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“That’s right.”
“Then it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Griz wasn’t sure if it were true or not, but he said, “Same.”
“You know, your… culture is fascinating to me,” the major said, looking them over. “Outlaw bikers. Such a romantic image. We don’t use motorcycles much, except for some rapid response termination.”
“He means drive-by assassinations,” Pony said.
“Oh, such a crude term. Still, our motorcycles are mostly dirt bikes, these you have here are… more like works of art. I cannot help but be impressed.”
Now Griz got the sense that the major was blowing smoke up his ass, but what he said was, “Thanks.”
“A man of few words. I can appreciate that. Down to business, then.”
He turned to one of his men and spoke to him in Spanish. In response, the man slung his rifle on his shoulder and moved to open the back hatch of one of the SUVs, revealing a number of wooden crates stacked in the back.
The man took a prybar and popped one of the crates open, then reached in and pulled out a rifle identical to the one slung on his back. He brought the rifle over to Griz and handed it to him without a word.
Griz noticed that unlike the rifle slung on the cartel soldier’s back, the rifle from the crate had no magazine in it and was unloaded. An obvious precaution, he supposed, to make sure not to hand a loaded weapon to a stranger. Still, it shone a light on the fact that the cartel had come with twice the number of men they’d said they would, and had brought assault rifles to a simple buy.
“M4 carbines,” Major Navarro said, pointing at the rifle in Griz’s hands. “Brand new, unfired. Military issue, fully automatic.”
“Looks like your three buddies already have theirs,” Griz said.
“A precaution. This is not our territory, and it’s always wise to be prepared when travelling into unknown country, don’t you think?”
“There’s prepared, and then there’s overkill,” Griz said. “People don’t usually bring assault rifles when they’re just there to talk.”
“Consider it an oversight on our part,” the major said. “We are so used to carrying such weapons on a daily basis in our country that we didn’t think anything of it.”
There was nothing to like about it, but Griz had to keep moving things forward. He looked at the rifle in his hands, and then offered it to Pony so he could examine it.
Pony shook his head. “I’ll check one of the ones in the vehicle.”
“Of course, of course,” the major said, as Pony moved to the back of the SUV and looked over the crates. “Choose any one you like.”
Pony picked one of the M4s out of the crates at random and began to field strip it expertly, taking it apart so that he could check all of the internal components and make sure they were in working order. After disassembling and then reassembling one of the rifles, he nodded to Griz.
“Looks good,” he said. “Do you have any optics for these?”
“We can provide some, if you like,” Major Navarro said. “Holographic sights, military ACOGs, perhaps even a thermal sight or two with enough notice.”
Griz had no idea what they were talking about, now. It sounded like a lot of military jargon, none of which he was familiar with. Pony nodded along, though, so it seemed like things were making sense to him.
“You clearly know these weapons,” Major Navarro said. “Are you ex-military?”
“Army Rangers,” Pony said.
“I see, I see. Very nice. Always good to be working with another professional.”
“Another?” Pony said.
“Many of our people were in the Mexican federal army, as I was. Some of them still are. In fact, a large number of them have had training from your special operations community.”
Pony glanced back at Griz and said, “Is that so?”
“It is,” Major Navarro said. “We aren’t some gang of fools like these… Death’s Head? Is that what they’re called? This group that is causing you so much trouble?”
