Sean tightened the strap that held the Ka-Bar knife holster against his thigh. He cocked the MP-5 and chambered a round, just as he had with the Gyurza. Sean had found the Russian pistol surprisingly good and had opted against the Glock.
“Describe the ranch again!” he instructed Luis as he snapped more ammo to his belt. The CIA packs had held enough gear to start a small war, which was just as well as it seemed from Luis’ description it was going to take at least that to pull off the rescue of James.
As Luis eventually finished describing the list of defenses, Sean couldn’t help but feel he should just strip the gear off and forget the whole idea. It seemed El Jefe had covered every angle. That was of course if Sean could even trust what Luis was telling him. Ultimately, Luis was only playing ball with Sean in order to retrieve the drug trade that had dwindled since the untimely demise of Sean’s lookalike. As the contacts that would save his life with his uncle neared, Sean trusted him less, according to the law of diminishing returns. For Luis there was less and less to gain from pleasing Sean and more and more from pleasing El Jefe and now Juan.
“OK, I’ll come in from the South East wall and will have a few seconds as the sentries patrol behind the white Barn. And James is housed in the small outhouse to the West of the White Barn?”
“Correct,” nodded Luis.
“You know what you need to do?” asked Sean.
Luis nodded.
“Say it,” said Sean.
“I am to arrive at the ranch at 4.45 and transport Juan and my uncle to the secret meeting. I am instructed that we have to leave immediately and will receive communications on the way. I have to inform them that we are being monitored and if we try to communicate or alert reinforcements, the meeting is off. I am to tell them these are the dealer’s instructions and not yours. I’ll try and uncover where Katie is and using the code, let you know when you call. We go to the airport and meet the dealers at 6 pm unless you find Katie first and if that’s the case I drive and meet you at alternate B. Plan B, you kill my uncle and Juan and I meet the dealers myself.”
The last part of the plan was all Sean could think that would convince Luis to give his uncle and Juan up. To say he had jumped at the chance would have underplayed his eagerness to be the boss. It would also prevent a void in power, something Iraq and Afghanistan were perfect examples of why you don’t want to leave somewhere leaderless.
“Our chances?” asked Luis confidently.
“To be honest,” he thought out loud, shaking his head. “Not good.”
Luis laughed, which surprised Sean.
“Better than I expected,” he said, explaining his laugh.
Sean remained silent. He had lied. There wasn’t a chance in hell the plan would work.
Sean and Luis synchronized their watches. It had taken them just over an hour to negotiate the tunnel under the Rio, another one of Los Zetas’ supply routes. From there, a short hike to the nearest road and with Luis’ scary contacts, a ride into Nuevo was secured with little effort. Sean kept his head down and the weapons well hidden in their packs. Once they had secured their own ride, Sean had started to kit up in the back.
“Four thirty, in 3, 2, 1, check,”
“Check,” said Luis in time with Sean, having been well trained in time checks over the previous hour.
“Pull over!” ordered Sean. “Right, you’re on your own from here!”
Luis nodded.
“And remember one thing.”
“Yes?” asked Luis, nervously.
“Screw me and I will hunt you for the rest of your very short life. And trust me what your uncle would do to you would pale into insignificance!” smiled Sean and with his pep talk over, he disappeared into the shrubbery at the side of the road. The ranch lay just over a mile away and James’s life was ebbing away.