Drug Lords
1 Assignment
The kids were now all out of college.
Ella and family were established in Georgia.
Matt was a programmer.
Sean was now established in California and had a partner.
Lesley and he missed having them around the house. They visited often but the two of them had more house than he had ever wanted.
Ian had come to accept and enjoy the space. He still thought of it as decadent, but he had become accustomed to it and was relaxed and enjoyed the decadent life that he lived.
He spent a great deal of time in his library office.
Massive bookshelves held hundreds of the classics and many of his own writings. He had stopped collecting books. He had transitioned into what he called the world of his children. He was a computer nerd. His use of the internet and Google had become common.
He still loved to periodically pick out one of the books and sit down to read but the majority of his time was on the keyboard of his computer.
His new iPhone vibrating in his pocket had sent a shiver down his back and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
He knew the message was no coincidence. As he watched the CNN news cast about the beheading of the policemen in Mexico, the news caster had called for someone to resolve the terrorism going on in Mexico.
He knew these words were meant for him.
“Call” was the text on his personal iPhone that had come up right after the news cast.
He knew immediately this would be an assignment that he would not want. He also knew this was not a call to be made from his personal phone.
He thought back to two previous calls.
One had sent him into the heart of Russia to stop or delay the development of an intelligent missile system.
The other call had sent him to the Gaza Strip to eliminate three terrorists being exchanged for one Israeli soldier.
His job was to solve problems that could not be addressed in a politically correct manner.
His targets often ceased to exist.
He usually received his assignments directly from a news broadcast when the announcer asked, “Who can lead us to a solution to this problem?” or some other similar phrase. Such a statement would cause him to replay that segment of the news multiple times.
Usually, he was on his own to respond. He seldom got any directions from his handler. He seemed to correctly respond to most of the calls. He knew this because his bank account always received an appropriate influx.
He sat down in the thickly padded desk chair and opened the bottom left desk drawer of his desk. At the very back was a combination lock box. He pulled it out and placed it in front of him. He keyed in the five digits on the touch lock, lifted the box lid and took out the phone. It was the older phone version that did not have a GPS module. It had only one number stored in its memory. Ian pushed the dial button.
He knew he was a problem-solving junkie. He loved to pit himself against the “bad” guy. He had survived for more than thirty years at a calling that normally meant a short life. He was alive because of his low key, almost invisible way of solving these special problems. When he was in the field his senses were at their height.
He could smell and taste trouble.
His premonition for trouble was mind blowing.
Several times he had gone from plan a to plan b to plan c as the action unfolded. He had always wondered what would happen when he ran out of plans.
He swiveled in his chair and looked out the windows directly at the tennis courts. It was dimly lit by one of the security lights that was on the far side.
He could faintly hear the water fall from the hot tub to the pool on the other side of the family room as he put in the ear buds and then plugged them into the phone. His mouth was dry, and he wished he had his normal tall twenty-ounce thermal mug of Pellegrino and ice.
He hesitated a moment, let his mind relax and then made the phone call.
The silence just before the phone began to Bing, Bing, Bing as it connected was disconcerting. He always imagined this as a call to hell and the person answering it as the devil himself.
Only Lesley was aware of this alternate world he lived in. The rest of his family did not have a clue. He had to fight the overwhelming urge to hang up. He did not want to get into a long, protracted assignment. He was ready to retire from the role of being the on-call problem-solver.
This was not a movie.
There would be no flash of light to erase his memories.
His memories were clear.
His life was the yin and yang, of good and evil, of dark and light.
He had willingly participated in both worlds.
Ian thought again of the two lives he lived.
They were polar opposites and in both-worlds he was the problem-solver.
“It’s been a long time,” said a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“Not long enough,” Ian replied as he thought about his last assignment that had taken him into the Heart of Russia.
“This assignment will be tough and perhaps long. We have arranged for a leave of absence from your company. We will provide all the help that you ask for. Your account will cover whatever you need.”
He thought about his bottomless million-dollar offshore account. On one assignment he had purchased a multi-million-dollar yacht with no questions asked. The yacht had ended up somewhere in the government system.
“Your assignment is to take out the top leader of every drug cartel in Mexico.”
"You have got to be crazy. Me and what army,” he snapped back?
He was holding onto the edge of his desk as he experienced the world turning black. He was seeing everything in front of him through a tiny white hole that was slowly growing smaller.
He was about to pass out.
He took several deep breaths and slowly the lights came back on. He had a metallic taste in his mouth, and he felt cold all over.
“We know this is a tough one and we have assembled the strongest and best support team you can possibly want. We have also made arrangements to get you included in several key organizations that will give you ample cover.”
He remained silent. Backup team! Ample cover! Who the hell did they think he was?
“Great to talk with you, Good Luck, and may the force be with you,” the voice on the other end said in a formal manner.
Then the phone went dead.
He looked at the silent phone in his hand.
Who the hell do they think I am, superman?
He slowly put the phone into the box, locked it and put it in the back of the desk drawer.
He got up and slowly walked to the kitchen where he knew he would find a cup of coffee.
He knew that he would accept the challenge. There was some part of him that loved to pit himself against the bad guy. This assignment would be the ultimate challenge.
He wondered whether this would be his “swan song.” He hoped not, he had visions of sitting in front of his fireplace with Leslie snuggling next to him reading.
His mind was already kicking into high gear. He could feel his heart beating a little faster and he could smell the leather of his chair as his sense of smell sharpened.
He thought that he could taste the mountain air in the coffee he was drinking.
This primordial reaction to a challenge that would involve eliminating his opponent always came as a surprise. His energy level immediately hit a new high and he knew it would stay high until the letdown that always came at the end of an assignment.
“Do any of these supporting team members have names,” Ian had inquired?
“No and you know better than to ask. So, I take it that you have accepted and are ready to go,” the devil’s voice had responded.
“You knew the answer before I returned your called,” Ian had replied.
He knew he would need a workplace outside of his home to prepare for this assignment. In his mind there would be at least six to eight months of research and planning.
He went online to find office space that would be close to home but secluded enough that he would not be noticed.
His search took him to a twelve hundred square foot, second floor office area with windows around three sides of the room. The windows were modern, triple layered gas filled. The floor space was for an open office layout.
He laughed as he thought about the open office layout aspect. There would be no one else but he and his computer in the office.
But it seemed to be what he needed.
He called the listing realtor and made an appointment to meet him at the location and walk the office space.
The tree lined parking area, the well-kept green area, and the office space itself made for a very comfortable work arrangement. After the walk through, Ian bargained with the realtor on the length and the price of the lease. He got eggshell colored, simulated wood vertical hanging blinds for the windows thrown in as part of the contract.
He would have had the blinds put in anyway, but he wanted the realtor to feel as if he was doing his job and that the customer was truly trying to get the best deal possible.
Three days later, he carried in seven flip charts and easel stands. The four-by-eight-foot walnut desk and large black leather office chair was scheduled for delivery between twelve and two. He had also ordered several office tables and half a dozen chairs.
