Stealing Valeria

There have always been corrupt politicians in any government, but the drug cartels have brought corruption to a new level with both vast amounts of money and also with the real threat of murder.

The result in any area they control is an extremely high murder rate. The local police force will investigate and sometimes the investigation will turn up a body or two, but that's where the actual investigation stops. The local police may keep the case on their desk and they may keep talking to people, but that's just an act designed to make people think they are actively seeking the killer or killers. In reality, the cartel has paid or threatened someone in the local police department not to find the killers.

Occasionally, some low level cartel member is arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to prison. Normally this is because a rival cartel paid to have this done in order to send a message. That cartel member will then become part of the second way the cartels have control. Cartel members control the prisons in any area where they likewise control the local government.

What this means is the prison guards do what the controlling cartel tells them to do. If you belong to the controlling cartel, your life in prison will be not all that much different from life on the outside. You'll have good food, color TV, and about anything else you want to include alcohol, drugs, and women. If you're high enough in the cartel organization, you can even leave the prison to conduct business during the day and then return to the safety of your cell for the evening.

If you're in the wrong cartel, your life in prison will either be that of a slave or you'll be killed. If you're a woman and end up in such a prison, you probably won't be killed, but you'll wish for that to happen. In these prisons, female inmates are often housed with male inmates and women are expected to do all the work for the men. That includes certain services only a woman can provide, and rapes and pregnant female inmates are common. So are the children of these women as they stay with their mothers after they are born. When the child reaches the age of six, they're taken from their mothers and placed in privately owned shelters.

That's why I was beside a highway about a kilometer from one of these prisons. I was waiting on the police car that was transporting Valeria Rosales to the prison. My intent was to capture her from the police and to take her from there to the United States. The reason was the men in police uniforms were, in actuality, cartel members posing as police. They were sort of guarding her until she was safely in the prison they controlled. It isn't unusual for someone sentenced to prison to simply disappear on the way.

When I took Valeria back, I wasn't going to cross the border at any formal checkpoint. That would have been impossible because she wouldn't have any identification, let alone a US Passport. I was going to play coyote and slip her across. No one except me would ever know how she'd escaped and where she went.

}|{

It's a story that I only knew part of and what I did know wasn't much. Suffice it to say that I received a file containing all the information as a download from "the cloud" and was the backup info for my assignment. It was there when I signed on at 10:00 one night. That's how I got all my assignments although given how I ended up in this situation, I'm not sure the "cloud" with my assignments is the same cloud everyone is currently engaged in using as their long term data storage.

As for why I was trying to rescue Valeria, it is my assumption the DEA wanted her for what she knew. I didn't really know the real reason because I never get a reason for my assignments. This assignment just had the instructions to remove Valeria from police custody before she reached the prison and to transport her to a certain location in Brownsville, Texas. Once she was there, I was to text a phone number with the words, "The roses are beautiful". As with all my past assignments, the statement "by any means necessary" was part of the instructions for the assignment.

}|{

By now, you're assuming I work for the CIA or some other alphabet organization in the US government, but you'd be wrong. My organization does not have an acronym. In fact, my organization doesn't exist in any official or unofficial written records as far as I can tell because it's not part of the US government.

I have met only one other person who I assume was part of my organization, but I'm not even sure about that. It happened when I was still a member of the US Fifth Special Forces at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. My Captain had orders for me to report to a location on one of the firing ranges at such and such a time on such and such a date. I was to dress in civilian clothes and I would be driven to that location by a driver who would meet me at the museum on post. My Captain didn't understand the order and neither did I, but like he said, orders are orders.

The driver arrived in a black Ford SUV with blacked out windows and Arizona plates but he didn't get out. He just stopped and the right rear door opened by itself. When I got inside the SUV, there was a partition between the rear seat and the front seat, so I couldn't see the driver. The door then closed by itself and the SUV began moving.

When I got to the firing range, there was one other vehicle there, another black Ford SUV with blacked out windows and Ohio license plates. As soon as I stepped out of my vehicle, my driver drove away and left me standing there by myself. When that SUV turned onto the road back to the main base, the door of the other SUV opened and a man got out. He smiled as he approached me, and when he was close enough, he offered me his hand.

"Good afternoon, Staff Sergeant Wilson. You probably have a lot of questions for me, questions I unfortunately can't answer completely. I can answer your first question though. The reason for this meeting is I am going to offer you a job.

"Your military history as well as your history before you entered the military are what caused us to select you. We believe you would be a great asset to our organization and to your country should you accept my proposal.

"If you decline, there will be no repercussions. You will simply continue in the role you now play until you decide what to do with the rest of your life. Are you willing to continue our conversation?"

Well, I'd been seriously thinking about getting out of the military. I liked the challenge of Special Forces, but after several tours in war zones, I was ready to take a rest. That's what I told the man, but he waved his hand.

"Our organization is rather unique in that it is not a part of the US Government. We are an organization that contracts for certain tasks that can't be accomplished by official departments employing normal means.

