LAREDO

This is a story I prepared for the Mark Twain Essay contest sponsored by TruckersNews.
Apparently they are not having it this year, so I decided to post this as written.
I am not entirely pleased with it, due to having to meet their requirement of being 2000 words or less.
I squeaked in at 1963.
I would have preferred more details on the trip and a helluva lot more detail on the shootout, but here it is in it's original version. Enjoy.

 

Daniel had never doubted himself as much as he did now. The decision he had made was affecting his sleep. He had barely eaten for days. If his plan was successful, he would be a hero. If not, he could never live with himself. Whatever the case, there was no backing out now. The wheels were in motion, figuratively as well as literally.

Daniel admired his late father immensely. The man came from a hard upbringing in west Texas. With only an eighth grade education, he worked hard at two things. Being a good provider for a family someday, and searching out the world beyond the barren desert in which he grew up.He found truck driving to be his calling. After saving every penny available while driving for somebody else, he bought his own rig within a couple of years. It was an older Peterbilt which was in need of some repair, but Dad brought her up to snuff with his own talent and determination.

Daniel recalled Dad trying to conceal his pride when he brought home a ticket he had received in New Mexico for ninety-six miles per hour. Proud because he rebuilt that old Caterpillar engine himself with his own two hands.

*
Not as proud as he was the day Daniel's older brother, Hank, graduated from the U.S.Army Ranger school at Fort Benning, Georgia. Hank's career was short lived however. While at a remote outpost on a covert mission in Afghanistan an errant missile landed directly in his squad's perimeter. The missile was actually intended for a NATO supply depot, miles away. Dumb luck Hank's squad got hit, for the location was unknown to anyone.After months of treatment and rehab, Hank was declared fit for duty. Behind a desk. His limitations wouldn't allow him to jump from another aircraft or fight another battle. That was clearly not the life he envisioned, so he opted for a discharge. Too restless to live a sedentary life, he chose to follow his father's footsteps and pilot a big rig.

 

Daniel never felt he could measure up to his father and big brother, but knew following an academic path was his strong suit. Although stricken with lung cancer, his father lived long enough to see his baby boy graduate from the University of Texas. Daniel majored in criminal justice and earned enough attention to be recruited by the Federal government.
He climbed the ladder rapidly and within fifteen years was appointed Special Agent in Charge of the Houston Division of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency, where he was now involved in the biggest investigation of his career. It took three years of undercover work and the lives of four agents to pinpoint the source of the largest heroin exporter in Mexico and another six months to pinpoint his chief receiver. Daniel's goal was to cut the serpent in half, make the bust at both ends. To accomplish this feat, he needed absolute control of the shipment. That meant a fearless, dependable driver.

Although discussing agency business with civilians was strictly forbidden, Daniel made the mistake of mentioning his plan to his brother, Hank at a family get together. Anxious to see the action he felt he was cheated out of by that missile blast in Afghanistan, Hank quickly volunteered. Almost begged, actually. As much as it pained him to make that decision, he honestly felt his brother was suited for the mission. Now, sick with worry, he sorely regretted that decision.

*

It happened so fast, the trucker never knew what hit him. A hundred miles from Laredo, he was pulled over in the dead of night by what he thought was an ordinary DOT car. Must be that stupid tail light he thought. He never saw the other two cars running with lights out. He was quickly snatched from the rig by DEA agents wearing DOT uniforms. Hank jumped in the truck and was rolling in twenty seconds after the truck came to a stop, leaving the would be drug runner hand cuffed in the back of a cruiser.

Hank spent eight hours the day before with cosmetic experts who regularly worked with
undercover agents. In addition to not shaving for three days, tattoos, scars and hair extensions completed his new appearance. The tricky part was convincing the dopers that he was cool. It was known through reliable informants that they rarely used the same driver twice. But it would mean an execution for Hank if they weren't fooled. This was extremely vexing for Daniel, but Hank was insistent and would not be dissuaded.

It turned out Hank proved to be an excellent actor and was soon rolling with five thousand pounds of uncut, black tar heroin, bound for Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Crates of lettuce from the Rio Grande Valley, complete with bills for a cold storage warehouse in Philly completed the load.

It was daybreak when Hank pulled out and he was in eastern Arkansas by the time the sun started setting. Hank found a place to park in the back corner of a truckstop in Earle, Arkansas. While he was inside having bacon, pancakes and coffee, men in black were underneath his trailer with electronic equipment. Careful not to tip off the bad guys by disturbing the transponder they discovered, they installed one of their own, along with voice recording devices and microscopic cameras. They were leaving nothing to chance. Physical evidence aside, they were taking no chances on having an incomplete case. An additional transponder was placed on the tractor itself, along with some more mics.