He would pick up his Dell 36-inch, 128 TB hard drive, computer and monitor at the store after the desk arrived. It was an all-in-one computer where the monitor and the computer was one unit. This would be the computer to search the internet and to research his intended targets.
Ian walked around the perimeter of the office as he thought about how to lay out his meager office furniture.
He was on his second walk and about ready to put up his easels when he realized his thinking was antiquated.
He had envisioned using the seven easels as the media to organize the information and to display the plans for the interaction with each of the drug cartels.
He realized he was thinking in yesterday’s terms. He realized that he should be setting up a separate computer systems for each cartel.
His personal goal was to survive this problem-solving assignment.
To do so he would need to be at the top of his game.
He scolded himself and told himself he had better sharpen his thinking and shape up fast.
He could not be a fossil he needed to leverage all the latest technology.
He immediately called the store where he had bought the Dell and asked for seven similar but lower end computers. The store clerk said he had just what he needed. They would all be all-in-one computers and he would send them along with the one that was already scheduled to be delivered, and everything would be put on one bill.
He interpreted the enthusiasm in the clerk’s voice ensured that he would get what was needed.
All the equipment arrived as scheduled. He had the deliverers put the computers on the tables he had set up around the room. Afterwards he set everything up and made sure everything worked.
He knew he had to create the connection from each cartel focused computer to a central control computer.
He called his on-line support group and asked them to guide him in setting up an in-office network.
With step-by-step guidance, he was able to set up the network in one afternoon. The internal network was not online. Only his main computer would connect to the global internet, and the main computer would not connect to his internal network. His internal network would be totally isolated.
Seven-thirty the next morning, he parked his ten-year-old, dark green sedan with a black leather interior that his Leslie made him park immediately in the garage and close the door when he arrived home.
This was one item he had refused to upgrade. He always bought used cars and refused to drive any of the luxury cars that were par for his neighborhood.
It was one thing to have lucked out in buying the grand palace they called home, but it was another to compete with the neighbors to see who could drive the most expensive car to show who had the most money.
Bullshit! was what went through his mind each time he attended a neighborhood party and listened to the conversations of condescending, haughty, pompous attitudes of superior mental midgets with their hand waving and the rolling of eyes as various groups gathered to impress each other.
The office building was one of several in the industrial park. All seemed to be duplicates of each other and had a row of evergreen bushes around their perimeter.
The gold number printed in the horizontal glass across the top of the doors to his office building provided the only means of telling the difference between the other six buildings in the complex.
Maple trees were the dominant species surrounding each parking area. Two rows of six-inch diameter trees ran lengthwise across each lot.
Except at high noon the parking areas were always shaded. His parking area, specifically meant to be for his building, usually had one car parked in it. He was the only current renter of floor space in his building. He had the entire floor, but he was the only person working there.
He, carrying his light brown leather briefcase that featured a flap buckled on one side, walked slowly toward the office. He pressed his key-fob and listened for the beep of the car horn letting him know that it was locked.
“Stupid habit” went through his mind. There was nothing in the car worth stealing, he thought as he looked up through the heavily leaved branches of the maples to a clear blue morning sky.
His family had no clue as to where his current work location was. Long ago he had given up having a landline office phone. All calls, whether business or personal, came to the same phone. He had made sure to turn off his GPS and turned off the sharing location feature.
It was time to get started on the overall plan for this assignment. After that he would begin the research into each individual cartel.
The parking lot ended about one hundred feet from the building’s double doors. He stepped up from the black top surface to the worn, heavily pebbled cement walk that was obviously sealed in some plastic sealer. The pebbles were preventing an otherwise deteriorating surface from getting any worse. The sealer gave the walk an old nostalgic look.
The newly planted yellow and gold marigold flowers edging the sidewalk on the building side provided an elegant touch to an otherwise plain office area. He looked down past the two additional buildings in this section of the park and was pleased with the harmony the flowers, trees and bushes provided.
“Damn,” he exclaimed as the right-hand door remained closed when he tried pulling it open. The left-hand door responded easily to his pull.
It seemed to him that every double glass door always had one side locked. Why have two doors if one was always locked? He would need to post a big arrow on the locked door pointing to the open one to remind him which side to use.
He noted that the bottom floor of the building was currently empty. He hoped it would remain that way.
The six-foot-wide, grey, and black granite step slabs held in place by a black steel frame went up the left side of the entrance. Halfway up, the stairs made a ninety degree turn and continued to the second floor. The second-floor landing area and the hallway leading back to the Men’s and Ladies restroom matched the granite of the steps.
It was clear that these buildings had been upscale offices at one time. They were still in good condition and well kept. Businesses had moved out as the business expansion had moved from an eastward expansion to a southward one that made its way to the Airport.
Once at the top of the stairs Ian’s office area was immediately to the right. He put the key fob up to the lock and heard the opening click.
The doorknob turned effortlessly, and he stepped in and closed and locked the door behind him.
On the far end of the office area, was a dark walnut desk that faced the entrance. It had a very large computer screen standing on it. This was his search, find and research center.
About ten feet in front of it was a duplicate desk that was the command center for the internal computer network. In front of that desk, fanned out across the room in a semi-circle, were tables with another set of computers with their screens all facing the center.
This lay out took up half of the office floor space. The back area was what he considered the work area. He had no people but a boat load of technology. He thought of the semi-circle of computers as his technological employees.
These were employees that got no salary or medical benefits, and could voice no complaints, another words perfect employees.
The first half of the floor was appointed with a large oriental rug, a couch and a large recliner bracketed by two lamps on square walnut stands. This part of the office area looked back toward the two command desks and was clearly a rest and relax area.
In the front left corner of the office, behind the recliner, a refreshment center held a stainless-steel refrigerator, a microwave, a small counter top oven and a coffee or tea maker.
The recliner area was his relaxation and thinking area.
Today he would be focusing on getting an overall plan outlined.
He needed to come up with a plan that contained three key elements: A research element,
The guiding plan, and
Flawless execution detail.
The first was the most critical.
The second essential to returning to his good life.
The third critical to achieving his mission of coming home alive.
He walked slowly across the office area looking for any proof that his support team had come in overnight to fulfill his request to get his office shielded from broadcasting beyond the office walls.
He was worried about two major technical issues. The first concern was the ability for web sites he researched to track him to his computer. The second concern was not to have his internal wireless network broadcasting beyond the perimeter of the office area.
He felt that needed to maintain a high degree of secrecy.
He immediately noticed the vertical silver wire that went down each of the vertical blinds. The wires were connected at the top of the blinds with small delicate silver chains. He walked up close and could see that the entire office area was now behind a grounded metal mesh shield.
He smiled as he took in the hip designer feel it gave his office.
“Well done team,” he thought as he finished walking around the perimeter.
