MIGUEL HIDALGO Y COSTILLA AIRPORT
GUADALAJARA, MEXICO
Toby Brown and Dave Willoughby strolled through the airport.
“It’s warm,” said Brown, smiling. “Gotta love it, my man. A week in Mexico.”
“We need to rent a car,” said Willoughby, pointing.
As they walked to the rental car area, a man in a dark suit approached. He was young, tall, and white—American.
“Toby?” said the man, standing in front of Brown. He looked at Willoughby. “David, I assume?”
The man’s demeanor was unemotional, with a slight edge.
“Who are you?” said Brown.
“My name is Dan Edwards,” said the man in the suit. “I work for the FBI.” He opened his wallet, showing them his identification. In addition to an ID card, a large gold badge with the letters FBI occupied part of the thick wallet. “Come on. Do you have bags?”
“What the hell do you want?” said Brown.
Edwards looked at Brown with a vicious stare, then caught Willoughby’s eyes.
“I told you,” whispered Willoughby.
“You know exactly why I’m here, Toby,” said the FBI agent evenly, looking hard at Brown. “So drop the attitude. Did you check any bags?”
“No,” said Brown. “Sorry. Are we in trouble?”
“I have no idea,” said Edwards. “I was told to pick you up and bring you in. Now get your shit and follow me.”
Willoughby and Brown trailed Edwards toward the airport exit. The three walked along the sidewalk toward a parking garage, weaving through crowds of tourists waiting for taxis and buses.
A white Chevy Tahoe pulled up alongside them and the two doors on the passenger side of the SUV opened. Two men appeared, both clutching weapons. In the moment Edwards noticed and reached for his gun, two loud gun blasts rang out above the din. Edwards was struck in the eye by a bullet, kicking him sideways and down to the concrete.
Brown and Willoughby watched in horror—then Brown yelled, “Run!”
But the two gunmen were upon the pair and they were abruptly thrown to the ground. Another thug from the SUV came over as Brown and Willoughby were bound at the wrists. They were led at gunpoint to the Tahoe and shoved into the back, followed by the three goons.
It had all occurred in less than half a minute.
As silver duct tape was wrapped around each of their mouths, the Tahoe’s tires screeched and the vehicle bolted quickly away from the scene, which had descended into chaos.