Chapter 1 preview RED CARPET RANSOM - W.F.Walsh
RED CARPET RANSOM
Christmas is a special time for people all over the world as was the case in the Mexican city of Chihuahua, the capital of the state bearing the same name. The city of over 800 thousand sits almost in the center of Mexico and has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous in the world because of the drug trade and brazen lawlessness, both of which have spread like a virus across the countryside. Even in December, the weather was hot and dry with clouds of dust moving in waves across the urban landscape.
On the northern edge of the city just off Carretera Federal 45 (Federal Highway 45) sat a gated residential neighborhood known as a “fraccionamiento,” looking like many of the others that had been built to provide a more secure place for families to live. This one was different. It was more of an isolated compound and had only one family living inside. At the gate were six heavily armed guards checking in guests who were arriving for a party just one week before Christmas day.
The activity at the gate looked more like a military checkpoint than a typical neighborhood security watch program. As each car pulled up, the individuals were asked to get out, searched and identities verified while the car itself was inspected by bomb sniffing dogs and giant mirrors the men used to look underneath. Once cleared, the gate would open and they would proceed to the largest of three houses in the compound where yet another layer of security awaited.
There, after parking, the guests would proceed to the east wing entrance of the large, Spanish Colonial mansion only to be met by more armed men checking their identities and invitations once again.
At a little after seven o’clock p.m., Guillermo Medina greeted his party guests inside the large ballroom just off the grand atrium entrance and invited them to food, drinks and, in the single gentleman’s case, women. A small band played Christmas tunes while waitresses moved around the various first floor rooms serving hot food. Medina was one of the most notorious of the Central Mexican drug lords whose tentacles spread throughout the state and region. His youthful looks, dark black hair, moustache and small frame were disguising a very capable man once trained as a military mercenary in Honduras. It was rumored that the 52 year-old was behind the execution style killings of many competing drug lords over a ten month period, thereby consolidating his power in this part of the country and earning him second in command of the powerful Cartel Este.
The increased layers of security were because of his most special guest of the evening. Enrique Vega arrived at the party with his own protection detail, armored car and even augmented the gate guards while he was there. His entire security apparatus was hand picked and vetted. In history there have been only a small number of drug kingpins who have stood out on the world stage like Pablo Escobar of Colombia or Arturo Beltran of Mexico. Enrique Vega was one of them and considered to be larger in scale with an estimated fortune of 30 billion dollars.
Vega was the boss and patriarch of Cartel Este. He ran most of the organized drug operations in northeastern, central and western Mexico from his own highly secured compound just outside of the resort city of Acapulco on the Pacific coast. He was a heavy-set, bald 63 year-old who still ran three miles a day and bench pressed over 200 pounds. With him was his only son, Raul, who at 21 was a college student and not part of the family business.
When Vega traveled, he didn’t stay in the same place very long, and his itinerary was always a closely guarded secret within his organization. This was a courtesy visit for his second in command who was impressed that the boss would be attending his annual fiesta de Navidad.
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After Vega’s arrival and as he mingled with the other 50 or so guests, a satellite of the National Reconnaissance Office snapped a number of photographs and relayed them back to NRO headquarters in Chantilly, Virginia. There they were quickly analyzed and the confirmation sent via secure satellite phone to a joint strike team made up of U.S. DEA, ICE (Immigrations and Customs Enforcement) and Mexican Policía Federal Ministerial (PF) assembled fifteen miles away in the desert.
“Coyote, coyote, coyote,” said Captain Stanley Lloyd into another radio which connected the team consisting of both air and land assets. Instantly an operation that was planned and rehearsed for months sprung into action as the still night air began to shake with the sound of vehicles starting to roll and two Blackhawk helicopters spooling up.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Guillermo and Enrique made the rounds spending time and giving respect to the other senior members of Cartel Este inside the house at the party, outside the phone in the pockets of two members of the security team at the gate began to vibrate. One quietly pulled it out and read the text message. “Coyote,” the message said. Both of the security men who had received the message quietly cocked their Austrian made Steyr TMP machine pistols and loosened the additional thirty round clips on their belts.
----------------------------------------------------------
The tactical team launching the operation twenty-two miles away was split into two groups. Team One, approaching on the ground, was charged with fire suppression and securing the objective. In the air, Team Two would use the Blackhawks for target apprehension and evacuation. At this time of the year, the sun had already set, and the darkness of night had descended over the Mexican countryside.
It took around twenty-five minutes for the ground team to reach the objective while the Blackhawks kept a low orbit just a few miles away. The only lights visible as the ground team approached were those coming from the compound and the mansion where the party was in full swing.
