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

It looks like they’re staging another caravan. See the buses parked there?” He pointed to rows of waiting buses and trucks. “Those must have started to come in last night. Look at this one.” He placed another on the pile. “There are dozens more on the highway headed there. And on the coast, they’ve moved the subs, but the trackers are working. Look at these satellite images. Those trucks made deliveries all night and most of today. Whatever is coming, it’s going to be big.”

“Okay. I need to make some calls. El Patrón has to be close. With this much going on, he has to be there somewhere. If he’s there, Maria was too. Find me the closest airport with a field long enough to land a C-130. It’s time for us to start making film history. That’s really good work, Jimmy. Excellent.”

As soon as his office was empty, Tom got up and locked his door. He picked up the secure phone from the hidden shelf in his desk and punched in the code to open the phone.

“Find me Senator Benson, please. Tell him it’s Tom Bright and it’s urgent.”

Chapter 40

THE C-130 TOUCHED DOWN AT Palenque, the closest major airfield to the refugee camps, mid-morning that next Friday. Within an hour, the crew had the 1918 Navy B-class blimp unloaded and were in the process of inflating her with helium. Named Rainbow Chaser, after the title of the number one hit tune from the Broadway show Oh, Look!, sung in 1918 by Charles Harrison, who was known for rolling every “R” he ever sang. The 163-foot blimp had been extensively restored by the Commemorative Air Force. Restoration had included a new “envelope” of Kevlar, replacing the original Goodyear rubber.

Only sixteen B-class blimps were built, but they had been key elements in locating and detouring German submarine attacks on Allied convoys. The blimps were so successful in locating and destroying subs that wise U-boat commanders avoided attacking targets with the airships on overwatch. Capable of speeds up to forty-seven miles per hour and flight times of twenty-six hours, the green blimps made ideal observation platforms. Tom intended to use that capability to track the transmissions from the pingers hidden in Maria’s missing earrings. And the sooner the better.

“Can you fly that thing?” Gabe asked as he and Tom stepped from the rented Jeep at the improvised docking bay off the runway’s edge.

“Nope, but we’ve got the best in the business. They flew for Goodyear for years filming football and golf. We’re in good hands.”

“Well, I give you one thing, this film idea was brilliant. With the PR the government put out, we’ll be welcomed everywhere.”

“Even a blind squirrel . . .”

“Yeah, yeah. It was still brilliant. Let’s just hope it works.”

At dawn, the crew began preparing the launch. Tom and Gabe reported for duty, and with the new tracking equipment installed, cameras loaded, coffee perked, and food secured, they strapped in and fired up the two small engines on either side of the gondola. The nose was secured, and as they shifted ballast in the internal chambers and the tail came up, Gabe was suddenly looking down at the ground as though they were in a steep dive. With the buoyancy positive, the nose was released and the motors brought to full power. The blimp lifted and they were flying.

As they left the edge of the city, the poverty they had heard about became evident. Dirt roads and tin shacks, barren fields and dry creek beds. People waved, the camera rolled, and the electronics searched for Maria’s transponder earrings. Hopefully she’d been able to plant the trackers where they would do the most good.

Tom had laid out grids they would fly, and the first took them over El Porvenir and Lacandon, famous for their Mayan ruins. Below were temples, pyramids, ball courts, and homes from the Classic period, between A.D. 250 and 900. Dense jungle, the fractional remnant of the Lacandon jungle, mostly denuded for timber and farming, surrounded the ruins. It was easy for Gabe to imagine Mayan warriors walking in the shade of the massive kapok trees below.

“What’s that big river?” Gabe asked. Larger than the Chattahoochee where he had logged many hours of diving, this jungle river meandered quietly on its way north. Two long, wooden, canoe-shaped boats cruised easily along, propelled by Yamaha outboards.

“It’s the Usumacinta,” the pilot answered, looking at his chart. “It’s the border between Guatemala and Mexico. We’re coming up on some exceptional ruins: Yaxchilan and Bonampak. According to this tourist guide they are some of the most remote cities of the Classic period. Bonampak had over 120 buildings—What’s that alarm?”

Tom put on his headset and focused on the computer screen. The sound stopped, and Tom’s brow furrowed. He sat back in his seat and looked out over the landscape. “Gone now, but take us upriver.”

It took distance and time to turn the big airship, but shortly after they were back on course, the alarm was again triggered. This time Tom was ready to track it. They followed the river upstream as the signal grew stronger.

“We must be getting closer,” Tom said.

They flew toward what looked like a military camp, well hidden by the massive trees and back far enough from the river not to be easily seen. Gabe searched with the telephoto lens on the digital camera and flinched when he saw bursts of orange in the trees. “We’re taking fire!” he shouted. “Get us out of here!”

Two rounds shattered the pilot’s windscreen, and he slumped over the controls. Tom jumped to his feet and, reaching around the pilot, lifted him out of the seat. “Have you got us?” he asked the copilot as more fire came through the gondola’s floor. Not getting an answer, Tom looked and saw the copilot slumped over the controls. Blood oozed from a head wound.

“Gabe, get in here,” Tom shouted.

Gabe was already there and moving the dead copilot. Tom dropped into the