moved to each of the four outlying structures, all of which were unlit. When the leader reached the front porch of the main house, he paused for breath, waiting for the rest of the team to join him.
“Take four men and circle round the back. I don’t want anyone sneaking out the rear while we’re coming through the front door,” he whispered.
His subordinate nodded, pointed at several of the officers and moved off.
~
The radio crackled, and Jorge Balentoro, the director of the raid, listened in disbelief from his position on the main road.
“What do you mean, there’s nobody there? That’s impossible…” he replied, depressing the talk button on the handheld microphone as he spoke.
“Maybe so, but we just spent an hour securing an empty complex. Other than a sixty-year-old caretaker and his wife, who were scared out of their wits. They said that nobody has been to the house in almost a year.”
Jorge’s mind raced. What the hell was going on here? Was their intel that badly flawed? And what would he tell the president’s chief of staff? This was the best lead they had, and it had led to nothing.
“You’re sure. No hidden rooms, no escape tunnels…”
“No, sir. Just an old man who was up late reading and about had a heart attack when we broke down the front door.”
What now?
“I want the caretaker brought in for questioning. Maybe he knows something,” Jorge ordered, knowing he was grasping at straws.
“Uh, yes, sir. But on what grounds? What is the charge?”
“I don’t know. Resisting arrest. Interfering with an investigation. Make something up. But I want to know what he knows…”
Shutting down the airport, night flights, the army, men flown in from Mexico City, the president waiting for a report real time…all for nothing. They hadn’t even been close.
Jorge dreaded making his next call.
~
The president’s chief of staff set down the phone, his face pale. The president looked at him expectantly, his brandy snifter of tequila paused midway to his lips. The executive director of CISEN sat across from him and was already shaking his head based on the few words he’d overheard.
“There was nothing there. No sign of Aranas, his men, or your daughter, sir,” the chief of staff said.
“God damn it! What the hell was this all about, then? I thought this was our best lead?” the president blurted, struggling to compose himself. “What now? What’s the plan to get my daughter back safely? I want to hear some options, and I don’t really care what the cost is. It’s impossible for me to believe that with all the resources at my command, we can’t do better than this.”
The director of CISEN finished his glass of Jose Cuervo Reserva de la Familia tequila and set the glass down carefully before speaking. “This situation is unlike any we’ve ever encountered, sir. It’s really an act of terrorism more than a simple kidnapping. When dealing with terrorists, it pays to think outside of the box. You have to think like they do, and you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to achieve your objective. Terrorism is first and foremost about will. Will is the terrorist’s greatest weapon. The will to kill themselves, to murder innocents, to threaten or do the unimaginable.”
“Yes, yes. Agreed. But how does that help us?” the president barked, exasperated that the night’s mission had ended in ruin.
“There are options we haven’t explored,” the CISEN head began.
The chief of staff swiveled to stare at him.
The president was obviously hanging on every word.
“Difficult and uncomfortable options, but perhaps, our best ones…”
The meeting broke up an hour later, the president exhausted, the director of CISEN and the chief of staff moving to a more private location to discuss logistics.
Nobody was happy about the direction things had taken, but the president had been clear. They were to do whatever it took.
In this case, that would mean the