Muerte - Death, It's What I Do

By John W. Wood

Within the shadows of the US Government, a decision has been made to declare war on the drug trade. Only a few know about this no holds-barred-war.

Colonel Ethan Wade, USMC, has been assigned to place a mole within the Mexican Cartel. Colonel Wade calls upon a man from within his Black Ops team, Ricardo 'Rico' Garcia, also known by his Marine handle, ‘Muerte.’ Rico is known within black ops as a Speed-Killer, and is given free rein to do whatever needs to be done to destroy the drug trade.

Rico’s cover is layers deep, and neither the DEA, FBI, nor Homeland Security know anything of his primary mission. But when someone from his past gets stirred into the mix, someone who knows who Rico is and where he comes from, things get complicated. Recruited by the cartel to spy on Rico, the two end up on a one-way ride into the desert - a ride of which results will wreak havoc across the United States and redefine the balance of power in the country.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Feb 16, 2022
• ISBN: 4824103908

Book preview

Chapter One

Afghanistan

Ricardo (Rico) Garcia, Marine handle, 'Muerte' was concealed in a ghillie suit, watched as a two-and-a-half-ton truck drove into the enemy encampment below. The terrorist commander, a tall, slender, bearded man, dressed in khakis, greeted the driver. Another man stepped out of the truck from the passenger side. Carrying an AK-47 rifle, he joined the commander and the driver. Rico clicked the talk button on his radio twice and then picked up a laser designator. Using the sight on the designator, he painted the truck below with an unseen laser light source. A group of men and chattering women came out of a cave a few yards away. They went to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. Moments later, a laser-guided bomb destroyed the truck, killing all of the men and women standing next to it. Picking up his radio, Rico clicked the talk button three times. After packing the targeting device into a canvas camo-bag, Rico removed a pair of night-vision binoculars. Scanning the target area, Rico's stomach knotted; pain and anguish forced a sob from his throat. Bits and pieces of what once were children covered the ground. The truck was not only carrying munitions, but also the children of the terrorists'.

Chapter Two

Las Vegas, Nevada

Three Years Later

Rico Garcia staggered down Las Vegas Boulevard, known as The Strip. Rico occasionally bumped into people who looked with disdain at the apparently drunken tourist. 'What a shame,' some thought, 'a nice looking young man acting like that in public.'

Unnoticed by the pedestrians were the three men following the drunk. One, a large man, spoke to the others, There's an alley up ahead, we'll take him there. The two accomplices nodded their heads in understanding. The big one slipped his hand under his shirt and felt the handle of the pistol tucked in his belt.

When the attack came, it was done smoothly, drawing little or no attention from the passersby. But what did draw their attention was when Rico Garcia exploded into a fury of controlled mayhem. Before the would-be muggers knew what happened, two were unconscious, and the big one wished he was, too. His broken nose and the empty space where a front tooth used to be, hurt like hell.

Reaching into his back pants pocket, Rico withdrew coiled flex cuffs, cuffing the big one first and then the others.

On the street, in front of the alley, two unmarked Metro police vehicles screeched to a halt, and four men in jeans and T-shirts jumped out. The four pushed through the gathering crowd and entered the alley. Sergeant Barnes, Las Vegas Metro, looked down at the three cuffed men and then at Rico. Dammit, Rico, now we have to take them to the hospital before we book 'em.

Rico replied, with a smirk, I was attacked by three guys, one of them was armed. You should have gotten here faster. The other officers, who were helping the battered muggers to their feet, unsuccessfully suppressed their grins at Rico's reply. Barnes saw the smiles but said nothing.

Barnes said to Rico, You alright? You need to go to the hospital?

I'm good, said Rico, pulling a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. After pulling on the gloves, Rico reached down and picked up the mugger's pistol. Pressing the magazine release, Rico removed the magazine and then pulled back the slide, ejecting a nine-millimeter round from the chamber. Handing an evidence bag to Rico, Barnes said, Be sure to tag those as evidence to justify why these assholes have broken noses and nickel-sized knots on their heads.

Barnes eyed Garcia as he bagged the evidence, thinking, 'He hasn't even mussed his fricken' hair, and his clothes look like he just put them on.' Good job, Rico, said Barnes, taking the offered tagged evidence. That makes ten you've arrested this month.

Could have been more, said Rico.

Yeah, right, replied Barnes, But I want to keep my job, so we'll just keep doing it according to the book.

Grinning, Rico patted Barnes on the back, By the book.

