War of the Americas Chapter XX

Author’s preface: This is Chapter 20 in the ongoing War of the Americas series. If you have not read any of the previous 19 installments, don’t worry, you are like 99.9996% of people and each is written in such a way as to be enjoyable as a mini/micro fiction story on their own. Of course reading the entire series is recommended for the full effect. If you want to start at the beginning the full series can be on Vocal by searching or visiting my homepage. This series is a fictional account about a war between the United States and Mexico and takes place in the present day. It features some characters including the President of the United States and the President of Mexico who are real, others who are partly fictional, and others who are entirely made up. I won’t repeat my full disclaimer but it never hurts to emphasize once again that this is a fictional account. I have no special knowledge of the politics, military, operational, police, special forces, or any other inner workings of the government of either country. All the knowledge I do have has been obtained from reading publicly available documents and/or listening to others who do have such knowledge.

Sylvia’s hands shook as she reached out to take the small wooden box containing the ashes of her dead husband Dom. The General handed them over gently looking directly into her eyes the entire time. After she had taken the box and hugged it to her chest, he saw tears beginning to form in each and spoke softly. “You know Sylvia, I love dogs. You often spoke of your husband’s great love for his two canine companions. I was so saddened to hear of their deaths during our attempted arrest of you and your husband. They died bravely, doing what good dogs do, defending their home from intruders. The soldiers who were present told me of the Shephard’s bravery and of how the Kangal appeared like a monster come to life. It took 10 shots to bring him down and he died with his teeth still buried deep in the leg of one of my men. Both dogs were laid to rest with full military honors in the cliff face just beside your home. Even the men who were injured paid tribute and said kind words. The legend of the great Kangal of Baja has already begun to spread among the troops in Mexico City, and he has become something of a mythical rallying hero for my men. I very much wish Dom were alive here and now for him to hear those words from me. I doubt they will bring you any comfort, but I needed to say them nonetheless.”

He paused there, finally breaking eye contact and looked out over the Pacific Ocean which lay directly below them. The sun was just beginning to set, and the cloudless sky was ablaze with a mixture of colors from azure to the deepest red. The light reflected off the water making it appear to shimmer. The crashing of the waves was loud as thunder and a cool breeze blew. After a few moments of contemplation and while still gazing at the ocean and the setting sun, he continued to speak. “I once met a leader of the Sinaloa cartel. A very nasty and brutal man, full of anger and hate for most people. But, this man, loved dogs and all animals kept as pets a great deal. If ever it were found that a person in the part of the country his cartel controlled was abusing an animal, that person would die in the same manner as the abuse they had committed. Owners of pets who had starved would be starved to death. Those who beat their pets would be beaten to death and so on.

It angered this man greatly that the police used dogs to sniff out his drugs. He was also very smart, highly educated and skeptical by nature. Over time he came to believe that the abilities of drug sniffing dogs had been greatly overhyped. He was also of course very wealthy, so he paid a small fortune to assemble a team of the best researchers and scientists from multiple disciplines to analyze all the scientific and technical literature related to the abilities of dogs in drug detection. He told me that the findings of their final report were conclusive and they showed that dogs of any breed had no specific innate or trained ability to sniff out drugs, but instead what they detected was fear and the emotional state of both their handlers and any of the persons in their immediate vicinity. They were able to sense the fear or nervousness or anxiety of people who knew of the existence and/or location of drugs and had learned to combine that information with specific internal, external, and unconscious cues from their handlers to “find” hidden drugs. He went on to tell me that his team had discovered that law enforcement globally had realized this decades ago but decided collectively to ignore the facts because dogs had been such an effective tool in the war against drugs. Moreover, they reasoned there was no harm in keeping people afraid and that this fear of the abilities of dogs had worked well to their advantage in the past, even if it was not exactly what it was made out to be. They worked together to suppress any data which showed this result and instead produced study after study of their own which all served to increase the mythical abilities of dogs in drug detection. They also planted stories in the news media across the world of dogs finding small amounts of drugs in the gasoline tanks of cars full of fuel or even hidden within a tanker full of propane. The fact that no drug could survive for long in such a scenario was never called into question. Why would it be? The point was these drug sniffing dogs could not be defeated by any means and would find drugs no matter where or how they were hidden. The whole idea of these stories was to increase the fear and anxiety of drug dealers and transporters which is what the dogs were detecting so in the end the result was the same. More drug dealers and traffickers were arrested. How or why really did not matter.”

Again, the General paused, took a deep breath, and turned to look at Sylvia once more. She had not moved, she still clutched the small box containing her husband’s ashes tightly to her chest, and now tears flowed openly from both eyes, running down her cheeks. He watched them fall one by one to the ground and he felt a surge of sadness himself. He was an empathetic and sympathetic man. It was an uncommon trait in military personnel, especially at his level of command. Most people with that inclination simply could not deal with pain of so much loss and heartache accumulated over a career. He did not know how he was able to bear it, yet he was, though the pain never lessened. Saddened but determined to finish his story he pressed on “This cartel boss was not at all surprised but genuinely furious when he read the report. And so, he made it a point to target for capture and killing any police or military personnel who used dogs in any way as part of their anti-narcotics efforts. He also issued a public challenge to anyone who believed they had a dog which could detect his drugs. This challenge involved a very large reward, basically enough money to live a life of luxury for most Mexicans, for the remainder of their time on earth. That time would be short for those who failed, however, since the punishment for that was immediate and summary execution.

