One Down: Citizen Warrior Series - Book 2, page 19
“Ok, good. See you soon.” Hector said hanging up the phone.
Outside, the bright sun continued shining against the whitened marble of government buildings. Hector looked outside and the glare off the glass of a building across the way stung his eyes. He reached up with his shaking right fat hand and rubbed his burning eyes. I could sure use a drink right now.
F.B.I. Field Office, Tucson, Arizona
“How’s my favorite FBI niece doing or do I have to call you Special Agent Silvia Granada? Catching lots of bad guys?”
“Hola Tio. You’re funny. You can still call me Silvia. So far I’ve caught no bad guys yet but give me a little time and I will,” Silvia Granada said to her congressman uncle.
“How are you liking your new job?” he asked.
“So far so good. They paired me up with an older agent who’s past retirement age.”
“How do you like her?”
“The question is whether she likes me. She refers to me as the FNG all the time. To tell you the truth, I’m not so sure if she doesn’t like me because I’m fresh out of the academy, or because I’m brown-skinned or maybe both. She’s from the south. I think she’s a tired old white woman. In any event I’ve got to do what she tells me. I’ve been following up on an incident that happened on the other side of the border last year. It has a link to an Islamic educational facility in New Mexico, Dearborn, Michigan and an incident in Chicago with an explosive device. Somehow all connected. I’m supposed to find out if it involved some white supremacist group. Probably was.”
“Good for you. Hey, I will be in town tomorrow and wanted to know if you’re available to meet for dinner?”
“Sure, that would be great. Where do you want to meet and at what time?”
“Your call, my treat!”
“Ok, let me see if I can get some recommendations and I’ll call you back.”
“Ok, sounds good. I’ll wait for your call. Love you.”
“Love you too tio!”
After ending the call, Sylvia sat at her desk wondering whether to ask Rebecca for a recommendation for a place to meet her uncle for dinner. Maybe if I ask her for her recommendation on where to eat, she’d lighten up on me a little. She looked over in the direction of Rebecca’s office. Special Agent Rebecca Harper intimidated her and Silvia couldn’t shake the notion she was a racist. I mean she is white and from the south.
She took a deep breath of air while pushing herself away from the desk, got up and went over to Rebecca’s office. Seeing the door was ajar and the lights on Silvia paused and knocked. Hearing no response, she eased the door open. Seeing she wasn’t there she thought about calling her for her advice but then left a note on her desk instead.
Silvia looked at Rebecca’s desk for something to write on. Seeing nothing she stepped around the desk. In doing so she noticed the right lower drawer open by an inch. Debating on whether to open it, she looked around to see if anyone in the office was looking her way. That she was nosing around Rebecca’s office brought a slight adrenalin rush to her. She looked towards the door seeing it was three quarters of the way closed obscuring anyone’s view from looking in. Keeping her eyes on the door she reached down with her right hand pulling the unlocked drawer out.
Turning her head looking down and inside it a manila file folder with an open pack of cigarettes on top caught her attention. On the tab the name Congressman Hector Granada was hand written in bold black ink. Reaching down she picked it up. Why does Rebecca have a file on my uncle? Sylvia opened the file reading the notes on the pages inside. What the hell? Again, she looked up towards the door and then back at the folder putting it back in the drawer. She reached down for the fallen pack of cigarettes in the drawer’s bottom to put them back on top of the folder. One had slid out of the pack and another was half way out. A noise outside of Rebecca’s office startled her. With a trembling hand she hurriedly closed the drawer. She made her way to the door stopping to lookback at Rebecca’s desk. What the fuck do I do?
Prescott, Arizona
After Dax’s arrival back home he unpacked, putting everything in its proper place and ate. As soon as he finished, he headed to the living room to his easy chair. Lowering himself into the stuffed brown leather chair, he pulled up the foot stool. He thought about lighting a fire but waited. Reaching over for the TV remote his phone rang.
“Hey Alex, what’s up?”
