The Shaman Read online

  Tariq checked out of the hotel and went across the street. He was not hungry but knew he should eat something. The restaurant would have nothing that was halal but Allah would not mind since he was in the middle of jihad. He ordered strong coffee and a pastry.

  At nine the car arrived. The driver spoke little English and Tariq spoke little Spanish. He was directed to sit in the back seat and they departed for the docks.

  Being on the top of the deck stacks, the five containers were off-loaded first. Tariq was anxious. He had to force himself to sit quietly in the back of the car. Within an hour of the start of the unloading process the five containers had been put on trailers, cleared customs, and were on their way through the streets of Veracruz with Tariq’s car following. Tariq could only wonder what the men inside were thinking. They would know they are on land and being transported by truck. He had told them that patience at the end of the voyage was important. They couldn’t just unload them and open the containers in public. The men had to wait until it was safe to be let out. This evening they would stop and he would be there to greet his mujahedeen, the men who would take the fight to the American people. Tariq smiled as he thought about the future of his plan.

  Dan sat patiently as the day grew hotter, grateful for even the limited screening he had arranged with the boulders and netting. He drank carefully, not knowing how long his limited supply of water would have to last. His ankle seemed to have settled down. Still he kept it elevated. He leaned his Barrett MRAD against a niche in the rocks along the rim. It was locked and loaded, ready to fire at the flip of the safety. Along side of the rifle, covered by a cloth, were three more ten-round magazines.

  He checked the house at regular intervals. At noon, the maid brought lunch out to the woman and kids in the courtyard. Shortly afterwards he was beginning to doze off when he heard the sound of an engine. Dan quickly took a look through his binoculars. A truck was approaching the house. When it pulled up he could read the name of a caterer. The maid came out and two men exited the cab and opened the rear doors. They started unloading boxes and carried them into the house at the direction of the maid. Getting ready for guests.

  A dozen boxes and coolers were hauled into the hacienda. Then came flower arrangements. The woman had disappeared from the courtyard, leaving the children alone. Dan assumed she was directing the placement of the flowers. Putting on quite a show for your guests. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to spoil the party.

  When the delivery van was emptied, the men departed. A gardener came out and began to line the front walk with potted flowers. After putting out nearly two dozen, he disappeared only to return shortly with a hose and proceed to water them. Going to need a lot of water to keep them alive in that sun. Probably only need them for one day.

  All the activity confirmed the schedule was still set for tomorrow’s meeting. The kids had departed from the courtyard pool as the sun climbed higher and the heat rose. He could see shapes moving past windows but could not make them out. Was one of them Mendoza? There were three vehicles, one Mercedes S500 stretch sedan and two Suburbans, all black, along the edge of the drive, to the left of the front entrance. Dan guessed the Mercedes was armored but it wouldn’t stop a .338 magnum if he had to shoot it up.

  The two guards did their walkabout every two hours. They looked like they were going through the motions. Nothing had changed throughout the day, no one came or went; there was no concealment anywhere near the hacienda. Except for some fleeting shadows noticed inside and the desultory patrols around the house perimeter nothing moved. Dan found himself dozing off a couple of times. Don’t get lazy. You may get an early opportunity.

  The day faded; the shadows lengthened and stretched away eastward towards the hills. The heat lost its strength and for a few hours there was a pleasant interlude from the furnace heat of the day and the coming chill of the desert night. Dan stretched and tried to relax.

  Then he heard the thumping of a helicopter. He lurched up from his reclining and looked over the rocks. At first there was nothing to see in the fading light. After a moment he zeroed in on the direction of the sound; it was coming from the south. Dan reached over and grabbed his MRAD. Are they all coming by air? And tonight? Plans always had to change when the circumstances dictated. Got to play it out…be flexible.

