pull this off and then die outside a perfectly good airplane because your pilot caught one in the head and you have no one to fly it.
Narco pilots are notoriously nuts. Free-spirit adrenaline junkies who have thrown away lucrative military and airline jobs for a shot at bigger money and bigger thrills. A lot of them leave the gigs but usually come back. They get hooked on the blow, the parties, the women that come with the narco lifestyle, so the “real world” becomes just too dull.
Callan needs ex-military pilots, guys with experience at going in hot, who aren’t going to freak out if some rounds start zinging around them. He can’t afford the excess personnel to do what narcos sometimes do—leave a guy on the plane with a gun at the pilot’s head to make sure he doesn’t make a premature takeoff.
Lev has one of his own guys, an Israeli Air Force veteran used to dropping in and out of Syria and Lebanon. Then they get “Buffalo Bill,” an American who’s been around the Mexican narco world since Barrera’s time, and whose long white hair, beard, filthy old cowboy hat and omnipresent joint hanging out of his mouth could scare the shit out of you if you didn’t know he could fly a piano and land it on a submarine deck. A Mexican from the Fifth Air Group, 107th Squadron, has hundreds of hours on the Pilatus; another Mexican Air Force veteran flew C-12s—both went on missions against the Zetas and the Tapia organization.
They won’t bug out.
Then there’s the question of arms.
Cartels have air fleets; they also have arsenals.
Short of an atomic device, you want it, you pick it.
Callan wants each guy to have an assault rifle, but lets each man choose the one he likes working with, so the teams go out with a variety of compact Galils, C-8s, Belgian FNs, an M-27, HK-33s and even a few classic AK-47s.
Two of the Israelis will carry MATADOR (Man-Portable, Anti-Tank, Anti-Door) shoulder-fired rocket launchers to rip a gap into the fence, punch through any walls, or take out an armored SUV. The marine will also take a Mossberg twelve-gauge pump for close action and blowing the locks off doors.
Callan chooses an HK MP7 with a suppressor and an Elcan reflex sight. He’s also going to take a Walther P22, in case he gets in close enough to put two .22 rounds bouncing around inside Iván Esparza’s skull.
They go to Elena’s house in Ensenada and brief her and Luis.
“I want photos,” she says, “of Iván’s corpse.”
“If there is one,” Callan says, “and if we have time.”
“There will be,” Elena says. “And make time.”
Callan reminds her of their deal. He does this job—success or failure, whether he comes back or he doesn’t—Elena and her people leave Bahia alone. Nora . . . and now Flor, he guesses . . . get to go back there and live in peace.
Elena reaffirms their arrangement but adds, “You know it’s only good as long as I’m in control. If Iván wins, he’ll do what he wants. Just so you have the added motivation.”
Yeah, thanks, Callan thinks. What I need is added motivation. He’s leaving when Luis follows him outside.
“I want to go,” Luis says. “Avenge my brother.”
“Did your mother send you out here?”
“She doesn’t know,” Luis says. “She wouldn’t allow it.”
“Neither will I,” Callan says. “I respect the hell out of you for asking, but you don’t have the skills, and I won’t have the time to babysit you. No offense, but you’d be a liability.”
“I won’t get in the way. I can take care of myself.”
“Luis, you would be in the way,” Callan says. “Every guy on the mission would know who you are and would feel obligated to keep you safe.”
Despite himself, Luis looks relieved, and he looks ashamed that he looks relieved.
“We’ll just say you came,” Callan says. “We’ll put it out you were there. They’ll sing songs about you.”
In the car, Lev asks, “What was that about?”
Callan tells him.
“That’s all we need,” Lev says.
Callan drives up to Encinitas.
Flor is asleep.
“How’s she doing?” Callan asks.
“She’s remarkable,” Nora says. “But she’s going to need a lot of care.”
“Take her back to Bahia,” Callan says.
Nora looks at him quizzically.
“It’s safe now,” Callan says. “It’s taken care of.”
“Where will you be?”
“Taking care of things.”
“Sean—”
“We’ve had a good run,” Callan says. “For a long time. I hope we have a long time left. But if we don’t, there’s an extra hundred K with your name on