by Jon Coon
“My legs could use a stretch. Let’s hoof it.”
“Doesn’t that sound all cowboy and everything.” She laughed. “I missed you. I missed hearing from you. That worried me.”
They started up the road, and Gabe hesitated, trying to come up with a better answer than, “I didn’t know what to say, so it was just easier not to call.”
Finally, he began. “Things got … well … out of hand. We were on the run a lot, and frankly, I needed time to think before we had a serious talk.”
“How serious?”
“Your dad asked me to stay and join the Rangers. I’m thinking about it.”
“Leave Florida? Leave us?”
“This is your real home. I was hoping you would come with me. We could get a place here. You would have family, Emily and Paul would have their grandfather. That’s big.”
“I loved Charlie, Gabe, you know that. But loving him wasn’t the only reason I married him. I wanted—no—I needed to get out from under my dad’s big shadow. I wanted to be free of his expectations and his constant direction. To make my own decisions and run my own life.”
“That sounds pretty normal to me. I think all of us want that autonomy.”
“Yeah, but Dad was more controlling than most. He told me where to go to school and what courses to take. He pushed me to be the national cutting horse champion. Then he wanted me to marry Bobby Benson and be the next senator’s wife. I don’t think he ever once asked me what I wanted. If I’d listened, that would have been me, dead in Bobby’s plane.”
“You can’t know that. The future’s not that predictable.”
“There’s more. He’s built a bunker with more tech gear than NASA. It’s staffed 24/7 by a bunch of military brainiacs, and it must have cost a fortune. Dad doesn’t have that kind of money. At least he never did before, and I’m worried. He’s obsessed with the cartels and the drugs and the illegal immigration. He sees it as some huge conspiracy. You heard him. He thinks it’s up to him to stop it, and it’s only going to get him killed.”
“He told me you called him Don Quixote.”
“Yes, and you’ll remember, that didn’t end well.”
“I wondered. Don’t think I ever read it.”
“Well, trust me, the comparison fits. It’s an old knight who jousts with windmills, goes nuts, and the windmills win.”
They were about halfway to the house when she paused, took off her wide-brimmed straw hat, wiped her sweating forehead, and watched two colts playing in the paddock.
“I love this place, but I don’t ever want to move back here and give up my life—our life. Please don’t ask me to do that. Don’t make me choose.”
“I wasn’t sure you were still thinking about ‘our’ life. You know how I feel about being a cop. That’s not something I can walk away from.”
“I know. It’s just hard. But maybe we can make a deal: I’ll think about being a cop’s wife again, as long as it’s in Florida, or anywhere else but here.”
“You’ll think about it? What does that mean?”
“It means I built that big house for both of us, and I want your boots under my bed and not in that trailer. It means I love you, but you have issues, and moving back here is a deal breaker.”
“Okay, I’m good with that. But I’m not going to abandon your dad. I’m going to stay with him, at least in the short term, until we see where this thing goes. We stirred up a hornet’s nest, and until that calms down, he’s going to need my help. Remember, they took Paul and the Benson girls. They came after us, and that has to stop.”
“But will it stop? Won’t it just keep getting worse and worse?”
“I’m sure it will if we don’t stop it. We can’t just run and hide. They will get stronger, and eventually there will be no stopping them. We need to act now.”
“You sound just like my dad. This is impossible.”
“I hope not. I love you, and I hope not.” He put his arm around her and pulled her into a long and gentle kiss. She held back at first, but then melted into his chest and cried softly.
Chapter 26
TOM PLANNED AN OLD-FASHIONED BBQ to welcome Paul and Angelica. He led the family on a trail ride out to the lake where Consuela and some of the hands had roasted a hog on coals for hours and set up picnic tables with enough food for a small army. Traditional red-checkered cloths covered the tables, and a trio of country singers with acoustic instruments sang favorites from Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers.
Tom blessed the meal and gave special thanks for the return of the prodigal grandson and his guardian angel. Just the aroma of the feast was enough to cause stomachs to cry out for satisfaction, and the meal more than did the job. With apple pie and ice cream for desert and a bonfire to invite lingering conversation, it was a perfect night. Until ...
With the family gathered around the campfire, Tom had a speech to give. When he had everyone’s attention, he began.
“This is the first time in a long time that we’ve all been here, and there’s a lot going on you need to know, so here goes. Some of this is going to be hard to hear, so please just hear me out, and then we’ll talk about it.”
There were nods around the fire. Carol and Emily were huddled with Gabe, and Carol’s hand found his. He acknowledged with a smile but said nothing. Paul and Angelica were holding hands. He looked like a teenager with a first infatuation. Which, in fact, it was.
The fire danced and night birds called from the lake. Tom waited for quiet to settle in and then started. “I’ve sold the ranch. After Charlie’s death, I realized that when I die, none of you want to run it, or have the training to run it, and rather than let it fall to pieces, I decided to sell it now. We have the house and outbuildings, the airfield and horse barns for as long as I’m alive, and then they will go to the new owners.”