“I picked up a call from Mario Quintana to the congressman and then the congressman to Assal in Libya. Very interesting, or should I say, disturbing. A shipment of Stingers will arrive in Guaymas, Mexico in two days. All she wanted to know was when she’d get her money. It seems our old amigo, Juan Ortiz doesn’t trust her. He will make sure the shipment is all there before payment to Congressman Granada.”
“Anything more?”
“After hanging up the phone with her, the congressman called Mario Quintana back relaying the information. He also told him he’d be flying down to Guaymas and be there the day the shipment arrives to get his cash. Sounded like once he’s got the money, he’s heading back to Tucson right away. Isn’t it nice not to have to worry about you stuff being searched by Customs?” Alex said.
“Wow. Thanks Alex, hopefully I can do something on my end to interdict the missiles if they head this way. Keep me posted,” Dax said.
“Will do. Out.”
Upon hitting the end button on his cell, he scrolled to Rebecca’s number and hit the send button. His next call would be to Doug.
TUESDAY, 8:33 A.M.
F.B.I. Field Office, Tucson, Arizona
Arriving at the hospital the previous afternoon she found her daughter with a swollen nose and a cut lip. However, Rebecca was relieved because she was awake and alert. Taking her home she settled in for the day enjoying tending to Kimyung.
Draining her coffee cup Rebecca got up from her desk and made her to Ben Nottingham’s office. She knocked once and walked in stopping in front of his desk looking down at him. She took a deep breath in.
“I’ve got a CI (confidential informant) who told me there’s a shipment of Stinger missiles arriving down in Guaymas in two days. He also told me Congressman Hector Granada is the one arranging it for Juan Ortiz, the head of the Magdalena Cartel. Guaranteed the Stinger that hit the congresswoman’s helo the other day came from the same source and Granada is up to his eyeballs in it.”
Rebecca watched as her supervisor Ben Nottingham shifted in his chair with a sullen look on his face. She was careful not to reveal too much. It was the best way to handle her young, Washington, D.C. bred, ladder-climbing boss. She imagined it was a horrifying thought for Nottingham that a United States congressman is an international arms dealer having an affair with an Islamic hottie. Never mind the fact she’s number three on Interpol’s “most wanted” list and selling Stinger missiles to a Mexican cartel. It was way beyond anything he’d want to deal with, let alone act on.
“That’s some serious allegations, Agent Harper. The congressman is on the Congressional Intelligence Committee, I’ve met Congressman Granada, he seems to be a good guy. He’s your new partner’s uncle!”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rebecca said.
“Did your friend tell you how he came to learn this information? Where’s your proof, I need proof!”
Rebecca was not at all surprised by her boss’s defense of the congressman. How could he help himself? He was from inside the bubble of Washington. Between a rock and a hard place she was. Along with this information came the knowledge of Carter and Doug’s team’s recent activities in San Miguel that she was keeping to herself. All of this put her at risk of not only her career retirement benefits but also possible criminal charges. What the hell, I’m already off the bridge. As a law enforcement professional, she knew the art of bull shit was a necessary skill in dealing with suspects. For many in Washington, it was a way of life.
“My CI was at Groucho’s bar in Prescott the other night and seated near the congressman. Going out to the patio for a smoke he heard and saw Granada trailing behind him answering his phone. It appears the good congressman was drunk and speaking loudly. My CI couldn’t help overhearing the conversation about what I just shared with you. The congressman wanted to know when the shipment was arriving in Guaymas. He recognized Granada and called me.”
“So, what were the specifics of the call your little friend says he overheard?”
“Stop being an asshole, he’s not my friend. He said the congressman first got a call from someone by the name of Mario. My CI heard Granada say he’d make a phone call and call him back. He then reported Granada placed a call to a woman. Someone by the name of Assal. My CI said it sounded like the congressman knows that person on an intimate level.
“How did he know Granada was talking to a woman?”
