Chapter 9: Perspectives Change

Starbucks, near Buckley Air Force Base, Aurora, Colorado

9:30 A.M. MDT (Mountain Daylight Time) Saturday March 24^th 2018

The great grandfather of Akira Ellis emigrated from the city of Kobe, Japan, and settled in Seattle in 1904. When he was away from home, Akira rarely found a place like the Uwajimaya market, however, he could find a Starbucks almost anywhere he went. Most people who thought that Starbucks coffee tasted burnt, had never had to consume coffee from the galley of a US Navy ship or shore facility, especially not on Mid Watch. Not only is Starbucks coffee decent, the shops are pleasant, and usually have attractive young women present. A pleasant bonus for a bachelor.

Akira was casually dressed, he was youthful, but not quite young enough to pass for a college student. At home in Seattle, his appearance is similar to many professionals who work at Microsoft, Amazon, or the Starbucks corporate headquarters. Of course, Asians are more typical in Seattle, than in Aurora, Colorado, however, because of the several universities, and tech firms, Akira is not given a second glance by most people. Several of the young women working at the Starbucks, or getting coffee there, do notice his trim physique, good taste in clothes, and friendly smile.

Any thoughts of flirting vanished once he began concentrating on his covert research. Akira had to turn in his government issued laptop when he received his new assignment; not that he would have used it for this research. At least not outside a SCIF. He brought one of his personal laptop computers, and was using several programs and a VPN to make it nearly impossible to track what he was doing. He was supposed to get officially Read On sometime Monday; however, he heard a few whispers about an incident in central Mexico. Stan had provided him with a code word: Aztlan; in addition to telling him he would be assigned to the Hidalgo task force.

A week ago, he had noticed the first whispers on the web about something happening down in Mexico. Initially he had not seen the first videos. He had dismissed some of the rumors as some kind of hoax. It was the vast effort to suppress the videos and other postings that had piqued his curiosity. If these had merely been a hoax, or some weird Hollywood promotion, like a D&D version of the Blair Witch Project, then the efforts to suppress the images would not have been so aggressive. This was more like something the Communist Chinese would do to obliviate images of a Falun Guan protest.

Akira was not foolish enough to actually use the internet connection here. He was using his own means to reach the internet, including parts of the dark web. His hardware and software would make it difficult to determine exactly where his internet presence was originating. He sipped his coffee and glanced about the busy coffee shop. No one seemed to be particularly interested in his activities. He had chosen a location where no one could observe his screen. He almost missed a link he didn’t know he was looking for.

He had been trying to research some disappeared links through some sites that debunked supposed supernatural events. A comment in a thread caught his attention. He was not fluent in Spanish, but he did understand it a bit. Because he had to focus to translate, he did not just dismiss the comment about an incident near Cuauhtémoc, the city nearest to the Barranca del Cobre (Copper Canyon), the Mexican ‘Grand Canyon’ where these supernatural incidents had been most frequently reported. He quickly surfed through several sites, however, the video he discovered was not supernatural. Akira watched in horror as a Mexican Federale, identified as Official Almador, commanding an anti-riot unit in Chihuahua, murdered a Catholic priest.

It didn’t take long for Akira to discover further videos, also from Thursday March 22^nd but only recently uploaded. They were scenes of the Federales using lethal force, including machineguns against refugees. Mexican citizens. Akira was sickened by the carnage, the wanton murder. He understood the outrage in many of the comments posted. He was even more disturbed by what had to be occurring to result in such a vast number of refugees in Central Mexico. A crisis so severe that the Mexican Government had dispatched such a force to suppress the refugees; using indiscriminate lethal force upon their own citizens.

Significant efforts were being exercised to suppress these videos, and other reports from the well travelled areas of the internet. Akira downloaded all of the videos, and other data he could find. Only then did he send a text to Stanislaus Wojciechowski, alerting him in a general sense, but not explicitly stating anything potentially compromising. Since he did not receive an immediate response, Akira continued exploring the internet. His furious concentration was reflected upon his face. A pretty co-ed wondered what was upsetting the handsome young man, she decided to not disturb him by asking for his number.