“360 sweep,” ordered Team One’s leader, instructing four of the six vehicles to surround the compound as the two largest turned off the federal highway and headed right for the gate. The guards looked up and saw the outlines of the vehicles approaching fast with no lights.
The two guards with the cell phones looked at each other, then raised their machine pistols, took aim and fired a burst of bullets into the other four security men, clearly taking them by surprise. Before they even began to comprehend what was happening, the automatic fire put bullets into each one ending their lives instantly.
Inside the compound standing sentry just outside the ornate doors of the mansion, the security guards instantly looked up as they recognized the sound of gunfire in the air and knew some sort of attack was underway. Seconds later, the vehicles reached the gate now opened by the two DEA agents who had worked undercover for over a year to infiltrate the cartel as security men.
“Green LZ. Green LZ.” Captain Lloyd said into his secure radio. He was riding in the lead vehicle, which was moving through the gate heading for the mansion. The two Blackhawk helicopters orbiting just a few miles away turned inbound to the coordinates on their electronic flight director showing where they would land.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Raul Vega was standing next to his father when three bodyguards who were standing by the wall of the large ballroom came running over while pulling their Glock 9 millimeter pistols out of leather holsters hidden behind their jackets.
“Raid!” screamed Lorenzo Diaz, Enrique Vega’s lead bodyguard whose training to cover and evacuate immediately kicked into action. As people screamed at the sounds of gunfire outside, he grabbed his boss and pushed him towards the door leading to a long tiled hallway running the length of the mansion. It happened so quickly that Raul was left behind. He followed Guillermo and his personal security guard out the same door, but in the opposite direction.
The guards at the gate and the ones standing outside the mansion were meant to protect and buy time for their boss’s escape. On this night, they would not have a chance to do either because of the overwhelming force descending on the drug lord’s compound.
-----------------------------------------------
Outside, the two Blackhawk choppers touched down on the large quadrangle in the center of the compound. Each carried a team of four made up of both U.S. and Mexican soldiers. HUMINT (human intelligence) from the agents working on the inside gave them a blueprint of how Vega might try to escape. The air assault team headed for the door leading to the east wing of the mansion where the bodies of cartel guards lay crumpled on the doorstep after being shot dead by the arriving ground team.
RED CARPET RANSOM - This Thanksgiving - Xlibris/Penguin W.F. Walsh copyright2014
Christmas is a special time for people all over the world as was the case in the Mexican city of Chihuahua, the capital of the state bearing the same name. The city of over 800 thousand sits almost in the center of Mexico and has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous in the world because of the drug trade and brazen lawlessness, both of which have spread like a virus across the countryside. Even in December, the weather was hot and dry with clouds of dust moving in waves across the urban landscape.
On the northern edge of the city just off Carretera Federal 45 (Federal Highway 45) sat a gated residential neighborhood known as a “fraccionamiento,” looking like many of the others that had been built to provide a more secure place for families to live. This one was different. It was more of an isolated compound and had only one family living inside. At the gate were six heavily armed guards checking in guests who were arriving for a party just one week before Christmas day.
The activity at the gate looked more like a military checkpoint than a typical neighborhood security watch program. As each car pulled up, the individuals were asked to get out, searched and identities verified while the car itself was inspected by bomb sniffing dogs and giant mirrors the men used to look underneath. Once cleared, the gate would open and they would proceed to the largest of three houses in the compound where yet another layer of security awaited.
There, after parking, the guests would proceed to the east wing entrance of the large, Spanish Colonial mansion only to be met by more armed men checking their identities and invitations once again.
At a little after seven o’clock p.m., Guillermo Medina greeted his party guests inside the large ballroom just off the grand atrium entrance and invited them to food, drinks and, in the single gentleman’s case, women. A small band played Christmas tunes while waitresses moved around the various first floor rooms serving hot food. Medina was one of the most notorious of the Central Mexican drug lords whose tentacles spread throughout the state and region. His youthful looks, dark black hair, moustache and small frame were disguising a very capable man once trained as a military mercenary in Honduras. It was rumored that the 52 year-old was behind the execution style killings of many competing drug lords over a ten month period, thereby consolidating his power in this part of the country and earning him second in command of the powerful Cartel Este.
The increased layers of security were because of his most special guest of the evening. Enrique Vega arrived at the party with his own protection detail, armored car and even augmented the gate guards while he was there. His entire security apparatus was hand picked and vetted. In history there have been only a small number of drug kingpins who have stood out on the world stage like Pablo Escobar of Colombia or Arturo Beltran of Mexico. Enrique Vega was one of them and considered to be larger in scale with an estimated fortune of 30 billion dollars.