  He kept his eyes scanning to the south and soon the running lights of the copter came into view. It was a civilian but it was coming in fast. As it got closer Dan identified it as an Airbus H155. It was capable of around one hundred and eighty knots. It was one of the fastest civilian helicopters made and could carry eight to twelve passengers, depending on cabin configuration. Expensive machine.

  When the chopper got near the hacienda the pilot slowed and gently eased it down to the helipad. Dust swirled everywhere. Dan aimed his rifle on the area but had trouble seeing through the dust. Then the rotors powered down and the door opened. A figure jumped out and held the door open. A second person stepped out and jogged toward the hacienda. The boy came running out and threw himself into the man’s arms. He was followed by the woman and the girl. They were all hugging one another. Jorge Mendoza had arrived.

  With no clear shot and the kids in the way, Dan relaxed and sat back. It would be tomorrow. He just hoped for a moment with no kids.

  Chapter 8

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  T he truck caravan pulled in to a closed down roadside stop. The sun had just dipped below the mountains to the west. They had been on the road for seven hours. There was a packed dirt area for truck parking behind the abandoned gas station and store. The trucks drove around back, where they were shielded from the road. Men from the cabs posted themselves near the road to keep anyone from pulling off.

  Tariq raced around to the rear and watched as the seals were cut off and the doors opened. He heard the men calling out in Pashto. There were sounds of the cloth bales being torn away and soon heads appeared.

  “Salam aleikum” Tariq called out in greeting. “Pa khair raghla”, “Thanks be to god you came safe and sound”. Several voices responded “Ao, ao”, “yes, yes”. The cartel drivers and guards stood to one side as the containers were dug out from the inside and the sixty gaunt and ragged men began to emerge. They looked to Tariq like men let out of prison, a starvation prison. They had to be helped down from the containers. They all had long ragged beards and the thin, shrunken cheeks; the look of lost men. It was going to take some time to get them into shape. He found Kashun, the leader of the group. They spoke in Pashto.

  “Did everyone survive?” Tariq asked.

  “I can only speak for my group. I must see about the others.” Kashun went to the others coming out of the steel boxes. He spoke quietly with them and then returned to Tariq. “Yes we all survived the journey, saaqhib.” He used an honorific title meaning “master”.

  “No, no, ‘brother’,” Tariq responded.

  The men all stood around with a few shuffling their feet in the dirt. They all breathed deeply from the clean desert air. From the insides of the container a foul smell drifted out. The cartel members stepped away from the noisome odor.

  A couple of the drivers brought jugs of water and juice from the cabs of the trucks. These were passed around and drunk with relish.

  “Have the men go into the scrub to do any business,” Tariq pointed to the desert. “And then, I’m sorry, but we have to load you back up. We will be in Chihuahua by tomorrow where you can rest and wash. Do you need food?”

  “The water and juice is enough for now. We have eaten so little we should not take much for now. Better to wait.”

  Tariq smiled. “You will have a good rest and regain your strength. Then we go into the heart of the infidel’s country.” He gave the man a wolfish smile that was returned in kind.

  By noon the next day the caravan arrived in Chihuahua. They drove to a rundown warehouse section on the east side of town. Many of the streets were dirt. The trucks pulled into the compound and backed up to the
main warehouse. The property was lined with an eight foot high metal panel wall. The containers were opened after the metal gate was closed hiding the yard and building from the street. Again the men had to be helped out.

  Inside, the warehouse was divided up into dorm cubicles housing four men each, a kitchen, communal eating/living space and space for exercising and training. There was a large bathroom with showers at one end of the building. The space was not new or clean but it would work for Tariq.

  Hector Ortega, Mendoza’s second in command, showed Tariq the facilities.

  “This will have to do,” Ortega said. He had a sour disposition and seemed unenthusiastic about the project to Tariq.

  “It will do,” Tariq replied. “Where is Señor Mendoza?” he asked. “I called his phone but he doesn’t answer.”

  “He is busy with other issues, so he sent me to take care of things here.” Ortega looked around at the men milling about and getting divided into their bunkrooms. “You can’t stay too long. People will begin to question what is going on.”

