Targeted (Firebrand Book 1) (26 page)

His eyes drifted shut for a moment, and he blinked and shook his head. He had managed to get a little sleep on the plane on the way to Mexico, but from the moment he’d met up with Chris at the airport it had been nonstop planning on the raid that was about to take place. There would be time for sleeping when Diaz was in custody.

In an effort to keep from becoming drowsy, he concentrated on everything he’d learned since arriving. He’d seen pictures of the safe house around the corner from where their driver had parked, and he focused on the plan for entering the nondescript house that looked like several others that lined the street.

The plan called for Mexican Marines to approach the house from behind and surround it on three sides. When they were in place, command would signal for the attack, and he and Chris would follow six other Marines into the house and help subdue the occupants. The goal was to take Diaz alive, but the consensus seemed to be that he would never allow himself to be taken alive.

The soldiers who would lead the way into the house waited in another van in front of them. Ash had met them earlier at the operations center, and he’d been impressed. They were highly skilled at what they did, and he had told several of them he’d like to see them bring their expertise to the Firebrand Training Center. They’d thanked him but assured him that right now their goal was to rid Mexico of drug lords like Eduardo Diaz and make it safer for the people who lived there.

Suddenly Ash was jerked from his thoughts as Chris raised his hand to the tactical communications headset attached to his helmet and frowned. Adrenalin surged through Ash’s body, and he tensed as Chris concentrated on what he was hearing. The expression on Chris’s face told Ash they would soon be on the move. He reached up and raised the Mandarin collar of his tactical vest into the up position like it was always worn in combat, then tightened the strap on his helmet. His fingers curled around his rifle. He was ready.

After a few minutes Chris relaxed and lowered his arm. “That was a communication from command center. Our guys from Homeland Security and the FBI are there with representatives from the Prosecutor General of the Republic which is like our FBI. They’re our battle command on this raid, and they’re listening in real time back at headquarters.”

“Did they say how long it’s going to be before we go in?”

Chris shook his head. “No, they were just checking in. They’ve been waiting until the questioning of some men who were taken into custody last night was completed. They said it won’t be long now, though.”

“You say they arrested some of Diaz’s men last night?”

Chris nodded. “They’ve been gathering information from wire taps, bank information, surveillance, and other sources for weeks. Last night they conducted a series of raids on several of Diaz’s safe houses. They confiscated automatic weapons and several tons of cocaine and crystal meth. To their surprise, one of Diaz’s lieutenants wanted to talk in hopes of getting a better prison sentence. This is the house where he said Diaz is staying since he got back from America a few days ago.”

“Lucky for us he did,” Ash said.

“Yeah, we might. . .” Chris stopped in mid-sentence and frowned. “It looks like it’s about to happen. The guys have the house surrounded on three sides, and we’re about to take the front.”

He had no sooner quit talking than the van surged forward, throwing Ash against the side of the vehicle. He grasped the edge of the seat as they careened around the corner and came to a screeching halt in front of the house.

Ash was up and pushing through the back door before the driver had stopped the van. He jumped to the ground and heard Chris right behind him. The other van had stopped in front of them, and the Marines in full combat uniform piled from the back and headed toward the front door of the house.

Chris and Ash raised their rifles, followed the group up the sidewalk to the porch, and waited for two of the leaders who were supposed to kick in the front door. One of the men raised his leg and landed a kick just below the door knob. The door didn’t budge. He tried again and again with no success before another soldier stepped up and landed a blow in the same place. A quick stream of Spanish erupted from the men’s mouths. Ash knew just enough of the language  to realize why the door didn’t collapse under the assault. Eduardo Diaz had planned for this moment. The front door to his safe house was reinforced with steel and designed to withstand forced entry.

One of the Marines turned, ran to the van, and was back in minutes with a small battering ram designed for two men to operate. One of his fellow offices grabbed the second set of handles on the bar, and together they began to pound at the front door.

No one spoke as the men hammered blow after blow at the spot where the first Marines had struck. After several minutes they passed their task to two others. The sound of the battering ram striking the door pounded in Ash’s head like a drum beating, and he took several deep breaths in hopes of quelling the uneasiness growing inside him. There was no way Diaz could be unaware of the surprise attack at this point, not with the banging at his front door.

He turned to Chris. “Diaz and whoever’s with him know we’re here. This delay is giving them time to study their options. There’s no telling what kind of fire power the first guys through those doors are going to face when they finally get it open.”

Chris nodded in agreement. “I don’t think I told you that at one of the safe houses last night they discovered a rocket launcher. I only hope they don’t have one of those inside.”

Ash’s stomach clenched at the thought of what devastation that could cause on their small group, but he knew there was no other option than to finish what they’d begun with this raid. He glanced at the door again, but it still hadn’t moved.

Just when Ash didn’t think he could stand the sound of the pounding any longer, a splintering sound filled the air, and the door sagged on its hinges. He glanced down at his watch. It had taken ten minutes to get in that door, and now they had to face whatever was on the other side. He raised his rifle and waited for the first shots.

Only an eerie silence greeted them.

Slowly the leaders of the Marines stepped past the door that now was nothing more than a beat-up piece of scrap metal and moved stealthily into the entrance. Ash and Chris brought up the rear. Ash’s every sense heightened to high alert at the expectation of sudden gunfire, but only the sound of their soft footsteps echoed through the quiet house.

Ash swept his rifle from side to side as he moved with the six soldiers down a hallway that led to a large room at the back of the house. When they stepped into what looked like a den, Ash spotted the kitchen toward the right, and three men turned that way. He followed the three who moved into a hallway to the left.

