Chapter 11
THE TEAM WAS briefed and took positions on the transport to Puerto Cortes on Isla Santa Margarita in Baja. Jake was relieved there was no presence of anyone official from the Mexican military, especially General Cortez.
They were again transported by commercial fishermen from the island to the gathering point for tours and charters at the port at Nuevo Vista, where their rented vans were waiting.
The rental agent was a skinny kid not more than about eighteen. Kyle used the credit card that had been issued to the Team for this mission.
“You will sign here and here, and Mr. Lansdowne, I am supposed to inform you that if you return the van dirty, you will be charged an extra five hundred US. It is necessary you must clean it first. No fish blood please.”
Jake stiffened at the kid’s words. This was the van used to transport the girl to the Emergency clinic—the one who did not make it.
“Sorry, but we had good hunting. We’ll be sure we clean up better this time,” answered Kyle. Jake felt several pairs of eyes on him.
After the agent left, Coop asked him about the comment. “You think that’s a problem, LT?”
“I doubt it. I think he just was following instructions. Even his boss doesn’t know he’s rented to the Navy. Don’t worry about it. Get your things aboard and let’s stop by a market and get our stores.”
Everyone piled in to the three vans, along with their fishing poles and ice chests and gear. The chests had been taped shut so no prying eyes could see the ammo and other explosive material they’d brought just in case.
The Super Mercado was brightly lit, so much so that it hurt Jake’s eyes. The store attendant was watching soccer on a big screen mounted in the corner next to a huge swamp cooler.
They’d been told the kitchen in their house was first class, so the Team stocked up on frozen dinners, and local fruits, cereal, milk, yogurt and eggs. The meat the market sold was of unknown origin, so no one took a chance on it. They bought several cases of beer and large bottled waters originating from California even though they’d been told the local tap water was clean.
They were once again posing as a group of sport fisherman down for a week vacation, but the real mission was to find contacts to the gun buyers. Kyle had been told to watch for an ex-Navy man who helped put the buyers together with the men who had guns and ammo to sell after discharge. After deployments, a large amount of equipment had been consistently missing from the San Diego area, and it was suspected this man, who had fled to Mexico rather than be subject to US law enforcement, was responsible for its disappearance.
Since he was a US citizen, they were supposed to bring him home to face charges. It was a task too delicate to give to local Mexican authorities.
Fredo asked the attendant as they were checking out if there was a gun range nearby and the boy frowned and told him that guns were not allowed in Baja Nuevo. Fredo acted disappointed, but knew the seed had been planted, and somehow the right people would be told, and that would spread quickly.
A Columbian drug gang, who also did their share of gun running, owned the Baja Nuevo resort. The last time, the team discovered they also had involved themselves in kidnapping underage girls from the local village school to send them up North as sex slaves.
Jake knew the combination was a lethal one. Baja was a favorite place to party, to get over a nasty divorce, or to just generally get into trouble. Though the resort looked well manicured and serene with its golf course and lush grounds, the dark underbelly of crime was lurking throughout. He could just feel it.
This trip they rented a two story eight bedroom house near the beach. It was considerably nicer than the lodge type dwellings they had rented before.
“Hey Kyle, who did you have to blow to score this place?” asked Alex as they pulled up to the huge structure that dwarfed some of the big beautiful homes in the San Diego area.
“Collins got us fixed up this time. I’ve been told to take real good care of the old broad,” Kyle returned. “He said no parties. Not here.”
Cooper whistled as they entered the tiled foyer. Jake followed him to the kitchen, done in dark granite countertops and teak cabinetry. It was everything it had been billed to be. The view from the eating area was all ocean and beach.
“I get dibs staying home. You guys can go out on the boats tomorrow and puke your guts out. This place is fine!” added Lucas.
“Let’s get everything into the freezer and pick out your bedrooms. Then I want to have a team meeting downstairs in about twenty,” ordered Kyle. “Now, get your butts in gear. And let’s leave all the firepower and ammo in one of the vans, and pull them up close to the house. Locked. Got it?”
Without hesitation, everything was unloaded and stowed. Jake chose to share a room with Kyle and Cooper. Some rooms had four, others just three occupants. Jake felt safest around Cooper, who also didn’t drink.
At last they gathered in the spacious living room, sounds of the ocean pounding on the beach made for a pleasant background.
“We’re staying here at the resort owned by the Garcia gang, but only because our intel has told us that’s where all the gun deals are made. The guy we’re looking for, actually Naval Intelligence is looking for, is Wade Seacord. He’s a fifteen-year veteran dishonorably discharged due to suspicions of his obtaining equipment and firepower from retiring or discharged vets who are selling them to make a buck or two on the side. They uncovered a warehouse in Chula Vista chock full of all kinds of things, even drones and specialized robotics, cameras and scopes used by a variety of Spec Ops community.”