  Tariq gave the man a disapproving look. “You don’t control what is going on around here?”

  “We don’t want to attract any more attention than necessary.”

  “But you don’t mind killing publically. I assume that attracts a lot of attention.”

  Ortega looked at him like he was a child. “That is to send a message. I prefer not to send messages having to do with this project.”

  Tariq gave the man a thin smile. “We will be ready to depart in a week.”

  Ortega just nodded and walked off, leaving Tariq to direct the men. When he was out of Tariq’s hearing, he pulled out his cell phone. “The goods have arrived,” Ortega said as Mendoza answered. “We’ll repackage them and be able to ship in a week. How are plans for your meeting?”

  “Good. This will all work well together. We will establish an organizing council and your work will demonstrate how we can diversify.”

  “Let’s hope so. I don’t like dealing with these people. I’ll be happy to deliver these goods and be done with this.”

  Mendoza laughed. “Don’t be so negative, mí amigo. There will be more opportunities and more new things that we have to adjust to. That is the way of the world, the way of the future.”

  “I’m not so sure, but I do what you say.”

  “You do your job, even if you don’t approve. You will see. We’re on the right path.” With that Mendoza hung up.

  Dan spent the night sleeping lightly in anticipation of the next day’s action. Mendoza would certainly come out of the front door to greet the arrivals. Whether they would come in a caravan or individually, he didn’t know. The important thing was that Mendoza would appear out front. That was his shot.

  Chapter 9

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  D an awoke early the next morning. He crawled away from the rim to relieve himself and began to stretch and loosen up. A day and two nights of lying against the boulders of the rim had stiffened him. After fifteen minutes, feeling better, he crawled back to his shooting nest, ate a power bar and drank some water. Then he went over his rifle, checking to be sure his scope settings were still good.

  Next he scanned the hacienda with his binoculars. There was no breeze at the moment, but it would come up later as the heat rose. It was that period in the morning, like the evening, the soft period between the chill of the night and the fierce heat of the day. The two guards came out front and again began their casual perimeter check. The maid followed shortly to broom off the walkway. Everything looked the same except for the flowers out front and the helicopter out back.

  An hour later he heard the engines to the east. The dust rose from the dirt road as a caravan of three SUVs and two large sedans drove through the hills. They’re all arriving together! This was better than Dan could have hoped for. He picked up his rifle and, after laying down a cloth on the ground in the niche of the rocks, nudged the barrel through the opening. With the rifle’s scope he tracked the caravan on its approach. As it drew close he switched his focus to the front of the hacienda. The two guards had come out now and were standing more alert, their machine guns held at the low ready position.

  The five vehicles stopped along the circle in front of the walkway. The dust cleared and the doors opened. Men spilled out of the vehicles. It was confusing; some were obviously bodyguards, some were lieutenants, and five of them were cartel bosses. Dan had to look closely to see who everyone deferred to in order to guess which ones were the cartel leaders.

  The front door opened; Dan turned his rifle back to it. A third guard came out followed by Jorge Mendoza. Immediately behind Mendoza came his wife and children. Damn! He waited. There was not a clear shot, but it would come. The guard stood in front of the family with the first two guards on the sides of the path. Mendoza’s wife stood by his side with the boy in between the two adults. The little girl went over to her father who scooped her up in his arms.

  Dan watched in frustration as he held her while waiting for the other drug lords to exit and walk up the path. It looked like Mendoza was sending a message. “This is a safe place. See, I have my family with me. I don’t do violence with my family around so you’re safe.” He couldn’t have played it better and Dan realized he could not take the shot. There were moments where he was sure he could miss the girl and hit his target in the head but he couldn’t do it.