Chapter Three

Metro Offices

Charles Conrad, of Las Vegas Metro, the commander of the Major Crimes section, sat behind his desk with his phone to his ear. Yes, sir, I'll get on it right away. Yes, sir, Barnes called saying they were on their way in. I'll talk to him when he gets here. Yes, sir, I'll call intel. Conrad hung up the phone and then sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. 'Well, what do you know! We've been given the green light for Task Force Serpent!' thought Conrad. 'This wouldn't have happened this soon if we didn't have Rico working for us.'

Rico quickly became Major Crime's number one UC (undercover). Rico was trained as a grunt when he joined the Marines. But he hadn't been a grunt for long. Rico's intelligence and quick thinking caught the eye of someone in the Corps. He was reassigned to a unit so classified that even Metro couldn't do a full background check on him. A Marine officer was sent to answer questions for the personnel department. Then when Rico went through the police academy, he aced all of the academic and physical tests. He fired expert with every weapon his instructors handed him to shoot.

Conrad smiled, thinking, 'But Rico Garcia wasn't arrogant. One would never know how good he was unless you worked with him and saw him in action.' A knock on his office door got Conrad's attention. Sitting up in his chair, he said, Yeah, come in!

Barnes opened the door and entered Conrad's office. You wanted to see me?

Come in, close the door, and have a seat, Conrad told Barnes.

After closing the door, Barnes sat down in one of the four chairs in front of the commander's desk.

We have the green light to move on the trafficking, Conrad told Barnes. We will use Rico as the UC. I'll get ahold of Intel, ICE, and the FBI for a briefing. We'll meet in the conference room tomorrow at 0800. I want Rico and the rest of your crew there, too. Anything you have planned is to be tabled. You'll be working this to its completion, which could take up to a year, maybe longer.

Rico got three more muggers down on the strip, said Barnes.

Conrad, with a lop-sided smile, replied, Did he take them by himself again?

Yeah, we took all three to the hospital before we booked them. The one with the gun, a big sucker, had a broken nose and a front tooth knocked out. The other two are just gonna be sore for a couple of weeks; nothing was broken.

Barnes, you talk to him. I don't want Rico crossing the line and being accused of brutality.

I'll have a talk with him. By the way, I hear homicide had another murder in the hood. Do they think it's the same guy? Any chance that we've got a serial killer offing these guys?

Actually, it was two dead guys, and yeah, they think they have a serial killer working the hood. The body count is now eight, at least that they know of. Keep it to yourself though; homicide doesn't want it out yet,

Right, replied Barnes. See you in the morning. Oh, and I'll talk to Rico.

Chapter Four

Homicide Desk

Homicide detective, David Kowalski, sat at his desk. His index finger was wrapped through and around the handle of a thick, white, coffee-stained mug. The mug was a gift from Cliff, the owner of Devlin's Bar. Devlin's was a convenient place where David used to eat most of his meals while going through his divorce. Taking a sip of the cold coffee, David frowned. 'Shit,' he thought and stood up. He reached down, closed the file on his desk, and headed for the lunchroom.

Detective Kelly Campbell, a leggy forty-year-old blond, and the reason for David's divorce saw him coming. David, if you're getting a warm-up, would you do mine, please?

Angling towards Kelly's desk, David smiled at her. Sure, he replied.

Kelly handed David her cup, asking, Anything new on your serial?

Shaking his head no, David said, Not a thing, except for two more mutilated bodies. One had his jaw ripped off. What kinda animal would do such a thing?

Kelly shook her head, There are plenty of them out there. Put a spoon of sugar in that will you?

Yeah, sure, said David, and then headed once again for the lunchroom.

As David walked away, Kelly eyed his butt. It never got old to her, seeing how David's slacks hugged his firm cheeks. The two of them were assigned as partners three years ago. After a couple of months, their sexual chemistry became too much for either of them to fight. The first time was in their police car. From that time on, they met whenever and wherever possible. But they met once too often. They were photographed by a private detective hired by David's soon-to-be ex-wife. David gave his wife a no-contest settlement, half of his retirement, the house, and their new Chrysler. In return, she didn't complain to the PD about Kelly. David and Kelly got to keep their jobs, but each was given a new partner. David moved into Kelly's house, and they cooled it at the office. A year later, they were married.

David walked into the lunchroom and saw his new partner, John Foster, a rugby player with a great sense of humor. Morning, John, said David.

Coffee cup in hand, John looked up and said, Morning, you're in early.

Kelly got called in early, so I rode along with her. I've been going over the serial killer file. You know, it's just strange that there have been no leads or any usable evidence. I think this guy has some training in forensics.

I think you're right on the forensics, replied John, Maybe an ex-cop?

That's a thought… or maybe a working cop?

John filled David's coffee-mug, saying, Man, wouldn't that be something?

