In the early morning, waking up in his hotel room, Ronan quickly freshened up, organized his personal belongings, stowed away his wallet and identification, and carefully checked his handgun and magazines. He placed them in the shoulder holster he bought yesterday and hung a sheathed dagger from a hitman named Zero on his waist for easy access.
He was ready to engage in combat if a sudden situation arose.
The injury on his left arm had mostly healed.
After settling the bill and leaving the small hotel, he found a place to have breakfast and walked along the street.
When the time was right, he found a public phone and dialed the number of Deidre Demona: "It's me."
"Twenty-five kilometers south of Tijuana, in the town of Mendoza, there's a corn processing plant with a small white building and a blue roof," Demona said directly, "I'm sure he's there."
Ronan was about to hang up the phone, saying, "Thanks."
However, Demona asked, "What happened in the eastern wilderness yesterday morning?"
Ronan denied, "I'm not aware of it."
Demona didn't inquire further and said, "Don't mess around. The corn processing plant is an important drug-producing base for the Garcia cartel in Tijuana, and there are at least thirty gunmen stationed there."
Ronan replied, "I'm not someone who messes around."
After hanging up the phone, he called a taxi and wandered around Tijuana.
Based on Ronan's memory of Tijuana from his time in the United States, he quickly found a black market gun shop.
Here, buying a gun was not much harder than buying alcohol.
Ronan purchased a semi-new AK rifle and ten magazines from a legitimate factory. He also bought a used pickup truck and drove straight to the Ugo corn processing plant.
He planned to sneak in and have a talk with Harvey Gonzalez.
Leaving the urban area, Ronan found an uninhabited and open space to practice shooting to quickly assimilate the expertise of a soldier in firearms.
After firing one magazine, he could feel a significant improvement in his marksmanship. Birds flying low would be hit with one shot.
If the battle at the quarry was at the level of a precision shooter, now he was undoubtedly a sharpshooter.
It felt like he had cheat codes activated.
He also practiced throwing the dagger, but his accuracy was not as good. Nevertheless, with his shooting instincts and hand-eye coordination, he could hit targets within ten meters, although accuracy decreased at greater distances.
...
To the east of Tijuana, in the wilderness.
Large groups of Mexican soldiers and police officers had set up a perimeter, and technicians were surveying the scene.
A black SUV drove up, and the doors opened, revealing two middle-aged men getting out of the back seat.
One of them, a Caucasian man with brown parted hair, was called Matt Graves. He hailed from Washington, D.C., and was the mastermind and leader of the Dog-eat-Dog Plan.
The Dog-eat-Dog Plan aimed to provoke infighting between out-of-control and rapidly expanding Mexican criminal groups to maintain balance along the U.S.-Mexico border.
Beside him was a heavily baggy-eyed Latin man with disheveled hair, resembling a bird's nest. He was Alejandro Gillick, an operative hired by Matt Graves.
The two of them joined three others waiting here. Under the guidance of the on-site coordinator from Mexico, they entered the quarry.
As they walked, Matt Graves said, "James, give us the situation."
The bald Caucasian man with tea-colored glasses said, "The incident happened yesterday morning. Someone detonated a large amount of C4 and destroyed a tunnel. I used my connections to keep the scene undisturbed temporarily."
Entering the battlefield area, the nauseating smell of corpses filled the air.
James exchanged a few words with the Mexican personnel, and the Mexican leader withdrew with his men to a distance.
Alejandro said, "There was intense gunfire."
Matt Graves, expressionless, approached a body half-laid on the rubble. The body had only half of its right hand left, a penetrating wound in the calf, and the head was severely beaten.
"This is Ian Somos. He took three shots, all from the same M4," James said.
Matt Graves frowned, turned to look at the charred area, and could vaguely distinguish seven bodies.
James continued, "We've done a quick sampling test. One of them is Eric, the other six are mercenaries."
Matt Graves nodded, crossed his arms, pursed his lips, and after a while, he said, "We've lost two people. Good! Very good!"
No one else said anything.
Alejandro squatted down, his long and sharp nails touching the burn marks, and said, "The fire doesn't seem normal."
He then went to inspect the collapsed tunnel and the explosion-blasted cargo pit. Matt Graves and Alejandro returned to the SUV.
"Your men?" Alejandro asked.
Matt Graves lit a cigarette. "They've been with me for several years."
Alejandro inquired, "The one shot, was he onto something?"
Matt Graves replied, "Among the soldiers, they were the best in marksmanship."
"The assailants are not simple," Alejandro said, taking a cigarette, "Your people and the mercenaries walked into an ambush when clearing the scene."
Matt Graves also noticed, "That's why I want them to find him first."
Alejandro exhaled smoke, "In 2000, at the turn of the century, things seemed unchanged, but they actually changed a lot. What was cut off is reemerging. It's only been a few years, and there are more and more strange people and incidents."