As he approached his main computer, he noticed that the screen was on and had a message clarifying the six-layer computer isolation from the internet. The cookies he was worried about would never reach the shielded level occupied by his computer.
“Well done again,” he thought.
Ian sat down and leaned back into his chair.
He pressed start on his computer and the message the team had left disappeared, and his blank screen desktop appeared.
He opened his briefcase and took out a dozen 18 terra bite memory sticks and put them into the top drawer. He put his old cherished brief case to the side of the desk and then pulled up a detailed map of North America on the computer and saved it onto one of the memory sticks.
He pulled out the memory stick and walked around to the desk immediately in front of him, turned on that computer and transferred the map into the master plan folder.
He focused on the US-Mexico border and tried to contemplate how he might approach his problem-solving assignment.
Starting on the Gulf of Mexico at Brownsville, Texas seemed to be as good as any place. He would then proceed westward along the border to San Diego. He knew there were several cartels along the border and then one in Tijuana.
He would continue south down the Pacific coast side around the tip of the California peninsula and back to Mexico City.
He drew the path across the map.
He took it all in and let it flow through his mind.
It seemed to make sense to him.
He immediately felt a sense of relief as he got his first piece of the plan saved onto a file. In the old days, he would have saved the paper flip chart. Saving it to a file did not seem to have the same beefy feel to it but he knew that it was a more flexible way to manage the information.
He now felt ready to begin the investigation of the drug cartels themselves.
He took a time out to get a cup of tea. This was his preferred caffeine source. Just about any tea would do, but Jasmine and Chamomile were his two mainstays but name almost any tea and he would at least have one sealed bag of it. He always used a teaspoon of local honey, that he bought from a former colleague, to sweeten the tea.
From his easy chair he took in the work area in front of him.
He could have located both computers on the same desk, but he wanted a physical reminder and a physical separator to emphasize the split between his research and his planning.
He could not afford even a momentary lapse in the separation of information.
His internal network needed to remain totally isolated. Each of the internal network computers would hold specific information for one of the targeted cartels.
He knew his life depended on his ability to compartmentalize and separate the information that he was generating about each cartel.
Sitting in his break area sipping on his tea served to give him time to think about his next steps.
He eventually would envision, think through in detail and when appropriate act out every action he planned to take. The break area was as important to him as the two research computers and the internal computer network.
He knew the most important computer in the room was the organic one shielded by his thick skull.
As fractured and damaged as his brain might be, it was what had kept him alive through the many problem-solving sessions he had been on.
Even the dark part of his mind that often taunted him cooperated in making sure he remained alive.
It was time to begin his research into the drug cartels and learn about their leaders. This was where deep understanding of the situation was important. He would need to see and understand aspects of the operations of the cartels that others had either missed or ignored.
His approach needed to go beyond the facts and needed to give him the knowledge that would allow him to execute his plan and live to take the next step.
Utilizing the resources he had at hand, he would study each cartel separately and as deeply as he could.
He activated one of his special GPS free phones and called the support number of his team. He put in a request for all drug cartel information available in any US or ally government data bases.
He then went to Google and began traveling the streets of Matamoros and regions controlled by the Gulf Cartel. After spending most of the afternoon understanding the history and the current operation of the Gulf Cartel, the infighting and positioning of the various members of the cartel the futility of the assignment he had taken on became clear.
He would strike a blow to the leadership of the Gulf Cartel, but it was a hydra with multiple heads, and it would most likely just grow another. His strike on this cartel would be noticed but no matter what leader he took out, there would be another one to immediately rise up to take his place.
He stored his notes onto the thumb drive, stood up and walked to the internal network computer in front of him. He stored the information into the first computer. He made a paper tent label from an eight-by-eleven-inch sheet of paper and with a big black marker wrote “Gulf Cartel.” He put the label on the left hand most computer in the arc of computers before him.
He would give each of his electronic lackeys’ appropriate names.
It was time for a break and another cup of tea.
After that each additional cartel would get the same deep scrutiny. He allowed for one week of deep study for each cartel.
He continued with his research and planning. He prepared the entire problem-solving circuit.
Then he envisioned his action at each problem-solving location. As he did this, he made a list of the tools, materials, or weapons he would need.
After reviewing and finalizing the materials he requested his support team to obtain and position the materials in the proximity of where each problem-solving session would be.
He walked through multiple scenarios at each problem-solving locality.
He was leaving nothing to chance. He planned for success, but he also tried to imagine what could go wrong and planned for that scenario as well. He wondered what went through the minds of his support team. They certainly must be thinking he was at the edge of falling of the reality cliff.
He concluded a lot could go wrong. He was going in alone against people practiced in the art of eliminating their enemy. It was clear to him that even the Mexican and US governments had stayed clear of a direct confrontation with the various drug cartels.
He had no illusions about the enormous money, power, and influence that the cartels had and that they often flexed their power when confronted by an adversary.
He would be on his own. His success was predicated on his ability to remain a ghost. He would need to remain invisible and move faster than the cartel leaders recognized or figured out the pattern of his problem-solving.
2 Matamoros-The Gulf Cartel
Ian learned that the Gulf Cartel was one of the oldest of the seven major cartels on his list. It had participated in smuggling booze into the US during the Prohibition era. Later it turned to drug smuggling, collecting protection money from businesses, engaged in human transport, and kidnapping. It had solid connections and affiliations throughout the US and Europe.
It was clear to Ian that it was a sophisticated operation. It emulated the big companies on Wall Street. Many of the cartels even had a board of directors.
He thought that was appropriate. They trafficked in drugs and Wall Street trafficked in money.
Some people partook of both.
Both were led by people only interested in grabbing more money.
One had lobbyists working to ensure their money grab looked legal and the other simply ignored the law and did what they wanted.
The Gulf Cartel’s leadership was split between two factions currently working together to control the same territory and to fight off the Los Zetas cartel operating in Nuevo Laredo.
He thoroughly studied both factions and with the help of his nameless support team he had identified a protection collection route that one of the leaders consistently followed. The target Ian selected was not the top leader of the Cartel but was a key member on the Board.
He was the unlucky target.
The location of the top leader was currently a mystery. He solved it but decided that the location made it an even more risky one than he could imagine.
Utilizing Google map street view, he drove the same route, taken by this unlucky leader, multiple times, on his visits to various businesses.
Then he slowly and carefully studied the route and decided on the place where he would solve the problem.
The stucco multicolored buildings on each side, with their iron grated windows and doors presented the dichotomy of the environment. Here lived cheerful, hardworking people fearful of the desperate, the jobless, the hungry and the drug runners.
Here lived people who enjoyed sitting outside of restaurants and coffee shops but who were currently under the control of the drug cartels and under the control of the many corrupt policemen. These were mostly good, god-fearing people wanting to live in peace and raise their children.
But the honest policemen had their heads cut off! Honest people stayed in the shadows and tried to stay out of the eyes of the cartels.