Vega was the boss and patriarch of Cartel Este. He ran most of the organized drug operations in northeastern, central and western Mexico from his own highly secured compound just outside of the resort city of Acapulco on the Pacific coast. He was a heavy-set, bald 63 year-old who still ran three miles a day and bench pressed over 200 pounds. With him was his only son, Raul, who at 21 was a college student and not part of the family business.
When Vega traveled, he didn’t stay in the same place very long, and his itinerary was always a closely guarded secret within his organization. This was a courtesy visit for his second in command who was impressed that the boss would be attending his annual fiesta de Navidad.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
After Vega’s arrival and as he mingled with the other 50 or so guests, a satellite of the National Reconnaissance Office snapped a number of photographs and relayed them back to NRO headquarters in Chantilly, Virginia. There they were quickly analyzed and the confirmation sent via secure satellite phone to a joint strike team made up of U.S. DEA, ICE (Immigrations and Customs Enforcement) and Mexican Policía Federal Ministerial (PF) assembled fifteen miles away in the desert.
“Coyote, coyote, coyote,” said Captain Stanley Lloyd into another radio which connected the team consisting of both air and land assets. Instantly an operation that was planned and rehearsed for months sprung into action as the still night air began to shake with the sound of vehicles starting to roll and two Blackhawk helicopters spooling up.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Guillermo and Enrique made the rounds spending time and giving respect to the other senior members of Cartel Este inside the house at the party, outside the phone in the pockets of two members of the security team at the gate began to vibrate. One quietly pulled it out and read the text message. “Coyote,” the message said. Both of the security men who had received the message quietly cocked their Austrian made Steyr TMP machine pistols and loosened the additional thirty round clips on their belts.
----------------------------------------------------------
The tactical team launching the operation twenty-two miles away was split into two groups. Team One, approaching on the ground, was charged with fire suppression and securing the objective. In the air, Team Two would use the Blackhawks for target apprehension and evacuation. At this time of the year, the sun had already set, and the darkness of night had descended over the Mexican countryside.
It took around twenty-five minutes for the ground team to reach the objective while the Blackhawks kept a low orbit just a few miles away. The only lights visible as the ground team approached were those coming from the compound and the mansion where the party was in full swing.
“360 sweep,” ordered Team One’s leader, instructing four of the six vehicles to surround the compound as the two largest turned off the federal highway and headed right for the gate. The guards looked up and saw the outlines of the vehicles approaching fast with no lights.
The two guards with the cell phones looked at each other, then raised their machine pistols, took aim and fired a burst of bullets into the other four security men, clearly taking them by surprise. Before they even began to comprehend what was happening, the automatic fire put bullets into each one ending their lives instantly.
Inside the compound standing sentry just outside the ornate doors of the mansion, the security guards instantly looked up as they recognized the sound of gunfire in the air and knew some sort of attack was underway. Seconds later, the vehicles reached the gate now opened by the two DEA agents who had worked undercover for over a year to infiltrate the cartel as security men.
“Green LZ. Green LZ.” Captain Lloyd said into his secure radio. He was riding in the lead vehicle, which was moving through the gate heading for the mansion. The two Blackhawk helicopters orbiting just a few miles away turned inbound to the coordinates on their electronic flight director showing where they would land.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Raul Vega was standing next to his father when three bodyguards who were standing by the wall of the large ballroom came running over while pulling their Glock 9 millimeter pistols out of leather holsters hidden behind their jackets.
“Raid!” screamed Lorenzo Diaz, Enrique Vega’s lead bodyguard whose training to cover and evacuate immediately kicked into action. As people screamed at the sounds of gunfire outside, he grabbed his boss and pushed him towards the door leading to a long tiled hallway running the length of the mansion. It happened so quickly that Raul was left behind. He followed Guillermo and his personal security guard out the same door, but in the opposite direction.
The guards at the gate and the ones standing outside the mansion were meant to protect and buy time for their boss’s escape. On this night, they would not have a chance to do either because of the overwhelming force descending on the drug lord’s compound.
-----------------------------------------------
Outside, the two Blackhawk choppers touched down on the large quadrangle in the center of the compound. Each carried a team of four made up of both U.S. and Mexican soldiers. HUMINT (human intelligence) from the agents working on the inside gave them a blueprint of how Vega might try to escape. The air assault team headed for the door leading to the east wing of the mansion where the bodies of cartel guards lay crumpled on the doorstep after being shot dead by the arriving ground team.
RED CARPET RANSOM - This Thanksgiving - Xlibris/Penguin W.F. Walsh copyright2014
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Marc
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Nov 08, 2014 08:38PM
Nice opening!
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