Over the years that followed at least five men, and one woman accepted his challenge and brought dogs they had personally trained to detect drugs. Each was 100% certain of their dog’s abilities in this regard and thus had little fear of failing to meet the challenge. Upon entering the room, the cartel boss would remind each contestant of the rules. Each time the speech would be the same. I have hidden a plain Ziploc bag with no special anti-scent properties containing 3.5g of cocaine somewhere in this room. As you can see the room is not of any great size nor of any unusual geometry. There are no trap doors or hidden panels or optical illusions. It is exactly as you see it. It contains one desk where I sit which has three drawers, a bookshelf with many books, a modest couch with two end tables each with one drawer and that is all. Of course, I am also in the room, and I am wearing the clothes you see me in with no hidden pockets or any special properties. Simply jeans and a T-shirt. If you accept my challenge, simply nod your head and begin your search. You have fifteen minutes. With that he would start a timer and sit back and watch. What this boss did not tell any of the contestants or anyone at all was that in fact there were no drugs anywhere in the room. There was a small Ziploc bag containing what appeared to be 3.5g of cocaine, but which contained 3.5g of sugar. Three of the contestants failed to find any drugs and were immediately shot and killed at the end of the 15 minutes. Three of the dogs found the bag of sugar and each challenger thought they had succeeded until the very moment when the cartel boss asked them if they were sure and asked them to confirm with a sample. He waited for each to taste the sugar before shooting them in the head at point blank range, the look of surprise still on their faces as they died. Each of dogs however lived a life of luxury for the remainder of their natural lives as trusted and loved guardians of the cartel boss’ estate.”

Sylvia gasped at that. “That is a horrible story General. The man was a cheat and a liar and deserved to die himself, no matter how much he loved and cared for animals. To hold such disregard for human life is horrific. Why tell me that story, now? At a time like this? A time when I am grieving for the greatest loss I have ever suffered. Did you think to cheer me up or raise my spirits or provide comfort with such a grotesque tale?” She was almost screaming in rage by the time she said her last word. The anger in her was evident and the tears she had been shedding had stopped. Her eyes had dried up. Where sadness lived, now only anger and hate and rage could be found. The General continued to stare at her, holding his ground as Sylvia advanced upon him. He thought for sure she would attack him then, quite possibly kill him. Her skills in Krav Maga were unmatched and he knew he stood no chance even with four of his best armed men by his side. If she wished him dead, he would die. But he held his ground, he did not bend, did not flinch, nor did he move. Then suddenly, so quickly it was like a blur, she was right in his face. Eye to eye with him. He could feel the heat of her breath upon him, see and smell her sweat, feel her anger. He closed his eyes thinking he may never open them again. Suddenly more quickly than he could comprehend, she was gone, she had stepped back. He did not think it was possible for a person to move with such speed and precision. For a moment he thought perhaps he had hallucinated the entire thing, then he opened his eyes and she stood in front of him, a full five yards removed, staring at him with a look of complete and total emptiness on her face. Devoid of all emotion. She looked like a mannequin or a robot at that moment, and it unsettled him greatly. In fact, it terrified him, but then as quickly as it had appeared it was gone, and Sylvia the human being returned. This Sylvia was again crying though more softly now. The General approached slowly and put his arms around her hugging her into his chest, holding her gently as she collapsed into him sobbing uncontrollably. He continued to hold and comfort her as he spoke again in a whisper only she could hear. “You see now Sylvia how quickly love can turn to hate. How quickly the pain of loss can morph to the desire to hurt. The desire to kill even. You of all people must not let that happen to yourself. You cannot let that happen. Dom would never forgive you. I would never forgive you, and most importantly, you would never forgive yourself. If you must exact revenge I can’t and won’t stop you. I can, however, warn you. Once you go down that path, the way back may be blocked forever. Is that the legacy you want to leave for Dom, or for your daughter?”

He let her go then and stepped away. Turned to his men and signaled for them to follow him as he began to walk back into Sylvia’s home on his way to the front door. As he stepped through the sliding glass door which separated the back patio from the main living area of the house, he turned one last time to Sylvia and spoke. “I can ensure your safety here for no more than 8 hours. Make that time count and then return to your country as quickly as possible. I cannot guarantee your safety after 8 hours here or at any point on your return. There is a fully gassed car in the garage, and I assume you have the appropriate paperwork and the ability to contact your handlers for any aid you require. Good luck Sylvia Platt, and I am truly sorry for your loss.” Just before he had fully crossed the threshold into the living room Sylvia spoke “General, thank you, and this is my country now.” He frowned at that and replied “For now that is true, but Mexico is not defeated and we will retake what is rightfully ours. For now, ask yourself this, if this is your country why am I the one protecting you?” He smiled at that and moved quickly away striding through the house to the front door shutting it behind him as he left.