Riley - Drug Warrior

My brand-new Chevy roared north through the dark toward Las Cruces and home, the Notre Dame fight song blasting on the CD player:

Cheer, cheer for Old Notre Dame,

Wake up the echoes cheering her name!

But it was hard to concentrate on the song. My eyes kept shifting between the dark road and the pickup truck and SUV tailing me.

I was driving a 2007 Chevrolet Impala, black. In my rearview mirror I saw a late-model Ford F-150 pickup truck, navy blue. And a Ford Explorer, black. Ours were the only six headlights along this lonely stretch of Interstate-10.

I pushed the accelerator toward the floor and watched the needle pass one hundred miles an hour.

Intelligence reports said Joaqun El Chapo Guzmn Loera, infamous drug lord, head of the deadly Sinaloa cartel, had put a price on my head shortly after I had taken over as the DEA special agent in charge of El Paso.

Now I had hit men on my tail.

My headlights didnt reach far into the darkness. I couldnt remember how far it was to the next exit. All I knew was I had to keep driving until I came up with a plan. My familys life might be at stake.

My own life depended on it.

El Chapo was the most dangerous drug trafficker in the world, and Id been busting his balls since I got to El Paso, one of the biggest Drug Enforcement Administration territories in the United States. Id been tracking Guzmn since my days with a DEA special operations unit. I wanted the job in El Paso so Id be on the front lines in the fight against Guzmns massive organization. So why did I think he wouldnt come after me?

I was already in a hurry when I left my office. My wife and son were waiting for me at home. For securitys sake we didnt live in El Paso. Instead, wed moved to a quiet neighborhood in Las Cruces, New Mexico, about forty miles northwest of the border. It was a long commute, but I wanted my family as far from the action as I could keep them.

The move was hard. My son was getting ready to start high school in St. Louis, Missouri, and wed taken him from his friends. But I knew things were getting better when he burned a CD for me with all my favorite country artists: Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings. And right toward the middle, Kevin added a surprise: the Notre Dame fight song. I popped in my custom CD every night on the long drive home.

I first spotted the pickup truck and Ford Explorer as I approached the interstate on-ramp. They sat side by side in the parking lot of a fast-food place, their vehicles pointed in opposite directions so the drivers could talk to each other. Cops in unmarked cars, I thought. But as soon as I got onto the highway, they rolled out of the parking lot and followed me.

It just didnt look right, I thought.

No one heads north that time of night. Theres nothing between El Paso and Las Cruces, except a couple of bullshit gas-and-burrito exits.

Something didnt feel right.

I punched the accelerator, and felt the big engine kick in. Soon I was going one hundred miles an hour, but the pickup truck and Ford Explorer were right on top of me. Every time I slowed down, they slowed down. Every time I accelerated, they accelerated. When the pickup truck sped by, I noticed it had no license plates.

Whoaaaa. Holy shit, I said. Then the fight song came on the stereo.

Rah, rah, for Notre Dame

We will fight in every game,

Strong of heart and true to her name!

I grabbed my BlackBerry and fumbled with the keyboard until I somehow managed to punch in the number for Mike, one of my agents who lived close to my neighborhood. He answered his phone, and all he could hear was the Notre Dame fight song.

What the hell? he said.

I paused the music.

Mike, get to my house. Get to the front of my house. I dont want my wife to know youre there, but they gotta know that youre there.

I didnt have to say another word. Mike understood that my family might be in danger.

Got it.

I hung up and called my best friend, Tony, who had just retired from the DEA. Wed been together as agents on the streets of Chicago. He was the godfather of my only child. Tony answered on the second ring.

Youve only been there a couple of months. Howd you piss these people off that fast? he said in a thick Chicago accent.