Border Crossed - Chapter 12

To his credit, Ruiz moved fast. It took him only two hours to have a Mexican army jet do a high-level flyover of the hills, locating a villa in a dip in the side of the large hills west of town, on the western side facing the opposite side of the hills from Juarez. Taylor was a little surprised by the pictures he saw. The location would have been terrible for a forward operating base like the ones he operated out of in Afghanistan. It was basically in a mini valley, with higher ground on all sides. If it was under attack, it would give the assaulting force a massive advantage.

That, however, was probably not the way the cartel saw it. With the way the ground was situated, it was practically invisible unless you climbed up to it, were in the hills above it, or in a plane. The cartel had done a good job camouflaging it from the sky, but not so good that it was invisible, especially if you knew it was there and were looking for it.

Ruiz also managed to get a squad of twenty soldiers to reinforce his tactical team, giving them the firepower to take on whatever the cartel might have in there. Still, it was best not to spook them, so they worked out a roundabout trip up the eastern side of the hills, so they could come down silently from above, setting up their attack.

It was dark as they climbed over the hills on foot, leaving their vehicles on the other side to keep from drawing attention. Ruiz and his men were lagging behind, letting the army guys take the lead, since they all had night vision equipment, allowing them to make their way across the rock-strewn ground without breaking their necks.

Thankfully, Taylor and Whitaker had driven their vehicle, which meant they had their own gear. The last thing Taylor wanted was to have to hang back like Ruiz, while the army guys did all the fighting. They’d probably get the job done, but they were focused on shutting the cartel down, not making sure they got Matthews.

One of the army guys held up a hand, and they spread out. They’d made it to exactly where they planned, looking straight down into the compound, where everyone seemed to be completely oblivious to their presence. There wasn’t a lot of lighting in the compound itself, probably to protect the guys wandering the grounds or up on the walls with night vision, but the villa was lit up like a Christmas tree.

For guys trying to be inconspicuous, they were suddenly not doing a great job of it. Sure, the lights weren’t enough to draw attention if you weren’t in the hills, but if you were above them, the compound stood out like a sore thumb.

“Let’s take them,” Taylor said.

Taylor was itching to get this done, to take care of Matthews once and for all.

“Not yet,” Ruiz said, appearing next to him.

Taylor made a face. He owed Matthews. The man had lied to him, used their friendship, and escaped twice. It was too dark for Ruiz to see his expression, but the crafty police Captain seemed to feel Taylor’s frustration anyway.

“We need to wait,” Ruiz continued, keeping his voice low. “Our friend at the auto shop mentioned a high-level Vargas lieutenant arriving tonight. They’re already on the ropes, scrambling. If we catch this guy, we can dismantle their entire Chihuahua operation. He’ll know the parts of the operation we don’t, and hopefully, his bosses decide this area is too much of a problem and give it up.”

“Someone else will just move in,” Taylor said. “A border area like this, there’s too much money for no one else to try it.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean we just let them do it for free, right?”

“I guess not,” Taylor grumbled.

He knew Whitaker would agree with Ruiz. She had that cop mindset. For Taylor, he had a job to do and he wanted to get it done. But … this wasn’t his operation. The army guys answered to Ruiz, so if he said to wait, they waited, and there wasn’t much Taylor could do about it.

For the next hour, Taylor watched the compound through the night vision scope on his rifle, observing the activity in the compound below. Armed cartel guards prowled the perimeter, their assault rifles not leaving any questions about what they were up to. He counted at least fifteen that he could see, probably more inside the villa itself. It seemed like a lot, but these guys had probably been down in Juarez and pulled back here as the cartel started shutting things down.

Movement in an upstairs window caught Taylor’s eye. Adjusting his scope, Taylor zoomed in … and saw a face he knew all too well. Anger boiled up inside Taylor, seeing Matthews this close and having to just sit and wait, but he kept it in check. Barely. Whitaker laid a hand on his arm, a subtle reminder to stay focused.

Inside the villa, Matthews was pacing, gesturing animatedly as he spoke to someone out of sight. A bodyguard, maybe.

“He’s right there,” Taylor said to her. “He’s going to leave while we just sit up here, and we’re going to lose him, just like the last two times.”

“If someone bigger is coming, they’re coming to see Matthews. He’ll still be there, and Ruiz is right. Matthews might be our target, but he isn’t our problem. He was working with the cartel, but they were the ones who built the tunnel and brought in Matthews to protect it. The bombing was done in their name. Shutting them down is just as much our mission as getting Matthews.”