He stopped and studied a place that was called, “The English Coffee Shop.” It featured a rather French like coffee shop layout with white tablecloths over black iron tables with matching black iron chairs. On the sidewalk there were several tables.
A night shot of the street showed the lights coming down from the steel bar covered windows on the second floor affirming them as apartments or homes for the shop owners or renters. This was by all accounts a vibrant neighborhood.
The building opposite the café where the actual explosion would take place presented a clean, red brick wall with no windows. This was a relief to him. His goal was to have no collateral injuries.
After three more examinations of the route, he knew what he would do.
During his research of Matamoros, he saw the ads for a robot fight tournament. He put in an inquiry to his support team to see if he could somehow get on one of the robot fight teams. It would serve as a perfect cover.
A few days later, as he sat at his primary office desk, he got a call on one of his support phones.
“You are now a member of the University of Illinois Fighting Robot Wedge team. You are their last-minute design engineer replacing their “sick” team member, call to get acquainted with the fighting robot team,” was the message.
He dialed the number he had been given and waited for someone to pick-up on the other end.
This is Trip Masters, your fight design engineer, he stated his name as someone answered the phone.
“Great to hear from you Trip. I am Dr. John Newton, but I am called Dr. J by my team. My team and I have been working hard to get to the top for a long time
You better be good.
The team that beat us has a unit almost identical to ours entered in the Matamoros competition.
Our design engineer was tops.
You better be good,” Dr. J finished his long introduction.
“When can you get to Champaign-Urbana to help us finalize our entry,” he asked?
“I can be there in about a day. This seems to be rather close to the competition to be finalizing the designing of your unit,” Ian replied as he realized they wanted some real engineering design work from him and thought he actually had robot design expertise.
Dr. J agreed that the finalizing of the design was very late, but they were worried about what they had heard about the improvements by their competition. The team wanted to reassess their current design.
He let Lesley know that he was going to the University of Illinois for a few days. This was, he told her, in preparation for his upcoming trip.
Lesley smiled and joked that it was good to see him seeking to improve his mind.
He drove to the main U of I campus the next day and put up for the night at a local B&B.
Early the next morning, he parked his rental in an almost empty parking lot and began his walk across the campus.
The chh, chh, chh, of the sprinklers and the cool breeze on his face invaded his wandering thoughts.
The dark aroma of the coffee and the sharp strands of light from the sun peeking over the building at the other end of the campus mall began to penetrate his waking mind.
The mall seemed to have been newly renovated and landscaped. The broad sidewalk was a combination of reddish-brown brick laid out in a herring bone pattern surrounded by a rectangular cement frame. Every square had at least one brick in a center square with the name of the person or family that had donated money to fund the renovation. There was space for new donation bricks to be added.
Young eight-foot-high maple trees with tinted hardy orange mums planted at their base were equally spaced around the mall on both sides of the walk. Most trees had an accompanying plaque dedicating the tree to a loved one.
His mind imagined the day these young trees would create an arch over the walk. He could see the fall yellow, orange, and red colors the trees would display. It was a beautiful mental image for the slightly anemic looking young trees.
The Mall, about the size of three end to end football fields, was highlighted with three, equally spaced, round, rose gardens. These gardens and the thick green grass gave a long-term promise of upcoming elegance.
The first big decision of the morning was whether to go clockwise or counterclockwise to reach the building at the far end. The young black policewoman coming toward him crystalized his choice and he walked slowly toward her.
They both stopped when a biker riding the same path enthusiastically let them know she was coming through.
At that moment, the chirping of the birds replaced the chh, chh, chh of the sprinklers as they stopped and the warmth of the sun penetrated the black tee shirt Ian was wearing.
Morning had arrived in full force.
He took in the fresh spit polished uniform and the confidence displayed by the young policewoman. This was probably her first professional job, and it was clear by her thrown back shoulders and smooth confident walk she was proud of her job.
The aroma that accompanied a slow sip of his coffee prepared him for this first encounter of the day.
“Hi, I’m looking for Dr. John Newton,” he said in greeting.
“Oh, you must mean Dr. J. Are you the new high-powered fight design engineer I heard him talking about at the coffee shop?”
He’s counting on you to make a difference.
The team has come in second in the last two years.
They really want to break that cycle,” she rapidly replied.
Pointing to the building at the far end of the mall, she instructed him to go in the first door, go down into the basement. Turn left and then follow the hall until he got to the first set of double doors.
She told him to knock loudly since the door was key card locked and the folks inside sometimes made an awful racket.
He thanked her and walked leisurely toward the building.
The hallway back to the double doors was dimly lit and had a moldy smell.
He wondered how an award-winning team could be relegated to the conditions he was walking through.
The keycard lock guarded a brushed stainless-steel door. Its clean fresh appearance put it at odds with the darker, more worn surroundings.
It seemed to be the right door, so he knocked.
“Welcome to our private playground,” Dr. J said as he pulled him in and closed the door.
The transition was amazing. He entered a bright laboratory style room with a stainless-steel countertop all the way around the outside walls and three six by six-foot stainless-steel islands at its center.
The room had a high ceiling and there were numerous machine tools, welders, and metal working equipment situated around the room.
On the center table roughly six by six foot in size was what Ian took to be the fighting wedge robot.
“That is the robot and let me introduce the team that thought of it, designed it, built it and took it to many wins,” Dr. J said.
He noticed that Dr. J kept one hand on the robot as if it were a bible as he made the introductions.
“Marty is the electronics genius that designed the control circuits. Samantha is the machine and metal working specialist that cuts, shapes and welds. Henry is the main robot operator. His deft hands and mind have guided our wedge to many victories.
I am the back-up operator. Sam is the team’s logistics and set up support,” Dr. J continued.
“Thanks for filling in for our design engineer. News has it that his father is dying, and he needed to stay with his family.”
“I was told you were the world’s best robot fighter design engineer. How come we haven’t seen you at any of the competitions,” Dr. J inquired?
It was clear to Ian that their design engineer had been offered a significant incentive to have a dying father. He had experienced a similar situation in several previous problem-solving assignments. He knew that in this case, if he were going to lie, it would need to be a big one.
“You haven’t heard of me because I play with robots designed not to compete with other robots but designed to kill anything it is assigned to kill,” he lied with a straight face.
“Let’s study the plans of your fighting robot and list all the fatal weaknesses that we can,” he moved the team immediately into an action that would highlight what they knew were fatal flaws of their design.
He pulled a white board over and opened the black marker pen. He listened and put up the weaknesses the team identified. He kept the list to the left side.
Then he began to ask the questions that each identified flaw caused him to ask.
“You know that if you get turned over, you are in trouble. Why not make both sides operate the same,” was his first suggestion?
“Your current strategy is to outlast the opponent. Why not kill him immediately,” was his next question?
“You count on one of your team members to visually manipulate the robot during battle. Why not give the robot the ability to act and activate its defenses based on the movement and position of its robot opponent,” was his final question?
At first there were some defensive replies. Then the team got into identifying improvements to the new ideas.
