"Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States." A phrase atribuited to the expresident of Mexico, Porfirio Diaz, that resume the complex and dependent relation of Mexico with its powerfull neighbor in the north.
Today, those words resonate stronger than ever: in many places the country live in poverty, the gap of wealth is abysmal and crime seems to have no limits. The cartels are a cancer deeply rooted in society, simbols of a power that defy borders and the authority itself of the State.
Ethan, Job and the Codys had not come to face a cartel in all its magnitude, but an independent cell, tied to them but far from the true power. If it was about forces of that level, Smurf and her sons would have been eliminated long ago.
After crossing the border without trouble, they arrived to the border city of Tijuana. Like Oceanside, it was a coastal city, but unlike the calm blue waters across the border, the ocean here seemed enraged, violent, almost like an omen of what was to come.
Every year, dozens of millions of people cross the border to Tijuana, many looking for fun and escape. The city is also a strategic point for drug traffic, wich increase the tension and the risks in its streets. The income generated by alcohol, entertainment and narcotics goes up to billions of dollars: an impresive figure, built over countless sacrifices and deaths.
Led by Baz, they snaked thru the narrow streets of the city, watching the many american tourists moving between stands and shops. Ethan expected to find something out of a movie, a city trapped in violence, but the reality was different: he saw people working hard, day by day, to earn their living.
Ethan honked the horn when he saw some kids in uniforms crossing the street running and laughing, without stopping.
—Never been in Mexico before? —Smurf asked.
She rolled down the window, gave a bill to a girl about twelve years old and carefully took a small plastic bag with fresh fruit from a street vendor.
—No —Ethan answered, watching closely the crowded streets—. I always imagined something different.
—Thats what they show in movies —Smurf said with a ironic smile—. But reality is another. People here just try to survive, earn their life day by day.
—I guess so. —Ethan murmured, looking at the workers, vendors and tourists moving naturally in the noise—
—But still, there are violent confrontations between different factions and with the militaries, thats not made up.
—So… you mean the local gangs are not as dangerous as the cartels? —Ethan asked, still evaluating the city with his gaze.
—Oh sure they are dangerous, but they are still loose groups, like gangs. Everyone moves in their territory, and even if all answer to the same boss, in practice each one works on its own —Smurf said, heavy voiced, like someone talking from experience—
—Danger only comes when you go looking for it.
—Here you can get anything: drugs, women, street fights, dog fights… whatever you can imagine. The city seems to offer everything, as long as you got the money to pay for it —Smurf continued—.
—Thats right —Craig said, stretching almost right after crossing the border. He took a apple from the basket Smurf was holding and bit it—. To the brothel that Flaco runs usually come many tourists.
Ethan shrugged and kept driving slowly. Soon, Smurf had bought tons of apples, bananas, mangos and other fruits from street vendors at every stoplight, filling the car with her colorful loot.
—Sorry, I just prefer fresh fruit —Smurf said, smiling while peeling a banana and running her tongue over it in a provocative way—.
—No problem.
Ethan didn't dare to say nothing and adjusted his posture awkwardly.
Soon, two SUVs stopped in front of a house facing the sea, an imposing construction of white walls and large windows. The garden was cared, with palm trees swinging softly in the breeze and a stone path leading to the main entrance. Ethan and Baz parked on the grass, admiring the view of the ocean spreading behind the residence.
A mexican man with a pink shirt was standing at the door. He took Baz by the shoulder and walked toward him; both laughed and hugged with familiarity.
Next to the man, a latina girl with black hair, dressed with a black bikini, was watching them. When Baz separated, the man leaned again to kiss her, while her long hair fell over her shoulders.
—Haha, Marco! My friend! —Craig shouted, opening his arms.
The mexican named Marco Trujillo came closer with a smile and hugged him tight.
After letting Craig go, Marco turned his eyes to Smurf.
—Long time no see, Smurf!
Smurf opened her arms and hugged him, giving a kiss on the cheek.
—Marco, thanks for all your help. My family will never forget it.
—Its nothing, we are friends —Marco answered naturally.
Then he greeted Deran and turned his attention to Ethan and Job.
—Why dont you introduce your friends Baz?
Smurf introduced them briefly. Marco was the leader of a local gang and a close friend of Baz. The latina woman that Baz was kissing was named Lucy; she was young and beautiful, with a delicate face adorned by a small mole above her lip. She was Baz's lover and, at the same time, Marco's sister, they worked in the trafficking of guns and drugs across the border.
