

Chapter Eighty-Three

FBI FIELD OFFICE-PHILADELPHIA

“We’ve got a lead.” Stan came bounding into the office. “The pilot of the helicopter was a DEA informant and he had a tracking beacon on his helicopter. They were able to track his route and then cross reference the shipping traffic. They have it narrowed down to three ships.”

“Great. What do we know about the ships?” Jordan was looking over Stan’s shoulder, reading the documents.

“One’s a cruise ship; so, I think we can eliminate it.” Stan turned to the next sheet of paper. “The other two are commercial ships. One’s a freighter out of Holland, heading to Mexico. The third one is a tanker, empty, heading to Venezuela to pick up a load of crude for a refinery outside of New Orleans.”

Jordan, Kate and Stan looked at each other. It was a crap shoot. You could land a helicopter on either one.

Kate looked up from the papers Stan had put on the desk. “Can we get some satellite photos?”

“On order. Told ‘em to hold the anchovies. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“What happened to the chopper? It didn’t fly back, right?” Jordan continued to shuffle through the papers as he asked the question.

“We think it was pushed off the side. Two other ships reported debris in the water and described what could be rotor blades bobbing in the water.”

“Wow! Someone’s got some big bucks on this if they can just push a helicopter off the deck,” Kate whistled. “We’re playing with some big boys, here.”

Jordan looked up. “Send Max, William and Jon’s team to Mexico. I think that’s our ship,” he said, pointing to the paper that described the vessel and its contents.

“What’s your thinking there, Jordan?” Stan asked, looking at Jordan.

“My gut,” Jordan replied. “They’ve got bags of metal dies. I’m not sure how you get them off a tanker. The crew would have to carry them off and, even though it’s Venezuela, I don’t see how you do it without raising suspicion. On a freighter, you could put the stuff in a shipping container. That gets hauled off the ship with the others. You arrange a pick up and you take it wherever you want. That sounds hard to do here but, in Mexico, my guess would be it’s a piece of cake. Since money seems to be no object, who knows how many people are getting paid off to make this happen?”

“We’ve got some Mexican Federales that owe us a favor. I’ll get them in the loop,” Stan nodded.

Chapter Eighty-Four

MEXICO

Max, William and the Special Ops team arrived via a C-17 at one o’clock in the morning at the Mexican Air Force base. Arriving almost at the same time were Stan, Kate and Jordan. Upon landing, they were met by General Domingo Estrada, the commandant of the federal militia in Vera Cruz. General Estrada and Stan had worked together for twenty years and Max could tell from the moment they met that the relationship Stan had with this man was carrying over as they were greeted like old friends and promised that anything needed would be available to them.

They arrived at the Port ninety minutes before the ship was to dock. As they’d driven, the General had gone over a map of the port and his suggestions for securing the ship, the crew and the vessel’s content.

They confirmed with the General that the crew count was eleven and that Dutch Customs Officials, who had supervised the loading and debarkation of the ship, had verified this and the fact that it had made no stops since leaving the Netherlands.

As soon as the ship docked, the General and his team boarded the vessel and removed the crew. Max and William then boarded to search for the dies and when completed, they would interview the crew. During this time, the crew would be quarantined at the Port, the General assured them. Jordan and Kate would reconnoiter the shipyard to ascertain who might be staging to pick up the load of dies.

William and Max stood behind a bank of cargo containers as the freighter – enormous seeming from so close — was brought into the slip by two large tugs. Jon’s team remained in the vans in order to avoid arousing suspicion. The docking procedure itself consumed almost thirty minutes and not until the ship was tied up did the General and his men approach. Two squads, each led by an officer, raced up the gangplank, weapons at high port. Within five minutes time, the crew began walking down the gangplank. Ten men walked down and were escorted away by Mexican troops. An officer standing with Max and William motioned for them to board the ship. At the top of the gangplank, they were greeted by General Estrada and the vessel’s Captain. At this point, Jon and his men moved out of the vans and up the gangplank, joining Max and William on the ship.

The Captain seemed extremely nervous and Estrada made a subtle gesture to Max that he’d picked up on it also. They moved away from the rail, crossing the main deck, passing the bridge, where several of General Estrada’s men were reviewing documents spread out on the table. The Captain led them down into the main hold of the ship. It was filled from top to bottom with shipping containers.

“Where do we even begin?” William let out a sigh.

One of the Estrada’s officers appeared with two sheets of paper and spoke with the General in Spanish.

“My Major has found some inconsistencies with the container count, Captain. The number listed on the manifest at the Port in the Netherlands shows two fewer containers than the paper work you were going to present here. Why is that, Captain?”

The Captain looked down at the floor. “I did not want to do this. I had no choice. The owners ordered me to carry two empty containers and have enough room on the deck so a helicopter could land. I did as I was told.”

Max didn’t think it would be so easy. “So where are the two containers you brought on empty?”

The Captain pointed to two containers on top of the stack.

“Are you certain?” Estrada pressed. “If we open them and they are not what we are looking for, it will go badly for you.”

“If you are looking for heavy bags, that is what is in there.”

Max and William nodded.

“Major,” Estrada said, turning away, “get the harbor master to order someone he can trust to operate one of the on-board cranes, to put those two containers on the dock. And, make sure they are secured until we can be there for them to be opened. No one else gets close to them. Claro?”

“Si, General.”

“Call the base and have them dispatch a large flatbed truck to the docks immediately, to haul the contents of these containers to the base.” Estrada turned to Max. “I assume you will want them loaded on your plane.”

“Yes, General. That would be perfect.”

“We will go now and interview the crew,” Estrada said, nodding.

It took about ten minutes to get off the ship and walk to where the crew was being held. Estrada, Max and William walked into a large cinder block building and down a corridor to a secured door with two of the General’s soldier’s standing guard outside. They saluted as they opened the door for the group to enter.