Right away he saw that this was where the bedrooms were located, two on the left and one on the right. Discarded clothes littered the floors in the three rooms and the mattresses of the unmade beds. A pair of men’s shoes sat beside one of the beds looking as if they’d been deserted when their owner made his hasty departure.

But how could they have gotten away? The house was surrounded. They had to be here somewhere. Ash gripped his rifle tighter and eased toward the closed door of a room at the end of the hallway. With his right hand gripping his rifle, he reached out and slowly turned the doorknob with his left hand. A creaking sound drifted up as the door slowly swung open. He caught a glimpse of a vanity and realized this was the bathroom.

He pressed the toe of his boot against the door and pushed until it opened all the way and bumped against the wall. Satisfied that the room was empty, he stepped inside and stopped in surprise, unable to believe what he saw. He shook off his momentary disbelief and yelled at the top of his lungs. “En aqui!”

Chris White, followed by several Marines, ran into the room and skidded to a halt. Chris’s eyes bulged in shock at the sight of the bathtub tilted up by a hydraulic lift and the entrance to a hidden tunnel underneath that led to the sewers.

“How. . .”? Chris began, but Ash had already slung his rifle over his shoulder, lunged onto the ladder, and was scrambling down the escape hatch.

“Diaz had planned well,” he called up to Chris. “While we were breaking the door down, he had plenty of time to escape. No telling where he is now. I’ve got to go after him.”

The Marine leader rattled off some Spanish at him, but Ash ignored the warning. He knew that the Mexicans were in charge of this mission, but he had more at stake in catching Diaz than they did. He couldn’t waste any time.

Just as his feet touched the surface of the tunnel, he heard the soldiers beginning their descent. He glanced up at them and then waded into the sewer waters and set off in pursuit of the fleeing cartel leader. In the distance he could hear water splashing and knew they weren’t too far ahead. He took a deep breath and barreled forward. 

He forged ahead like a mad man, ignoring the water that splattered over his boots while the words he’s getting away pounded in his head. He had no idea how far he’d run, but a sudden realization hit him. The sound of the escaping fugitives was growing more distant by the minute. Taking a deep breath, he willed his legs to run faster, and he charged forward. He couldn’t let Diaz get away. They might never have this chance to capture him again.

Suddenly he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and skidded to an abrupt halt. Chris White plowed into him. “What . . .?”

Ash pointed to a tunnel that veered off to the right of the sewer and listened for the sound of the fleeing cartel leader. “I can’t hear anything. Do we go straight or to the right?”

The Marine leader issued a quick order in Spanish, and three men headed down the  tunnel to the right while the rest of them continued on ahead. They’d gone perhaps another half mile when a second tunnel veered off to the left. Ash came to a stop and shook his head in disbelief. “Diaz’s people must have been working for years on these tunnels.”

Chris White stared down the new tunnel and nodded. “We’ve known for a long time that he had engineers and contractors hired to build tunnels under the border so he could smuggle more drugs into the states. In fact we’ve found a few and closed them down, but there’s no telling how many there are. It’s no wonder he had them through the sewers of the city.”

The Mexican leader spoke a few words to Chris and then headed down the second tunnel with two of his men. “He wants us to continue straight, and we’ll all meet back at the safe house.”

Ash nodded, and he and Chris trudged on through the sewer. But now the sense of urgency had faded. There were no sounds of splashing water in the distance, and with every step Ash’s hopes of catching the cartel leader with the reputation of being untouchable faded. They didn’t speak as they walked. It was as if they had already verbally confirmed what they mentally knew. Eduardo Diaz was no longer in the tunnel.

After about a mile a sound of rushing water filled the air, and Ash eased forward to investigate. His heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach at what he saw. The sewer waters were draining into a spillway that emptied into a river.
      

Ash’s shoulders sagged. They had come to the end of the line.

He wanted to shout his frustration at the top of his lungs, but it would do no good. He stared at the river and scanned the banks for any movement. He saw nothing. Eduardo Diaz had escaped again. Without speaking to Chris, he turned around and headed back in the direction they had come.

Three hours later he sat in a break room at the offices of the Prosecutor General of the Republic and waited to see what the combined task force leaders from Mexico and the United States were discussing behind closed doors. He wished he could be inside that room to hear what they were saying, but he hadn’t been invited to participate. Since he was only here by special invitation, he hadn’t pushed the point.

He heard movement at the door and looked up to see Chris White entering the room. Ash jumped to his feet and faced him. “So what went down in there?”

Chris motioned for Ash to sit, and he dropped back down to the couch. Chris took a chair facing him. “The Marines found tunnels branching off in all directions, and they followed some of them. They led to other safe houses owned by Diaz. They raided those houses, and they’ve arrested a lot of Diaz’s men today, but not him. He’s vanished, and even the ones who are in custody have no idea where he is.”

Ash raked his hand through his hair and groaned. “So what happens now?”

Chris settled back in his chair. “Well, we follow the phone trail again. Right now Diaz is on the run, and he realizes that we’re tracking his phone. So he’s going to have to change phones.”

“But then you won’t we able to track him.”

Chris smiled. “No, but he’s going to want to know what’s going on, and he needs to know who’s been arrested. So at some point he’s going to call one of his men, and they’re going to want his phone number. When he tells what it is, he’ll be giving it to us, too, because we’re already tapping his lieutenants phones. Then we begin again.”

“So this could go on for months,” Ash stated in a flat tone.

A small frown pulled at Chris’s forehead. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do. At the moment Diaz has evaded us once again, but he’s running for his life this time.”

Ash gritted his teeth. “And that probably means he’s on his way back to the United States.”