Retribution Road by Jon Coon (e reader comics .TXT) 📕

PFM. The Ministerial Federal Police. Our government shut down our FBI and fired half the agents. The PFM thinks they are going to take us down. They’re in for a bit of a shock.”

“Where do you want us to land?”

“We have a grass strip near Coba. Jose will bring you in.”

“We’re near our point of no return. Fuel is going to be tight.”

“Don’t go back to the hangar. If you have to, put down in a field and have Jose give me your location. Just don’t lose that cargo and don’t get caught.”

“Copy that. We’ll be careful.”

Tom turned off the phone and checked it twice to make certain it was off before speaking. “Jose, what do you suppose he’s going to do to you when he finds out you told me where to find those girls?”

“Please, señor. You wouldn’t . . .”

“The way I see it, Jose, there’s only one way for you to get out of this alive.”

“Tell me, señor. Tell me and I will do it.”

Juan Mateo Caldera, El Patrón to his friends, lived in a twenty-five room, four-story hacienda, much larger than the one Sgt. Ferrell and his team had destroyed. But this hacienda wasn’t it. Caldera had several safe houses used for meetings, warehouses, and sometimes prisons. Now, as he paced the rose ceramic tile floor of this mansion, which they had converted to a drug lab and warehouse, and watched the transponder they’d placed on the Bonanza beep across a mega screen monitor, he knew something was drastically wrong. Tom’s beautiful red plane was headed directly toward this million-dollar factory, with millions’ worth of drugs awaiting shipment.

“Amigo, what are you doing? Get back on course,” Caldera shouted into his phone.

Tom calmly responded. “Change of plans, my friend. Charlie Brown here wants to renegotiate his employment contract, and I … well, I just want to blow up your little factory there. I’d appreciate it if you stay, of course. Would make life a lot easier down the road. But you can take this as a warning: The Great State of Texas and your friendly local PFM are going to put you out of business, El Patrón, or whoever the hell you are. And if you ever come after my family or my friends again, the only warning you’ll get next time will be the sound of your heart stopping. Comprende?”

The phone went dead, and Caldera shouted at his men. “Get out, get out, get everyone out!” From the courtyard, they could see the Bonanza, three miles out, clear the mountain ridge and come at them, flying low and level across the lake.

Caldera was momentarily transfixed by the approaching plane, but he shook it off and yelled at his men again to move, and they ran from the house, some to vehicles and some into the trees beyond the gate. When the plane hit the villa, an earthshaking tremor rattled the mountain, and the villa vaporized from the several hundred pounds of explosives Tom had loaded when the drugs were taken off.

The monitors on Tom’s remote flight control station went dark, and he said to the drone pilot beside him, “I loved that plane. But sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”

“Yes, sir,” the tech answered with a laugh.

“Okay, let’s get the kids and get out of here. I think a boat trip home would be nice, and I know just the boat.”

It didn’t take long to fuel up the three-million-dollar Enchantress, the sport fisherman they had been chartered on the day they arrived. Three of the team with tie wraps and duct tape made short work of the crew, and Tom was delighted to find Javier in the master suite. He was, as usual, elegantly dressed in a white silk shirt and slacks, like something out of an afternoon soap opera. Tom invited him to the helm in handcuffs to smile at the locals as Tom eased the gleaming seventy-foot Viking away from the fuel dock and into the open Gulf.

Gabe had Paul and Angelica recovering in crew bunks, while the sergeant took the starving Benson girls to the galley for steak and eggs. The crew were restrained in the salon, and Tom sat Javier on the couch in the helm.

“You can’t imagine you’re going to get away with this,” Javier said casually.

“Perhaps not, but we’ll enjoy the fresh air and calm seas while we can.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, what I want is to feed you to the sharks the way you did with that little girl, Catalina, if that was her real name. How old was she? Fifteen, sixteen, fourteen? And what about the other two? Did you kill them as well?”

Silence.

“The only thing keeping you alive is that I’m wondering if you know anything that will help us bring down El Patrón and his cartel.”

Silence.

“Nothing? Fine. Sharks it is.”

When he was assured Paul and Angelica were warm, fed, and sleeping, Gabe joined Tom on the boat’s bridge. The sun was setting, and there was a light breeze from the southwest. The boat, at thirty-five knots, cut through the light chop effortlessly.

Javier and his crew were restrained on deck in the corner, hands and feet zip-tied and a double wrap of duct tape around their mouths.

“What’s up with our friend?” Gabe asked.

“He’s still deciding if he wants to be shark bait or tell us what he knows about the cartel.”

“And your bet is?”

“Well, in spite of being all pretty and stuff, I think he’s a tough guy, because he likes to kill little girls. So I think he’s going to do the honorable thing and sleep with the fishes.”

“Very noble.”

“Isn’t it?”

Gabe looked over at Javier and shook his head in disgust. “Let me know when he makes up his mind. I’ll be happy to help with the send-off. Tell me, how did you do that business with your plane? I thought you loved that plane.”

“I did. But it answered a higher calling.”

“Okay, but how?”

“Like I told you, during