Ernesto looked towards the gate.
The fake driver was still waiting.
—I think someone is trying to kill me.
Twenty minutes later, an unmarked gray car parked discreetly on the back street of the residence.
Carlos listened to the recording three times.
The third time he remained completely silent.
—Are you sure that’s your wife’s voice?
—I would hear it among a thousand people.
Carlos let out a sigh.
—Then we have a very serious problem.
—What do we do?
The commander looked at the map of the road to Querétaro.
Then he pointed to a curve near the Zimapán dam.
-Here.
It was exactly the place mentioned in the recording.
—Let’s let them believe the plan is still in place.
Ernesto looked at him.
-You’re crazy?
—No. But they think you’re predictable. We’re going to use that against them.
An hour later, the armored sedan finally left the residence.
The man disguised as a driver smiled as he watched him get in.
I didn’t know that the real Ernesto wasn’t inside.
In the back seat was an undercover agent with similar physical characteristics.
And behind, several kilometers away, three surveillance vehicles followed the route.
Meanwhile, Ernesto watched everything from a hidden van.
His heart was pounding in his chest.
Because he was watching his own murder unfold.
The trap worked.
For almost two hours nothing happened.
Until they reached the mountain road.
Then a black van appeared.
No license plates.
No identification.
He positioned himself behind the sedan.
Then another one appeared ahead.
The vehicle was trapped.
“There they are,” said Carlos.
The cameras started recording.
The men got out armed.
The fake driver got out of the car.
And then something unexpected happened.
