A Bridge Too Far

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“You know he isn’t going to let you walk away from this Senior Padilla.” Frankie Torres had been Jose Padilla’s right-hand man for over 30 years. He had been there at the beginning when the drug enterprise was just in its infancy. He was selling weed to American tourists for cash. He had watched as Jose had carefully guided the cartel to total dominance of the UK drug market. Now all of that was at risk.  Walking along the bridge near Jose’s compound flanked by bodyguards he now ruled the world.

“Frankie, you worry, that is what you do. The UK government doesn’t have the balls to come at us. Do you think those tea baggers have any idea the level of violence we could REALLY bring down on them? I think you overestimate their abilities, my friend.”

Frankie knew he had to tread lightly with his next statement. “Senor Padilla, have you ever heard of project Alpha?” At this Jose slowly turned his head to meet Frankie’s gaze.

“What the hell is project Alpha?” He seemed more amused by the name than actually seeing this as a threat.

Frankie continued, “There were some kids and young adults who formed a commando team awhile back. The result of some terrorist group trying to wage war with the US.”

Jose seemed amused. “And how many of the members of project Alpha were killed?”

“None” Frankie responded.

At this Jose came closer. “Be careful what you say next. What happened to these soldiers?”

“We only know of two members. The King and Queen of England.” At this Jose’s pace quickened.

“I am not going to be detoured by former child soldiers. We are going to double down on our efforts and then….”

Boom Boom Boom

The bridge behind them collapsed into the river. The phone on Jose Padilla’s hip buzzed.

“Diga me?”

The voice was distinctly female and distinctly British and distinctly matter of fact.

“Good Day Senor Padilla, this was a first taste of what is coming for you. You should have left the child alone.” The voice said.

Jose was pissed. “Who the fuck is this? I will find your children and…”

Before his eyes, his best friend Frankie’s head exploded raining blood and brain matter all over him and the surviving member of his detail.  Several other members of his detail were picked off in a way one shoots can’s at a friend’s cabin. Several of his bodyguards attempted to shield him assuming their kevlar shields would protect their primary and themselves.

They were wrong.

As the armor piercing rounds penetrated one by one his men fell like rag dolls around him. All at once the noise stopped. Jose Padilla with ear still to his phone stood alone in the middle of the field.

“Now Love that we are alone let me introduce myself. I am Snowflake. I will contact you, you will never contact me. I know where your money was. I know where that beautiful daughter of yours is going to school. I know you only have one ball and that just this morning you skipped breakfast to be with your mistress…very pretty. Before you make more calls. I would ask yourself do you feel lucky or abandoned right now?” The voice seemed to mock him.

Jose inside seethed. “Bitch I will find you and I will cut out your fucking heart then…”

The voice cut him off. “Senor Padilla, you have one week to cease all drug operations in the UK or we are coming for you. We will turn your country into the next made for TV war. Whatever you are thinking of doing…we can respond hundredfold to.”

“My men are coming for you bitch!” Jose screamed into the phone as he marched back to his villa.

The AGM-88 Harm missile is unique in its ability to hone in on radiation signatures. The communication towers on the villa that allowed Senor Padilla to communicate across his empire made the missiles job childs play.

Boom

The villa evaporated before his eyes along with his mistress and his remaining detail. The unmarked and unregistered F/18 that delivered the package several thousand miles away was well into its return to base.

“One week Mr. Padilla. We are Alpha… we are everywhere.”