Target Deck - 02 Read Online Free PDF Page B

by two cartel members each grabbing him by an arm. Looking down at the ball in his hands, his mind struggled to construct the pattern of the ball. Rather than black and white checkers, there was something else he recognized. Seeing the holes for eyes, nostrils, and a mouth, he dropped the ball. Recoiling in disgust, the two security man held on to him tightly. A human face had been sewn into the ball.
    “Do not fail me Arturo,” the cartel leader's words called after him.

9

    “We have been working him for half an hour,” Sergeant Major Korgan reported to Deckard. “Nothing so far. He is more scared of Jimenez than he is of us and keeps calling him The Beast.”
    “We'll see.”
    The two mercenary leaders weaved between the custom made Iveco assault vehicles. They had all been refueled and shotgun parked, nose facing towards the gate, and ready to move at a moment's notice. Deckard had the trucks constructed for Samruk International months prior. They featured an up-armored cab that sat a driver and passenger, who acted at the vehicle commander. In the back were eight seats that were bolted back to back, four on each side. The passengers in the back sat facing out, ready for enemy contact. A rotating gun turret topped it off with a PKM machine gun in the pintle mount.
    Inside the garage, the prisoner that Nikita had captured was handcuffed to a pipe sticking out of the wall. Two Kazakh soldiers stood guard with the AK-103 rifles at the ready while Pat questioned the prisoner. Standing with his hands on his hips, the former Delta Force commander shook his head.
    “Take over,” he said looking up at Deckard. “I know you are fluent. I got sent to DLI to learn Thai, not Spanish,” Pat complained about the Defense Language Institute.
    “What do we have so far?”
    “I've been asking him about who he knows in town that works for Jimenez. Apparently Jimenez is one bad dude. He has this guy scared out of his mind. He told us all of his own background information but won't divulge anything about the cartel.”
    “Nothing a little sleep deprivation and twenty four hours of questioning can't fix. He'll break.”
    “You know as well as I do that we don't have that kind of time. The clock started ticking the second we hit the ground. The Mexican military will be on its way once word gets back to them in the morning. How much time do you think we have?”
    “A couple days at most.”
    The elite infantry brigades that were still loyal to the Mexican government were fighting a desperate, American sponsored, offensive against the Zeta cartel up North. It would take them time to divert resources and re-deploy. But it wouldn't be long.
    “We need to escalate the level of violence,” Pat said. A veteran of thousands of strike operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, he knew that this wouldn't be like previous campaigns. This was a blitz, and whichever side could react the fastest would be the one walking away from this battle.
    “I've got an idea,” a female voice approached from behind the two mercenaries.
    Samantha pushed them aside and walked into the garage to face the prisoner. She began firing off Spanish at him in stunted machine gun bursts. The prisoner pleaded, his bushy eyebrows turned upward. He was trying the puppy dog routine.
    In one smooth motion, Samantha drew her .357 Magnum and sent it crashing into the side of the prisoner's head, hard enough to draw blood.
    “Where are the drugs?”
    Bringing the heavy pistol barrel down on his forehead, the prisoner yelped, looking towards the two Americans for help.
    “Where are the drugs?” Samantha was screaming in her native language.
    The pistol whipping continued as she brought the gun down on his face repeatedly.
    Deckard was about ready to stop the interrogation. She was getting out of control.
    Then the prisoner started talking about the drugs.

    Cody displayed Google Earth on the projector screen, zooming on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca. The section displayed was