Chapter 10 - The Infiltration of Tower Reforma
The financial heart of Mexico City was bathed in neon light as midnight approached. Tower Reforma, an eighty-story monolith of glass and dark steel, pierced the night sky. On the top three floors were the headquarters of Vanguardia Security Solutions—the private military contractor serving as General Rivera's personal shadow empire.
In an alleyway two blocks from the tower, an unmarked black tactical van sat idling in the heavy rain. Inside, Andrés was strapping on a black tactical vest, checking his suppressed sidearm, and securing three encrypted data drives into his utility belt. Sitting beside him were Major Vargas and three veteran operators from his Special Forces unit—men who had served under Andrés in the Sierra and owed him their lives.
"The tower is locked down tight, Captain," Major Vargas said, monitoring a thermal blueprint of the building on a tablet screen. "Rivera has over forty heavily armed Vanguardia mercenaries stationed throughout the executive floors. Private elevators require biometric clearance, and the security grid is monitored directly from the central server room on floor seventy-eight."
"We aren't taking the elevators," Andrés said coldly, pulling a night-vision visor over his eyes. "Rivera expects me to walk into the front lobby like a obedient soldier making a trade for his mother's safety. He doesn't know we brought down his cloud server two hours ago."
"What's the play, sir?" asked Sergeant Cruz, a sniper and communications expert.
"We gain entry via the subterranean utility tunnels from the metro line," Andrés instructed, pointing to the blueprint. "Sergeant Cruz, you tap into their internal surveillance feeds and loop the security cameras on a four-minute delay. Vargas, you and the team secure the primary server room on floor seventy-eight to prevent Rivera from executing a remote wipe of their internal network. I'm going directly to the penthouse suite on floor eighty to deal with General Rivera."
"Captain, Rivera’s personal security detail includes 'El Archivero'—his chief of security," Vargas warned. "The guy is a former Spetsnaz operative. He's lethal."
"Good," Andrés said, racking the slide of his tactical rifle with a metallic clack. "It means he won't run away."
Ten minutes later, the team executed the breach. Moving like shadows through the humid subterranean maintenance shafts beneath Reforma Boulevard, they bypassed the outer security perimeter with ease. Sergeant Cruz sliced into the optical fiber line, replacing the live security feeds with looped footage of empty corridors.
Andrés and his team breached the lower basement door, taking out two Vanguardia guards silently with non-lethal sleeper holds before they could even sound an alarm.
"Grid compromised. You have twenty minutes before their manual floor checks detect the missing guards," Cruz reported over the comms channel.
"Moving up," Andrés ordered.
Taking the emergency fire stairwell, Andrés moved with breathtaking speed and silence, his military training taking complete control. Story by story, he climbed through the dark tower like a silent phantom, his mind fixed on a single objective: justice for his father.
By the time he reached floor seventy-eight, heavy gunfire erupted from the server room as Major Vargas and his team engaged Rivera's internal guard detail. Alarms began to blare throughout the tower, red emergency lights pulsing against the glass walls.
"Captain! We've drawn their main response force to seventy-eight!" Vargas's voice crackled through the earpiece over the sound of heavy gun battles. "The path to the penthouse is clear! GO!"
Andrés didn't hesitate. He kicked open the heavy door leading to the private executive staircase connecting floor seventy-eight to the top-floor penthouse.
He stepped into the grand, dimly lit penthouse lounge. High vaulted ceilings, marble statues, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooked the glittering expanse of Mexico City.
Standing in the center of the room, holding a heavy tactical combat knife, was a massive man with scarred arms and cold, lifeless grey eyes—'El Archivero'.
Behind him, sitting behind a massive glass executive desk, was General Eduardo Rivera, sipping cognac from a crystal glass, completely unbothered by the chaos raging two floors below.
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"Welcome, Captain Robles," General Rivera said, his voice echoing smoothly across the penthouse. "I was wondering how long it would take you to reach the top."
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