W. E. B. Griffin - Presidential Agent 07 by Covert Warriors Page B
Authors: Covert Warriors
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knows where. Or God knows why.
“Supporting this theory is that Ferris and Danny Salazar—especially Danny—had been around the block more than once, had either M-16s or CAR-15s with them, and would have offered some pretty skilled resistance to an ambush.
“Why wouldn’t Ferris—and again, especially Danny—be suspicious of a Federales roadblock? Because they had good relations with the Federales, good relations being defined as sharing intelligence with them, which is further defined as they tell us only what they want us to know, and we tell them everything we know, which they promptly pass to the drug cartels.”
“That bad, huh?” Castillo asked. “And Ferris went along with this?”
“How well do you know Jim Ferris, Charley?”
Castillo shrugged. “Not well. I’ve seen him around. People who know him well seem to respect him.”
“Including me,” D’Alessandro said. “He’s a hell of a teacher, probably the best we have.”
“But?”
“You and Ferris are different in several ways, Charley. First, you’d be a lousy teacher. You’d also be a lousy instructor, and there’s a difference.”
“Probably,” Castillo admitted.
“Which, McNab being aware of this, is why you never found yourself at McCall teaching Snake Eating 101 to a class of would-be Green Beanies.”
“I always thought it was the press of my other duties,” Castillo said sarcastically.
“No. It was because McNab knew—and I knew and Uncle Remus knew—that you would set a lousy example for the new guys. You ever actually eat a snake, Charley?”
“No, and I never bit the head off a live chicken running around in the Hurlburt Field swamps, either,” Castillo said.
“But—the proof being you’re still alive—you performed satisfactorily in the real world, huh? And have all those medals to prove it?”
“Where the hell are you going with this, Vic?” Castillo asked more than a little testily.
“You wanted to know who Jim Ferris is. I’m telling you. He’s almost exactly your opposite. He caught, killed, and ate snakes because that’s what he was ordered to do. And he taught a whole bunch of people to obey orders and eat snakes, too. You went into the swamps at Hurlburt with two pounds of high-protein bars taped to your legs because you heard snake would be on the menu.
“The point being that when Jim Ferris came down here, he obeyed his orders from the ambassador to cooperate with the Mexicans. He argued with both Ambassador McCann, and the ambassador before McCann, but he obeyed his orders.
“What you would have said, Charley, is: ‘Screw this. I was sent down here to get the drug guys and that’s what I’m going to do.’ ”
Castillo, who did not look as if he took offense to that, then said: “So you’re suggesting the drug cartel had no reason to whack anybody because Ferris’s people weren’t causing them any trouble?”
“Yeah. And they must have known that killing three Americans and kidnapping a fourth would bring a lot of attention.”
“Tell me about the drug guys,” Castillo said.
“Pacific Coast operations are run by the Sinaloa cartel, which is headed by two guys, Joaquín Guzmán Loera and Ismael Zambada García. You ever hear of Los Zetas?”
Castillo shook his head.
“Loera and García needed a private army, so they bought one. They went to the Mexican army and said, ‘If you come work for me, bringing along the weapons the Americans gave you, I will pay you five times what the Army has been paying you. If you don’t come, we will kill you and rape your wives, mothers, and other female relatives.’ ”
“Shit!” Castillo said.
“These are really charming people, Charley, and they have very deep pockets. They have about a battalion’s worth of Mexican soldiers—officers, noncoms, and privates. And all the equipment we gave them. Los Zetas are really bad guys, Charley.”
“And they could have been manning the roadblock?”
“Either in Mexican army
“Supporting this theory is that Ferris and Danny Salazar—especially Danny—had been around the block more than once, had either M-16s or CAR-15s with them, and would have offered some pretty skilled resistance to an ambush.
“Why wouldn’t Ferris—and again, especially Danny—be suspicious of a Federales roadblock? Because they had good relations with the Federales, good relations being defined as sharing intelligence with them, which is further defined as they tell us only what they want us to know, and we tell them everything we know, which they promptly pass to the drug cartels.”
“That bad, huh?” Castillo asked. “And Ferris went along with this?”
“How well do you know Jim Ferris, Charley?”
Castillo shrugged. “Not well. I’ve seen him around. People who know him well seem to respect him.”
“Including me,” D’Alessandro said. “He’s a hell of a teacher, probably the best we have.”
“But?”
“You and Ferris are different in several ways, Charley. First, you’d be a lousy teacher. You’d also be a lousy instructor, and there’s a difference.”
“Probably,” Castillo admitted.
“Which, McNab being aware of this, is why you never found yourself at McCall teaching Snake Eating 101 to a class of would-be Green Beanies.”
“I always thought it was the press of my other duties,” Castillo said sarcastically.
“No. It was because McNab knew—and I knew and Uncle Remus knew—that you would set a lousy example for the new guys. You ever actually eat a snake, Charley?”
“No, and I never bit the head off a live chicken running around in the Hurlburt Field swamps, either,” Castillo said.
“But—the proof being you’re still alive—you performed satisfactorily in the real world, huh? And have all those medals to prove it?”
“Where the hell are you going with this, Vic?” Castillo asked more than a little testily.
“You wanted to know who Jim Ferris is. I’m telling you. He’s almost exactly your opposite. He caught, killed, and ate snakes because that’s what he was ordered to do. And he taught a whole bunch of people to obey orders and eat snakes, too. You went into the swamps at Hurlburt with two pounds of high-protein bars taped to your legs because you heard snake would be on the menu.
“The point being that when Jim Ferris came down here, he obeyed his orders from the ambassador to cooperate with the Mexicans. He argued with both Ambassador McCann, and the ambassador before McCann, but he obeyed his orders.
“What you would have said, Charley, is: ‘Screw this. I was sent down here to get the drug guys and that’s what I’m going to do.’ ”
Castillo, who did not look as if he took offense to that, then said: “So you’re suggesting the drug cartel had no reason to whack anybody because Ferris’s people weren’t causing them any trouble?”
“Yeah. And they must have known that killing three Americans and kidnapping a fourth would bring a lot of attention.”
“Tell me about the drug guys,” Castillo said.
“Pacific Coast operations are run by the Sinaloa cartel, which is headed by two guys, Joaquín Guzmán Loera and Ismael Zambada García. You ever hear of Los Zetas?”
Castillo shook his head.
“Loera and García needed a private army, so they bought one. They went to the Mexican army and said, ‘If you come work for me, bringing along the weapons the Americans gave you, I will pay you five times what the Army has been paying you. If you don’t come, we will kill you and rape your wives, mothers, and other female relatives.’ ”
“Shit!” Castillo said.
“These are really charming people, Charley, and they have very deep pockets. They have about a battalion’s worth of Mexican soldiers—officers, noncoms, and privates. And all the equipment we gave them. Los Zetas are really bad guys, Charley.”
“And they could have been manning the roadblock?”
“Either in Mexican army
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