Ballistic(10)
The yacht was called La Sirena; it lay at anchor here seven miles out in the bay, wide of the shipping lanes that ran to the port or the marina but close enough to shore so that its owner and his entourage could enjoy all that Puerto Vallarta had to offer. It was long and sleek and beautiful, and crowned by a state-of-the-art black Eurocopter helicopter resting on the helipad above the upper aft deck. But Eduardo Gamboa ignored the style of the ship in front of him and focused fully on the substance. After forty minutes under water his night vision was tuned to its peak. With his naked eye he saw two guards on the upper sundeck standing near the bow. He imagined the same number on the opposite side.
Slowly another head rose from the water to Eduardo’s right. Then another. Then three more men on Eduardo’s left. Then two more men just behind him.
Eight divers in total bobbed in the water fifty meters from the La Sirena. And after a nod from Major Eduardo Gamboa, they each released a few ounces of air from their buoyancy-control devices, and as one they slowly lowered back below the black surface, leaving not a trace of their existence.
Gamboa and his men were from the GOPES, the Grupo de Operaciones Especiales, the Mexican Federal Police’s elite special operation’s group. But these eight cops were a level of elite unknown to all but a few. They’d been pulled from other police and military commando units and organized separately from the rest of the GOPES. Together they comprised a special assault-team task force run secretly by the attorney general in Mexico City.
Their mission? Extrajudicial execution of Mexico’s top drugcartel bosses.
Their target tonight? The owner of La Sirena, one Daniel Alonzo de la Rocha Alvarez. In a world where everyone had a nickname, de la Rocha was known simply by the initials of his last name, DLR, pronounced in Spanish as “de, ele, ere.”
DLR was the leader of Los Trajes Negros, the Black Suits, one of the nation’s leading criminal drug and kidnapping organizations.
Four minutes later, two of Gamboa’s team resurfaced at the stern of La Sirena. Martin and Ramses had removed their scuba gear, their masks and their fins, and they carefully climbed the sea stairs onto the lower deck. They carried suppressed Steyr TMP submachine guns and held them at the ready as they crouched at the top of the stairs. Their night vision gear helped them peer up the deck towards the galley and the bow. After a moment Ramses spoke into his headset.
“We’re on board, moving into position.”
Gamboa had come along the portside hull with two more of his team. “Entendido,” he whispered into his radio. Understood.
A minute later Martin and Ramses had hoisted themselves up the helipad ladder, climbing silently in the dark. Then they lay prone on opposite sides of the Eurocopter, their weapons trained ahead on the four guards on the sundeck, some seventy feet forward on the yacht. Martin and Ramses’s job was to prevent any attempt by those on board to flee in the chopper during the assault and to eliminate the deck guards when given the order by their commander. “Team One, listo,” said Ramses into his headset. Ready.
“Entendido,” replied Gamboa again from the softly rolling surface of the bay. He removed his scuba gear as he spoke. “Team Two, execute.”
“Executing,” came the call, and three men began climbing the anchor chain at the port bow, forty feet below the guards on the sundeck.
Two minutes later these men were aboard, and their suppressed weapons scanned the bridge deck. “Team Two, listo.”
“Team Three, vamos,” said Gamboa, and he and two men rose dripping out of the water at the rear stairs, climbed to the upper deck, passed a large lifeboat covered with a tight canvas tarp, and began moving forward, proceeding cautiously. They made it to the hallway to the galley, heard noises and saw lights coming from the great room ahead, and flipped up their night vision goggles. They entered the room slowly, found two guards seated on the large white leather sofa in front of a fifty-two-inch plasma-screen television.
Gamboa took the man on the left, shot him once through the skull as he stood. The report from his suppressed weapon was drowned out by a protracted gunfight on the TV.
The officer behind Gamboa shot the guard on the right three times in the chest; both guards tumbled back to the sofa, handguns falling out of their hands and blood pools spreading out and meeting between their bodies on the white leather.
The three federales moved across the room quickly now. The television was running a movie that Eduardo easily recognized: Los Trajes Negros 2, the second in a very popular series of Mexican-made films romanticizing the life and exploits of Daniel de la Rocha, the man sleeping in the master suite just beyond.