After a short conversation, Marco guided the group inside the house with the luggage, showing them the residence he had rented for them for the next days. It was a luxurious three-floor villa, surrounded by thick palm trees swinging with the sea breeze. Just a hundred meters away stretched a beach.
He had also prepared a black work van, and some motorcycles in the garage next to it, according to Job's wishes.
After acomodating the luggage in a room on the second floor, Ethan went out to the balcony to watch the surroundings. Tall palm trees surrounded the house on three sides, providing privacy, while the only open view was toward the beach and the waves moving calm.
The next balcony door opened and Smurf waved at him. She wore a provocative outfit and stretched lazily, enjoying the sea breeze. Ethan greeted back with a small nod before returning inside.
Half an hour later, everyone gathered in the lobby of the first floor. Baz was sitting on the sofa, hugging Lucy on his lap, while Marco sat on a wooden box, drinking a beer.
Going down slowly thru the lobby, Marco lifted the lid of the box. Inside, the weapons were piled, some looked worn but useful. Then he sat on the sofa, waved his hand and made a gesture, like inviting the others to take a look.
—All you asked for, gentlemen.
Craig and Deran rushed ahead and pulled out all the weapons scattered. Soon, the center table was covered with a variety of weapons and accessories.
Mainly there were Beretta 92FS pistols and Uzi submachine guns, plus a couple of Remington 870 shotguns. The portability and firepower of the Uzi had made it one of the most popular weapons in the black market. At the back, rested a R-15, shining among the metallic mess.
The outside condition of the weapons was not the best, but as long as they worked fine there would be no problem. Ethan began checking them one by one, making sure they were in condition. At one side, Job, who in theory was only backup outside the line of fire, didn't settle either: he took a pistol, calmly disassembled it and checked each piece carefully.
Ethan chose a R-15 and brought it to the table, to check it in detail. First he removed the magazine and checked the chamber was empty. He removed the safety and, with a firm gesture, separated the upper part of the receiver.
He checked each piece calmly: the barrel, the bolt, the chamber. His fingers ran thru the metal looking for wear or dirt, while his eyes missed nothing. Everything seemed in order.
Then with familiarity he reassembled the rifle, fitting each component in its place until hearing the final metallic click. He adjusted the folding stock against his shoulder, tested it with a slight swing and, satisfied, nodded silently.
Craig pulled four more bulletproof vests from under a wooden box and tapped them with his fingers; the steel and kevlar plates rattled.
—This is the best we could find in such little time —Lucy said, wrapped in Baz's arms, while showing her slim figure, sipping her beer—. Happy hunting, boys.
The Skinny's faction was their competition and controlled one of the best zones of Tijuana. If Baz and the others managed to eliminate him, Lucy and Marco could easily take control of his territory and his business. For them, it would be a win… win scenario.
—Thanks —Baz patted Lucy on the hip with loving eyes.
After a short talk, Marco and Lucy left quickly. It was daytime and they didn't want to be seen, so they had to keep their whereabouts secret.
Ethan and the others took their weapons and went back to their rooms to rest, Ethan went to the beach to do some exercise, since thanks to his skill he still had plenty of energy. Baz lay on the sofa, leaving Job alone in the living room, busy with his laptop.
Later, after showering and changing, he went down to the first floor. He stopped by the railing, from where he could see the living room. There, Baz was holding a huge plastic bag and starting to put food on the table.
Deran and Craig were laying on the sofa, watching TV with boredom.
—Hey Ethan, can you call Smurf and Job, dinner just got here.
—No problem.
Ethan knocked at Job and Smurf's door to tell them and went down with the others to the kitchen. It was not until Job's irritable voice sounded that he came down the stairs in slippers with a annoyed tone.
The computer was already installed on the table next to him. On the screen the program was running. A sticky note said: "Do not touch...Ethan".
—Have you ever tried real tacos? Not that crap Taco Bell sells you —said Baz, frustrated while pulling some disposable containers.
—No —Ethan answered, shrugging his shoulders.
—Well get ready —Baz smiled—. In Tijuana tacos are another thing, you cant say you where here, without eating them.
Quickly the containers where opened, revealing an impresive variety of tacos: al pastor, arrachera, suadero, chorizo… all acompanied with fresh made tortillas, onion, cilantro and sauces of all colors.
The aroma was irresistible; the meat juicy, Ethan had never saw something so colorful, it could not be compared with anything they had ever tried before.
—Well, theres always a first time for everything. —joked Ethan, while opening a beer.