It was clear to him why the team did so well in competitions.
One of the team pointed out the limited amount of time before the tournament.
He counter that he understood that it would be a monumental challenge but to continue doing the same would be to have the same results as in previous years.
He asked if they wanted to be the world champions.
“I understand the challenge. I will work with Samantha on building the new shell for the robot. You work on the controls and intelligence. Dr. J can work on the weapons,” he countered.
He looked at the team.
Dr. J. looked back at him then turned to the team and simply said, “Let’s do it.”
He was pleased with himself. He had no clue about robotics, but he knew how to envision and empower teams.
He stepped in toward Dr. J and put out his hand palm down. Dr. J understood immediately and put his hand on top of Ian’s. The rest of the team followed and in unison the whole team shouted loudly, “Let’s do it.”
By Friday after spending twenty hours each day and eating in the lab, testing each item as they went, the team was standing around the large table admiring the new robot.
“Look at this beauty,” Dr. J said as he stroked the low slung, three-inch-thick plain stainless-steel disc. Samantha had polished the shiny stainless-steel alien spacecraft looking robot to almost a mirror finish.
There was nothing to prevent the opponent from turning the disc over. The tactic of lifting and turning the opponent over was a common attack practice.
This robot wanted that to occur.
Once contact with the opponent was made, the robot drove spikes into the opponent and then climbed on to it. If the spikes did not take hold, they retracted and the whole unit allowed itself to be turned over. The other side was exactly the same, so it waited for the opponent to try the turnover attack again.
However, at the peak of the second flip, the side opposite the opponent launched a thin cable to lasso the opponent. If the lasso caught the opponent, the entire robot would pull itself on top of the opponent and ooze out super glue. The units would be bonded, and the robot began its boring and laser cutting.
The boring and laser cutting would create very small holes. Acid was then injected into the opponent and the party was soon over.
“This is diabolical. How did you ever think of all of this,” Dr. J asked as he looked at Ian?
Ian pointed out that he had not suggested any of what was now called nasty and killer ideas. “I only asked questions. You all piled the nasty on,” he said quietly.
“We did in fact do that, but we would never have thought of all of this in one package,” Henry commented.
“What are we going to call this beast,” Samantha asked as she lovingly put her hand on the polished metal surface of the robot.
“Why not Muerte de Norte, Death from the North,” Ian suggested.
“That is a great name,” the rest of the team commented in unison.
“I am going to etch it on the surface of both sides of our robot,” Samantha said as she got out her Dremel tool and put a small grinding fixture in it.
“It’s time for our road trip to Matamoras and victory. Let’s get Muerte de Norte loaded up. We leave tomorrow,” Dr. J declared.
“I need to get a couple of things done before I go. I will meet you at the hotel in Matamoros,” he said as he got up and headed for the door.
He had discovered the University only paid for shared hotel rooms. He needed to have a private room for himself and decided that all of them should have the same status. He asked his support team to call ahead to the hotel and make the arrangements and to rent the best rooms.
He looked back at the stainless-steel door and then turned to walk up the stairs out to the U of I mall. This time he took the right path around and walked slowly through the meager shade of the young maples as he admired the three rose gardens in the middle. The mall had a few students either hurrying to their classes, sitting on the benches, or sitting out directly on the grass.
He wondered how many of them funded the drug lords he was on the way to punish for providing what the customers wanted.
He returned home before beginning his problem-solving journey in Matamoros. Once he left home it would be several months before he would be able to return.
The two days home evaporated quicker than a window spray on a car’s hot glass windshield. He knew his return home would only take as long as a wait in the emergency room when you only had a cold. He knew from experience it would seem longer than he anticipated.
He contacted the support team and gave them instructions on cleaning and emptying the planning office.
Lesley seemed to know that he was on one of his special problem-solving trips. She whispered that she loved him, wished him luck, and told him to be careful.
The sun was halfway on its daily journey across the sky in front of the house and the tree shadows were getting to their smallest stature with clouds seemingly hovering over them like whipped cream on a green tea sundae as he gave Lesley a hug and kiss and walked slowly toward the cab.
The taxi driver was standing with the trunk open, ready for the one blue green medium-sized suitcase he had packed.
Always a light traveler, he never carried more than the one suitcase and his briefcase. Periodically he would choose a slightly larger suitcase for the longer trips or a smaller one for day trips. In this case, he had chosen the medium one because he had prearranged materials and clothes to be strategically located along the entire problem-solving trip.
He felt the surge of energy he always experienced at the beginning of an assignment. The forty-five-minute trip to the airport evaporated in the intense mix of the thoughts and scenarios he played out in his mind. All of his plans were now in his head.
The computer he carried was clean. He knew this because it was fresh out of the box, and he had yet to set it up.
The driver’s announcement of their arrival caught him by surprise. He automatically paid and tipped and proceeded to baggage check in.
Ian was glad to see that there was only a light crowd. He had armed his new identity with the appropriate road warrior miles and a diamond medallion status. He went through security in the express lane and was soon on board the tram to the B concourse.
Starbucks was on the right at the top of the escalator leading up into the concourse. He stopped and bought a double espresso and then poured in a healthy amount of cream. He seldom bought his coffee from Starbucks, but he was now playing the part of a typical businessman. The cup in his hand was symbolic, it was the sign of a seasoned road warrior.
He was dressed in business casual. His carry on was only his briefcase and the Starbucks latte.
He wanted to be seen as the high mileage business jerk who gets the aisle seat and gets to board early and suck up the overhead space.
On this trip he had bought the ticket via the internet, under a fictitious name with a credit card that was closed shortly after paying for the ticket.
He loved watching the folks as they got on the plane.
Every mood possible was displayed.
He especially wondered about those folks who came on looking like sour milk or seemed to exude dislike for all those around them.
Then there were the blissfully happy ones or the ones he would not have wanted to play poker with. He always joked with the kids or the mother’s struggling to control several at one time. He always wondered how mothers were able to remain sane on such travels.
The flight to San Antonio was uneventful. It gave him plenty of time to go over every action he would take on the first trip across the border into Mexico. He felt reassured for the solid cover of the robot tournament. It made him more invisible than he would otherwise have been.
The intense week at the University had truly bonded him with the team. They provided the same emotional lift that the smell of a young puppy gave him. They exuded wonderment and positive feeling about their future. He hoped that they would reach the peak they were aiming for.
Once the plane stopped at the gate, he immediately stood up and got his bag from the overhead. There was a wait, while sequentially each individual got up, reclaimed their bag, and then proceeded down the aisle. He was content to just stand and wait. He hated to sit in the small seats.
Once out of the plane, he walked briskly toward the exit and the cab stand. He took a cab to the downtown San Antonio river walk.
He walked down the steps to the flagstone walk that bordered the most domesticated river he could imagine. It no longer had river banks but was walled in and reminded him of a long flowing swimming pool bound on two sides with cement, brick and stone walls and lined with gardens of flowers and trees.
