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

“My team is on full alert. Call me the minute you get anything, and we’ll be in the air.”

“Like old times, isn’t it, Tom? Makes me want to saddle up.”

“Yep, it’s what keeps us young.”

“Anything from Maria?”

“I made the call, but nothing yet.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

Tom ended the call, then punched in Gabe’s number and waited.

“Jones here.”

“Gabe, you need to get back here on the double. We’ve got something.”

“I’ll be on the first flight.”

“Oh, how is your aunt?”

“An amazing recovery. We didn’t think she would last the night, but today she’s doing very well.”

“Good. Now get back here. If I’m not at the ranch, I’ll have a plane on standby to pick you up.”

“Yes, sir. On my way.”

Tom left the command center in a cloud of dust and came through the front door of his house at full gallop. He went to his bedroom to change into tactical gear, and was buttoning the black shirt when Carol knocked and came in.

“What’s up?”

The look on her face wasn’t that of a happy camper.

“We’ve got a lead. The team may be deploying to the coast. I’m just getting ready.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be leading your men up San Juan Hill, Teddy?”

“Not as long as there’s fire in this furnace. Carol, this is big stuff. It’s what we’ve been afraid of, and now there may be a chance to stop it.”

“And get killed in the process. Dad, let someone else go. You’ve done enough. Call the shots from your fancy command center. Isn’t that what you built it for?”

“Stop, Carol. Just stop. Don’t you see this is my life? It always has been and it always will be. It’s the way I keep you and the kids safe. It’s the only way I know. Now please, just let me do my job.”

She turned and left his room, slamming the door behind her. She went to the front porch, took out her phone, and called Gabe. “Where are you?”

“On the way to the airport. I should be there in five hours. Why?”

“Dad’s going to get himself killed, and I need you to talk him out of it. He won’t listen to me.”

“I don’t know that it will do any good, but I’ll call him if that’s what you want.”

“No, I want you to come take us home. I want us to get out of here and leave this madness behind us. I want … oh buffalo chips, I don’t know what I want. How is Alethea?”

“She’s making a pretty amazing recovery. I’ll tell you about it when I get there.”

“And Cas? Did you manage to stay out of her bed?”

“Wow, where did that come from?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just upset about Dad and his conspiracy nonsense. I think he’s lost his mind.”

Gabe was silent. She stared at her phone and waited. The silence became too much, and she snapped. “Well, say something.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not fair. You’re just trying to calm me down, and I don’t want to be calm.”

“Gathered that, but did he tell you there’s a sub headed our way with several thousand pounds of explosives? Looks like a terror attack from the cartel.”

“What? You mean it’s real?”

“Looks like.”

“Holy big buffalo chips. I thought he was just nuts.”

“Could be, but I doubt it. You might need to cut him some slack.”

“Can’t you get here any faster? I feel like the wheels are falling off my little red wagon.”

“Try to postpone your nervous breakdown a few more hours, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Jerk.”

“Yep.”

Chapter 30

TWO HOURS PAST SUNSET, THE USS Gabrielle Giffords approached the target. She slowed to eighteen knots, so as not to give herself away, and maintained her course to intercept.

The captain of the Anna Christine saw the approaching ship on his radar, and being justifiably paranoid, ordered one of his men to throw a grenade over the side. The blast was the signal for the subs to deploy a com buoy. Within minutes, they had established radio communication.

“We’ve got an incoming vessel about thirty minutes out. She came in fast and furious. Probably assumed we’d be running the radar on short scan, but the long-range Raytheon—”

“Got it. We’ll break off until they’re gone. No use taking chances when we’re this close. Maintain course and speed. Better stash this radio. Good luck.”

The two subs, running fifty feet deep, came to a dead stop and drifted quietly while Sebastian looked at his charts. They were less than a mile from the shallows of the East Flower Garden Bank, part of the National Marine Sanctuary Program, only 110 miles south of Galveston.

“There,” Sebastian said, and pointed to the chart. “They will never find us there.” He started the engine, and in minutes his fathometer was reading depths as shallow as seventy feet.

He cut the engine and opened the ballast tank valves, dropping the boat gently into the coral. They could hear the breaking of coral as the boat settled. On sonar, they could hear the Anna Christine fading into the distance. He ordered the crew to absolute silence, opened a cold drink, and kicked back in the helm seat.

At the surface the USS Gabrielle Giffords approached the Anna Christine and hailed her to cut her engines and go dead in the water. In the days of wooden ships and iron men, the command would have been “heave to.” But, looking at this bucket of rust, the officer of the deck made the call as simple as possible. The Giffords launched two inflatables, and the boarding party made way to inspect the vessel.

The first thing American sailors were told after boarding was “no English.” The lieutenant in charge smiled and replied in perfect Spanish, “Nice try. Take me to your captain.”

A search began, and over the next three hours, the Navy team covered every inch of the ship, including drilling into bulkheads looking for hidden storage spaces. Finally, tired and frustrated, the Navy called it a day and returned to the Giffords empty-handed. Underway again, the