January 1st, 2020
0738 hours Central
Mexico City, Mexico
John reorganizes the materials in his heavy-duty military backpack. Somehow after getting it setup two nights ago before the op, and pulling out two items from its contents, the damn thing refuses to fit everything he had to take out in order to get the stuff he needed for his ride to the plane.
"Damnit," he sighs shoving his fist deep into the belly of his bloated pack. Finally, he manages to push down the rain parka down enough to zip up the cover. Feeling successful at his accomplishment as well as drained of the energy his mug's worth of coffee gave him, he gazes up looking at the men packing up their own gear.
Bill rises from the pull out mattress with a soft yawn and stretch of his arms. "What time is it?" He ponders as he looks at his watch.
"A little after half past seven, get your gear and grab some coffee. We are moving out in ten." John replies as he stands moving his bag to his left shoulder.
"Why didn't you wake me? I should have been up an hour ago." Bill asks, alarmed and anxious to make sure he gets ready before they leave. He jumps up to his feet and runs into the small kitchen for the coffee.
"It's not our job to set YOUR alarm sleeping beauty. Besides, you passed out minutes after we showed up here. I doubt you grab anything from your pack in your sleep, so it would take you five minutes to get up and ready anyways." Luke remarks as he shoves his knives into their holsters upon his belt and picks up his backpack.
George walks into the home holding a small brown paper bag, "got us all some of those little donut things for the road." He closes the door and walks over to the small dining room table where Steve is putting away the maps and various papers once shuffled around the space. "We about ready?"
John nods and looks at Bill who sprints back to the bed and grabs his bag. Holding his mug of coffee he chugs down the lukewarm subsistence in under a few seconds.
"Ok, everything is put away," Steve announces as he holds up his navy blue folder. "Got the route written out."
"Ok, let's move quickly. I wouldn't want to stay in this area for too much longer. Where is the car?" John asked looking curiously at Luke.
"It's on the other side of the street." Luke replies.
John glares at Luke, asking with his eyes why he did such a thing.
"Don't worry boss. The car is clean and won't be reported missing for at least another hour," Luke says with a growing smirk.
John groans, "what the hell did you do?"
Luke shrugs, "just...got a wonderful compliance from this nice family. They insisted I take their car John. And they even told me 'hey, just to be safe, duct tape our mouths and ties us up in a bedroom so we don't get second thoughts.'"
"LUKE why would y-, John sighs rubbing his forehead. "Forget it. The damage is done. Are they at least secure enough so we can leave without having the damn cops come after us?"
Luke nods and John shakes his head, "fine. Let's go." He opens the door and waits, annoyed, until everyone clears out of the home. He shuts the door and follows the men out of the alley and across the street.
Everyone, except John, is holding the duffle bags full of cash and weapons. Luke pops open the trunk of the car and everyone begins to toss all of their bags inside.
John looks around the area. The street has strands of confetti and glass bottles, both broken and whole. He glances at the spot that just a few hours ago sat a Crown Victoria looked suspicious to him. Figuring it was safe to leave, he moves to sit in the passenger seat of the small maroon Sedan that Luke swiped from a family earlier.
The seats were slightly torn, the floors stained with residue of kids punch and other various things none of the men wanted to even think about. As Steve starts the car, Luke closes the trunk and squeezes in the backseat next to Bill who, as the rookie, gets to be in the middle portion of the back. Honestly, he should be lucky he didn't get picked for the trunk.
While driving away from the safehouse, the man in the green shirt, now wearing a nice brown suit with his police badge tucked visibly into his front jacket pocket, walks out of the convenience store. He watches as the car turns around and drives toward the center of the city. Sipping his coffee, he pulls out his cell phone and calls his partner. In his native language, he informs him that the man they saw leaving the safe house last night had more people with him, and that they all had large bags and drove away in the stolen car near his location. He then gives the make and model of the car and how many are inside. His partner tells him he got authorization to tail the car to their destination and afterwards to call for backup. The man in that was once in the green shirt acknowledges this and hangs up walking to the door of the safehouse. He enters the home and begins to investigate.
Ten minutes pass by quickly. The car turns onto one of the main highways towards the Gulf of Mexico. John is looking at the drawn route map inside Steve's folder.
"So how is this whole plane thing gonna go down?" George asks with his mouthful of mini powdered donut.