Amarillo, Texas 1:30 P.M. CDT (Central Daylight Time) Saturday March 24^th 2018

The inspection report about the 2011 Ford F-250 XLT Super Duty King Cab pickup truck Raul was considering purchasing was available a little after noon. Because the seller was still at the hospital, Raul requested that the shop manager email him an electronic copy of the report. While Jacinthe made them some Cuban style pork sandwiches, a recipe her grandmother had also taught her father, Raul reviewed the report. There were no significant issues, and the maintenance log in the vehicle’s glovebox indicated the owner had adhered to suggested services. None-the-less, Raul negotiated a deal to change the oil and other fluids, including flushing the radiator.

By text message Raul and the owner’s wife agreed to meet at the shop to complete the sale at one thirty in the afternoon. She brought all of the paperwork and a spare set of keys, and also a Chilton’s manual. Raul paid her fifteen thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills. The middle age woman seemed distracted, however, upon receiving the cash she seemed somewhat relieved. She listed the sale price to Ramon Jimenez for nine thousand dollars on the paperwork for the State of Texas. While the shop changed the fluids, Raul took the paperwork to get the title transferred to Ramon Jimenez.

While waiting, Raul rented a parking place at the same storage facility where they had stored the trailer. Raul removed a further three thousand dollars, and some other valuables from a secret compartment in the Escalade, before parking it at the storage facility. Raul and Manny had also picked up a quality cover for the SUV to protect it from the elements; on a whim Raul chose one that had a desert camouflage pattern. Now that he was driving a vehicle whose registration matched his Texas driver’s license, Raul seemed more relaxed. Manny and he were able to pick up his now clean leather jacket before heading back to the Staybridge Suites, where Jacinthe had prepared dinner for them.

St. Florian Apartments, Miguel Hidalgo borough of Mexico City, Mexico

7:30 P.M. ZCD (Zona Centro Standard Time) Saturday March 24^th 2018 (dialogue spoken in Spanish, but written in English; some Spanish in italics)

The apartment complex is nearly twenty-five years old, well designed, and the construction supervised by Antonio de la Cruz, the younger brother of Rodrigo de la Cruz. It was an excellent investment, located between the Bosque de Chapultepec, near where some of the most fashionable neighborhoods are located, such as the Polanco, and the working class Tacubaya district. Most of the residents are upper middle-class professionals. Although not as fashionable as many of the newer condominiums in the Lomas districts to the west, they are highly desirable. The building enjoys near one hundred percent occupancy. The majority of the units are two-bedroom apartments; a few are either single bedroom, or three-bedroom two-bathroom apartments.

Designed with an ‘airlock’ between the lobby and the sidewalk, originally as an environmental issue. Partially to aid in the air conditioning of the building; but also because of concerns about air quality, especially when it was under construction. To provide an upscale feel, there have always been doormen, and a concierge. Although the complex is in a decent neighborhood, in the early Twenty First Century some modifications significantly increased the security aspects. The doormen are now primarily there for security; backed up by two others monitoring security cameras in a vault like room.

The top five floors of the complex are leased to a shell corporation owned by Rodrigo de la Cruz, as is an exclusive parking garage that takes up a third of the first of five levels of the underground parking garage. There are two express elevators that only service the exclusive parking garage and the top two floors of apartments. One of the penthouse suites is reserved for Rodrigo’s exclusive use; the others he allows select friends or associates to use, mostly for assignations with young women. The floor underneath the penthouse suites were converted for use as semi-covert offices and meeting rooms, as well as temporary quarters for employees who might need to work on the upper floors for an extended period. There are also apartments for a small permanent security force.

Directly underneath his penthouse suite is one of Rodrigo’s private offices. While comfortable, it is not designed or decorated to impress influential people. Really it is more of a private study, while he does some work here, he conducts most of his business at other locations. The marquee office suites and boardrooms for his conglomerate are on the fringe of the Polanco district, near his condominium in a fashionable apartment building; acquired as an investment. His wife had preferred their home, a small mansion, in the Lomas de Chapultepec neighborhood.

