These "bandits" were well-trained. Two guarded the outside, one went through the motions at the cash register.
The remaining two swept their gaze over the people lying on the floor.
They immediately spotted Raúl Salinas among them—he loved flaunting wealth too much. The leather shoes on his feet practically glowed.
His Armani suit was custom in pure white.
You're sprawled out like a black bear—who wouldn't see you?
The two "bandits" yanked Raúl Salinas up by the hair, then cut a glance at Best. The latter gave an imperceptible nod. One clamped a hand over Raúl's mouth, the other grabbed his legs, and they hauled him out.
"Mmm—mmm!" Raúl Salinas struggled.
At the door, one of the gunmen jabbed a syringe into his arm. The sedative hit fast. He went limp, dazed.
They tossed him into the van and sped off.
Best patted the dust from his clothes, stood, downed the coffee on the table, then slid $50 under the cup, straightened his outfit, and headed out.
Compared to EDM, you had to keep it classy.
…
"Chief, Chief!"
Mexico City Police Department.
A police sergeant burst into the chief's office, startling the two people inside apart. The female officer yanked her skirt down, face flushing red, grabbed a folder, and fled.
The chief was a bit fat, with only two or three hairs left on his head. He frowned. "What's with the panic? What is it?"
"Chief, there was a robbery on Reforma. Five people were killed, and one was kidnapped." The officer stammered.
"Isn't it just a robbery? Where in Mexico doesn't that happen? Is that worth barging in over? You want a reservoir post?"
The chief, his "business" interrupted, gnashed his teeth. At his age it wasn't easy to get a reaction and now…
"The kidnapped one is Raúl Salinas. The dead are his bodyguards."
The chief had just sat when he leapt up again. "What! Why didn't you say so sooner? Quick, call in officers to intercept."
"Request support from GAFE special forces!"
…
Mexico City instantly turned busy. It wasn't that the government wasn't efficient—it depended on who needed that efficiency.
They even mobilized the drug dealers.
Everywhere you looked, traffickers sat in pickup beds while police stood below, bickering and chatting with them.
If pedestrians passed, they'd even extort a few bucks.
"Target vehicle spotted on Michael Street!" came a voice over the radio. "All units converge on Michael Street!"
Traffickers and police got the call and rushed over.
The chief (cartel boss) had said whoever brought Mr. Raúl Salinas back would get promoted.
Who wouldn't go crazy?
The van tore down the street with a dozen cars in pursuit. Someone popped through a sunroof behind them and blared commands over a loudspeaker.
"Open the trunk!"
The EDM police captain leading the team pulled off his balaclava and told the driver. The latter glanced at the button and tapped it. The trunk cracked open.
One kick widened it.
The pursing traffickers and police saw the van's trunk open and then…
A Browning M2HB .50-caliber machine gun mounted and ready!
The lead trafficker's pupils shrank. The burst swept over. Windshields punctured like paper. The driver took a headshot—his upper skull gone.
The vehicle instantly lost control, smashed into a car beside it, then rolled into a storefront.
Boom!
A massive blast shot flames skyward.
Several police cars were caught up and crashed together.
The vehicles behind swerved around the pileup and kept up the chase.
Spent heavy machine gun shells rolled across the pavement with crisp clinks.
Other DEM members didn't sit idle either. They lashed grenades together, pulled the fuses, counted a few seconds—bold skill—and flung them on the roadway just as a pickup rolled up.
It blew in half.
"Number Two! Number Two! Cover! Cover!" The captain shouted into the comms.
Victor wasn't about to send just a handful. Kennedy deployed 20 men, with others set for the pickup.
You plan a mission thoroughly before you act.
"Copy!"
As the van crossed an intersection, a 20-meter semi—waiting for the cue—rolled in and blocked the street sideways.
"Ahhhh!!!"
Most of the pursuers were doing 130–140. The cars were already drifting. The semi appeared out of nowhere. Drivers slammed the brakes on instinct. Passengers without belts flew through windshields, faces shredded with glass.
Before drivers could breathe—
The cars behind couldn't stop. They plowed into the lead vehicles and shoved them under the semi. Roofs were gone, and so were heads.
Someone climbed down from the semi, tossed a grenade at the pileup for good measure, then hopped on a waiting motorcycle at the alley mouth and sped away.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
Hearing the mounting losses from the rear command, the bosses' faces darkened.
"Have special forces deploy the helicopter!"
An OH-58 "Kiowa" by Bell Helicopter lifted off the police HQ rooftop with four GAFE special operators aboard.
That helicopter…
Was donated by the Sinaloa Cartel.
From GAFE they'd poached 30 men and quietly signed "employment contracts" with certain figures. The unit would retire 20 a year, all destined to join Sinaloa's gunman corps.
Sinaloa paid over $1.2 million annually in hiring costs. Who pocketed that money was anyone's guess.
The OH-58's rotor thumped loudly as it tore through the concrete canyons, spotting the speeding van below.
The captain inside the van heard it too, looked up at the armed helo overhead. "Shoot it down! Damn it, I hate that noise!"
At a building along the van's route, two young men in plain clothes sprinted up from below, found a water tank, pried it open, and pulled out a deep-green case.
They cracked it open—FIM-92 (Stinger).
Working smoothly, they assembled it, stepped onto the roof's clear edge, and aimed at the OH-58.
Aim!
Fire!
The missile streaked out.
The OH-58 pilot saw the red dot on the scope and froze. What? Traffic in the air?
Reality proved why the Stinger was so popular—dodging it wasn't easy.
Back in the "Valley Battle," Victor's Mi-8 survived only by hiding below the treeline. Even then, the rotors hit branches and it crashed—just didn't explode.
How was the OH-58 going to avoid this?
Kaboom…!!
A fireball blossomed midair, and the helo fell from the sky.
The sight stunned everyone.
Bandits…
With anti-air missiles?
"Tell me how these are ordinary bandits!!!"
Carlos Salinas arrived at the command post in time to see it. His face was thunderous.
"Deploy troops! They must be stopped."
He hesitated, then seemed to steel himself. "If necessary… eliminate them all!"
The secretary immediately understood.
This was to prevent Raúl Salinas from falling into someone else's hands. He knew too much.
Truly ruthless.
He didn't know who it was, but since the target was Raúl, it was definitely aimed at Carlos Salinas himself!
(End of Chapter)
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