He paused and surveyed his audience. There were mostly just looks of shock, but no comments. “Part of the deal was the building of the command center. You’ve all seen it, and now I need to explain it. It’s my belief and that of my friends who bought the place, that we are now or soon will be under attack by elements of the cartels supported by a consortium of South American governments. Namely those involved in the drug business.
“The command center is tied into satellites that let us track the activities of the cartels in those countries. You know about the mass invasions of our southern border. Someone has to organize and fund those caravans. We think it’s the cartels. And we think the goal is to simply overrun our law enforcement until there are no borders. At which time we will no longer have a country. Any questions so far?”
“Isn’t that pretty extreme, Dad?” Carol asked.
“Not when you see the intel we’re seeing, honey. The coincidences add up, and evidence is overwhelming.”
“But why our ranch?” she asked.
“My task force is poking a bad bear in the eye, and we don’t know if we can still trust our government to protect us. I can’t continue to go after the Mexican cartel and not know that you all are safe. Vietnam was called a war of limited objectives, and we got our butts kicked. We can’t let that happen again. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves if the cartels start launching terrorist attacks to force us to back off. They want open borders and an open market for their drugs, and they have the resources to do terrible damage if they don’t get what they want.”
“Now wait—”
“That’s the problem, honey. We’ve waited too long. Look, I know this sounds crazy now, but when you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’ll understand. Just trust me, please. These are the most important decisions any of us will ever have to make.”
Carol leaned into Gabe and squeezed his hand hard. “God help us,” she whispered. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“What’s the next step, Tom?” Gabe asked and Carol abruptly released his hand and pulled away.
“Senator Benson and some other friends are coming in a few days for a planning meeting. After that, we�
�ll know more. For now we just sit tight and continue to monitor the satellites. I’ll give you the tour tomorrow and introduce you to the staff. Then we wait.”
“Who else knows about this?” Carol asked.
“Only those who need to know, and it’s very important we keep it that way. I hope I can trust all of you. This is a sacred trust to protect what we believe.”
Tom looked directly at Carol and held her eyes until she nodded then looked away.
She got up and walked down to the lake, and Gabe followed.
“Why does it have to be us? Why can’t we just live in peace and let the lunatics in the world kill themselves and just leave us alone?”
“They want what we have: our wealth, our freedom. They don’t realize that by destroying us, this country will become just like the ones they left behind, or worse. They will drag us back into the Dark Ages, into feudal wars and raiding hoards. I’m afraid it’s already started. Most people just haven’t realized it or, if they have, don’t want to admit it.”
“Okay, show me that what my dad is saying makes sense and I’m in. If this is the beginning of Armageddon, I’m not going down without a fight.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“But you have to show me. Otherwise I’m taking the kids and going home. This is all just too frightening. Too crazy.”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll figure this out. If your dad is wrong, I’ll leave with you.”
Juan Mateo Caldera, El Patrón to the hundreds in his employ, paced the spacious tile and stucco room of his home in the side of the mountain overlooking the Lacandon Jungle and Usumacinta River. He had a drink in one hand and a Cuban cigar in the other, and barked orders to a desk phone on speaker on a black, ornately carved, wooden desk.
“The military trucks should be here by dawn. Get that Semtex aboard, and I want them underway by midnight. Sea conditions are good, and they should be there in three days. Have the support vessels on station by tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, boss. Everything is ready.”
“It had better be. Everything must be perfect.”
“Si, boss. Perfecto.”
“Set up a meeting with Maria. It’s time for her to play her part.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good. Do it.”
He walked to the desk and punched off the phone, then walked to the balcony doors and stepped out onto the shaded veranda. A fountain gurgled and muted jungle sounds echoed from the mountain. A parrot greeted him and begged for fruit. He went to the cage and fed the bird a small cluster of grapes, one at a time. “Thank you,” the bird repeated each time, encouraging him to be more generous. Lareina, his beautiful wife, appeared in the doorway dressed in a loose flowered blouse and short skirt, her outfit revealing well-tanned legs and ample cleavage.
“It’s almost time, my darling. We’ve waited long enough.”
Later that night, Tom’s phone, the one reserved for Maria, chimed softly. He excused himself from the dinner table and walked outside on the front porch.
“I’ve only got a minute,” Maria said.
Caldera was standing behind her, listening intently.
It wasn’t a good connection. There was a scratching and tapping that made it hard to hear. Tom smiled and hit record.
Maria continued. “Something big is going on here. I think they are about to move tons of coke into the Keys. I’ve never seen so many Picudas. I don’t know where he got them all.”
“When?”
“I’d say within a week. And, Tom, be careful. They’re taking a lot of hardware. It looks like he wants a fight.”
“I understand. We’ll be ready. You okay?”
“As much as I can be. I miss you.”
“Say the word and I’ll get you out. You know that.”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He shut off the phone and watched the sun setting over the western hills. He’d gotten her message, but it wasn’t her words, spoken with Caldera standing over her shoulder. It was the one in Morse code she’d tapped and scratched on the phone. Their plan of communication for moments just like this one. He went into his office, played the call again, writing down the taps and scratches, and then pulled a code book from the top shelf of his gun safe. He left the safe door open. Gabe knocked just as Tom finished decoding Maria’s message.