"How about you chew, swallow and ask again," John replies still reading the map.
George swallows down his food and clears his throat, "all right dad, happy? So what's up with the plane?"
"This guy has a licensed cargo plane. He does business with a few banana farmers down here as well as some weapons smuggling during the winter when the harvest is done. He is loading up a few crates of guns that he is gonna take up to Houston. We are going to ride along with the cargo, he is gonna drop us about 50 miles out of Corpus Christi where a fishing vessel will take us inland. Then we catch our own separate rides back to Philadelphia. Simple."
George scoffs, "simple huh? Well then tell me something. Where do we get the dive gear for the jump out of the plane? What happens to the bags, because I am absolutely certain airlines don't allow carry-on rifles and a shit ton of money."
John sighs and turns his head to face George, "must you complain about everything? Look it's taken care of ok?"
"George is right John," Steve says still looking forward. "I mean we all know the rules about operation security and all, but bottom line is we should know how the next day is gonna go down."
"Ok, Ok!" John groans as he faces forward in his seat. "Jesus, why don't we just toss out the rule of plausible deniability. Trying to keep you guys safe,you know."
"I get that man, and every other operation we have done worked out completely fine with your leadership. But this was our first out of states job and needless to say it didn't go completely to the plan." George says.
John sighs again, "you're right. Ok, here's what's going to happen. The plane guy got us oxy tanks and suits for the dive courtesy of my smuggling friend. After we get stateside, I got a truck gassed up in Corpus for Luke and Bill to drive the bags up to Philly. It's about a two day drive, but it's the only way we can get the stuff in clean."
"Well, if you had told me I was driving I could have brought my mix tape along. Lots of screamo action to keep rook here awake," Luke remarks with a smirk growing on his face.
John rolls his eyes, "look, you wanted the info, there it is. Simple"
The car, for the rest of the next 65 minutes remains quiet. Bill, who rested his eyes the moment the car drove off, is the first one to break the silence with a loud klaxon sounding yawn.
"Mind keeping your damn mouth noises to a volume where my eardrums stay intact rook?" George asks rubbing the temples on his head slowly.
Bill shrugs and looks out the windows around him, "how far until we reach the plane?"
John looks at the map and his watch, "five minutes give or take." He averts his vision towards the passenger side door mirror and notices a Crown Victoria a few yards behind them. The color, although a little lighter shade of grey, reminds him of the car last night. Why was he thinking about that car so much? What significance could an old Ford vehicle even enter his mind?
Inside the Victoria, however, the man who once wore the red shirt John met briefly watches his speed and distance from the Sedan. He watches as they take a left onto a gravel road.
Convinced that this little group has met their destination, or is only minutes away from it, he drives up the road about five more minutes before pulling into a small gas station attached to a sandwich shop. He pulls out of his glove compartment a map and tries to figure out where the car was going. Nothing but crop plains as far as the eye can see. There is a slight hill, he remembers noticing, down the road where the car drives currently.
Quickly, he grips the receiver and asks the dispatch about any possibilities regarding illegal activity or airstrips in the area. The dispatcher responds with a disconnected police call about four hours ago regarding a large black and grey plane landing on a dirt road near there but the caller was disconnected before more information was given. The man, after hearing this, tells the dispatcher to bring backup to his location immediately.
As Steve drives past the small rise of land blocking further view of the plains, the plane enters full view from the front windshield. He parks the car a few yards from the entrance ramp into the cargo bay where a short man, probably no bigger than five feet and three inches, stands grasping an automatic rifle tightly watching closely as all five men exit the vehicle.
Nobody puts their hands up, but John is the only one to walk forward from where they all stand. "Michael right? Eric told me you were a little paranoid. I can see that is a lie."
Michael, who wears a loose fitted hawaiian flower shirt lowers the gun to his right side, "not true. Step any closer and that mine buried in the dirt will blow you guys sky high. Now, what's the code?"
John freezes his current lifting of his foot once Michael said the word mine. "Relax, we are friends here."
"I hope so," Michael says as he lifts the gun up to his shoulder aiming down the sights at John's heart. "The code. Now."
John holds up his hands, "SJ TWO NINER NINER FIVE SEVEN TA"
Michael doesn't budge as he still watches John from his scope. "What unit were you in during the battle of Tehran?"