Descending a secret set of stairs from his penthouse suite, Rodrigo opened a secret door concealed by a bookcase and entered his study. He took a moment to check a monitor to observe the two men waiting in the nearby boardroom. Although the boardroom is far more utilitarian than the showpiece in the Polanco district; mahogany paneling, a Persian carpet over a parquet floor, and leather ‘executives’ chairs elevate it from the mere functional. The two hard men waiting for him in the boardroom do not match the tasteful décor. The men were not speaking, sitting with apparent patience. Rodrigo swiftly walked through a short passage past an executive lavatory; before entering the boardroom via another concealed door.

The door was meant to be discreet, not secret, so as soon as it began to open, both men in the room stood up; one said, “El Patrón.”

Rodrigo said nothing, he walked up and closely scrutinized each man, before saying, “Report.”

“Your hacienda being built west of Nonoava has been overrun and seized by an enemy previously unknown. There was nothing we could do. Less than a minute from the time the first shot was fired a quarter, perhaps more than a third of the security force was dead. In the security lights I could see hundreds of attackers charging at us. The main building was closed up, and we could not enter any of the buildings to make a successful defense. Had we tried, we would likely have been slaughtered in the attempt, without effecting the enemy in the slightest. They appeared to be shocked by our firepower, none-the-less, they were disciplined enough to press their attack despite dozens, probably more than a hundred of their comrades being shot down. I make no excuse for my failure.” The man known as El Lobo Rojo said.

He paused for only a couple of moments before continuing, saying, “I do not believe they had any firearms; at least they did not use any during the initial attack. Many of them were armed with Swords, not machetes; also axes, spears, and other weapons. They attacked with great savagery, some even biting my men, or tearing them limb from limb. I led perhaps half of the security force up the ridgeline to the north. Some of the attackers followed us despite the carnage we inflicted upon them. Most of the attacking Army seemed focused upon attacking the workers compound, and the town of Nonoava to the east. It was only those distractions that resulted in any of us getting away.”

“Is that all?” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

El Lobo Rojo said, “By dawn there were only five survivors, all of us wounded, and we were nearly out of ammunition. It was not just your property that was attacked. The area has been invaded by an army. Later, I was able to count thousands of hard marching soldiers. Around us we could see columns of smoke, and other indications of an invasion. We spotted several small groups of invaders, scouting parties I believe. We got lucky, we came upon two dead Policia, shot by short arrows. Their armored vests had been only a partial defense, shot in the thigh one bled out, probably in minutes. The other had been shot in the head. They had been stripped of weapons; however, their truck was just abandoned.”

“Continue.” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

“There was less than a quarter tank of gas remaining, but it made all of the difference. I made a mistake in trying to take the most direct route to the city of Chihuahua, and we ran into an enemy force of several thousand. That is when Jorge was killed. We had to evade cross country to the northwest. Their pursuit was very determined. Eventually we evaded them, but the truck was out of fuel. We were not able to obtain another vehicle until Wednesday. Most people are fleeing the region, and the Federales are trying to divert refugees from the city of Chihuahua. We got to one of your secure facilities Thursday evening, where I was able to contact you. You ordered me here. I brought Sanchez, and left the other two survivors to recover.” El Lobo Rojo said.

El Lobo Rojo had delivered his report without inflection, mostly; now his voice faltered as he said, “El Patrón, there is something I have not told you. They are; well, some of them are ... Not human. Thousands of them are ... Creatures. Most are smaller than a man, larger than a boy. However, there are some ... Giants. Some of the really big ones have skin like the bark of a tree, or stone. They are hard to kill. Some seem immune, or at least resistant to bullets. We had no phones or cameras ... we had a couple of bodies. We had to abandon them with the truck. I have brought a couple of swords and a knife.”

Laying upon the table was a saber with silver adornments. The other sword was shorter, with a straight, double-edged blade. The dagger was crude, single edged, and slightly curved. There were also two scabbards and a sheath for the dagger. The scabbard for the saber was lacquered black, and trimmed with silver. There was dried blood on two of the blades, and there were nicks and other signs of wear on the two smaller blades. Rodrigo picked up each weapon, one at a time. The smaller blades were heavier than he expected, and crude. Less refined than some weapons, used by the Conquistadors, he had seen in a museum. The saber however, was lighter, and finely balanced, despite the silver filigree, it was a tool for killing, not for display.