“Because he was close enough to Granada to hear the woman’s voice on the other end. In that conversation, he heard mention of thirty-eight Stingers arriving in two days at the port in Guaymas. He said it sounded like the person on the other end wanted to know about payment. Granada also mentioned a name, Ammar. I have no doubt it’s the same Ammar Al Shammar connected with the Madkhal Mosque here in Tucson. Remember, he and one other were the ones’ suspected of planting the dirty bomb in Chicago? Hmm… what are the odds it’s the same Ammar wanting to get his hands on some Stingers?”
Rebecca, pacing back and forth in front of his desk, didn’t tell him she’d told her new partner to check with ‘surveillance’ to determine if they’d seen Ammar in town.
“Ok, but this sounds like hearsay. What do you want me to do about it?”
His glib response didn’t surprise her. She knew allegations about a congressman would raise eyebrows up the ladder, but that didn’t matter to her. She’d had it with the corruption in Washington and the two systems of justice that emerged under the watch of the new FBI director. To her, what mattered was the safety and security of the citizens of the country. To her, Granada’s just another crooked politician who should be behind bars and not on the floor of Congress lying and sucking off the tit of the American taxpayer.
“What do I want you to do about it? What the fuck do you think I want you to do about it......get clearance and a warrant so we can set up surveillance on Granada. Pick up the fucking phone and call Washington.” Rebecca knew, right or wrong it could be a career climbing halt for Nottingham. Rebecca watched as he struggled to say something in the face of her anger and frustration. Another place another time I’d just kick your little bald-headed pussy ass.
“How sure are you about this? Who’s your CI?”
“My CI is solid, he wouldn’t tell me anything but the truth. I’m sorry but I gave my word not to reveal his name. He’s worried about his safety. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
“This is crazy......I’ll make a phone call and let you know,” Nottingham said turning his attention to a pile of paperwork on his desk.
Rebecca made her way to the door. Fifteen feet away from her office her phone rang.
“Go ahead.” Rebecca said stopping just outside the door way knowing it was from her young partner.
“Special Agent Sylvia Granada here. I just checked with the surveillance team and yes, Ammar Al Shammar has been seen at the mosque. What do you want me to do?”
“Come back to the office and we’ll go from there.”
Agent Harper turned going back into Nottingham’s office interrupting his attention on a file he’d opened up.
“Since someone mentioned an Ammar on the congressman’s phone call… what do you think the chances are the congressman had something to do with the Stinger that brought down the BP helo? Oh yeah, and the additional missiles that’ll be arriving in Guaymas in two days. Gee, do you think he’s going to sell them to the Juan Ortiz who will sell them to Ammar the terrorist and his little fucktard buddies?” Rebecca said with her hands on her hips and he head cocked to the side. “So how about when you call our fearless leaders, you also get clearance to set up listening devices in the mosque? It’s time to shut them down. I’ll check with you in the morning,” she said turning making her way back to her office.
10:23 P.M. Grimm Ranch
The Wait
Captain Sanchez and his men, upon orders from Juan Ortiz, parked their trucks on the Mexico side. They crossed the line on foot into the U.S. making their way to the ranch house. He and his sixteen men broke up into four-man squads and made their way around the ranch house positioning themselves on the four corners. This enabled them to cover the front and back doors and the windows. Two men in each squad carried fragmentation grenades and the other two men in each squad carried flash-bang grenades. They settled in sixty yards off the house. They would wait for two hours after the lights had gone out to begin their assault through the front and back doors. The captain knew the door locks on an older house like this would be easy to jimmy. That is if someone locked them at all. The captain motioned to one of his men to cut the phone line.
10:43 P.M.
Mind the Bedbugs Don’t Bit
“Night, night and mind the bed bugs don’t bite,” Agnes called out to her son.
“Good night, I love you both, see you in the morning,” Eric said closing the door to their bedroom behind him.
