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

hour, proof that it wasn’t only the Blessed Virgin who was watching over Caldera’s youthful crews.

“Do you suppose it could be true the cartels have 450,000 people on their payrolls?” Tom asked. He was at his computer in the rusted tin hangar.

“Where did you get that number?” Gabe asked.

“Here, on the internet.”

“Well then, it has to be right,” Gabe answered with a grin.

“I wonder. That’s amazing.”

“You’ve said that before. Why are you visiting that again?”

“I’ve been wondering, if it weren’t for drugs, would they have anything to eat? Any income at all. Look at the poverty here in Chiapas, or Argentina, or Guatemala … Is there any possible solution for that?”

“The only answer I see is Christ’s second coming or another miracle of that magnitude. Like the one it will take to heal the chasm between the political parties at home. Only a miracle or a war will ever resolve that.” Gabe scratched the stubble from his three-day beard thoughtfully, then added, “And I’m praying it won’t be war.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. It’s just so broken it looks impossible.”

“But that’s what God does. When we realize there’s no way we can manage it, that’s when he steps in. Like the Israelites at the Red Sea or David and Goliath. Once we make room for God then there’s a chance,” Gabe said, more to himself than to Tom.

“I certainly hope you’re right. And this would be a great time for him to prove it.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“It’s more like third or fourth thoughts. We have to win this, but the cost could be terrible. On one hand, I want revenge for Maria and the ranch. On the other, I’m beginning to wish there were another way.”

“There probably is. We just haven’t met our David yet.”

“We’ve got him,” Jimmy said. “The car was owned by a phony shell company, but the facial recognition nailed him to a police record from when he was a teenager. He was arrested in a demonstration for the Zapatista Army of National Liberation. His father was killed by police, and he and a bunch of others arrested. Mostly kids.”

“Okay, what else?”

“That camp you asked about, it’s a Zapatista camp. Supposedly they are more nonviolent now, but very active on behalf of the tribes. They claim the right of the tribes to clear and farm the rainforest, even though the last of it is now a national bio-sanctuary. The Mexican government hates their guts, but the optics are bad, so at least for now, there’s sort of a truce.”

“Are they the communists who paint the images of Che Guevara all over the country? The ones who had the big fight with the government in the nineties and got their butts kicked?”

“The same. Apparently they’ve reorganized and are trying to influence Mexican politics now. Perhaps the nonviolence is just a ruse and they are planning something else?”

“Could be. Okay, so who is our ‘El Patrón’?”

“His name is Juan Mateo Caldera, shown as a wealthy landowner and philanthropist, a big supporter of schools, hospitals, and care for immigrants. Big political contributor, friend of a lot of high-ranking politicos. His wealth is attributed to holdings in Europe and the States, but no original source of income or wealth is given.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“The Zapatistas work for Caldera, and he funds them. Cozy arrangement, according to our government contacts. Finally, there must be some reason for them shooting at you, but our guys didn’t know what or why. Maybe just target practice, or open season on air ships.”

“What else do we know about Caldera?”

“A couple things. He has friends in high places. As long as he keeps the pesos flowing, it’s not likely his friends in the government are too interested in where the money is coming from.”

“I think we’ve heard that song before,” Tom said. He shifted the phone to his other hand and slapped a bug just for spite.

“There’s more. He’s a big family guy. His wife is Lareina Gutierrez. Her father was from a wealthy family in Chiapas who went to the States legally and was a chemistry professor. He was successful and living the good life with one kid in college and another near the top of his class in high school. Then it all went south. His son got involved in drugs. There was a raid at the father’s house, and the parents were killed under very questionable circumstances. Lareina left college and came back to Chiapas to live with her grandparents. She met Juan, and they were married a year later. Four kids including twin girls, active in church, and volunteers in several organizations. Devout Catholic. Hates the US.”

“Do we know how to find them?”

“They have several homes. Not all in Mexico, but I’m working on it. Also, he owns three black Range Rovers. So good luck with that. What’s next?”

“Follow the money. Get me everything you can on his financials, especially holdings in the States.”

Chapter 41

AS THE SUBS GOT UNDERWAY for their two-day journeys north, they were shadowed by every bit of technology the Navy and Coast Guard could mobilize against them. The tracking devices, designed to look like the zincs put on the boats for cathodic protection, worked perfectly, and survived even the closest inspection of Caldera’s workers.

With strict orders not to engage, the American vessels tracked them silently as the sub courses diverged to major coastal cities. In the sky above, Poseidon P-8A, submarine surveillance planes, provided overwatch as the invasion of drugs proceeded north.

In Washington, the president ordered 5,000 National Guardsmen to the southern border and woke the president of Mexico, demanding the caravan be stopped before it reached the US. In keeping with the new immigration agreements between the US and Mexico, the Mexican president woke his chief of staff with orders to stop the convoy. Before long, phones rang and lights came on in the homes of military and law enforcement officials across the nation. The message in all the calls was the same—the caravan