The completely domesticated river reminded him of a farm boy in a tuxedo at an elite debutante ball in South Georgia. Both made him uncomfortable. Both were totally foreign and out of place.
Standing below the palm trees competing with tall, large live oaks to provide shade from the uncompromising heat of the sun, he looked for a place to have lunch.
He thought about walking over to see the Alamo but decided to hold onto the memory of the time he and his son had made that trip together.
They had come for an American Idol contest tryout.
No luck on the tryout but it was a great father son trip.
He thought of him and knew he was now happily living with his partner in LA and working from home at what seemed to be a good job.
He spotted a sidewalk restaurant with tables in the shade of blue and white stripped canopies. Several blue and red barges carrying passengers along the river went slowly by and provided entertainment while he ate his spinach salad and nursed his iced tea.
He took another cab to John Friendly’s used car lot where “Everyone was welcome and there was a car for everyone.”
There he paid cash for a white Chevy Malibu.
At random, he selected a motel for the night. All he wanted was a clean, non-smoking room. It had been a long week with the robot fight team. A good night’s sleep would be great.
The next morning, he drove to the East Jefferson bus station across the street from The University of Texas at Brownsville. The school’s dark blue sign with large white lettering claimed the distinction of being Texas’s south most college.
He wondered which college in Florida was claiming the to be the US’s southmost college.
He drove around the back of the bus station to long term parking and walked back on a newly constructed brown brick inlayed sidewalk. He was becoming sensitized to the fact that brick sidewalks seemed to be the new fashion.
It was also clear that the station had undergone a total remodeling and sported a mixed brown, red and speckled black brick veneer.
He had seen what he thought were several entrances on the side where the University was located. He took what seemed to be a main side entrance.
He walked in onto a polished black and white terrazzo floor and walked up to a grey granite ticket counter that was just a little lower than chest high.
Looking around, he located a refreshment alcove at the far end and realized what he had initially identified as entrance doors were really bus loading doors.
The fare to Matamoros was a mere seven-fifty.
The dark complexioned, black-haired young lady with almost black eyes asked to see his passport. She provided him with a form that would serve as a tourist visa and asked him to fill it in.
Her perfect American English identified her as a young Latina that had grown up in the US. She was polite, and her smile gave her the beauty she seemed to know she had.
He finished using the counter to fill in his entry paperwork and then looked over to the refreshment stand wondering if he could get a cup of coffee with the change he had received when he paid for his tourist visa.
He took in the mix of people waiting for the bus as he walked slowly across the granite floor and the outline of Texas, and its major cities marked in inlayed brass.
The majority of people appeared to be Latinos. He was definitely in the minority and that concerned him. He hoped the group of young white, laughing and joking, backpacking travelers would be on his bus.
It turned out he needed to add another dollar to get a large cup of coffee. After the first taste, Ian wished it would have tasted as good as the look of the cup. Instead, it tasted more like the paper the cup was made of.
The wait for the bus was exactly a cup of coffee long and he knew he had taken his time to drink it.
Several other buses had come and gone, and it was clear that most of the Latinos were not going to go south across the border but were taking buses to other destinations. The loud group continued their boisterous ways and were clearly having a great time as they made their way to the bus he was taking.
He stood up and dropped his empty cup into the bin at the end of the row of seats. He was carrying a small backpack and nothing more. The suitcase he had left home with was in the trunk of his car in the long-term parking lot. The clothes he needed in Matamoros were to be delivered directly to the Holiday Inn.
The bus driver was loading the luggage, and the ticket agent was now checking to see that everyone had the proper paperwork ready and complete. She gave him a bright smile as he showed her his paperwork and waved him on board.
He sat in back and relaxed as he listened to the chatter of the group up front.
The first stop and check occurred on the US side before the bridge across the Rio Grande. The bus stopped, and two custom officers came on board.
One was a five-foot-five, body builder in appearance, pixie cut, steel grey haired no nonsense looking officer. Her biceps and forearms would have made any guy proud.
He had no doubt that if she were to lift her blouse there would be a ribbed six pack exposed.
She began to check the passports and visas in the front.
Her companion looked like a portly no-nonsense Curly, of the three stooges fame. His hair was cut short, probably done by himself or a cost-conscious wife. He presented a somewhat unfriendly, gloomy look.
He handed him his open passport and visa. He had looked at the name to reinforce his new persona.
The inspector asked him to open his backpack. It was clear to him that Curly had already made up his mind and was only doing a cursory check.
Only about five minutes passed before the bus was once again on its way.
The next stop was on the Mexican side of the border and the border patrol that came on board repeated the check.
It only took another thirty minutes to arrive at the main Matamoros bus station.
There he negotiated briefly with the driver of a white cab with 766 painted on the rear fenders.
The drive down highway 101 took another thirty minutes.
Two pinto palm trees loaded with their small yellow coconut like fruit, bracketed three flag poles.
One was flying the Mexican red, green, and white flag with the eagle and snake in the center, the US flag to its right and the state of Matamoros flag was on the left.
They seemed greeted his arrival to the off white six story tile roofed Holiday Inn.
The convention center, where the robot fight competition would take place was a tan, yellow colored square building the length and breadth of a football field featuring two pinto palms and a canopied entrance, stood to the right side of the hotel.
The cab dropped him off at the entry foyer.
A hotel porter opened the taxi door as he finished paying the cab driver.
“Hola, gracias,” Ian said as he was led into the lobby.
He, dressed in a black short sleeved shirt, steel head grey khaki pants with black oxford shoes, followed the porter outfitted in a black suite, spit polished black shoes and white gloves through the two layers of self-opening sliding doors.
The transition from the dry hot air to the cool of the lobby was refreshing. The bustle of the lobby was quieted by the height of the lobby ceiling and the whir of the rotating overhead fans.
The porter led him to the reception desk where a young lady wearing a blue blouse awaited him.
Ian decided to practice his Spanish by asking about his hotel reservation.
"Hola, mi nombre es Trip Masters. Usted debe tener una reserva para “Muerte de Norte” combatir equipo," he said to the receptionist whose name tag identified her as Angela.
"Hola, señor Masters, tiene la habitación de la esquina en el quinto piso como usted pidió,” she replied.
“I understand that I have the corner room five hundred one as requested. Thanks.
I would love to do this all in Spanish, but you are way past my ordering beer ability,” he joked with her.
“No problem, I am fluent in English,” Angela said with a Texas American accent as she flipped over to her second language.
“Por favor, Dígale al equipo que me llame cuando llegan,” he asked Angela in Spanish. He hoped that he had asked about the arrival of the rest of the team.
“See you do know more Spanish. Sure, I will have them call you when they arrive,” Angela replied with a smile that beamed a brilliant white.
He walked slowly across the lobby toward the two brushed stainless-steel elevators accented by a polished brass waste basket sitting between them and below a wooden framed pair of restaurant advertisements.
