5:00 AM, Thursday, August 13, 2024, Sacapulas, Quiche District, Guatemala
Manuel Cruz, called Manny by most who knew him, was up at 5:00 as his walkie talkie sounded an alarm. It wasn't an ordinary radio. It was some kind of secret high-tech gadget. Real James Bond stuff. He chuckled to himself as he got dressed; he might even be a real James Bond spy for all he knew. He had no idea who his real employers were. They certainly weren't just running a corn processing and charity food distribution operation. That was just a way for them to cover their actions here in Guatemala. He figured they were foreigners, and he suspected they were from the United States, but he couldn't be entirely sure. Even if they were from the States, he had no idea if they were CIA, military, or some private company. He was a pretty good judge of character though, and at least the two people that usually worked with him via the computer or the radio seemed as if they really wanted the best for the people of Guatemala. They had trained him, somehow, through some sort of information transfer directly into his brain, to be a military operative, to operate clandestinely (like James Bond), and now even how to negotiate with cold-blooded killers to keep himself or hostages alive.
It was clear even before last night's briefing that he was being prepared for action against the gangs. What else could it be. Unfortunately, that meant he'd also be up against at least some police and government forces. He felt good about his training and felt he could handle himself well in almost any situation, with almost any weapon- or with no weapon at all. He knew his patrons were able to see and hear things almost anywhere in Guatemala. He knew they had long distance weapons, but they wouldn't use them unless they had to.
He grabbed a quick breakfast and headed out the door. It was about a twenty-minute walk to the warehouse. Once he got there, he had work to do. This was his first real job since being hired. Up until now it had all been training. It was really amazing what he had learned in a week's time. He now knew more advanced math than he had even heard of before. He could add, subtract, multiply and divide simple sums before, but now… He could figure out the correct angle to set a mortar tube to hit a target depending upon the distance, relative altitudes, and wind vector. He could plot intercept courses for vehicles moving at different speeds, and a whole host of things he hadn't known could be predicted and controlled by anything more than instinct and practice. He had much more specific training about all kinds of weapons, including some he had never heard of before, high energy lasers that could kill through walls, without damaging the wall, for example. He had learned all kinds of military tactics and strategies. Even Guatemala's detailed political history and the intricacies of the ties between the gangs and certain governmental agencies, had become a part of his new knowledge.
His own safety was the most important part of the mission, they told him. He believed them. He also knew his parents would be protected and taken care of if anything happened to him. That was a big comfort. He was being paid well, one day he would have a big house and would raise a big family there. In a safe and peaceful country, if his employers succeeded in their goals.
His ruminations ended as he arrived at the warehouse. It was time to focus on the job at hand. He had to be alert and precise today or things could go badly. His mysterious employer had told him what they overheard, and what they expected to happen, but people could be unpredictable, especially those involved with drugs he knew, so he should stay alert.
A man was waiting by the door, which was still padlocked.
Francisco reached out his hand and smiled, "I'm Manuel Cruz. Call me Manny." He identified himself to the man.
The man eyed him up and down, then reached out and accepted the handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Manny. I'm Francisco Morales. I'm one of the supervisors here at Food First. I understand that you need to get inside… alone?"
"Yes. I have some things to attend to for the boss." Manny replied.
"I have no reason to think there is anything… bad going on here. I will not be involved in any gang business. If that's what this is…" Francisco said, his tone was bold and he jutted his chin just a little with what to Manny's newly trained eye read as false bravado.
Manny smiled. "Good, I feel the same way. I assure you, I am not going inside to make or package drugs or anything of the sort. Neither I nor our bosses are any friend of the gangs… or anyone who would cause harm to the people of our ancestral lands. Manny could see that, like himself, Francisco had the look of strong Mayan ancestry, a shared bond.
Francisco relaxed a bit and reached into his pocket for the key. He opened the padlock and removed it from the hasp. Manny knew he could have easily picked the lock. He had been surprised how easily a lock could be opened by anyone with a little training. What he didn't know was that this particular lock, was not a conventional Earth padlock. Inside it had a powerful molecular adhesion system that could not be forced open with the magnetically encoded key. It could be cut by a good pair of bolt cutters, but it could not be picked.
"This shouldn't take too long," he told Francisco as he went in, then closed the door behind him. He felt the wall beside the door. His hand stopped just shy of the wooden planks, resting against the invisible barrier he had been told about. So it is true! He thought, gaining even more respect for his bosses' abilities.
Inside he went to the spot he had been told would house an invisible crate and reported via radio that he was here. As soon as he did, a rectangular opening about as big as a doorway, but a little shorter, appeared in front of him. Inside he found the items he had been told to retrieve. Two handguns, a machine gun, extra ammunition for both, and a small box. He took the guns out of the… what empty space? He felt around and found it was likely made of the same material as the inner wall of the warehouse. So, it was an invisible crate.
He carried the guns over to a rusty 55 gallon drum a few feet away from the suggestion box in an unused corner of the warehouse. When he approached, the top of the barrel popped open as if on a hinge. Inside it was padded and dry, with pegs around the perimeter which could be used to hold things upright. Things like the long barrel of the machine gun. He placed the AK47 butt end down inside the barrel, along with the handguns and the full magazines. He also placed his radio inside. For his mission today, he might be searched and it was important that nothing suspicious be found on him.
He swung the lid of the barrel closed. Once closed, no seam was visible. The fixed cover of the barrel had only the two standard small holes used to pump out liquid contents. The holes were not capped and when he looked into them, he saw just the dark empty space one would expect if they looked into an empty barrel.
He went back to the invisible crate and picked up the small box. Inside was a simple ring. It was a bit thicker than an ordinary ring, but unremarkable in appearance. He examined it, shrugged and then put it on. He had been told that it was the latest military experimental equipment. Not only would his employers be able to track his whereabouts at all times and even listen to whatever noise or conversation was happening nearby, but this ring would protect him. It created an invisible shield that he could activate or cancel at will. The shield could stop bullets, even protect him from fire. He was told to be careful to deactivate it when he ate as it might stop some food from entering his mouth and anyone nearby would see something was wrong.
He had been told the ring must be kept secret from everyone. If its existence was found out, there would be consequences not for him necessarily, but for his bosses. Had they stolen it from the government? He didn't know. He closed the invisible door of the crate. Causing it to be completely invisible again now that the inside was blocked from view. He checked the cement floor for footprints to make sure he had not left a trail to the secret barrel or the crate's location. Nothing visible. Good. Manny returned to the door, opened it and walked back out into the dawn's light. Francisco was leaning against the wall, waiting.
"That was quick," he said. He put the padlock back on the hasp and locked the door again. "I hear that your going to take the place of one of our drivers today?"
"Yes,' Manny replied, "I'll be taking the route to San Juan Ixcoy today."
"Yes, that's what they said, Jorge's route. Any particular reason?" Francisco asked.
"I'm just following orders, same as you," Manny replied with a smile and a shrug.
Francisco shrugged and smiled back, "Maybe some day, we'll actually get to meet them. Listen, we have an hour before the shop opens for the day, do you want to grab a bite? There's a spot around the corner with good food."
Manny smiled. He had eaten, but he had nothing to do now but wait for his truck to arrive. His training told him to relax body and mind before the day's action, and good food was good food, after all.