After saying goodnight to his parents Harold and Agnes, Eric along with his terrier mixed pit bull named Jasper, made their way to his childhood bedroom. This had also been his father’s bedroom when he was growing up. It contained fond memories for Garrett. He missed his wife and two children back in Albuquerque but happy to be here with his parents in the house where he grew up. With no cell service in the area Eric looked at his watch on the way downstairs to the phone in the hallway. Using his parent’s land line was the only way to call his wife.
“Hey honey, how are you doing? I took a chance and hoped I wouldn’t wake you, I know it’s an hour later there. How are the kids?” Eric said to his wife.
“Kids are great. Your daughter got an ‘A’ on her American History test, she’s a happy girl. How are your folks doing?”
“Happy and smart she is. They’re doing good. All quiet on the Western Front. They just went to bed. I kept them up late talking way past their bedtime. You know my dad, always up long before the sun.”
Eric didn’t notice Jasper walk into the dining room stopping at the window and looking out. While talking with his wife in the other room a low growl coming from the dog drew his attention. Eric wondered if a snake or something had gotten into the house. It’d happened before.
“Honey, I’ve got to run, Jasper is growling at something in the living room......probably some critter,” Eric said waiting for his wife’s response.
“Honey, are you there?” Eric repeated himself three times before realizing the line had gone dead. Damn it! One downside to living on a ranch in this part of the country. More times than not pack-rats are the cause of the problem. It’d be a short trip to a neighbor’s ranch a few miles away to use their phone to report the problem. A few days after that the phone company would send someone out to fix the problem. He’d deal with it in the morning.
Turning on the lights to the living room Eric saw Jasper motionless facing one of the windows. Looking around and seeing nothing Eric rubbed the top of the dogs’ head.
“Come on buddy, let’s get some sleep. Come on, let’s go.” Eric tugged three times on Japers’ collar. With a continued low growl Jasper turned his attention away from the window and followed his master upstairs.
A little over two hours after Eric drifted off to sleep, the sound of the Jasper standing and growling at the door awakened him. He reached up to turn on the light on the night stand but decided against it. Jasper had never been a dog that barked or growled at any little thing that moved. Something had alerted him. In the dark Eric reached down for his loaded AR-15 on the floor next to the bed. Because of what happened the year before it was common practice for his parents including himself to sleep with a loaded firearm next to the bed. Holding the rifle in his right hand, he swung around putting his feet into the flip flops on the floor. In the dark he made out Jasper’s silhouette.
“Easy boy.” Eric said in a whisper as he gently but firmly pushed the now agitated and growling dog away from the doorway with his knee.
Wednesday 12:48 A.M. Grimm Ranch
Captain Sanchez despised the idea of hurting or killing the senior couple. He didn’t believe they’d anything to do with killing Juan’s nephew Reggie and his two men last year, but that didn’t matter. Juan was convinced that they did. Because of the shipment of Stinger’s, the previous evening, the head of the Magdalena Cartel rationalized that the killing of the ranch couple would teach Americans a lesson. Don’t mess with him and his operation. Yet, on a cold January night here he was following his psychopathic boss’s orders to revenge his nephew’s death, and the stolen missiles. None of this made any sense.
Through his NVG’s Sanchez watched two of his men make their way to the front door. They worked on the lock and then eased it open. Two other of his men were at the back door doing the same thing. Behind the men at the front and back doors were two others ready to follow them in.
12:51 A.M.
Eric opened the bedroom door easing himself into the hallway at the top of the stairs. He felt the distinct touch of cooler air on his face. He smelled the pungent aroma of greasewood and knew it was outside air drifting its way upward. Bringing his AR-15 to his shoulder he peered down the stairs straining to see below and listening. He wrestled with being as quiet as possible but convinced anyone could hear the beating of his heart. Eric thought for a moment that his father or mother were downstairs. He dismissed the idea when looking in the direction of the closed door to their bedroom. Behind him, Jasper on the other side of the door continued to growl and pawed at the door. Something isn’t right!
