Chapter 5 - The Siege of Terminal 4
At 4:15 PM, three black SUVs with dark tinted windows and forged police credentials screeched through the outer gates of the Rutas del Bajío terminal in El Marqués, smashing through the wooden security barrier.
Eight men in unmarked black tactical gear poured out of the vehicles, weapons raised, led by Raúl Mondragón and Víctor. Lorena followed closely behind, wearing dark sunglasses and a trench coat, holding a leather briefcase intended to carry the signed transfer documents.
"Clear the yard!" Raúl barked, waving his pistol toward two yard workers who immediately threw up their hands and ran into the maintenance bay.
"Where is he?!" Víctor yelled, grabbing a yard supervisor by his collar. "Where is Efraín Salcedo?!"
The supervisor pointed trembling fingers toward the main administrative building at the far end of the tarmac—a heavy concrete two-story structure with blacked-out glass.
Víctor, Raúl, and their tactical mercenaries kicked open the double glass doors of the lobby, their boots echoing loudly against the polished granite floor. The building was eerily silent.
"Search the rooms!" Raúl ordered his men. "Find the old man!"
They kicked open the doors to the accounting office, the legal department, and the conference room. Empty.
Finally, they reached the massive corner office at the end of the second-floor hallway. Víctor raised his foot and kicked the heavy oak door off its frame.
Inside, sitting calmly behind a massive mahogany desk, was Efraín Salcedo.
He was dressed in his simple grey work shirt, drinking black coffee from a porcelain mug. Beside his desk, sitting in a wheelchair with his leg elevated in a fiberglass cast, was Julián.
"You took your time, Víctor," Efraín said softly, setting his coffee cup down with a light clink.
Víctor let out a maniacal laugh, raising his revolver directly at Efraín’s chest. "You thought you were clever, didn't you, old man? Hiding behind your trucks, playing the humble driver while sitting on billions!"
Lorena stepped into the room, her face twisted in malice as she looked at Julián. "You should have signed the papers in the basement, Julián. Now you get to watch your father die first."
"I told you six years ago, Lorena," Julián said, his voice cold and steady. "My father built this empire with his bare hands. You can't steal what you didn't earn."
Raúl stepped forward, pulling a digital biometric pad from his tactical vest. "Enough talking. Old man, put your thumb on this reader to authorize the corporate transfer, or I put a bullet through your son’s good knee right now."
Efraín didn't move. He didn't blink. He simply looked up at the ceiling.
"Do you hear that, Raúl?" Efraín asked gently.
"Hear what?" Raúl sneered.
"The sound of a federal wiretap closing."
Before Raúl could react, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows behind Efraín’s desk shattered inward as heavy black ropes dropped from the roof. Four members of the Grupo de Operaciones Especiales (GOPES)—Mexico’s premier federal special forces unit—swung through the windows, flashbang grenades detonating with deafening booms inside the room.
Simultaneously, the steel side doors of the office burst open, and dozens of fully armed federal agents poured into the hallway, led by Commander Arturo Trejo of the Federal Attorney General's Office (FGR).
"FEDERAL POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! ON THE GROUND NOW!"
The corrupt mercenaries dropped their weapons instantly, throwing themselves onto the floor. Víctor attempted to raise his revolver toward Efraín, but a single sniper shot from an overhead helicopter shattered the glass behind him, striking the weapon out of his hand and blowing off two of his fingers.
Víctor screamed in agony, collapsing onto his knees, clutching his bloody hand.
Raúl tried to reach for his badge, shouting, "I'm a state prosecutor! I have a legal warrant!"
Commander Trejo stepped forward, slamming Raúl against the wall and clicking heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists. "Your warrant is a forgery, Mondragón. We’ve been recording your radio communications for six hours. You’re under arrest for treason, attempted murder, state-level corruption, and organized crime."
Lorena fell to her knees in the middle of the ruined office, weeping hysterically as federal agents pulled her arms behind her back. She looked up at Julián, her eyes wide with frantic desperation.
"Julián! Please! Tell them I was forced! Víctor made me do it!"
Julián looked at his wife—the woman who had watched him bleed on a basement floor—and simply turned his wheelchair around, facing his father.
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"Take them away," Commander Trejo ordered.
As the federal agents dragged Víctor, Raúl, and Lorena out of the building toward waiting armored vans, two national television news crews filmed every second, capturing the fall of the Mondragón conspiracy live across the country.
