Tonight would be satisfying. There were several more narcos than expected, but eventually the party would die down and people would go to sleep. If not, Trent and Max had talked about waiting until two or three in the morning and taking them when they were most vulnerable. There were four security guards, and two more narcos inside. Trent was pretty sure he’d have no problem with those odds, especially since he had the first-mover advantage. With Max’s help, they were sure to succeed.
“Trent, come in,” came Renee’s voice through his headset, breaking his train of thought.
Max and Trent had told her to check on them every fifteen minutes. Trent looked at his watch. She was very precise.
“Gentlemen, Wilkes just sent me a warning. Something is wrong. The cartel is sending multiple vehicles towards your position.”
Max said over the radio, “ETA?”
“A few minutes, tops.”
Max was in a beat-up-looking sedan about one hundred yards down the street from Trent’s position, parked in a lot that gave him a view of the townhome and surroundings.
“Renee, give us more info. What do you have?” said Max.
Renee said, “A few minutes ago, the drone picked up a spike in electronic emissions from the narcos’ cellular devices. The NSA techs matched the movements to multiple vehicles moving in the area. The conversations say they’re showing up at Rojas’s pad. What do we do, Max?”
Dammit.
“Hold tight. Trent, be ready to evac through the rear of your building and I’ll pick you up.”
“Copy.”
Max knew that the imagery and electronic sensors were provided by American drones based out of an Air Force base in Texas. With the quiet approval of the Mexican government, the drones flew almost nightly reconnaissance missions over areas where the cartels ran their operations. But analysis from a drone usually wasn’t that accurate in such a short timeframe. Was it possible this was a false alarm? Maybe the cartel trucks weren’t really headed there. Maybe they were just going nearby.
Trent’s voice. “Vehicles spotted. There they are.”
Damn.
Max could see them too. A convoy of dark pickup trucks and SUVs came to a halt on the steep curb just outside Rojas’s townhome.
A twinge of fear crept up Max’s spine as he watched at least a dozen armed men exit the vehicles.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Renee’s voice was in his ear, saying what he was thinking. “Do they know we’re here?”
Trent slowed his breathing and held still. Even though he was behind closed shades in an unlit room, his instincts warned him of the increased danger. It seemed like half the Sinaloa cartel was forming up on the streets just outside his window. Through the cracks in the window shades, he saw the lights of other homes on the street flicker on. The residents were probably nervous about the sudden influx of cartel muscle, maybe sensing that these men weren’t the usual type.
“Trent, what are you seeing?”
He answered Max on the radio. “I count twelve additional narcos. They look well armed and are securing the perimeter like pros. Hold up.”
Some tall white dude got out of the back of one of the vehicles. He yelled something in Spanish and pointed down the street, with men scurrying about as he did.
“There’s a Caucasian male. Tall guy. Probably six five. Looks like he’s in charge by the way they’re taking orders from him. He’s entering the house now, with several of his men.”
Max’s head was spinning. This was like watching a nightmare play out in real time.
One of the newly arrived trucks suddenly moved down the block towards Max. He gripped his keys and the wheel, bracing himself.
Then the truck made a hard left turn and positioned itself perpendicular to the empty traffic lanes, cutting off the townhome’s street entrance. Two men stood in the bed of the truck, small machine guns slung across their chests. Another narco got out of the passenger seat and stood on the street corner. Each of the men held his weapon in a way that told Max they’d had military training. Their eyes searched the streets, alert and professional.
Max whispered, “We may need to call this off. I’ve got three of them about twenty yards away from me. They get any closer, and I’m made.”
“You wanna abort?”
“Stand by. Not yet.”
A tall white guy in charge of a bunch of armed narcos, arriving unexpectedly. Max had a good idea of who it was.
Blanco.
Their mystery man had arrived.
Renee’s knee bounced under the table as her eyes flipped through the multiple windows she had open on her laptop.
On one hand, this was good news. They were finally getting eyes on Blanco, head of security for the Sinaloa cartel. But sitting here in this luxury hotel, miles from the action, she became deeply worried about the safety of Trent, Max, and Wilkes’s agent inside the building.
On her computer, Renee monitored the video feed being broadcast from Trent’s tripod camera. El Blanco was almost a foot taller than the others and had a long, confident stride. He barked something to one of Rojas’s security men and then walked up the front steps. One of them held the door as El Blanco entered the townhome, several of his own men in tow. She could see them through the lit windows as they headed up the stairs.
“Lot of dudes,” said Trent in a somber voice. “They don’t look like they’re here to party.”
“Do we have audio?” asked Max. “Can we listen in to what they’re saying?”
Renee said, “Stand by.”
She typed a message to her hacker colleague who was assisting her from several thousand miles away. A few clicks and a moment later, one of her computer windows showed the audio signature of muffled Spanish-speaking voices. Renee was now using any phones that they thought were in the cartel’s building as eavesdropping devices. The audio was then run through a translation program, and text was populating on another window on her computer.
Renee said, “We’ve narrowed it down to a few mobile devices. There are a few others that we think might be located in the home, but I don’t want to clutter it up as we aren’t sure. I’ll tell you what they say.”
On the monitor, Renee watched as Blanco appeared on the rooftop lounge area, pointing at the girls and issuing orders.
“Rojas looks pissed,” said Trent.
Renee clicked on the audio options to listen to the raw data. The music on the rooftop stopped as Blanco had it turned off. Two of the girls were made to sit down at the center table.
Blanco pointed at the third girl.
Ines Sanchez. Wilkes’s agent.
Renee’s heart pounded in her chest.
One of the narcos walked up to Sanchez and placed a canvas bag over her head. Another man zip-tied her hands behind her back.
“Max, they’re taking her. They just put a bag over her head.”
Trent said, “What do you want me to do?”
Max’s voice. “Continue to monitor and report. Do not move from your position.”
“Roger.”
“Renee, what are they saying?”
Renee was reading the translated text. “Looks like Blanco is breaking up the party. He’s taking the girl and telling them to leave the building.”
“Which girl?”
“Ours.”
Trent’s voice was intense. Begging to be set loose. “You want me to intervene?”
“Negative. There are over a dozen of them, and they appear to be the varsity team,” replied Max.