He got out on the fifth floor and proceeded to the corner room. He had splurged and rented one of the larger suites.
A four-person steel framed, glass topped table with four white padded chairs around it and a couch, chair and coffee table lay between the entrance door and the wet bar that had three tall white padded stools arranged in front of it.
The bedroom with a connecting bath was through a door to the left of the wet bar.
He closed the door behind him and put his small backpack on the floor and walked toward the wet bar and into the bedroom.
The marble in the bathroom immediately drew him in.
Pink and white marble covered the lower half of the walls and grey and white marble tile was used on the floor.
A wall-to-wall mirror spanned across the top of a marble counter with two pots of paper white flowers between two sinks.
A large Jacuzzi tub with a glass enclosed shower beside it filled the area across from the sinks.
The bathroom was almost as large as the bedroom behind him.
He turned and saw that his suitcase had been placed on a stand at the end of the bed.
He walked across to the suitcase and quickly unpacked. He wanted to get his shorts, gym shoes and tee shirt and do a quick workout in the hotel gym.
The bathroom was calling, and he wanted to enjoy the luxury of standing below the ceiling showerhead featured along with the normal showerhead. He hoped that the overhead shower would put out a heavy stream of water.
Later after returning from the workout, having enjoyed a long hot shower, he stood behind the wet bar counter.
He was surprised to find the two potted six-foot-tall palm trees bracketing the bar were real.
He was impressed to find the bar featured a small refrigerator with two Corona, two Modelo and two Negra Modelo.
There were also various kinds of soft drinks.
A separate wine cooler held a Riesling, a Cabernet Sauvignon, and a White Zinfandel.
His requests had been filled to the T.
He planned to entertain his team in his room.
He was very conscious of and feeling somewhat guilty about the situation he was putting the robot team in.
There was no danger to them, but he was definitely using them.
He had arranged for each member of the team to have separate rooms with a similar layout as his. The charge would go against his problem-solving expenses. He often imagined some secluded accountant trying to make sense of the expenses he submitted. None had ever been questioned and all had been paid.
The jangle of the bone-colored phone at the end of the bar brought Ian immediately back to the present. He had drifted into his problem analysis mode and had been leaning with his weight on his elbows on the bar.
He wondered how long he had been zoned out.
He picked up the phone and could hear the background noise of the hotel lobby.
“Trip,” this is Dr. J. “We just arrived and are checking in. They say we have been upgraded at no cost. This is great.”
“That is good to hear. Once you get settled, why don’t you come up to room 501 and then we can plan where to go for dinner,” he replied.
He already knew the restaurant where he wished to go.
He turned to look at the wine and beer glasses hanging behind him from the ceiling.
It would be interesting to listen to the reaction each of the team members would have about their rooms.
He called the concierge and asked if a cart of appetizers for six people could be arranged.
The concierge rattled off his suggestion of Pulled Pork Taquitos, Enchiladas, Black Bean and Sweet Corn Guacamole dip, Mini Chicken Chimichangas, and Quesadillas and a variety of corn chips.
He listened and then simply agreed.
The knock and the pattern clearly indicated Dr. J would be the person at the door. He walked over and opened it just as the rest of team could be heard down the hall getting off the elevator. Their chatter clearly indicated they were excited.
“I am in 502 across the hall in almost as nice a room as this but it does not have the bar. I can’t believe we got such great rooms.
Is this your doing by any chance,” Dr. J asked as he exaggerated his English accent and peered directly into Ian’s eyes?
“Let’s just say our benefactors were quite happy to upgrade the team,” Ian replied as he waited with the door open for the rest of the team to arrive.
“This is already the best trip I have ever taken, and the tournament hasn’t even begun,” Samantha commented as she entered the room and stopped still, “Wow and I was just commenting that it couldn’t get any better.”
He watched as each team member in turn stopped to absorb the elegance of the room.
“What’s your pleasure wine, beer or a soft drink,” he inquired as the doorbell rang.
“Dr. J would you be so kind as to tend to the bar,” he asked as he walked back to open the door.
He stood aside and watched as the server pushed in a large cart, opened the leaves of the cart, arranged the appetizers, and removed the lids.
“It just keeps getting better,” Samantha reiterated as she stepped up to the appetizer cart and examined the offering.
He listened to the conversation and realized that eating out at the restaurant that he had planned to go in order to walk the area where he would carry out his problem-solving action was not going to happen on this evening.
The team attacked the appetizers with a gusto and a youthful energy he had forgotten.
He recalled several of the more memorable parties when he was a student at Stanford. He especially remembered the one where a beautiful dark-haired young lady with almost black eyes had escorted him to his dorm. He had pursued her until she had said yes to become his wife.
He suggested that rather than go out to eat, the better plan would be to go to the convention hall, check out the arrangements, unload “Muerte de Norte” and secure it in the team’s assigned accommodation.
Then come back and eat in.
The resounding agreement confirmed Ian’s read on the situation.
A half hour later the entire team walked down the hall to the elevator. Angela was still at the desk as Ian walked up and asked whether they needed a key to get into the building where the robot fighting tournament was taking place.
“Sí, el señor Trip, voy a tener el conserje organizar para alguien que te acompañe terminado,” replied with a brilliant smile and a slight nod of her head.
He simply replied, “Gracias.”
He led the team to the middle of the lobby, and they chatted about the coming tournament.
The outside of the hotel was now illuminated in the Holiday Inn green color. The lights at the entrance to the convention hall and the interior ones were all on. They were a day early and it appeared they were the only ones on location.
The facility was literally a football field in size but square. Most of the walls were folded back creating a huge open floor area. An eight-foot-wide half inch thick plate metal track led from what could have been taken as a glass enclosed boxing arena toward an area in the back of the facility. This last area had been divided and each team had a separate area to house their robot and their equipment.
The area opened to five truck dock doors.
He suggested the team bring “Muerte de Norte” in while he finished checking out the rest of the facility. He asked their escort to open up one of the bay doors before going on his own excursion.
He needed to be invisible in his coming and going. He located the surveillance cameras and looked for the blind spots. He repositioned a few cameras to create the blind spots he needed.
The invisible route out and back in was via the men’s restroom. It had an entry from the tournament area and another from the hallway near a side exit door. There was one camera just above the backdoor of the bathroom.
He had a spray that did not blank out the camera but fogged it, so nothing was clear or distinguishable. This could be done from inside the bathroom by reaching out and spraying the camera covering lens.
The team was just finishing unloading and arranging all their equipment when he returned. Together they walked out to the front door where the hotel guide was waiting. The evening had cooled appreciably, and the air felt cool as they walked the short distance back to the hotel.
The younger members of the team were ready to party.
He suggested a quick break to allow each of them to go to their rooms. Afterwards, they could come to his room, and they would order dinner in and celebrate their arrival to the tournament.
The next two days were actually exciting. “Muerte de Norte” seemed unstoppable. It had won against each opponent and had only one more fight to win the tournament. The best part was that it had not yet used all of its arsenal, so it had a few surprises that had yet to be exposed.