“I guess,” Taylor grumbled.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait much longer. Faint at first, and then more noticeable, they heard the sound of rotor blades spinning. Another moment later, a sleek, dark helicopter flew over the top of them, gliding through the night and dropping into the compound. As its engine began winding down and the rotors started to slow, the side door slid open and a man in an immaculate suit stepped out. Behind him came four men outfitted in tactical gear, each carrying an assault rifle.

Taylor glanced at Ruiz and saw him make a subtle hand signal to the army lieutenant. It was time.

Without a word, the soldiers rose and fanned out, moving swiftly down the slope with their weapons up. Taylor and Whitaker followed close behind. Below them, the cartel’s perimeter guards remained oblivious, most of them grouped together and smoking as they talked.

At an unseen signal from the lieutenant, gunfire erupted from the advancing troops. Bright muzzle flashes lit up the darkness as they fired into the unsuspecting cartel members below. Shouts of panic and pain rang out as the guards scrambled for cover, some dropping motionless while others returned fire blindly toward the hills.

Chaos descended on the compound. Men poured out of the villa, adding to the cacophony with wild bursts from their AK-47s. The army squad kept advancing, firing short, controlled bursts that dropped more cartel fighters with every step. Grenades arced through the night air and detonated in thunderous blasts, shattering windows and pockmarking the villa’s stucco walls.

Taylor stayed low, moving from cover to cover alongside Whitaker as they pushed toward the main building. He snapped off shots when targets presented themselves, but otherwise let the Mexican soldiers take the lead.

They reached the perimeter wall and stacked up next to a wrought-iron gate. On the lieutenant’s signal, two soldiers stepped forward and blew it open with a breaching charge. The soldiers went first, pouring through the breach, with Taylor and Whitaker following close behind, ahead of Ruiz and his policemen.

Inside, cartel gunmen were positioned behind parked vehicles and concrete barriers, trying to stem the incoming tide. The soldiers returned their fire, but with more discipline.

Taylor snapped off two quick shots, dropping a cartel fighter who leaned out a little too far from his cover. Soldiers flanked left and right, clearing out makeshift firing positions.

A burst of gunfire sent Taylor diving behind a concrete planter. Chips of stone stung his face as bullets impacted around him. He popped up just long enough to spot the shooter, a man halfway up a staircase leading to the second floor of the villa. Taylor squeezed off a shot before ducking back behind cover again.

When no more bullets came his way, he peeked out again. The gunman was gone, although if he fell or if he ran inside, Taylor didn’t know. He knew he hit the guy, but he didn’t have the impression it had been a killing shot.

More shots rang out, causing Taylor to duck down again. This time, the fire came from the roof of the villa. A good firing position. A man lying down up there would have a minimal silhouette but would have a great shot at anyone down in the compound.

“Gotta clear those rooftops!” Taylor shouted to the soldiers nearest him, pointing at where the fire had come from.

Two peeled off to take the stairs while another laid down covering fire. Taylor and Whitaker advanced behind a row of vehicles, using them for cover.

One of the soldiers climbing the stairs took a round in the neck, blood spurting as he collapsed. His partner dragged him back down to cover and called for a medic. Taylor turned his attention back to the fight.

They were almost to the villa itself now. Ahead, the villa’s front doors burst open and a half-dozen cartel soldiers poured out, firing AKs from the hip. Two Army soldiers jerked and went down. The rest returned fire, dropping three of the attackers immediately. Two tried to retreat back inside, but Whitaker put them down.

“Do they ever run out of men?” Whitaker asked as she fired again.

“Ruiz!” Taylor called to the police captain, ignoring her quip. “Get some men around back; make sure they don’t slip away!”

Ruiz grabbed three of his officers and started to run toward the rear of the building. A tracer of automatic fire tore up the ground at their feet. One of Ruiz’s men fell, clutching his stomach. Worse, Ruiz fell as well, although the wound was low, in his thigh.

Taylor dashed out from cover and grabbed Ruiz, pulling him back behind cover, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Taylor wrapped a bandage around Ruiz’s leg, staunching the flow of blood.

Ruiz grimaced as Taylor pulled it tight, a look of pain on his face. But then it shifted, his expression changing to surprised. Taylor looked over his shoulder, up to the window of the villa Ruiz was focused on and saw Matthews. His old friend was watching the firefight, a concerned expression on his face as he saw how bad it was going for his side. And then his eyes met Taylor’s; the two men locked eyes.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as they stared at each other, only to speed back up as Matthews turned, moving quickly away, clearly making a run for it.

