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

Vietnam the Army had Beechcraft build a few Bonanzas as surveillance drones. At the end of the war they sold them cheap, and I bought that one and all the gear. I just wanted the plane, so I stripped out the remote controls. But you never know when a drone with a 1,200-pound payload might come in handy. It did. No regrets.”

“I think I’d have a couple hundred-thousand-dollars’ worth of regrets.”

“Look at it this way. We got the kids back, blew up his lab, confiscated his three-million-dollar boat, and we get to feed Javier here to the sharks. No regrets.”

“How long will it take us to get home?”

“It’s a little less than eight hundred miles. If we can make twenty-five knots, that’s a little less than twenty-nine miles per hour. Let’s guess about twenty-eight hours, plus or minus. Navigation is not an exact science on the water.”

“Roger that. Let me know when you’re ready for a break. I’ll be happy to take the wheel. I’ve been thinking. What do you suppose the boss is going to do when he figures out we confiscated his boat? Think he’ll come after us?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Tom’s grin sent a chill up Gabe’s spine.

Chapter 24

“THEN SHOULD WE BE DOING something to get ready?” Gabe asked.

“We already have, but just make sure the kids are safe. They won’t risk shooting up this boat, and I doubt they’ll get close enough to board us. Let the others know not to open fire. They want the boat and to capture us, but that’s not going to happen.”

Tom’s satellite phone buzzed and he answered, talked briefly, and switched the radar to fifty-mile scan. At first there was nothing. Tom adjusted the gain and watched the southwest quadrant; light shadows, only fleeting blips, momentarily appeared. “There. If you didn’t know what to look for you’d probably miss them completely: three go-fast boats, probably ‘Picuda,’ named for a fast little fish that looks like a barracuda. That’s what they call the new all-glass hulls with big twin or triple two-hundreds. Plenty of range and carry a ton of cargo. They can make Jamaica to Costa Rica in two days. That’s roughly 2,200 miles at forty-five miles per hour, plus in open sea. That’s flying.”

“Must be one hell of a ride.”

“More than these old bones could stand. The cartel has several and has been hitting our coast with them. We didn’t know where his base was on the Mexican coast, but now we do.”

“So we’re bait? You stole his boat to draw them out? Nice.”

“Nice if they don’t blow us out of the water. We’ll know in about fifteen minutes,” he said, checking the radar again. “Better spread the word, pirates inbound. Tell everyone to stay calm.”

Gabe went below to crew quarters where Paul and Angelica had been sleeping in separate bunk beds. Still fully clothed, they were now curled together in one. He spoke quietly and woke them gently with, “It would probably be a good idea to get up. Looks like we may have company.”

“Is it the cartel’s men?” Angelica asked.

“Yes, but don’t panic yet.” Gabe saw the terror in her eyes. “They’ve been expected, and we’re ready.”

“What do you want us to do?” Paul asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Stay low. Stay alert. Help with the Benson girls if things get hairy.”

“Can we have weapons? You know my mom taught me to shoot.”

“We’ve got enough guns. Just don’t get in the way if shooting starts. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Don’t look so disappointed. This could be the day you don’t get shot.”

“Yeah, that could be good.”

Gabe turned to Angelica. “You doing okay?”

“Si, gracias, thanks. I’m a nurse if you need . . .”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but thanks. I’m going back to the bridge. Please go to the girls and keep them calm. Hopefully this won’t take long.”

“So, what’s going to happen, Gabe?” Paul asked.

“I haven’t a clue. But knowing your grandfather, it’s going to be spectacular.”

“So where are they?” Tom was saying angrily into his sat-phone. “And what are we supposed to do until they get here? Right. I’ll put a shrimp on the barbie and invite the mates over for a Fosters or two. Bloody hell!”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Gabe said.

“Our guardian angels are running a bit late. Every time I have to deal with the feds, I end up getting—”

“So what are we going to do? What do you want me to do?” Gabe was looking out the stern windows and could see three off-white go-fasts closing quickly.

“Okay. No one leaves this boat, and they don’t come aboard. If they want to escort us back, that’s fine, but those kids aren’t going anywhere.”

“Where do you want our guys?”

“I borrowed the best in the business from the Navy. They know what to do. Just remind them no one fires until I give the word.”

Gabe picked up the mic for the intercom system and passed on Tom’s orders. Below the bridge, men scattered. The three Picudas were coming at them, wide open. The VHF radio squawked to life, “Enchantress, Enchantress, this is Sea Dragon. Go to eight.”

Tom switched from channel sixteen to eight and answered, “This is Enchantress.”

“Heave to and prepare to be boarded, Enchantress.” Good English, bad accent.

“Just who do you think you are, Sea Dragon? The Coast Guard? Not going to happen. If you approach, we will blow you out of the water.”

“Nice try, gringo. Better rethink that. We have you outmanned and outgunned. Heave to.”

“They’ve got rocket launchers,” Gabe said. “Looks like RPGs.” He continued watching with binoculars.

“Sea Dragon, you know if you fire on this boat, your boss is going to be a very upset hombre. Let’s work this out another way.”

There was hesitation for a moment before Sea Dragon answered. “We’re listening.”

The two boats with the RPGs were easing closer as they talked. Tom cut speed, forcing the other boats to slow down to stay abreast of Enchantress, then Tom turned the bow to run with the sea,