"Many things and people were never cut off. You're an example, aren't you?" Matt Graves, being in a higher position, knew more, so he made a general remark, "They've been lurking, waiting to resurface."
Alejandro flicked away the cigarette butt and stomped it out. Curiously, he asked, "Matt, what rank are you now?"
Matt didn't answer. Instead, he waited for James to come over, greeted Alejandro to get into the car, and instructed, "The primary goal remains the same for now. The Garcia cartel is out of control, and the Jose cartel is too active. We need to provoke them into fighting each other."
James said, "Because we're waiting for the broker, the princess has been staying in Mexicali and hasn't gone to Juarez."
Matt said, "There's a local gang leader you developed as an outside contact, right? Contact them as soon as possible, impersonate Jose cartel members, and target the princess."
James accepted the order and asked, "How far should we go?"
"Kidnap her," Matt made the decision.
Alejandro scratched his face with his long nails and asked, "Should I go?"
Matt shook his head, "No, you wait. I want to use the princess to force Antonio Garcia to show up."
...
Chulavista, community church.
Marie Raven, wearing serpent-shaped earrings, walked briskly into the church, and Jim and Mason, the pastors, immediately bowed in greeting.
Marie Raven sat on a pew and asked, "The deal failed?"
Jim stepped forward, "Our people clashed with Jose's men in the tunnel. Five of them managed to escape, but the rest are all dead, and the tunnel has been destroyed."
Marie asked, "What about the money and the goods?"
Jim's face darkened even more, "All gone."
"Who did this?" Marie asked.
"I bribed a senior Mexican police officer," Jim said, "Based on the list and photo album we provided, there was one person missing from the scene."
Marie's eyes turned icy, "Who?"
Jim hesitated but said, "Ronan."
Mason fetched a piece of horsewhip herb, which they used in rituals for Ronan.
Marie clenched the horsewhip herb, trembling all over. After about half a minute, she said, "He's still alive, in Mexico. I will find him and turn him into a puppet!"
"Yes!" Jim replied.
Marie took the horsewhip herb with her, "Do what you need to do and make up for the loss!"
Jim could only grit his teeth and say, "I will do it as soon as possible."
...
The sky grew darker, and a pickup truck parked next to a small gas station. Ronan sat in the car, devouring a hamburger. Cars passed by from the south; it was the end of the workday for the workers at the Ugo corn processing plant.
Someone stopped to refuel, and the middle-aged woman working at the gas station asked, "Sans, I heard you guys got a raise?"
Sans, a simple-looking chubby man, said, "An increase of $100 per week."
The middle-aged woman said, "Not bad!"
Sans's face jiggled with a smile, "Praise Boss Garcia. He's made life better for my whole family."
Another person driving a beat-up Toyota chimed in, "Yes! Praise Boss Garcia. Without him, we would've been jobless a long time ago!"
The large influx of cheap agricultural products from the United States had caused many farmers in Mendoza to go bankrupt, leading to difficult lives. After the Garcia cartel acquired the Ugo corn processing plant and transformed it into a factory for other products, their lives improved.
The land could be leased or sold to the Garcia cartel for cultivation, and they could work as farming laborers for a salary. Those with more skills could work inside the factory and earn even more substantial rewards.
Anyone working for the Garcia cartel in Mendoza had a relatively decent life.
After finishing the hamburger and drinking some mineral water, Ronan started the car and headed south. The factory was not in town; it was at a distance away.
After driving for about ten minutes, he left the main road and turned onto a small two-lane road. Ahead, lights sparkled, and he could see a small factory at the end of the road.
He circled the area around the factory from a distance.
Ronan took off his cap, put on a black hood, parked the car, and took out binoculars to observe under the factory lights.
The factory was surrounded by a five-meter-high wall topped with electrified wire. There was only one main gate with a guardhouse at its side, and a person was patrolling on the roof.
Several steel structures of the factory were neatly arranged. On the other side was a row of bungalows for living, followed by a three-story building with a white wall and blue roof.
Sneaking in would not be easy; the walls were not climbable, and there was electrified wire on top.
Was it a wasted trip?
Time was precious, and Ronan thought for a moment, checked his firearms, took the AK out of the bag, and placed it on the passenger seat.
He had no choice but to enter through the main gate.
He started the car and drove toward the factory gate.
The gate was open, and not far away, there were cars still starting, probably the workers not yet leaving.
As he approached the gate, about fifty to sixty meters away, someone on the guardhouse rooftop shouted, "Who are you? Stop the car!"
Ronan yelled, "I forgot my wallet and house keys..."
As he spoke, he drove the car close to the gate, turned the steering wheel, and the pickup truck blocked the gate about ten meters away.
Hello everyone,
If you enjoy reading this novel and want to read 5 Chapters ahead of schedule, then please join my Patreon.
Or Consider donating! at Paypal or Ko-fi.
Your support is greatly appreciated
Comments
Post a Comment