Target Deck - 02 Read Online Free PDF

summit of a jungle mountain was an aging, decrepit church. The glass windows were shattered, green foliage sprouting from the sediment that collected on the roof tops. The holy site remained in a state of disrepair, cast aside for new ventures. As the Jimenez cartel grew they bought up large swath of land in Oaxaca, in other cases they just moved in and claimed it for themselves.
    The church was just a relic from a bygone time, the rest of the compound was built upon and ancient fortress built by the Spaniards during the colonial years, all surrounded by high walls and gun towers. The location itself was unique, the steep cliffs and rough jungle terrain on all four sides of the compound made it nearly impenetrable.
    Still, it was the sight of the church on the way in that had initiated the churning in Arturo Carranza's stomach. Reaching into the pocket of his slacks he produced a white handkerchief, making sure to blot the sweat from his hands before the cartel leader acknowledged his presence. Arturo did his work and did it well, but not of his own accord, not in Oaxaca, and not with permission.
    “Arturo,” Jimenez beamed from across the emerald green field. “You grace us with your presence.”
    Wiping down his palms, he shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket.
    “At your request, sir.”
    Even at one in the morning.
    The goalie batted the ball back to the cartel leader who caught it with the insole of his soccer cleat.
    “And I have,” he responded. “I take it you've heard about Ortega.”
    “It wasn't federales ,” Arturo croaked in his defense.
    Arturo was young, ambitious, and highly educated in American and European universities. His skin was just as white as that of his former class mates in The London School of Economics. He was a member of one of Mexico's elite families. Jimenez of course, was not. He came to power by seizing it from others. Arturo was born into it. Young, ambitious, and scared shitless by the man that both rivals and allies called The Beast.
    “Then who?”
    Jimenez wound up, swatting the ball down the field. The security man guarding the goal made a halfhearted attempt, lunging for the ball and missing. He knew well enough to let his boss win.
    “I've established contact with my agents,” Arturo swallowed. “They will be reporting in shortly.”
    “I sent a couple squads of assaulters to intercept them at the police station when I found out that they had rolled into town. My town.”
    The goalie held the ball in both hands over his head, tossing it back to Jimenez. It made contact with the ground and bounced towards him.
    “Gringos,” the cartel leader said, his foot stomping down on the ball to stop it. “Some of our informants in the area saw gringos in military trucks.”
    Arturo was supposed to provide any and all early warnings to the cartel in the event of Mexican military incursions.
    “Luckily, they were not like the Mexican military vehicles,” he continued.
    The Mexican intelligence agent breathed a sigh of relief. He was off the hook, if only for the moment.
    “So it seems I know something you do not. Something that you of all people, whose business it is to know, should already know for yourself.”
    Jimenez circled around the soccer ball until he was facing his pet intelligence operative. It was the eyes that scared Arturo. Those crazy eyes. They were the eyes of a man who had butchered his way to the top. He would have made the Aztecs proud.
    “ Mercenarios . That is what I think,” he said nodding to himself. “They cleaned out two squads just back from their training in Guatemala. Find out who they are Arturo. I want names. I want to know who they are and where their families sleep at night.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Taking a step back, Jimenez launched the ball at Arturo. As it rocketed into his chest, he caught it with both hands.
    “My men will make you comfortable in their quarters until those calls of yours begin to come in.”
    Suddenly, he was flanked