The Recipient and Plans

"Why don't you get some fresh air, Agent Katie?" Matt knew that this FBI agent was a headache that needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. Now they were in a meeting with the leader of SAMCRO, a damn global organization with so much power that they could easily kill them all in their sleep.

But here was Katie, constantly confronting Dante, who simply wanted to eliminate some enemies—enemies whose downfall would greatly benefit the DEA's work, at least for those who didn't want drugs smuggled into their country.

Not everyone thought the same way, nor did they share Matt and his group's unorthodox methods.

Alejandro glanced at Katie and said, "Wait outside. It seems you've made our informant uncomfortable."

Dante looked at Katie, who simply averted her gaze and walked out the door, clearly irritated.

"We apologize for that…" Matt tried to ease the tension that had suddenly arisen.

"We needed her to operate on foreign soil. She's impulsive, so she was a necessary asset we could mold to our plans," Alejandro explained what Katie Mercer represented to them.

Dante walked over to a display case filled with wine bottles and grabbed one with the intent of pouring himself a drink. "We'll have to shorten the estimated time to eliminate our targets."

Alejandro nodded and said, "Explain yourself. Maybe we can understand your reasoning."

"I have the location of the Jiménez brothers. My people will take care of them and the other high-ranking leaders in Sonora. We'll wipe them out, leave you the leader, and also deliver their heads so you can verify their elimination."

"You think we're hitmen?" Matt asked, slightly annoyed. Why would the DEA need the heads of the drug lords they were supposed to arrest?

"Isn't it the same thing? In the eyes of the people, federal organizations are the good guys and criminals are the bad guys, but we both do exactly the same thing. Your bosses profit from the advantages of leading their organization, while you are pawns pretending to control the chaos brought by the consequences of their actions."

Dante's words were true. As an arms trafficker, he had made deals with the FBI to smuggle weapons into various Latin American countries.

The entire system was, in truth, quite complex, but they weren't here to discuss morality.

"But that doesn't matter. Both you and we want the bad guys dead. We'll do the dirty work for you and provide proof of the kills we'll carry out tomorrow night."

"Fine, that works for us. But there's a problem—a big one," Matt said, shifting gears. He handed Dante a folder containing classified information.

These files were from the FBI, investigations that all led to a series of professional assassinations. But they weren't just any murders—the FBI wouldn't be paying attention if they were related to the High Order, with whom they had special agreements.

What Dante now held in his hands was an investigation pointing to a single person—a serial killer… no, a hitman with more than forty confirmed kills.

Dante examined the list of victims, all killed by what appeared to be a single shot to the back of the head, and asked, "What does this have to do with what we're doing here?"

"They call him Sugar…" Matt whispered, his voice low but serious.

"Sugar?" Dante had never heard of this assassin, assuming he wasn't very well-known.

Alejandro took a sip of wine and said, "He's a hitman. His name is Anton Chigurh, a man who lacks conscience, remorse, or compassion."

"He has killed targets that the CIA and FBI wanted to interrogate. He has never been caught, and now he's been spotted near this location."

Dante looked through the files with more interest and read a line that caught his attention:

"His signature weapon is a captive bolt pistol, which he uses to kill his victims and also as a tool to shoot out door locks. He also wields a shotgun and a suppressed Remington 11-87 semi-automatic pistol. In some of his assassinations, he favors the TEC-9 as a secondary weapon."

"We suspect he's been hired to kill you," Matt stated openly.

Dante nodded slightly and said, "He has no way of finding me. He doesn't even know me, so most likely, he'll go after Felipe Lobos. If my distributor dies, I won't be able to stop the coke trade in the country as I had planned."

Crocodile, standing nearby, asked, "If you have so much intel on this assassin, why has he never been caught?"

"He always manages to escape somehow. Plus, no department has allocated maximum resources to capture such an unpredictable killer as Anton Chigurh."

"It doesn't matter. Plenty of assassins have come looking for my head, and none have found it." Dante dismissed the documents completely, unconcerned.

Matt gave Dante a serious look and warned him, "This assassin is different."

"The only difference is that he hasn't come after me yet. So he probably has no idea what he'll be up against once he sets foot anywhere near me."

Ignoring the looks from everyone around him, Dante pointed at the man tied to a wooden chair and said, "We attack tomorrow. I'll stay with Felipe Lobos to draw attention, and he'll likely find me that way."

Dante would have his problems solved by then.

"And what will you do with the cartel territories after they're wiped out?" Alejandro was particularly interested in this.

"SAMCRO will take control. There's no reason to give Felipe Lobos more power."

"Then it's settled. We'll stay in touch."

As Dante watched the agents leave, he turned to Crocodile and ordered, "Have my men find this assassin, and if possible, take him out."

"Understood, boss!"

…

Outside the building, Alejandro handed over the man they had come to retrieve and said, "We drew too much attention by coming here. We might get attacked on the way out."

"He didn't care…"

"Yeah, seems like that man has other priorities," Alejandro remarked, uninterested in whether Dante had taken the assassin threat seriously.

Matt looked at the men standing around, who were supposedly just security guards, and muttered, "Special forces… all American."

"You can tell just by looking at their weapons?" Alejandro didn't understand what Matt was implying.

"No, their dog tags…"

Matt could hardly believe the background of SAMCRO and how the government had allowed its own special forces to join a criminal organization. Only now did he recall Dante's words from their earlier conversation about what was right and wrong.

"At least they kill the bad guys."

Matt nodded slightly before getting into the truck.