Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1812 - 796: So Overbearing!! (5)
Two shadows darted down the corridor. Night vision goggles glowed with a ghostly green hue, the laser pointer on the gun barrel tracing red lines through the darkness.
"Left side clear."
"Right side clear. Move forward."
The manor’s main courtyard.
James Water crouched behind the fountain statue, an MP5SD aimed at the main building entrance.
Behind him, Lieutenant Castillo, leader of Team B, made a hand gesture: 9 out of 12 fixed sentries on the perimeter had been neutralized, the remaining three suppressed in their posts.
"Team A has entered the building," came the voice of Deputy Commander Mendez through the earpiece, "Encountering light resistance. Targets may be in the basement."
"Find them."
Water said, "Team C, report helicopter status."
"Ghost Eagle 1 and 2 are in standby at designated positions, 3 is patrolling the perimeter and took out reinforcements coming from the outskirts of the city—roughly three jeeps, neutralized. 4 stands as a backup."
"Copy that. Increase advance speed, we have a 15-minute window."
Water rose, charging towards the main building with two team members. Crossing the threshold, he saw two guards lying on the ground, both with headshots, killed before they could even unholster their guns.
Basement, safe room.
The heavy blast door closed behind them, locked.
The room was small, equipped with an independent air circulation system and backup power. The surveillance screens showed static.
"Communications are completely cut off." Herman checked the radio, "Even emergency frequencies are jammed."
Sir Salisbury retrieved a satellite phone from the briefcase, a 1996 model Iridium phone, theoretically resistant to jamming. He pressed the power button, the screen lit up but the signal bar was empty.
"They’re using full-band suppression."
The sir’s voice was still steady, but sweat dripped from his forehead, "This isn’t a common attack; it’s Special Forces. Is it Mexico?!"
"How dare the Mexicans..." Alfonso’s face went pale, "This is an act of war!"
Footsteps echoed outside the door. Light but dense.
Then metal adhered to the door.
"Move back!" Salisbury pulled the two back.
The explosion wasn’t outward but inward, the shaped charge cutting precisely through the lock and hinges, the heavy blast door fell inward with a loud crash.
Smoke filled the air.
Three flashbangs rolled in.
Even with closed eyes and covered ears, the intense flash and noise made them lose balance instantly.
Alfonso fell, Herman blindly fired towards the door until his pistol ran dry.
In the smoke, three shadows flashed in.
Sir Salisbury barely opened his tear-filled eyes, seeing the gun’s red laser dot aimed at his chest.
"Don’t move."
Herman attempted to struggle, the rifle butt struck him on the side neck, knocking him unconscious. Alfonso shivered, curled on the floor.
Salisbury slowly raised his hands, speaking in English: "I am a representative of the British Council and have diplomatic—"
"F*** you!"
"We know who you are." A shadow stepped forward, ripping off his watch, searching his wallet and passport, and extracting a mini encrypted notebook from his suit inner pocket.
Another person dragged Herman up, handcuffed him.
The third person tied Alfonso’s wrists with plastic ties.
Water entered the room, flipping his night vision goggles to his forehead. He scanned around, his gaze landing on the map and documents on the conference table.
Evidence team members immediately began working.
Camera flashes kept flickering, scanners buzzed. Someone opened Herman’s briefcase, taking out disks and paper documents, placing them into waterproof bags.
"Border operation plan found." A team member reported, "Signed by Portillo and Salisbury."
"And communication logs?"
"Here, three original encrypted telegrams, directives from London."
Water nodded, approaching Salisbury: "Sir Richard Salisbury, former MI6 official, now head of the British Council’s Guatemala office. You orchestrated actions infringing on Mexico’s sovereignty and attempted to manipulate the Guatemalan government into border provocations."
"You have no right—"
"Under Article 14 of Mexico’s National Security Law, Mexico’s armed forces have the right to take all necessary measures abroad against foreign forces and their agents planning attacks on Mexico." Water’s voice was flat, "You will be taken back to Mexico for trial. The condition is, of course, if you manage to leave here alive."
Gunfire surged outside the manor, much denser than before.
"Team B reporting: second wave reinforcements arrive, approximately two platoons in trucks. Requesting ’Hive’ assistance."
Water pressed his earpiece: "Authorize ’Hive’ precision strikes, limited to a perimeter of 500 meters around the manor, avoiding civilian casualties."
"Copy."
meters outside the manor, the highway.
Two trucks full of Guatemalan Government Forces soldiers rounded a bend, the drivers noticed something flickering in the night sky, resembling fireflies but with eerie trajectories.
Then the hood of the first truck exploded.
Small drones dove at speeds exceeding 300 kilometers per hour, crashing into the engine with embedded shaped charges tearing through.
The second truck braked hard, soldiers jumped off to find cover. Some fired at the sky, but those ’fireflies’ were too small, too fast.
Six ’Hive-1A’ drones hovered at low altitude, onboard cameras livestreaming footage back to the control station. Operators in a control vehicle on the Mexican side of the border watched the thermal signals on their screens.
"Confirmed all are military personnel. No civilians."
"Free to engage."
Drones swooped down.
They did not carry traditional ammunition but detonated embedded fragment warheads upon impact, spraying steel balls downward. The sound wasn’t loud, like firecrackers, but the effect was astounding—30 seconds later, there were no standing targets on the highway.
"Clear," reported the controller, "No sign of survivor activity."
"Withdraw. Prepare for standby for the second wave."
Six drones ascended, vanished into the night sky.
The entire process took less than two minutes.
Inside the safe room, Water listened to the report, nodding.
He turned to Salisbury: "In your plan, tomorrow the Guatemalan Air Force will send A-37 attack aircraft to the border ’photographing’. Where are those planes now?"
Salisbury remained silent.
Water gestured to team members. They searched Herman, found a phone, forced it open with his fingerprint, and reviewed the contact list.
"Got it."
The team member read, "La Aurora Air Force Base, three A-37s already loaded with live munitions, scheduled takeoff at dawn 6 am."
Water pressed his earpiece: "Command request authorization to attack designated targets at Guatemala Air Force Base."
After a brief silence, a reply came: "Authorization granted. Use ’Hive’, limited to destroying those three A-37s and their munition depot, avoid personnel casualties."
"Copy."
Water looked at Salisbury: "Sir, it seems your script needs rewriting."
3:22 am.
Guatemala City, La Aurora Air Force Base.
The sentry saw something flashing at the runway’s end, thinking it was fireflies.
He raised binoculars, but saw those ’fireflies’ in neat formations, heading towards the tarmac.
The alarm sounded too late.
The cockpit of the first A-37 was breached, small concentrated charges blew out the instrument panel. The second’s wing root hit, fuel leaking but not igniting—the drone’s warhead designed to prevent fire causing collateral casualties. The third hit directly at the fuselage, landing gear severed.
The munition depot’s door was repeatedly struck by three drones, locks and hinges destroyed, but the munitions inside remained unexploded.
Task complete.
Sixteen attack drones ascended, circled over the base, then returned towards the border.
The base commander rushed out from the command tower, looked at the runway scene, grabbed the phone to call the Department of Defense but only heard static.
"F***!!"
"Officer, we’re under attack!"
The base commander shouted: "I know, I’ve got eyes, get the fire out!"
...