Taking a sip from his mug, David smiled at the jolt of caffeine and then said, Well, the un-sub (unknown subject) probably watches a lot of reality cop shows on TV. It's a good training place for wanna-be criminals.

Chapter Five

The Next Day

Rico Garcia, asleep and dreaming, tossed and turned in his bed. His mouth moved as if speaking, but only muffled grunting could be heard. A cry of anguish came loudly across his lips. Rico sat bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping from his body.

Rico grabbed his head with both hands, his body shaking. Letting go of his head, Rico angrily threw the sheets aside and got out of bed. Naked, Rico went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, feeling the water with his hand for temperature. In the bedroom, his alarm went off, its irritating buzz getting his attention. Ignoring the alarm, Rico stepped into the shower and stood under the needle spray, the water beating down on his head and shoulders.

Flashes of his dream played in his head, of children, children he destroyed with the push of a button. As the images began to fade, Rico turned off the water. Rico reached out to the towel rack, retrieved a bath towel, and started to dry off his body. When he stepped from the shower, the images were gone. But there was anger and self-loathing at what he had done. Rico walked into the bedroom and turned off the alarm.

He dropped to the floor and began doing pushups. As the count reached 100, Rico pushed the negative feelings from his mind. He stood up and returned to the bathroom to shave and get ready for work.

At the police station, Rico headed toward the conference room, passing by detective Kowalski's desk. Detective John Foster's desk faced David's and was butted up against his. The two looked up as Rico walked past, Morning, said David to Rico.

Morning, replied Rico. How's your case coming along?

Got two more, said John, flipping open a file on his desk. Found them in the hood the other night.

Rico looked down at the file, seeing photos of the two dead men who appeared to be Latinos. Looking closer, Rico said, Military. I'd say the guy who killed them was military.

David got up and went to John's desk. Looked at the photos and then asked, How do you figure that?

Rico pointed from one photo to the other, This man was stabbed in the kidney, his throat was slit, and then he was stabbed in the heart. That series of knife strikes are standard for sentry removal. The one with his jaw ripped off, I'd say the un-sub (unidentified subject) also practices what we in the Corps call tearing karate. When you get the autopsy results back, I'll bet they'll say the victim's sternum is crushed, and his heart is damaged.

David looked at John, and then the two looked at Rico. You've done this, haven't you? asked John.

Rico looked at his watch and replied, Gotta go, I have a meeting in the conference room.

The two detectives watched Rico walk away, and then they both looked more closely at the crime scene photos. Picking up a picture, David examined it, A military guy; it makes sense.

John, lowering his voice, said, Flow, in personnel… she told me a little about Rico; she was at the special interview.

Special interview? asked David.

The Marines sent an officer to answer questions about Rico; he'd left some blanks on his application. He said he wasn't sure how much he could share.

So what did Flow say?

Rico was in a particular unit that we still don't know the name of, and the Marine officer refused to share; said it was classified. The officer did say that Rico received a Silver Star and four Bronze Stars with combat V. Can you believe it, he has three purple hearts? It seems he was good at whatever it was he did and that he usually worked alone. All in all, the officer told personnel that Rico is, loyal, intelligent, and a nice guy.

Yeah, a nice guy… if he's on your side, replied David. I sure wouldn't want to be the one to piss him off. Have you ever shook hands with him? His hands are hard as a rock. No, sir, I wouldn't want him pissed at me.

* * *

In the conference room, everyone had poured their coffees and were now in their seats. Two outsiders had joined the group, FBI agent Willis Smith, a tall, handsome black man of about forty and Dominic Del Porto, from ICE who had a swarthy complexion and biceps that stretched the sleeves of his sports coat.

Commander Conrad, sitting at the head of the conference table, introduced everyone and then said, Our goal is to destroy a significant operation of human trafficking and drug smuggling that is centered here in Las Vegas. This group is bringing in girls, many of them youngsters in their early teens, across the Mexican border. There are also young women and teens kidnapped off the streets from across the country. The FBI and ICE will handle the Intel. Sergeant Barnes and Dominic will run surveillance and be Rico's handlers. Now then, Willis, will you give us some background, please?

Willis stood and opened his laptop. With a few keystrokes, a picture of a man came up on the large screen on the wall for all to see. The image was a surveillance photo of a stocky man with a soul patch beard under his lower lip. He wore his thick graying hair slicked back and tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a flowered shirt and slacks and was standing by a Mercedes sedan. This is Angel Hernandez, fifty-five years old, said Willis. "Hernandez is a cartel chieftain. He has a passport stating he is a Mexican citizen. They call him, 'La Cobra' or 'The Viper.' He is ruthless and is reported to kill if he thinks he's been disrespected. He likes to gamble. He plays poker and baccarat