The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

uncle’s aircraft was to pick up a shipment of assault weapons purchased illegally here in the United States and smuggle them across the border. From there, the aircraft was going to be pressed into service as a transport to conduct large scale smuggling operations involving controlled substances.”

Glancing at Wadley somewhat pensively he finished off by saying, “That’s about all there is to it. No nerve agent, no terrorists and no plot to murder innocent civilians. Just common criminals attempting to become wealthy through weapons smuggling as well as narcotics trafficking.”

For several seconds, an uneasy silence fell over the room. At first Micah was confused and somewhat stunned, his mind trying to correlate with what he knew as facts and what was being said now. As his suspicions started to take form as to what sort of game was presently being played, he felt a flush of anger rising within himself, causing him to grip both arms of his chair.

The highway patrolman fought to steady his emotions as his eyes widened involuntarily, forcing his eyebrows so high they pulled at the stitches on top of his head. Micah Templar did not like being lied to, and had spent nearly twenty years at a job where people did so on a daily basis. Humboldt was not even in the top fifty percent of the class.

Forcing himself to keep an even tone in his voice, Micah responded in a low, slow manner of speaking to keep his rousing anger in check.

“Let me get this straight,” he began. “You want me to believe that Qassam’s bunch was part of a Latin American crime cartel, and they went through all of that just to smuggle a bunch of drugs in.”

“Not just drugs, Templar, but weapons too,” Wadley interjected sharply. “We have a huge problem with our lack of gun laws in this nation and smuggling them south is a wide open business.” The FBI supervisor stopped and then added maliciously to put Micah in his proper place, “or perhaps you don’t read the newspapers out where you come from.”

The highway patrolman eyed the FBI supervisor with a rapidly growing dislike. If there ever was truth to the old adage of buying somebody for what they were worth, and selling them for what they thought they were worth, and making a lot of money?  Well, this guy fit the bill to a tee.

“Oh, but you are so wrong there,” Micah replied, looking hard from Wadley to Humboldt and back again. “I happen to do a good deal of reading and I notice things, too. After all, noticing things is what the State of Texas pays me to do. Picking up on little stuff like when people are speaking Arabic instead of Spanish, or when I’m being shot at by fully automatic AKs stamped with Russian markings, and not some semi-auto version out of a local gun shop.”

“There are the other things I noticed,” he continued, “like needing three-quarter ton vehicles to carry in a bunch of spraying equipment, as well as several large blue plastic drums that everyone seemed to have a real healthy respect for.

“And if they were smuggling weapons into Mexico, where were they? They weren’t at the airstrip. Also, if they were running guns, why take the scenic route and fly north of San Antonio? When The Uvalde Raider went down, she was nearly twice as far from the border as when she took off.”

Humboldt tried to reply but instead trailed off as Micah pointedly ignored him and kept speaking, now gesturing from time to time with his hands and stabbing with his right index finger for emphasis. As the trooper made his case, Wadley’s face became darker and his eyebrows set into one hard line. But he remained silent.

“Then we have the crash scene itself. It’s shut down tight and sealed off, and no one seems to know what’s going on or wanting to explain why. There are military troops out there right now, armed with M16s and carrying or wearing protective gear. The same kind of gear designed for nuclear, biological or chemical warfare. If there was no nerve agent found, then why is that?

“Finally, Qassam made it a point to tell us what was in those plastic containers and what they were being used for. I think he did it to either taunt or try to impress my uncle, or maybe both. Or maybe he really did want some kind of historical record as to what was happening. Whatever it was, I also know my Tio Zeke believed him enough to destroy his own aircraft while sacrificing his life to stop him.”

Micah Templar paused for a moment, staring fixedly at the two men. “Matter of fact I believed Qassam myself, just like I don’t believe you two gents now. We have a saying out in West Texas, ‘Don’t pee on my boots and tell me it’s raining.’  Right now, my boots are soaking wet and there ain’t a cloud in the sky.”

Another long silence followed. The colonel appeared to be slightly amused but not that he would show it much. During his response, Micah had cut his eyes a couple of times to where Eggers sat. Each time the trooper glanced over, the man was grinning a little more. Micah was not sure of what was going on just yet, but he felt as if he had at least one ally in this affair.

Humboldt shifted his ponderous weight again in the protesting chair, looking first at Micah, then the colonel and then to Wadley, then back again. Wadley was trying to stare bullet holes through the former Marine and Micah was responding in kind. The two glared at each other with open contempt, and the room fairly steamed in the rising pall of deep animosity fermenting between them.

“Very well,” Wadley muttered ominously. “Since you seem to have such a strong opinion in your