Daniel breathed easier as the trip progressed smoothly, but his anxiety intensified as his brother neared Philadelphia. The key was having Hank clear of the scene when the actual takedown began. The SWAT team would be coming in hard and fast and they would be dealing with hard men. Men who lived a violent life and rarely went down easy. Hank wanted a weapon, but Daniel simply couldn't allow it. He was on thin ice already, allowing a civilian on the operation and wasn't willing to push the issue. He was hoping the issue would cause Hank to withdraw altogether, but he wasn't backing out, armed or not.

 

The delivery time was set for one AM. There was a fair amount of commercial traffic in the area, so there was nothing out of the ordinary being seen on the street at that hour. The DEA rented office space on the fourth floor of the building facing the warehouse months before. The name on the door proclaimed it to be Steadman Tax & Accounting Service. It seemed perfectly natural for men in suits to come and go.Tonight, the men in suits were sporting black jumpsuits and protective vests, observing the comings and goings through darkened windows. The main assault team was in place on the roof of the warehouse, all set to come down by ropes and grappling hooks at a second's notice. They had practiced the maneuver every day for the last month at the training center in Quantico, Virginia. They could do it in their sleep.

*

Hank eased up to his destination at 1250 HRS and popped the parking brakes on the black Volvo. As instructed previously, he waited in the cab until he was greeted by someone from inside. Six minutes later a young man wearing gray coveralls and a winter hat with ear flaps, standard attire for cold storage work, stepped outside and lit a cigarette, seemingly not in a hurry. Upon finishing his smoke, the young man approached the driver's side of the truck and said "See your bills?"
Hank passed them down, the young man studied the paperwork briefly and turned his face toward Hank's and stared intently.

"Where's Domingo?" he asked.
"No idea, bud. They gave me the job is all I know." Hank answered, pretending to be bored, but suddenly very nervous.
"You drove straight through?"
"Yeah, sure."
He stared a few more seconds before saying "OK, dude, when I roll up the big door, back up to the dock on the left, the one next to the dumpster."

The agents across the street picked up the conversation on the mic attached to the mirror bracket. They knew something was going terribly wrong . The Laredo crew wasn't suspicious, but this guy was. That could only mean there was a relay driver somewhere that was waiting on that truck. Something they didn't factor in, assuming the truck ran straight through.

"Bravo two, this is Bravo one, do you copy?" said the agent behind the window.
"Copy lima charlie, Bravo one."
"The jig is up, most likely. Proceed with alternate plan one alpha. Do you copy?"
"Ten-four, Bravo one."
"Stand by when you hit the ground. Will advise."

The warehouse was built in the days of forty foot dry vans and thirty-eight foot reefers. When Hank bumped the dock, the nose of the forty-eight foot reefer was barely in the door opening and the tractor was out on the sidewalk, an arrangement that most likely saved his life.

Daniel was six blocks away in a black SUV. He was distraught over the safety of his brother, but promised his men he would stay back and let them run the show, as they were trained. It was all about trust now.

When the men in black on the rooftop heard the hiss of the air brakes they dropped off the roof like like silent ninjas.

The agent behind the upstairs window sent Hank a text telling him to remain in his truck until one of the good guys said otherwise.

"Bravo one, this is Bravo two. Alpha one complete. Standing by."
"Ten-four, Bravo two. Lock and load."
Ten men dropped off the roof, all armed with 5.56 mm assault rifles and .40 caliber sidearms. Each had percussion grenades and flash bangs. Hank didn't have anything but faith that these guys were that good.

The young man in the gray coveralls banged on the side off the trailer and whistled for Hank's attention, waving to the mirror for him to come in. Hank looked over in his right mirror and saw two more men, wearing suits that looked to small and they were holding pistols.

One of the suited goons jumped off the dock and began walking along the right side of the trailer. Hank dove out of the driver's side, making a mad dash down the sidewalk.
"GOGOGOGO" shouted Bravo one.
Four SWAT agents came out from each side of the building and the remaining two held their post at the back door.
The goon didn't even give them a chance to say 'drop it' as he foolishly drew down on the squad with his Glock 9mm. They nearly cut him in half in seconds. His partner fired wildly as the team from the other side swarmed the dock. One agent caught a round in the vest as his buddies took the gangster down with three round bursts. Gray coveralls took off for the back door, along with two more associates who realized resistance was futile. They gladly surrendered to the pair of agents that awaited them.

*
Special Agent In Charge Daniel Barnes told his driver to make extreme haste to the ware house. Holding back tears of relief, and resisting the urge to hug him, Daniel just shook his brothers hand and said "Good job, soldier."
One of the agents slapped Hank on the back and said "Heard you were a Ranger. Ever think about joining us?"
"Appreciate the offer bud, but I think I'll stick to trucking."

 

Thank, you. I was tempted to do an extended version, but thought it would be interesting to show what 2000 words or less looks like.
It doesn't leave much room for detailed character development. My only option would have been less back ground and more action.
Can't have much of either with the word limitation though.