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“That’s right,” Griz said.
“Death’s Head. Seems like a silly name, to me. Truly dangerous people do not need to come up with a cartoonish name, don’t you agree?”
Griz looked the cartel soldiers over again. The three of them held their rifles professionally, constantly scanning out into the dark in all directions. Each of them had a radio earpiece with a wire disappearing into the back of their coats.
And then there was Major Navarro. Beyond the name, he had a military bearing about him; everything about him was squared away and in place.
It was exactly as Pony had described. These were professional soldiers turned drug cartel, and from the stories Griz had heard, they were also capable of the worst of atrocities.
“We also have this,” Major Navarro said, pulling Griz out of his thoughts.
The major walked Griz and Pony to the open SUV, opening another crate for them. Inside, Griz saw individually wrapped packages, rectangular, each about the relative dimensions of a stack of money, but a bit larger than that overall.
“What is that?” Griz said.
“C4,” Major Navarro said with a grin. “Plastic explosives.”
Everything inside of Griz came to a halt. This was far more than he had bargained for. Guns, yes, but high explosives? This was starting to seem like a bad idea.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Pony said.
“It’s not important. But I see you are impressed.”
“Impressed is one word for it,” Griz said.
“We can get more,” Major Navarro said. “Much more. Grenades and grenade launchers, fifty caliber sniper rifles… I could even get you a gun like Rambo uses. Or a flamethrower, perhaps?”
“And end up burning our own streets to the ground,” Pony said grimly.
“How powerful is C4?” Griz asked.
“Very powerful,” the major said. “A pound of it could blow up a one story house. And we have over twenty pounds of it here.”
Pony shot an alarmed look at Griz. He was clearly thinking the same thing that Griz was, that this was getting out of hand, that they had bitten off more than they should have. They needed tools to defeat Death’s Head, not bombs and explosives that would end up killing and maiming innocent people.
“This is not who we are,” Griz said.
Major Navarro frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t blow up houses,” Griz said. “We don’t let civilians get caught in the crossfire.”
“A noble sentiment, but this is war, yes?” Major Navarro said. “You are at war?”
“Yes,” Griz said.
“In a war, sentiment is a luxury you cannot afford. You must become more of a monster than your enemy if you hope to win.”
Griz shook his head. “Then you’re no better than they are.”
“I see what your concerns are,” Major Navarro said. “This may be another area in which my organization might be of assistance.”
“How so?” Griz said.
“We can also help you by taking more direct action against these… pests. These Death’s Head pests which annoy you.”
“Direct action?” Griz said.
“He means hit and run raids,” Pony said. “Military style.”
