"The local authorities are claiming that an unknown group of armed men is attempting to abduct a detainee under police custody—they're here for Dozza," Major Blackburn's voice reported through the comms, eliciting a round of mocking laughter from Team Bravo. It wasn't directed at him, but rather at the corrupt Chiapas State Police, who were shamelessly aiding and abetting the cartels.
"It's time to move. Did this guy really think we'd play by his rules all the way through?" Jason sneered, kicking Dozza, who lay on the ground like a dead dog. His voice dripped with disdain.
It now made sense why Dozza had been so confident, even though he was cornered. He had planned for this: the phone call he'd made earlier had summoned not just a few police cars but an overwhelming force—nearly 200 Chiapas State Police officers, mobilized in full force.
The irony wasn't lost on anyone. These police officers couldn't even maintain basic public order in their own jurisdiction, yet they were pulling out all the stops to protect a notorious drug lord. The situation was almost laughable.
"He nearly got away with it, didn't he?" Ray Perry chuckled as he pressed a button on the detonator in his hand. A second later, a massive explosion erupted in the distance, lighting up the edge of the jungle with a bright fireball.
From the military drone's vantage point, the convoy of cartel-provided vehicles had just started driving on their makeshift highway when the explosion forced them to halt. Meanwhile, the phone Dozza had left on the table began to ring.
But by then, the room was empty. The ringing continued for a while before stopping, and the police convoy reluctantly began moving again.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Dozza, now bound hand and foot to a long hollow steel pipe, wriggled and struggled like a pig awaiting slaughter. His futile resistance only made him look more ridiculous.
Concerned that Dozza might try to scream for help and alert any remaining guards, Jack had gagged him with a wad of cloth and secured it tightly with duct tape. The muffled grunts coming from Dozza's nostrils only made him seem even more like a hog.
"I don't get it," Sonny said, watching Jack and Lieutenant Lopez struggle to carry Dozza on the steel pipe through the dark jungle. "Why not just put a bullet in his head and call it a day? Mission accomplished. Carrying him through the jungle isn't exactly a walk in the park."
"Because the CIA has plans for him," Jack explained. "They want to destabilize his drug empire from within, but that requires him to stay alive—at least for now."
The group had made it back into the dense jungle. After the drone confirmed that there were no immediate pursuers, they felt safe enough to engage in conversation. Jack wasn't worried about Dozza overhearing, either. The man was bound, gagged, and completely at their mercy.
Jack followed closely behind Clay, who was cutting through the jungle with his machete, and tried to mimic the posture he remembered seeing as a kid when farmers carried large pigs on poles. This task wasn't just about brute strength; it required technique. Carrying the pole improperly could cause unbearable shoulder pain after just a short distance.
Fortunately, all eight team members were physically robust, taking turns in pairs to share the burden of carrying Dozza. It wasn't pleasant, but it was manageable.
"Killing Dozza would be easy," Jack continued, "but another Dozza would rise to take his place soon enough. His methods aren't hard to replicate. Since the days of 'El Chapo' Guzmán, cartels have ruled by a combination of fear and bribery.
"They maintain control through terror—eliminating anyone who dares to challenge them—while winning over some of the population with small favors. At the same time, they buy off high-ranking officials to create an impenetrable shield of protection."
Jack then turned to Lopez, addressing him directly. "In fact, killing Dozza wouldn't guarantee the safety of you or your family. That's why I made a little deal with the CIA.
"Your wife and two children will be relocated to a safer state far from the Mexican border. They'll get a house, a living allowance, an education fund to see both kids through college, and proper documentation to start a new life. The condition is that we deliver Dozza alive."
Lopez stumbled slightly, unsure whether it was from exhaustion or shock at what he'd just heard. Sonny took the opportunity to relieve him of the steel pipe, seamlessly continuing the effort with Jack.
"I… I don't even know how to thank you, Mr. Tavore. I…" Lopez's eyes glistened with tears under the moonlight, and he broke into rapid Spanish, his emotions getting the better of him.
There were some things Jack didn't mention out of consideration for Lopez. The CIA's interest in keeping Dozza alive wasn't entirely altruistic. Dozza held a wealth of intelligence and evidence—evidence implicating corrupt officials in Chiapas State, high-ranking members of Mexico's central government, and even figures within the military and intelligence services, such as those responsible for betraying Rita Alfaro's family within the CISEN (Mexico's Center for Investigation and National Security).
