Chapter 9 - WAR AT THE AIRFIELD"Stay here in the vehicle," Alejandro ordered, grabbing the Sig Sauer MPX from the passenger seat and checking the safety catch.
"Alejandro, wait—there are too many of them!" Elena protested, grabbing his sleeve.
"If I don't come back in twenty minutes, use the satellite uplink to transmit every encrypted financial ledger to the Mexican Attorney General and Interpol," Alejandro said, his voice entirely devoid of fear. "Burn it all down."
Without waiting for a reply, Alejandro pushed open the heavy armored door and stepped out into the freezing midnight wind.
He didn't run. He moved with the cold, calculated precision of a predator stalking its prey, utilizing the deep shadows cast by rusted fuel tanks and abandoned hangars.
He was fifty yards away when one of the perimeter guards turned his head, spotting a flicker of movement near the perimeter fence.
"Hey! Who's there?" the guard shouted, raising his rifle and marching toward Alejandro's position.
Alejandro didn't hesitate. He raised the MPX, squeezed the trigger, and a silenced burst dropped the guard instantly into the tall grass without a sound.
The second guard didn't even have time to raise his weapon before Alejandro closed the distance, sweeping his legs out from under him and driving the butt of the rifle down into the man's chest with a sickening crunch.
At the sound of the scuffle, the remaining guards near the aircraft shouted in alarm, spinning around and opening fire. Bullets ricocheted off the rusted metal containers around Alejandro, throwing up sparks in the darkness.
"Don Fernando!" Alejandro roared over the gunfire, stepping out from behind cover and returning fire with lethal accuracy, taking out two more mercenaries before they could even adjust their sights.
Don Fernando scrambled backward up the boarding ramp of the private jet, his face twisted in absolute panic and disbelief.
"Kill him!" Fernando screamed at the remaining guards. "Shoot him! Do it now!"
Three mercenaries charged forward, forming a firing line. Alejandro dived behind the thick steel wheel of an abandoned fuel truck just as a hail of bullets shredded the sheet metal inches above his head.
He pulled a flash-bang grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin with his teeth, and hurled it high into the air toward the base of the boarding ramp.
BOOM.
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A blinding white flash and a concussive shockwave ripped through the airfield, followed by the agonizing screams of the mercenaries clutching their ears and eyes in the blinding glare.
Alejandro surged out from behind the truck like a freight train, his submachine gun barking in rhythmic succession until the last of Don Fernando’s guards hit the tarmac, motionless.