The Team grumbled. “Asshole,” and other choice words were bantered around the room.
“No parties, this time, so we’re going under the radar, but using the fishing as our cover for now. We want to find this guy and bring him back home to stand military trial. We’re not to hurt him or anyone else. The last mission got us in a bit of hot water. It was cleared since it turned into a rescue operation for the girls, but no more of that. We’re to avoid all interaction, especially with Mexican authorities. That said, don’t get in their crosshairs. We don’t know who we can trust.”
Kyle went over other details and then ended with the “Cast of Characters” as he liked to call it. “Pretend you guys are in a live-streaming play and you’re playing certain parts. In case we run across people we met before, Jake here has adopted this disguise. Jake,” he pointed straight down at him, “You are never to take those wraparounds off, you hear?”
“Roger that, sir.”
“I’ll make sure he’s shaved each morning, Lannie,” offered Cooper.
“I brought the clippers. No razors, if you don’t mind.” Jake didn’t want anything that could create a wound while away from home.
“Perfect!” Kyle listed a few more characters. “Armani, you’re still in the Navy, but lookin’ to get out, and not likin’ the new rules imposed on the rank and file. Danny, you failed a drug test and got booted, and have been unsuccessful getting onto any police or fire team. Fredo, you and T.J. have patched up your disagreements, but still not on good terms. If we need a good fight, you guys are it.”
T.J. and Fredo fist-bumped.
“We’ve got a charter for the morning that will take six. The rest of you can wander the town and just generally be ears.”
“Hey, Lannie, you got a picture of this character Wade Seacord?” Jake asked.
“Good thinking, Jake. Let’s see.” He flipped through a folder and pulled out a black and white photo, a San Diego P.D. mug shot, which everyone studied as they passed it around.
“This was taken four years ago for a DUI, before they found the stash. He could be bearded, wearing glasses now, might be tanned—just look for anyone who looks like him. He has no accents. But he does have a big fuckin’ dragoon tat on his back which should not be hard to miss. But he knows people are looking for him, so I’m thinking he’ll cover up more than he used to.”
“I’ve seen him at the Scupper before,” said Armando.
“Good, excellent. Now, we’re okayed to use the cells you’ve been issued so we can communicate. Remember, we want to look as normal as possible, so no vests, don’t go packin’ and I know we all came heavy, and no earpieces.”
Fredo swore.
“You got something you’re trying out, Fredo?”
“This little microphone I got, put it onto a button I can attach with a clip.”
“Not yet, because you won’t look natural monitoring it. Let’s hold off for now. Anyone else have gadgets?”
Jake knew most the team experimented with equipment, special pockets to store things, so it was a valid question.
“So, we got Ollie, Lucas, Alex, Tay, Jameson and Tyler on the boat. They meet right where they dropped us off today at 0-eight hundred. So, for the rest of the afternoon, we walk the streets and just look like a bunch of goofy guys being tourists. You text me or Coop if anything comes up we need to know about. I want you in triples or quads today. Dress is ugly shorts and shirts that don’t match. Except you, Armani. You can go designer if you brought any.”
Armando smiled with pride and the rest of the Team laughed, slapping him on the back.
JAKE WISHED HE could call Ginger, but had to obey the rules of silence while across the border. He, T.J., Cooper and Danny wandered down a garden path until they found the dusty streets of the tiny fishing village on the outskirts of the newer town with its shops and malls. There they passed by older men sitting on metal canisters or plastic stools, mending fishing nets or cleaning fish. A pack of children were chasing a chicken with a stick until a woman appeared in one of the doorways and reprimanded them.
There was a fresh fruit vendor selling pineapple and other local fruits in white paper cones, drizzling with red hot sauce. They looked tempting but Jake waved them aside for fear of getting sick. The sun was hot on his now-fuzzy head and his new beard had grown out nearly an inch and itched in the afternoon heat. He was going to go for a swim when they returned to the house.
A pair of little girls approached them to sell hand made braided bracelets and dashboard dolls for pennies. Each of the men bought several and dolled out their US dollars generously.
They noticed Tay and Ollie with Kyle and several others haggling with another street vendor selling necklaces made of shells.
With their pockets bulging with inexpensive trinkets for their kids, the four SEALs entered a small cantina where the food smelled great. Outside the crowds of tourists had died down in the heat of the day. Upon taking a table in the corner, Jake and Coop ordered a mineral water, while T.J. and Danny asked for a local beer.
Sounds of a Jeep echoed through the little dive. The squeal of brakes and then the slamming of doors came just before the doorway darkened as four uniformed men entered the room.
They were dressed in the light brownish green colors of the Mexican military, not the black uniforms of local police. Each took a stool at the bar. The ranking officer removed his cap and set it on the vacant stool beside him. As he turned, Jake came face to face with General Cortez.