Revenge of the Assassin (Assassin Series 2) Read Free Page B

virtually invisible to radar, and carried twenty-five hundred kilos of pure cocaine, with a street value of seventy-five million dollars, uncut. Once it was adulterated, the precious cargo would bring more like a hundred million. Wholesale cost in Colombia had been a cool six million dollars. The sub had cost seven hundred thousand dollars to fabricate and equip, with the crew costing three million. All told, the trip was a ninety percent profit margin transaction, even after all costs were factored in.
    The loading took four hours of fast movement. By the time the sub was empty, the seas had built to nine footers. The crew of the sub hurriedly placed explosive charges along the fiberglass hull of the craft, and once they were aboard the fishing boat, the captain depressed a transmitter, and the submarine’s waterline ruptured. The men stood on the back of the boat and watched as their conveyance sank beneath the waves, then quickly moved into the pilothouse and down into the ship’s bunk room. After almost two weeks submerged in cramped conditions they were ready for showers and drinking. It was the kind of trip you only made once or twice in a lifetime, and then you were done.
    Mario checked the radar and noted that there were no other ships within twenty miles. With a grunt, he spun the wheel and pointed the struggling bow north, on a course that would get them closer to the less turbid shore within a few hours – if their luck held out. From there they’d be two days to Mazatlán, maybe three, where their cargo would be offloaded to other craft for the trip up the Sea of Cortez.
     
    Commander Villanuevo watched the blip on his radar screen with interest. It had remained stationary for a full day, and now was moving in their direction at a snail’s pace. By his calculations, they’d be within striking distance in five hours at the current course, assuming that the Durango-class offshore patrol vessel Villanuevo captained stayed immobile.
    That wasn’t the plan. His ship could easily hold twenty knots in any sea conditions, which would put them alongside El Cabrito in a little over three hours. Villanuevo barked a series of terse orders to his second in command and advised him to ready the men. They’d move on the boat at flat-out speed and call in the helicopter when the patrol boat was twenty miles away so the fishing boat didn’t have time to jettison its cargo or prepare in any way.
    A team of ten marines were standing by at the military base outside Manzanillo, ready to board the chopper and move on El Cabrito . It could reach them in a little over two hours, which would work out perfectly. Villanuevo radioed the coordinates of the ship and told the assault team to scramble the helicopter. It would be airborne within half an hour and in a holding pattern over the destroyer by six a.m.. Once they were ready, he’d send the team in, and within a few minutes the little shrimper wouldn’t know what had hit it.
    Villanuevo gave the signal and the patrol boat surged forward, impervious to the chop as it cut through the waves. At two hundred forty feet, with a crew of fifty-five and another twenty marines below decks, there were few vessels that could outrun or outfight the ARM Sonora . By his calculations, they could be boarding their target by seven a.m., with the mission hopefully concluded shortly thereafter.
    They’d received the tip on the drug shipment a week before, with surprisingly detailed information. If it was even close to correct, this would be one of the biggest seizures in his career, and a major blow to the Sinaloa cartel, which was the purported trafficker of this particular load. The new administration wanted to send a message to the Mexican people that it wasn’t going to be business as usual, and this interception would be critical in establishing the tone of the next six years in office. Of course, the information had likely come from a competitive cartel looking to cause maximum discomfort