“Fucking savage beasts they are El Patrón! They take a lot of killing, and do a lot of fucking killing to be sure!” Sanchez muttered.

“I have seen videos of them. I first thought it was some stupid trick that my cowardly ex nephew was trying to foist on me, Gringo crap from Hollywood. Or, maybe one of the Japanese cartoons he used to enjoy so much as a boy. He transmitted some images from the security system. At first, I thought the young fool had compromised my security network! I had several of my experts examine the recordings. They told me they were not fakes. I did not believe them. Until now.” Rodrigo bit out, practically grinding his teeth.

“Raul had the presence of mind to activate the security system and transmit a record of the attack before he was killed?” El Lobo Rojo asked.

“Do not mention that ... That. Coward’s name. He is a disgrace to his father!” Rodrigo de la Cruz exclaimed.

“Pardon, El Patrón. Why do you believe he is a coward?” El Lobo Rojo asked gently.

“He Failed! He Abandoned His Responsibilities! He Abandoned You and the rest of My Men! My Property!” Rodrigo roared.

El Lobo Rojo stated firmly, “Raul is neither a coward nor a fool. To try to stand against that horde would accomplish Nothing. Foolish as standing in the path of a flood or a tidal wave.”

Rodrigo de la Cruz ground out, He Fled to the Gringos! To El Paso Texas! He convinced my faithless sister-in-law to abandoned me too. She took her other children. They did not have the guts to even inform me until Monday.”

“Did he say Why he went all the way to Texas El Patrón?” El Lobo Rojo asked quietly.

Rodrigo de la Cruz paused for more than a minute, finally, speaking slowly, he said, “He warned me to get out before the government closed the borders. He said these ... Creatures ... were. Not. Not of this ... World. I told the young fool that the government was sending a company of Gendarmerie to put an end to this. This. Nonsense. I think he said not even our Army, let alone the Federales, could stop this...”

“El Patrón, perhaps he is correct. I doubt a battalion of soldiers could have successfully defended your hacienda. At least not if they deployed like we were trained. They would have to be much closer together, well dug in, and supported by artillery or mortars. Even then, that might not be enough. Firepower is only effective if wielded by well-trained troops, with stout hearts. Narcos couldn’t do it either, not even Los Zetas. Defending favorable terrain, with unlimited ammunition, and artillery support ... Well, at least they would slaughter thousands of the enemy.” El Lobo Rojo said firmly.

“What! You too don’t think the government can defeat these. These. Creatures?” Rodrigo de la Cruz exclaimed.

El Lobo Rojo looked Rodrigo directly in the eyes, and said, “Our army is not prepared to face this foe. Neither would the Gringos be prepared. Our new enemies know how to use terrain to get close. They are veterans, experienced at campaigning. Disciplined and willing to suffer significant casualties to close to melee combat, prepared for what our army could do. If we commit sufficient forces, close enough to support each other, and at least dozens of artillery pieces, or mortars we would likely win. However, we have not trained for this kind of fighting. Numbers can be important in a fight our enemies have vast numbers, and our army units are understrength, and rarely if ever deploy together. If the government sends individual Companies or Battalions, we are likely to lose.”

“What then should we do to assure that we win?” Rodrigo de la Cruz asked.

Shaking his head before he answered, El Lobo Rojo said, “El Patrón, I believe we must lose several battles before we might even begin to prepare to win. The military, like the rest of the government, is a lethargic bureaucracy. Our army is far weaker than it should be for our great nation. Mostly because the Yankees are no military threat to us, and in their own interests, keep us safe from any military threat. Our leaders fear what a strong Mexican Army might do. The people who control the bureaucracies are more concerned about their prerogatives, and their position and status, here in Mexico City. For the most part the bureaucrats only concern themselves about matters that effect the elites in Mexico City. El Patrón you have established yourself here because you understand that is the most efficient way to maintain and advance your interests in the Hora Oficial de las Montanas in Durango and Chihuahua.”