"Our organization does not deploy our members to battle zones. The US military has those places well under control. Our missions are, shall we say, of a less publicized nature in locations that the US does not want to admit to having a presence of any kind. You will work alone, so the only person you will have to depend upon is yourself. Our information about you indicates you would do well in such a situation."

He hadn't told me enough that I was ready to say I'd be interested, but he had told me enough that I was intrigued. I asked him what kind of missions I'd be involved in, and he shook his head.

"I can't tell you that, Staff Sergeant Wilson, because I don't yet know to which missions you will be assigned. All I can tell you is you'll be doing your country a service no other organization can provide and that each mission will be rewarding in its own right. Of course there are other rewards as well. Your salary would be a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, and our organization will provide you with anything and everything you need when executing a mission."

I admit that the money influenced my decision. I'd done some checking about pay in the private sector, and the best I could probably do was a third of what the man was offering. In reality, I'd probably have to settle for a fourth and then work my way up to a third. If this guy wanted somebody with Special Forces skills, it probably wouldn't be any worse than staying in the Army. It would just pay a lot better.

I asked the man how long I'd have to sign up for and he smiled.

"There is no written contract involved Staff Sergeant Wilson, only the oral agreement I hope to make with you today. If you agree to join our organization you do so of your own free will and are free to leave at any time, just as our organization is free to terminate your employment at any time. I would add that refusal to take an assignment would indicate your resignation and our decision to terminate your employment. Success of failure of a mission will be equally accepted. Because of the nature of the assignments, we expect some to be accomplished and some to fail. You will be paid in either case."

When I said I still had six months until my enlistment was up, the man smiled.

"Should you accept my offer today, your military records will be revised to indicate your enlistment has ended and you will receive an honorable discharge with all the benefits that discharge confers."

I was twenty-five at the time and tired of hauling my ass all over the world to places where people hated Americans. I was also tired of the Army transitioning the Special Forces into more observers than fighters. I had joined the Army and then Special Forces to fight the enemies of the US, not just spy on them.

"So, I can quit at any time?"

The man nodded.

"All you have to do is refuse an assignment and our agreement becomes null and void."

"What do I have to do next?"

He didn't say anything else. He just got back in his SUV and drove off and left me standing there. I started walking back to the main base, but about five minutes later, that same black Ford SUV that had taken me to the firing range pulled up beside me and the rear seat door opened. A half-hour later I was back in the parking lot where I'd parked my car.

}|{

The next morning after formation, the Captain said he wanted to see me in his office. When I walked in, he returned my salute and then frowned.

"Steve, apparently the Army made a mistake about your ETS date and have fixed it. As of today, you're a civilian. Your discharge papers and travel orders were on my desk when I came in. I thought you had about six more months to go."

I said I thought so too. He handed me a folder then.

"I don't understand it, but I called the General's office and the discharge and orders are legit. Your orders are to proceed to your home of record and there's a check in the folder that will cover your travel expenses. It's been nice working with you, Sergeant Wilson. Best of luck in whatever you decide to do in the future."

Well, all I'd told the guy at the range was I was interested. Apparently he took that as an agreement to join his organization, whatever that organization was. Also, apparently that organization had the power to do some things within the US Government that aren't supposed to happen, like giving me an honorable discharge six months before my enlistment was supposed to end.

My home of record was in Illinois but I was living in an apartment off base and had no intentions of leaving the area when I was discharged. I decided not to tempt myself with the travel expense check. I opened a second savings account and deposited the money there. That way, if the Army decided they'd made a mistake and wanted their money back, I'd have it. After I did that, all I could do was wait for some sort of contact that would tell me what I'd gotten myself into.

}|{

The guy hadn't told me anything about how that contact would happen. I had no idea about how I was to get assignments or how I'd be paid or anything else. The next day, one of those questions was answered by the Post Office. Well, it looked like the Post Office anyway.

My mail was always delivered at about two in the afternoon, but that morning there was a knock on my door at ten. When I answered it, there was a young woman in a Post Office uniform standing there holding a box. The regular guy was a man about fifty, so I'd wondered if she might be the contact I'd been waiting for.

She handed me the box and then her little hand-held computer thing and told me to sign in the window on the front. Once I had, she said for me to have a good day, turned and got back into her little Post Office van, and drove away.

She obviously wasn't my contact, but I hadn't ordered anything so maybe there was something in the box that could tell me something.

When I opened it, it was an HP laptop computer. The instruction sheet for "Fast Setup" said I should turn it on and wait for it to boot. When I did, it didn't act like any computer I'd ever had before. I'd bought two over the years and both had wanted me to pick a computer name and a password, and once I'd done that, there was some sort of form I could fill out to complete my profile.

With this one, it took longer to boot up, but when it finished, I got a screen that said, "Welcome, Stephen. Your password has been set to your rank abbreviation, Ssgt, your last name, and the number 9613, all one word with the first letter capitalized. Type your password now."

I assumed they'd gotten my first name from the Army, because I never used it for anything but Army paperwork. I went by Steve.

