Chapter 483: Infiltration

Jack glanced at the time—it was not even 8 p.m., plenty of time. Following Alessandro's directions, he turned onto Highway 17, with the police car hurtling down the pitch-black road at over 90 mph (145 kph).

Jack was fully focused, utilizing his finely honed driving skills, now at a master level, to navigate the dark, unlit highway at such breakneck speeds for the first time.

In the back seat, Alessandro instinctively buckled his seatbelt. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke, "We're going to catch him; there's no need to drive so fast."

"No worries. This highway is in better shape than any I've driven on in California," Jack responded with a shrug. His enhanced skills and physical attributes meant he didn't need to pull any wild stunts like those seen in Fast and Furious, but he certainly could deliver tofu down a mountain with ease.

"That's because the cartels built these remote highways to transport drugs more efficiently," Alessandro remarked. His response didn't surprise Jack. After all, this reminded him of the Medellín cartel. In the 1980s, when Pablo Escobar was at his peak, he used drug money to fund the construction of 32 preschools, 23 elementary schools, 11 private high schools, seven public high schools, four vocational night schools, and two universities in his hometown of Envigado.

In Medellín, where Escobar's empire was based, he built the "Pablo Communities," replacing the shantytowns with proper housing and adding numerous volleyball courts, basketball courts, soccer fields, parks, and hospitals.

It was deeply ironic that in this land of shadows, the white powder of cocaine had become the only hope for the impoverished.

Michael had estimated it would take 20 minutes to catch up to Díaz, but in reality, Jack spotted the taillights of the black Mercedes in less than 15 minutes. Díaz seemed to be a fan of the brand, driving the same model on both sides of the border.

"Is that him? License plate RIN31B7," Jack asked through the radio, confirming there were no other cars on the desolate road.

"That's him. We've been watching him the whole time," Michael confirmed.

Jack immediately flipped on the police lights, siren blaring, and switched on the headlights.

The red brake lights on the Mercedes glowed as it slowly pulled over to the side of the road. Jack turned to Alessandro, knowing his larger caliber weapons, like the handgun or the HK417, might kill Díaz with one shot. It was up to Alessandro.

Alessandro gave a slight nod, signaling he was ready. Jack adjusted the police uniform he had borrowed earlier and grabbed the loudspeaker, calling out in Spanish, "Driver of the Mercedes, step out of the vehicle immediately."

When there was no response, Jack repeated with more aggression, "Get out of the car, you bastard!"

Finally, the door creaked open, and Manuel Díaz, dressed in an expensive suit, swaggered out, walking to the back of his car. He stood defiantly, glaring at the police car with an arrogance that surpassed Jack's.

"Do you know who I am?" Díaz barked, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Take the shot," Jack muttered under his breath before stepping out of the car, positioning himself at the front.

Díaz, blinded by the bright headlights, shielded his eyes and tried to get a better look at the bold police officer standing before him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Are you out of your mind?" he shouted, attempting to intimidate.

Piu! A soft gunshot echoed, and a spray of blood bloomed from his left leg. At the same moment, Jack dashed forward and kicked away the pistol Díaz was fumbling to pull from his waistband.

"Down!" Jack barked as Díaz fell, struggling, only to be pinned down by Jack's boot on his back. The man was still shouting, proclaiming his status as a top leader in the Sonora cartel.

"I know exactly who you are, Manuel Díaz, you piece of shit," Alessandro growled, stepping forward with a silenced MP5. He pressed his boot into Díaz's face, grinding his words into the man's skin. "Now, you're going to take me to your boss. Try anything funny, and I'll have 20 guys take turns with your three daughters back in Phoenix."

The color drained from Díaz's face the moment he recognized Alessandro's voice. His earlier sneer dissolved into pure terror. "It's... it's you!"

With Díaz subdued, Alessandro shoved him into the back of the Mercedes. Jack returned to the police car, driving it off the highway and into a secluded spot in the nearby wilderness. He killed the engine and removed the keys.

Jack then retrieved a hidden phone from a compartment in his backpack and sent a brief message to Justin: "Follow me."

After stashing the phone again, Jack picked up his bag and prepared to get out of the car when his eyes landed on a photograph on the dashboard—a family portrait. In the picture, a young boy, no older than seven or eight, smiled brightly, showing a gap where one of his front teeth was missing, his foot on a soccer ball.

With a heavy sigh, Jack tucked the photo into his jacket and sprinted to catch up, sliding into the back seat of the Mercedes.

The advantage of driving an automatic was that Díaz didn't need to use his injured leg. He tied a makeshift tourniquet around his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain as he drove onward.

An hour later, the Mercedes turned onto a private road, smoother and wider than the highway. It gradually slowed as they approached a security checkpoint. A guard, armed with an AK-47, approached, shining a flashlight into the driver's seat.

"I'm Manuel Díaz," Díaz muttered, his face pale, lips trembling.

"I know who you are," the guard replied, failing to notice anything out of the ordinary. He picked up his radio and spoke briefly, "It's Manuel. All clear. Let him through."

As soon as the guard lowered the radio, a single Piu! cut through the air. Alessandro, hiding in the back seat, had fired a clean shot, blowing the guard's head apart.

The Mercedes' trunk opened automatically, and Jack, who had been hiding inside, climbed out. He scanned the area and, finding no one nearby, switched off the flashlight and radio. He stuffed them into the guard's pocket and dragged the body into a nearby security shack. Then, with a quick glance, he melted into the darkness.

The Mercedes started again, and after a few minutes, a grand, opulent mansion, built in the style of a classical palace, loomed ahead. The car rolled to a stop as two massive iron gates slowly opened, and three heavily armed guards stepped forward to greet them.

"Mr. Díaz?" one of the guards called out, puzzled as the Mercedes remained idle at the gate.

The guard moved closer, only to see Díaz in the driver's seat, clutching his throat, blood pouring through his fingers.

Piu! Piu! Piu! Three silenced shots rang out in quick succession, and the guards dropped to the ground.

A moment later, Alessandro stepped out from behind the car, while Jack, cradling his HK417, emerged from behind a flowerbed inside the villa's walls.

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