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As they approached, they could see the barriers had been lowered.

They blew past the guardhouse too quickly for the men to see anyone through the tinted windows. When they reached the main facility, the barn doors were open, and they entered without a problem.

Pete and Jenny guarded Castillo while Marcus and the rest of the team spread out to search the facility and the nearby offices, tasing every armed guard they came across. Within minutes, they found where the plant’s CCTV footage was stored. With no time to search through the files, they ripped out the hard drives, stashed them in a backpack, and gave them to Navarro. They also found a cache of automatic weapons and boxes of ammo and helped themselves.

Returning to the vehicles, they dragged Castillo at gunpoint into the refrigeration unit and demanded he show them the entrance to the tunnel. When he did, Marcus nodded to Pete, who drew another hypodermic needle and jabbed it into Castillo’s neck. With the bag once more over his head, the man went limp, and they lowered him to the floor. The Justice Department could sort out later whether the U.S. government was going to charge and arrest the man and his many associates. Marcus certainly hoped they would. But for now, Castillo was deadweight. They did not have the luxury of taking him with them, so they left him behind.

Marcus thanked Navarro for all his help. He directed Jenny to hand over to the station chief her backpack full of CCTV footage from the hacienda. Navarro, in turn, promised to have his team erase all the footage of their raid and forward to Langley whatever images they might find of Abu Nakba’s forces. Then he returned to the Range Rover and sped off into the afternoon sun.

Marcus led his team into the tunnel, an M4 in his hand and his Glock on his belt. The temperature was ghastly hot—at least a hundred degrees, he figured—and the humidity made it feel worse. Why Castillo, with all his millions, had not set up an air-conditioning system, or at least a proper ventilation system, was beyond him. Then again, Marcus figured, once Castillo had his money, he probably could not care less what the conditions were in his tunnel. He had no doubt spent a small fortune to build the tunnel under the Rio Grande in the first place—and do it without attracting the notice of either the American or Mexican governments. Any further improvements or creature comforts simply were not in the budget.

One thing Castillo had spent money on was lighting. There were electrical wires running along the left wall that powered hanging lamps every five yards or so.

What struck Marcus most was how deep they descended. About two hundred yards in, they reached a ten-by-ten-foot hole, a shaft that went straight down. A steel ladder had been drilled into one side of the bedrock, yet even shining a flashlight into the hole, Marcus could not see the bottom. Throwing his M4 over his shoulder, he headed down the ladder first. Jenny was next, followed by Pete and Geoff. Donny Callaghan brought up the rear, staying on special alert lest Castillo or any of his men wake up in time to send forces after them.

At the bottom of the shaft, the tunnel leveled out and headed north, under the river. It was much cooler at this depth. They stopped a moment, caught their breath, and consumed the bottled water and PowerBars that Miguel Navarro had given them for their journey. Then Marcus picked up his weapon and led the way forward. They were not moving quickly. Callaghan had cautioned them that the tunnel could be booby-trapped. There could also be armed men coming in the opposite direction.

After an hour, they reached the end of the tunnel without finding either. They had come to another shaft, another ladder bolted into the bedrock, and a long climb upward.

But to where?