“But why Must we lose battles, before you think we will even take matters seriously?” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

El Lobo Rojo said, “Because we have been fighting the Narco War for more than thirty years, we have institutionalized bad habits. The twelve-day Zapatista Uprising back in 1994 did result in some improvements to our military, though there are few individuals still in the Army who served in that counter insurgency. Armies, similar to most people, must suffer some Pain to learn important lessons.”

“Is there someone either you or I could warn, so they could ensure the military is at least better prepared?” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

Again, El Lobo Rojo shook his head, then said, “I am confident of my observations. However, my conclusions are based upon presumptions and conjecture. I was merely a junior Sergeant before being selected as an Officer Candidate. You know that it was a matter of politics and unfortunate timing that I was made a convenient scapegoat. The government wished to display displeasure with the Yankees, so, several young officers, including me were stripped of our commissions after graduating from the Yankee training courses. The Yankees paid for everything, so it cost our government nothing, and I was not politically connected. It was an embarrassment that I had consistently outscored others. Powerful people in the government won’t listen to me, especially not senior officers in the military. No disrespect El Patrón, nor will they pay attention to you. Perhaps, after some painful lessons, we might get an audience.”

“Unacceptable! If the buffoons here will do Nothing. We shall make preparations. Do you have any recommendations?” Rodrigo de la Cruz asked.

El Lobo Rojo stated, “With respect, El Patrón, you have others senior to me to advise you. I do not presume to supersede them.”

“You have knowledge they do not. You have proven to me you have potential. Although you are not among my most trusted Caballeros, yet. Just because a man has served me for a long time, does not guarantee he will remain loyal.” Rodrigo said.

El Lobo Rojo said, “Very well. A military axiom is if you try to defend everything, you defend nothing. Sensibly, your security is primarily to deter theft, or other criminal activities. You are primarily a businessman, if the costs of security exceed your profits, then it is probably not worth defending. Therefore, I recommend everything you own in the Sierra Madre Occidental should be evacuated. If possible, valuable equipment should be removed, if it can be done quickly. Perhaps some material can be secured. I would recommend against expending any significant resources. Given sufficient time most passive security measures can be defeated. I doubt that anything within one hundred kilometers of the foothills could be sufficiently defended. Your focus should be upon your other interests. Determine which are of the most value to you, they will have to be defended from refugees, looters, the Narcos who will run amok, and consider what the government may seize because of need, or using the crisis as an excuse. I would sell everything you can, and invest in gold. Pesos, and maybe even dollars will plummet.”

“Drastic measures. I realize you are speaking mostly from a military or security perspective. If I sell in a panic, I will lose a lot of value. Also, why gold? Why not dollars, or Euros?” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

Without hesitation El Lobo Rojo said, “I don’t think the history of the Americas are relevant to this situation. No nation in this hemisphere truly fears a Yankee invasion. It’s just rhetoric. Well, maybe Venezuela could blunder into a Yankee intervention. Noriega was crazy to allow his soldiers to murder American soldiers and civilians. Worse, he declared war upon them. The Yankees are bullies, they will use intimidation for their own interests. After Vietnam they have been reluctant to occupy a country. They will intervene, sometimes using military force as they have in Grenada, Haiti, or Panama; but they didn’t stay; they actually removed the permanent garrison that had been there since they built the canal. Of course, they can invade any nation they desire, it’s not really worth trying to stop them. At least not directly, using military force.”

(He is speaking only about the Western Hemisphere)

He continued, “The former Yugoslavia, do you know the Yankees have been occupying it for twenty-five years? It did not take that much combat to cause their central government to collapse, and their currency. Refugees streaming into Europe effected the Euro. I am not an economist, however, the Yankee School of the Americas taught us about logistics, the advantages of a stable economy, and the consequences of a fragile or collapsing economy. Most officers are taught, but too often forget, that trying to prevent a few casualties to one unit, they commit more, unprepared units, and take far more severe losses. It is brutal, but they should have cut their losses, instead they suffer much greater losses trying to prevent what they knew they should avoid.”