The lasso technique had not been used.
“This is just fantastic, and I doubted my friend when he suggested we let you on our team,” Dr. J commented.
Ian wondered who this friend was and how he was connected with his invisible supporters. He knew none of the details about his invisible support.
“Our final fight is scheduled tomorrow evening. We win it and we take home the trophy and the hundred grand prize,” Marty commented.
“What time tomorrow evening,” Ian asked.
He hoped it was not during the same time that the problem solution was to be delivered.
“Our match is set for nine pm. It was originally set for eight-thirty but the whole event has been running thirty minutes to an hour behind. Since they want to televise the final bout, they decided on the nine o’clock time frame,” Samantha shared.
Ian doubted the time change was accidental. It appeared very coordinated with his plans.
During lunch the next day, he checked for the panel truck he expected to see in the parking lot.
The old dull tan van was parked at the end of the lot as he had requested. Its plain drab appearance and middle of the series selection was intentional. He was intent on making it hard for witnesses to remember it.
It was a relief to know that his support team, though invisible to him, was on the job and helping. He could now spend the day watching the robot fighters in the tournament eliminate each other.
The van had been modified to his specifications. An elevator to lower a flat box shaped robot to the ground had been installed. The elevator was remote controlled and worked off the same transmitter as the bomb robot.
The bomb robot was already on the elevator platform and would be lowered when commanded. The robot was a small flat square stainless-steel box. It was equipped with drive wheels and with a scissor jack lift. A high-grade explosive loaded in a cone shape depression would guide the explosion upward and hopefully keep it contained.
Everything was ready.
He had designed, built, and tested everything prior to having it shipped to where it now sat in the parking lot.
He smiled when he compared the design of the two robot units, that he was a part of designing. He had told the truth when he said that he built killer robots.
Activating the explosive charge was the only step remaining. He would do that once he reached the coffee shop.
“It’s great to just be able to watch. Muerte de Norte has been so successful it got all the points to carry it to the finals,” Dr. J. commented when he returned to where the team was sitting.
“I have a quick errand to run but I will be back for our final competition,” he casually commented.
He walked into the restroom behind the refreshment stand. Two young men in jeans and matching green T shirts were commenting on the standings of various teams as they stood at their urinals. He walked casually past them and took the last stall near the back entrance and waited for them to leave.
He opened the rear door of the bathroom and sprayed the lens of the camera mounted on the wall above it.
He then stepped out into the hallway and walked out the back door.
He walked along the back wall of the center and then around to the right toward the front.
When he reached the front corner of the building, he stopped to look up at the position of the surveillance camera scanning the front lot and waited until it was pointed to the other end.
He then walked up to the van and casually got in. The tinted windows would conceal his presence. He took the time to check out his equipment and the robot. He also changed clothes and put on something more appropriate for the coffee house venue.
He started up the van and drove it slowly out of the parking lot. He drove up highway 101 until he reached the street where the coffee shop was located.
He was relieved to find one parking spot three cars behind where he knew the limo carrying the cartel leader would stop.
“Sometimes luck is as important as planning,” Ian thought.
After parking the van as close to the curb as possible and once again verifying that the buildings on his left had no windows in them, he climbed into the back and activated the explosive charge.
A quick check let him know the elevator to lower the robot bomb to the street surface was working.
Everything he could do was now ready.
He opened the back doors of the van and stepped out. He could see no one as he took in the scene above the coffee shop. The lights and the black steel bars on the windows indicated they were occupied residences.
They should be OK.
The mariachi music coming from the coffee shop gave the area a cheerful sound and feel.
He straightened out his tan sports jacket, checked out the polish on his black boots and with a newspaper in hand walked across the street toward the shop.
A young waiter introduced himself as Enrico and asked where Ian would like to sit. His perfect English let Ian know that he had already been classified as one of the tourist gringos on vacation. He hoped this young man did not have too good of a memory.
He took a seat outside next to the wall to the right of the restaurant’s large glass window. The inside of the coffee shop was already half full. The coffee shop would most likely have a good night.
“What can I get for you,” Enrico asked as he cleared the extra place setting.
“Una taza de café y cuernos de azucar por favor,” he asked for coffee and a roll in the best Spanish he could muster.
“Buena elección,” Enrico replied with a large smile and walked into the shop to get the order.
Google Earth is like watching football at home on the big screen. You get a better view, and you get to see replays,” Ian thought as he looked up and down the street as he tried to get oriented.
It was exactly what he expected.
He hoped things would turn out as expected.
He had his back to the wall, a cup of coffee, his sugar-coated crescent, and a newspaper in hand. He relaxed and tried to make sense of his Mexican newspaper.
Not too long afterwards a black Cadillac limo with darkened windows came slowly down the street and pulled into a spot two cars in front of his van that had been blocked by three orange cones.
He thought the fact that one of the leaders of the cartel actually went personally out to periodically talk to his victims spoke volumes about the need for direct feedback to his importance and power.
He had obtained the information on the routes of the bosses via a request to his unnamed supporters. They seemed to have the resources to find anyone anywhere.
Why was he needed?
“Perfect position,” he thought as he looked from the van to the limo.
The black limo had not gone unnoticed.
The music was still playing inside, and he could hear the chatter from inside the coffee shop but the conversation at the outside tables seemed to have stopped.
Each person’s dinner and coffee now seemed to take all of the attention. No one looked at the limo.
He pulled the small control module from his pocket and pushed the start button. He imagined he could hear the elevator in the van lowering the robot bomber. He put on what appeared to be his reading glasses and took a sip of his coffee. His glasses were polarized, and he was able to see the outline of the robot bomber as it slowly made its way under the car in front of the van, toward the limo.
He watched as a man dressed in a sleek black suite and spit polished black shoes stood up from one of the tables, took a sip of his coffee and then walked slowly across the street.
The driver of the limo came around and as he opened the door, the robot bomber raised up just in front of the gas tank and made solid contact with the bottom of the car. The explosion was aimed and would be contained in the back of the car.
“This will be an evening all of the clientele will remember,” he thought as he waited for the businessman to exit the limo.
He took the last bite of his pastry and followed it with the last sip of his coffee.
He was glad he had paid when he had received the order. He put out a generous tip.
“Thank you, senor,” a waitress walking by said as she picked it up.
“Asegúrese de compartir lo hará Enrico,” he said in Spanish so she would think he knew Enrico, who had waited on him and that the tip was for him.
“Si of course senor.”
He was becoming impatient when finally, the driver walked back around and opened the back door and the business owner stepped out and replied to something said from inside the car.
Ian was now at full attention. He hoped the business owner would get across the street before he had to activate the bomb.
Ian watched as the driver of the limo and the businessman seemed to be in a synchronized dance. Each were moving to their designated positions in slow time.
When he heard the slight rise in the engine noise and just as the car was about to move he pushed the fire button.