  You conniving son of a bitch. Using your family as a prop. Dan knew all about Mendoza’s ruthlessness. As Jane had outlined it, he was a murderous drug lord who had killed and intimidated his way to the top. The Sinaloa cartel was known for its viciousness throughout its ranks. And here he was putting his family on stage to make the other cartel leaders feel relaxed in order to further his agenda to take over leadership of all of them. Dan didn’t have any illusions; Mendoza’s push for coordination among the cartels was a tactic for him to gain some level of control over them; to be the “godfather” of the cartels.

  The memory of his wife, Rita, and their unborn child, both killed by the mob came rushing to his mind. It was a memory still filled with pain. Now here he was, ready to strike down the father of two children. Do I let him off just because he has kids, a family? That doesn’t stop him from killing others.

  He began arguing with himself as the men walked up the path and shook hands with Mendoza, who turned and led them into the house. The bodyguards were led around back, probably to the kitchen to offer them separate hospitality. Smoke arose from the kitchen area as meal preparation began. Dan pulled his rifle back from the notch. He scowled in frustration. I’m not going to shoot the father right out from under the daughter. If I have to stay in Mexico another month, I’ll find a way to take him down. Part of him was adamant but another part wondered how that would work. He had no backup plan or support for a lengthy stay. He would have to depend on Jane to arrange things and she might not want to do that since this op was under very deep cover. This can’t just be run out of the embassy.

  In the end he could not give the man a pass and give up on his assignment. If he didn’t bring his kids here, he’d be dead and the kids would have to learn how to deal with it. He was not worried about the wife; she knew what she was getting into. But she’d have to explain it all to the kids. He shut off thoughts of Rita and the children. That was different.

  He sighed and sat back against the rocks, not sure of what to do. Wait, he told himself. Maybe you can catch him alone or at least without his children. He leaned the rifle the rifle up against the boulder and picked up his binoculars. It was time to wait; wait and watch. How many times had he done that? The first was in training, then in Iraq, and then in Brooklyn and the woods of western Massachusetts where he had struck back at the mob.

  The crowd gathered in the courtyard along with Mendoza’s wife and children. She was now dressed in a light, floral print dress, fitting for hot weather. The children were out of their bathing suits and in nice clothes, not ones for playing in the dirt, but
ones for family affairs. Drinks were served and finger snacks were set out. Everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood as best Dan could discern through his binoculars. After an hour the men retired and Mendoza’s wife and children were left in the courtyard. Smoke was still coming from what Dan assumed was the kitchen area. Getting the main meal ready. Negotiate, then eat.

  He pulled a power bar out of his pack and began to chew on it, wondering what sumptuous food had been spread before the drug lords. Mendoza’s family ate in the courtyard and Dan assumed the guards were being fed in one of the rear rooms near the kitchen. He thought he could smell the aroma of roasted pork and beef but it was probably only his imagination. When I get back, he promised himself.

  After finishing his Spartan meal, Dan sat back and thought about his life while he watched the hacienda. Was this how it was going to be? Waiting in one shithole after another for a shot that might or might not come? And in between? He’d read the spy novels and watched the Bond movies, but his life was not going to be anything like that. Just what would it be like? To begin with he had to keep in mind he was part of a test program. As such he was disposable. There were no benefits attached even if it worked. And if it didn’t, what then? Could he go back to civilian life? Just how well had Jane covered his tracks?

  He had led a pretty crappy existence while he had gone on a three month vendetta against a Brooklyn mob family; a certain capo in the Silvio Palma family who had ordered the firebombing of his restaurant. He and his wife had started the business after he mustered out of the Army. Dan had been a sniper and had done two tours in Iraq. The two of them had worked hard at the restaurant. It had prospered and they had been expecting their first child. The mob kept trying to hit him up for protection money but he and Rita refused to pay. To teach him a lesson they burned his restaurant. What was supposed to be a small fire turned into an inferno and Rita and their unborn child were caught in it and burned to death. The police and fire investigators found no evidence to connect the mob with the blaze and Dan left town shortly afterwards.