This trove of information would allow the CIA to tighten its grip on Mexico, a strategic goal far more valuable than the minor cost of relocating a single family. Compared to the enormous benefits the CIA hoped to extract from Dozza, the money for a house, a few green cards, and an education fund was insignificant.
What the CIA might do with this intelligence—whether blackmail corrupt officials, force their cooperation, or use it to prop up another cartel leader who would follow their orders—wasn't Jack's concern.
The CIA had been a major contributor to this operation. Without taking any real risks, they had lent their support and earned goodwill in return. It was a pragmatic way to mend relations between the agencies.
The journey back to the coast, however, was grueling. Carrying Dozza, navigating the jungle at night, and staying vigilant against potential threats extended their trek to nearly 12 hours.
By the time they reached the coast, dawn had long since broken. A lone inflatable boat bobbed on the water, tied to a jagged rock jutting from the shore. The beach was pristine, with no footprints in sight.
Jason let out a long sigh of relief as they finally set Dozza down. He gave him another kick for good measure, eliciting a muffled grunt from their captive.
Exhausted and caked in mud, the team collapsed onto the ground to rest. Even Jack, despite his enhanced abilities, felt drained.
"I've never missed Virginia Beach's beer and barbecue as much as I do now," Sonny muttered as he wolfed down an energy bar and drained the last of his water.
After catching his breath, Jack threw the now-bent steel pipe into the ocean, cast a quick healing spell on his aching shoulder, and waded into the water to untie the inflatable boat. The others joined him to haul it ashore. Meanwhile, Lopez pulled out a knife, spat on the blade, and cut the plastic cuffs binding Dozza's feet. Without a word, he shoved the terrified drug lord onto the boat.
Sonny yanked the engine's pull cord, and with a puff of smoke, the boat's engine roared to life. They sped out to sea, leaving the coastline behind.
Half an hour later, in the deep waters far from the shore, the inflatable boat came to a stop. Around them, there was nothing but endless ocean. Dozza glanced around nervously, confused about how these Americans planned to transport him further.
Suddenly, the calm sea began to "boil." Waves surged as if some ancient leviathan were stirring from the depths. Dozza's eyes widened in terror as a massive "Los Angeles"-class nuclear-powered attack submarine emerged from beneath the water, breaking the surface.
Two days later, on one of Virginia Beach's most popular stretches of sand—Sandbridge Beach—Jack lounged lazily on a beach chair, sipping an ice-cold Budweiser. He looked completely relaxed.
"Why do you bring your huge pack with you, even when you're on vacation?" Jason asked, wearing nothing but swim trunks as he gave Jack's large backpack a nudge with his foot.
"For this," Jack replied, rummaging through the bottom of his bag and pulling out a wooden box. He tossed it to Jason.
Jason opened the box and his eyes went wide. Inside were several compartments lined with silk, holding over a dozen gemstones of various sizes and colors.
"Are you kidding me? When did you get these? I didn't even notice."
"While you were all busy looking for steel pipes," Jack said with a grin. This was a pure stroke of luck. The box had been sitting on Dozza's table, and Jack had assumed it contained cigars. When he opened it, he discovered these "pesky little gems" and casually pocketed them.
These gemstones were likely part of Dozza's emergency escape funds. Cash was too bulky, but natural gemstones—especially rubies and sapphires—retained their value. While diamonds had lost some of their market appeal due to synthetics, these stones were still worth a fortune.
Selling them off gradually could easily net five to six million dollars.
"I should start calling you Lucky Jack," Jason said, picking up a ruby to admire how it sparkled in the sunlight. "It seems like every mission with you ends up making us rich."
"Not every time," Jack shrugged. "Remember that operation on that Southeast Asian island? Nothing valuable came out
of that."
Well, except for his girlfriend, Jie Jie.
"Thanks, buddy," Jason said, not bothering with false modesty. He plucked the largest emerald from the box and tossed it back to Jack, keeping the rest for himself.
Unbeknownst to Jason, Jack had also pocketed another trophy: a pair of ostentatiously gold-plated Colt 1911A1 pistols, reminiscent of the ones used by Nicolas Cage in Face/Off. Likely custom-made for Dozza, the flamboyant pistols didn't match Jack's usually low-key style, but they would make excellent collector's items.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
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Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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