Gabe looked distracted, concerned. “I just got a call from New Orleans. Alethea’s in the hospital. It doesn’t look good. I need to go.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tom said and rose from his desk. “Do you want me to fly you over?”
“There’s a red-eye from Dallas/Ft. Worth that will get me there by morning. If I leave now, there’s time. I guess I need to borrow a truck.”
“By all means. Keys are in the shed. Anything you need, just call.”
“Carol is down at the stable. Would you explain—”
“Of course. Go on, get out of here and call us when you know how she’s doing.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’ll be in touch.” As he was leaving, Gabe noticed a sniper rifle in Tom’s safe. “Isn’t that an MK 15, the sniper rifle the SEALs use?”
“Yes. Ever fire one?”
“No, but our tac team just got two. I saw them on the range. Pretty impressive. Our guys said some Canadian made a kill at thirty-five hundred yards. Hard to believe.”
“When you get back, we’ll take that one out. You’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will. Well, keep me posted, and I’ll check in as soon as I know how Alethea’s doing.”
“Roger that. Safe travels.”
Gabe tossed a few items in a jump bag and headed toward the door. His service weapon was holstered in his duty belt in the closet. It would be faster clearing TSA without it. He started to leave it, but then decided he could lock it in the truck. He grabbed it, tossed it in his bag, and hurried down the stair and out to the truck shed, which was as large as a small motor pool.
The drive was uneventful. He pulled into the parking garage, locked his gun in the toolbox in the bed, and was leaving the truck when his phone rang. Carol was on the other end.
“Hey, Dad just told me. What’s up?”
“Cas called. Alethea’s back in the hospital. Cas says it doesn’t look good, and Alethea wants me there.”
“Oh, Gabe, I’m so sorry. Do you want us to come?”
“Let me see what’s going on, and I’ll let you know. But thanks. If it’s bad, I’d appreciate your being with me.”
“Okay, just let me know.”
Gabe had arrived at the ticket counter, and even shortly before midnight, there was a line. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call as soon as I know anything. Promise.”
“Gabe, I love you. Don’t let Cas make you do anything stupid.”
Chapter 27
AT DAWN, TOM SAT STARING at Maria’s decoded message: “Semtex. Narco subs. Three days.”
He picked up his work phone and called Senator Benson on a secure line. “Bob, it’s starting. I just got a coded message from Maria. She doesn’t know the target but says it’s narco-subs and Semtex. We’ve got three days.”
“I’ll get the planes up and put the Navy on alert. What else?”
“That’s all I’ve got for now. What do you know about those subs?”
“Mostly fiberglass, twenty to thirty meters, extended range, hard as hell to track. What else?”
“Payload?”
“Average, five to six tons. Crew of four or five. Cost a couple million to build and one trip can net 200 million. There was a rumor the Colombian military was building them and selling to the highest bidder, but shipyards have been found in the jungle. So who knows? Several we’ve caught have been scuttled in open sea, and until we got the law changed, we had to let the crews go. Now we can hold them. Navy guesses we get one out of ten.”
“One out of ten? Go Navy.”
“No, it’s not that. Budget cuts didn’t give our guys enough fuel to pursu
e. We just sat there and watched them run.”
“That’s outrageous.”
“Nope, that’s politics. Hopefully it’s better now.”
“Five or six tons of Semtex could do a lot of damage. Level a small town.”
“Let’s look for high-value targets within the travel range,” Benson said.
“Plenty on the Gulf Coast that wouldn’t take a fraction of that to destroy. He’s thinking big.”
“I’ll get our guys on it. Keep you posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tom. Tell Maria thanks. And get her the hell out of there.”
“Yes, sir. I’m trying. But you know how stubborn she can be.”
When Tom looked up from his desk and cell phone, Carol was standing in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” she asked. She invited herself in and sat in one of the two chairs across from Tom’s desk. He folded the note and put it and the codebook back on the hidden shelf. Then locked the gun safe drawer.
“Remember what we were talking about last night? About the cartels planning to attack us?”
“Yes, I still think that’s sort of far-fetched.”
“It’s started. I just had a call from Maria. She’s still undercover there. She says the cartel is launching a massive attack against a high-value target on our coast. Could be a nuke power plant, a refinery, oil platforms … but something really big.”
“Are you sure?”
“Maria has never given us bad intel. If she’s sure, then I believe her.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, is right. This could be the start of something really bad.”
“Are you going to let the Mexican government know?”
“That’s Bob’s job. I have no idea who we could trust.”
“What do we do now? Just wait?”
“That’s the hardest part. I’m going out to the command center and brief them. Want to come along?”
“Those guys freak me out. I think I’ll stay here and have breakfast with the kids. I keep asking myself, Dad, why us? Why does it have to be us? We lost Charlie. Wasn’t that enough?”