“I’m all right!” Ruiz said through clenched teeth. “Don’t stop for me, go get him!”

The two officers who’d run out with Ruiz made their way over to them just then, taking over their boss’s treatment. Giving the captain one final nod, Taylor took off for the villa. Whitaker was right behind him as they burst through a side door. The hallway was empty, but muffled shouts echoed from deeper inside the building, and Matthews was somewhere upstairs.

Rounding a corner into a hallway, they came face-to-face with two men. They weren’t dressed like either soldiers or Ruiz’s officers. Taylor didn’t hesitate, squeezing off a shot and dropping the first man before he could even lift his rifle. The second guy decided discretion was the better part of valor and tried to dive for cover around the corner at the other end of the short hallway.

Whitaker fired, tracing three holes in the drywall roughly following the trajectory of the man’s fall. One must have hit, punching through the wall into him, as his legs dropped still halfway in the hallway entrance, not moving.

Unfortunately, these guys weren’t alone. From the room beyond came the sound of running boots, followed by another cartel gunman appearing at the end of the hall, AK fire spraying on full auto. Plaster exploded as rounds chewed into the walls around Taylor and Whitaker. They split apart, Taylor diving left into an open doorway while Whitaker flattened herself on the right side against the wall.

As soon as the barrage stopped, Taylor swung out and fired a single shot. The gunman’s head snapped back, a blossom of red erupting from his forehead as he toppled back.

“Let’s go,” Taylor said, getting off the floor.

They cleared multiple rooms moving deeper into the sprawling villa, looking for stairs. Turning a corner, they found the center of the house and a grand staircase. Taylor took the steps two at a time, emerging onto a wide second-floor landing. There were men at the top, in an open area above the staircase, firing through a broken window into the ongoing firefight in the courtyard below.

Taylor and Whitaker opened up on them before they realized they were flanked. Two cartel men dropped immediately, the rest scrambled for whatever cover they could find. One tipped over a heavy table and hunkered down behind it. Another dashed through a set of double doors leading deeper into the villa.

Whitaker snapped off a few rounds at the pair behind the table while Taylor sprinted for the closing double doors. He dove through just as a burst of AK fire chewed into the door frame behind him.

Turning back to look toward Whitaker he yelled, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this. Keep going. Find him,” she yelled back, sending more bullets into the heavy wooden table.

Taylor gave her one more look then turned to run down the wide hallway lined with doors. The sound of voices yelling in Spanish made him draw up short. Better to do this deliberately rather than just running into the room like a madman.

A burst of gunfire from the courtyard outside punctuated the shouts. The flurry of activity meant the soldiers were still clearing the compound. This would be over soon.

Coming to an intersection, Taylor paused. The voices were louder here, agitated and getting closer. He pressed himself flat against the wall and waited, pistol ready. A moment later, two cartel gunmen rushed past the junction, heading for the firefight outside. Taylor stepped out and fired two quick shots into their backs. Both men dropped mid-stride without ever seeing him. Taylor moved on.

At the next corner, he slowed. He heard more voices. Gripping his pistol with both hands, Taylor spun around the edge, ready to fire. He found himself facing a short hallway ending in a single door. Whoever was up here had to be there. Matthews wasn’t going to get away this time.

Rushing up, he kicked the door in, keeping his hands free and weapon up, just in case. Matthews whirled at the noise, shock on his face. He stood in an opulent bedroom, a gun in his hand. Behind him, the wide window showed the battle still raging outside.

Taylor’s eyes locked on Matthews, his pistol steady, “Put it down.”

Matthews looked back toward the window, maybe looking for an escape route, and then back to Taylor, smirking, “I’m not going to jail.”

“It’s better than being dead.”

“Is it? You know how many times I prepared myself to die over there, certain it was going to happen? Why would it be a problem now?”

“It’s not the same. You didn’t roll over and die then, there’s no reason to roll over and die now.”

“Maybe,” Matthews said, and started to lift his arm.

Without hesitation, Taylor fired. Matthews’ body jerked before collapsing to the floor. His gun still on Matthews, Taylor sidestepped toward his body and kicked the gun away, to no reaction.

‘Shit,’ Taylor thought. ‘There goes our lead.’