—You wont regret it. —Baz replied laughing—
The first thing Job did was run to the computer, moving the mouse to check the progress, of his program, no one had dared to ask what Job was really doing.
—Well, lets eat. —Job checked, clapping with satisfaction.
After dinner, they sat together to watch the incomprehensible television. Since they where there for work and didnt knew the area, they didnt go out to have fun; they stayed home, until having a concrete plan.
Now they only had to wait for Job. Only after he hacked the security system they could come up with the next plan.
More than an hour later, Job hit the table with enthusiasm.
—Yes fuck its done already!
Everyone stood up from the sofa instantly and gathered around him. The surveillance images appeared on the screen. Just as Smurf had described, they where filled with dozens of cameras, covering every inch of the club.
Of course, all these images monitored key points inside the hall and the—
When changing the image, Job paused.
—That's our target —he murmured.
The figure appeared on the surveillance camera and Craig's breathing got heavy. He placed his hand on his arm, where a scar the size of a copper coin stood out on his skin.
Job clicked the mouse and zoomed the image: a bald man, with a long scar on his face, had tattoos that went from the tip of his fingers to his neck, he climbed the stairs accompanied by two atractive women. Behind, four men followed him like escort.
The men dissapeared from the screen, and Job switched to another camera. Skinny and his group where aproaching a security door, it looked robust; from the upper camera it was seen how the red light instantly changed to green, and the door opened letting them pass.
Baz's face hardened.
—Can you handle that door?
—Now I have all their security system under my control, they will see what I want them to see. —said Job, lighting a cigarette— Its just a matter of pressing a button and all doors will open for us.
—Great. When do we go? —Craig rubbed his hands, anxious to act and finish Skinny right away.
—Bang!
Smurf softly hit Craig's head with a notebook.
—We will take turns tonight. We need to register each and every move of the staff, who comes in, who leaves and at what time.
Baz pointed to the screen and asked Job to zoom an image: in the back alley there was an iron door guarded by two big men.
—This is the back door —said Baz seriously, resting one hand on the table—. Skinny uses it to go in without being seen, if we manage to neutralize those two guards without raising attention we can go in and reduce the risk.
Job examined the door, zoomed the image and looked closely at the mechanical structure.
—Its a good idea, only one problem. This door only opens from inside, its manual, without someone inside we cant go in without raising attention.
—The only way would be someone infiltrates, strong enough to neutralize Skinny's men and, at the same time, the others could take down the two guards from outside at the same time. —said Baz, analyzing the situation carefully. Since Pope the oldest son had been locked up, he had taken the role of second in command.
Smurf watched him a moment and added quietly:
—In any case, we need to send someone inside to see the situation first hand —said Smurf. It made sense; the operation required direct exploration. —I think Ethan would be the most suitable to do it.
Ethan raised his hands:
—What the fuck why do I have to go?
Baz pointed to his family:
—Skinny knows all of us, you and you Job are the only ones he doesn't know.
Job arched his brows:
—Second, I dont think they can provide me the services I need.
Noticing all the eyes on him, Ethan shrugged his shoulders:
—Then, its just me, right?
—Exactly —Baz confirmed.
Smurf moved aside and pulled out two thick rolls of bills, tied with rubber bands. He tossed them to Ethan carelessly.
—Here, two thousand dollars, I think it will be enough for you to have fun.
—You will be responsable for exploring the first and second floor tonight and get all the information you can, try to familiarize yourself with the place as much as you can.
Ethan turned the bundles, a bit confused.
—I dont speak spanish.
—Doesn't matter, the club attends mainly american tourists, so most of the employees speak english, you'll be fine believe me. —said Baz, pointing to Craig— If not, ask Craig, he's a regular client of the club.
—Hey, what does this have to do with me?
Craig noticed Smurf's deadly stare and looked at Baz like saying: "Why do you blame me?".
—Well, I'll go take a look —said Ethan, resigned.
He wasnt excited to go to the club, but it was better than spending the night watching cameras. At least he could watch people up close, learn their habits and details of the place. Without that first hand knowledge, how could he later tell his experience in Mexico?.
The Hong Kong club, in Tijuana, wasn't far, just a few kilometers. Ethan found it easily with a quick search on his phone. He didnt asked for escort; it would be better for Baz and his group not to appear too early. He took the keys of the bike, waved his hand and left the house.
He turned on the phone, memorized the route and pulled a Yamaha from the garage. Under Craig's envious gaze, he started the engine, turned on the lights and drove into the deep night of Mexico, leaving behind the relative safety of the house and going into the unknown.