When I typed in "Ssgtwilson9613", a window popped on the screen that said, "You will access our special site by clicking on the Pinehold icon on the desktop. You should log into this site every night at ten PM by using the same password. I see you have an available wi-fi connection and it has been automatically connected. See you tonight."

After that, the window disappeared and the laptop seemed to be like the other laptop on my desk. I could browse the web, do spreadsheets in Excel and write documents in Word. There were also the normal bunch of games that seem to be included with any computer.

That night at ten, I booted up the laptop, found the icon for Pinehold on the desktop and clicked it. Everything went blank for almost a minute, and then a really odd looking screen was displayed. It was just a little box in the middle of a blank screen and there was a flashing red square with a question mark right in the center. When I clicked on that question mark, another little window popped up asking for my password. I typed in Ssgtwilson9613, and that window was replaced by a full-screen window. A second later, text appeared in that window. When I read the text, I decided that was the method the organization would use to contact me. There wasn't much there, but what was there was short and to the point.

"Welcome to the project titled, "Alternative Field Crops For Emerging Nations. Check back at ten PM local time every day for any updates.

"Your next paycheck for the sum of twelve thousand five hundred US dollars less the deductions for Federal, State, and local taxes, Social Security, and Medicare will be posted to your bank account ending in 4572 on the twenty-third of the month.

"Pending assignments - none.

"This window will automatically close thirty seconds from now."

I waited until the window closed, and when it did the screen went blank for a few seconds and then displayed the standard Windows desktop, this time without the Pinehold icon. I tried typing in the url for Pinehold and several other variations, but only got the standard "Site not found" error screen.

So, all that told me was I was paid by some fictitious project and that someone had modified the operating system of the laptop. It also told me that this organization apparently had the capability to do a lot of things that weren't supposed to happen. I'd never given anyone my bank account number except the US Army and I only gave it to the Army because I was paid by direct deposit. That information was supposed to be classified, yet they'd gotten it.

It was two days later that I got more information in the form of an assignment. I got the same welcome screen, but this time there was a question mark icon following "Pending assignments". I clicked on the icon and a second later my screen was filled with text describing my assignment and some information about the subject of the assignment and the location where I could find him.

}|{

The individual in question was an American who had worked as an investment broker for Yuma Holdings in Yuma, Arizona. My assignment was to find him and get him over the Mexican border to El Galfo de Santa Clara, a small town about three hours from Yuma. Once I had him there, I was to text "my wife just had a son" to a certain phone number.

That assignment seemed strange. The guy was in the US, but I was taking him to Mexico. When I'd initially thought about what kind of operations my Special Forces background made me suitable for, my thoughts were that I'd be gathering intel on things happening in countries that were antagonistic to the US. Maybe I'd be sent to the Middle East to locate some terrorist so he could be taken out by a drone strike. It never crossed my mind that I'd basically be kidnapping an American citizen and then taking him to Mexico.

It wasn't until I read the background information on the guy that I thought I understood.

The DEA and the IRS had been trying to track money going from the US to the Mexican cartel known as Jalisco Nueva Generación, also know as CJNG, and had discovered some interesting things. There was a private investor in The Cayman Islands who seemed to regularly invest a lot of money in Yuma Holdings, an investment company in Yuma, Arizona. Yuma Holdings then invested the money in various Mexican restaurants throughout the Southwest.

The thing that started the investigation was that Yuma Holdings had filed for bankruptcy. The company had lent millions to many small, Mexican restaurants over the years, and those Mexican restaurants couldn't seem to ever make enough money to pay back the loans.

Yuma Holdings would try to recoup the loan, but the restaurant would just declare bankruptcy and cease to exist. The building was always leased and when Yuma Holdings inspected the property, there was nothing in the building. Apparently the restaurant owner had sold off any equipment before declaring bankruptcy.

The average life of one of those restaurants was about a year. That had happened so often that Yuma Holdings had declared bankruptcy as well. The investment broker I was looking for had walked away with about ten million in a severance package that he used to start another investment company.

What the DEA and IRS thought was happening was that Yuma Holdings was actually a shell company owned by CJNG as were the Mexican restaurants Yuma Holdings financed. Once Yuma Holdings had transferred the money to the restaurant, that money went back to CJNG in the form of "clean" cash that couldn't be traced to their cartel operations.

When the restaurants and Yuma Holdings went bankrupt, all the records of all money transfers disappeared so there was no way to trace the path of the money. What the DEA and IRS figured was that the investment broker was starting the whole process over again.

They couldn't touch the guy in The Cayman Islands. They could do something about the investment broker if they could prove their theory, but with no records, that was going to be next to impossible.

I understood all that, but I didn't understand why they wanted him in Mexico. He had to be collecting a small fortune for his trouble and he probably spent a lot of that money. He drove a new Mercedes-AMG E 63I that had a MSRP of over a hundred grand and his house in Yuma had to be worth at least a million. I thought they'd have used the RICO Act and arrested and tried him income tax evasion just like they had Al Capone. As the guy at the Fort Campbell firing range had said though, it wasn't up to me to question the why. It was just up to me to finish the mission.