"101st Airborne. 506th regiment. First ones in, last ones out."
Michael lowers his gun once more and grows a small smile, "I was navy. Helped soften up the LZ for you guys."
John exhales and lowers his arms, "didn't do too good of a job. Had to disarm that nuke with only minutes to spare."
Michael shrugs and waves the men to move towards the plane, "there's no mine don't worry."
"This guy is fucking insane," Bill mumbles to Luke as they walk slowly towards the plane.
"Heh, Yeah. That's why I like him," Luke replies with a slight smirk.
Michael walks deep inside the bay laying his rifle down on top of a metal crate. "This ride is bought and paid for guy, but I need two grand for the dive gear."
John nods and turns to look at Steve, "go get the bags." Steve runs back down the ramp towards the car.
Bill looks around the interior of the bay. He is impressed with the locking mechanisms on the floor to secure the crates in flight. He also notices, however, there are no benches or seats around the sides. "Um, where are we supposed to sit?"
Michael chuckles, "oh, yea...about that. See, I only have two available seats in the cockpit...and there aren't any safe chairs so...three of you will have to be inside these cargo crates," he smiles as he taps one of the large green metal boxes.
Both the eyes of Luke and Bill go wide in shock, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" The two shout in unison.
Michael shrugs, "sorry, this isn't a freaking commercial airliner. I don't harbor passengers who breathe. Only ones who spit lead."
John looks over at the two men still in an absolute daze, "they will be fine. It isn't that long of a flight."
"Yeah, it really isn't. It's like an hour or so and only 20ish minutes of that are gonna be spent in the crates."
Luke groans, "goddamnit. Thanks John, way to pick a great lift home."
"Well, if you can find another person willing to do an at the moment flight drop within," John looks at his watch, "20 minutes...then I will give you the best props anyone can get." Luke shakes his head.
Steve sprints up like lightning striking the ground holding the bags. He drops the bags and looks over to John, "we have a serious problem."
"What?" John says as he bends over to grab one of the bags.
"I heard a shit ton of sirens coming towards us on the highway."
John darts upright and stares at Steve, "what?"
Michael shrugs his shoulders, "if they are going down the highway, they are probably federal police going to Pachuca or something."
George shakes his head, "with the luck we seem to be having with this job, I doubt they are just passing by."
John looks over at Michael, "get us ready for take off." he turns to Luke, "go up that little hilltop and give me a scout's view of the area." Luke nods and dashes out of the plane.
"I'm telling you we are probably fine," Michael says as he moves towards the cockpit. "Besides, we got a damn armory and mercenaries. Pretty sure they wouldn't stand a chance."
John shakes his head, "we don't kill unnecessaries. They are an obstacle not a barr-" he is cut short by Luke's scream to get the men's attention.
"30 POLICE SUV'S ARE COMING DOWN THE ROAD AND HEADING OUR WAY! START THE FUCKING PLANE!"
"Shit," John grumbles. He breaks open one of the crates and pulls out small machine pistols and submachine guns of various types. "George," he says as he hands him a gun, "go protect the car, we may need it." George nods and cocks his weapon and runs out toward the car.
Luke slows his speed as he climbs the ramp. "We are screwed if we don't get in the air now," he says through his panting and heavy breathing.
John shoves a gun to Luke's chest and moves to the cockpit, "how long?"
"I am running pre flight checks now, trying to bring the engines to life, and trying to get the rest of the systems calibrated enough so O ca-"
"HOW LONG?!"
"Give me 15 minutes!"
"We may not have that long!" John growls as he marches out to the end of the plane. Steve, George and Bill all take cover behind the left side of the Sedan. Luke hides behind one of the three crates still waiting to be loaded onto the plane.
"Don't be the first ones to shoot! Let's hold them off for as long as we can!" John shouts.
Moments later, the first five police cars pass the small hill and enter the full sights of the men. They spread out and create a small perimeter surrounding the only road out. Men quickly disburse their vehicles and aim their pistols and shotguns at the plane and the mercenaries. As some begin to shout, in their native tongue, to drop your weapons and surrender, six more vehicles pull up behind them. Now, John and his team are outnumbered four to one. In ten minutes, that number will double.
John rushes down the ramp and moves to the car. "Now what?" Luke asks looking toward John.