“You think this will be a long war? That they will occupy at least part of Mexico?” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

El Lobo Rojo sighed, then said, “I believe the Mexican army could possibly defeat these invaders in a matter of weeks. That is only if they have no more forces than I have seen, or heard credible reports of. However, the Mexican Army has never had to fight a war against such an enemy as this. There are no preparations to fight a war such as this. I don’t believe either the military, let alone the civilian leaders are willing to commit enough of the army to win this fight quickly. Probably the Yankees could win. I don’t think we will ask them for help, until it is too late. The Yankees will not want to deploy forces into Mexico until long after it is too late. I hope I am wrong. I am not optimistic about our leaders doing any better than the Columbians. We have not effectively dealt with the Narcos. It is not just the aliens who will threaten your interests.”

“Señor Sanchez, you have seen these invaders. Do you think they pose such a threat as El Lobo Rojo describes?” Rodrigo de la Cruz asked.

He replied, “I am a simple man El Patrón, all I know is there were more of them than we had bullets. We had a lot of bullets, and used them all. These creatures, and the men with them, they take a lot of killing. I take the Sicarios very seriously. Some, the crazies, scare me. But, God willing, we can handle them. I am not a Godly man. I have relearned how to pray. I weep for Mexico. El Lobo Rojo led us out of the jaws of death. I am loyal to you El Patrón, and to him. Enough hard men, and lots of bullets, we will win.”

“You have provided me much to consider. Please remain here. I may wish to speak to you again. Do not gossip. Thank you for your courageous service, you have earned the bonuses I will reward you with. Rest up, hard times are here, worse are likely ahead.” Rodrigo de la Cruz said.

Buckley Air Force Base, Aurora, Colorado

1145 Hours (11:45 AM) MDT Sunday March 25^th 2018

Ten members of the Hidalgo Task Force were present, and prepared to head to Cannon AFB. Only First Lieutenant Oscar Wallace was in a proper uniform. Lieutenant Wallace had by now soiled his new USAF ‘Tiger Stripe’ camouflage uniform. There were several smudges on his slightly askew glasses too. Born and raised in Milwaukee, he had a Bachelor’s Degree in Economics from the University of Chicago; while on active duty he had earned his Master’s Degree in Public Administration with a focus on supply chains and logistics. He was a Finance Officer, assigned as the Purchasing Officer of the Hidalgo Task Force.

Lieutenant Wallace arrived at Buckley AFB late on Thursday night. Early Friday morning he rolled up his sleeves, and conducted an inventory of all of the equipment, weapons, vehicles, and other material assigned to the Hidalgo Task Force. Due to this thoroughness, and attention to detail, all of the equipment they were likely to need to establish a temporary headquarters was palletized, or loaded into Tri-wall units. Follow on equipment was loaded into intermodal shipping containers and secured. Everything was staged to facilitate loading in such a manner that equipment they would need most when arriving at Cannon AFB would be at the back of the two trucks, and thus easily accessible.

Colonel Wojciechowski arrived early, immediately after divine services, only to discover that Lieutenant Wallace was already present. The Colonel conducted his pre-deployment inspections ahead of schedule. Alerted by Lieutenant Commander Akira Ellis about the violence committed by some Federales upon Mexican refugees, Colonel Wojciechowski texted the personnel assigned to the task force to be prepared early; without providing them details. All personnel had reported in before the revised timeline required. Other than Lieutenant Wallace, everyone else was wearing civilian clothes.

Most of the equipment was loaded onto the M-1083 FMTV 5 ton, 6x6 truck by Petty Officer Second Class Dimaandal who was smoothly handling a forklift to expedite their departure. He was one of the “Sea Bees” or member of a Naval Construction Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Paul Marshal. Another sailor, Petty Officer First Class Masipag, who chatted with PO2 Dimaandal in Tagalog, was also a Filipino; provided everyone fresh hot coffee that was rich and black. PO1 Masipag was not a Sea Bee, he was to be in charge of the Galley, or Mess Section; another of the personnel acquired by Master Gunnery Sergeant McLaughlin.