Retribution Road

by Jon Coon

  “To those who are given much, much is expected. We do what we can. Thank you for telling me of their need.”

  “I’ve heard there is great need in the camps. They are filling so fast there’s not enough of anything. They say there are a half-million refugees from San Salvador, not to mention the thousands from Guatemala. Is there anything more we can do there?”

  “Our men are putting together another caravan. Now is the time to hit the American border again. Our plan is working. Soon there will be no border there at all, and we will flood them with the drugs they so desperately want and the millions of refugees fleeing the chaos of our neighbors to the south. North America has turned its back on us for too long. Now they will know what it’s like to have the squalor we’ve lived in for decades while they’ve grown rich and fat.”

  “You are a good man, Juan. Like Father Raul says, it’s truly time for justice to come to our people.”

  “Tom may be right, it may be the only way, but it’s starting to feel wrong,” Gabe said to Alethea. He’d called her mostly to get Carol off his back. But when Alethea asked him what current events might be triggering the old fears and feelings, the conversation quickly shifted to the plans they were making for another assault on the cartel. “I know we have to stop the tons of drugs they’re attacking us with, but every time we hit them, they hit back. And every time, it escalates. More die on both sides and hundreds might have been killed if that sub full of Semtex in Baytown had blown. It’s madness, and I’m beginning to think only a miracle—and a big one—will ever stop it.”

  “Then let’s start praying for that miracle.”

  The way she said it convinced him she was serious. That was no offhand comment or flip answer. Perhaps a miracle was the only way the violence would ever end, but was that too much to hope for, to pray for? That was the question.

  And it wasn’t his only question.

  “Alethea, when I was at your house with Cas, while you were in the hospital, I had a vision, a dream that has been bothering me. Souricière was part of it. And then there was a heart on a silver platter that was beating all on its own. I swear it was the most bizarre and yet the most real dream I’ve ever had. Does any of that mean anything to you?”

  On her end of the phone, Alethea’s mouth turned in a rare grin. “The things you described, were they part of some kind of ceremony?”

  “Yes, I think it was a healing ceremony for you. There were several others there dressed in robes like druids.”

  “That explains a lot. Gabe, what you saw may not have been a vision or a dream. Did you have anything to eat or drink during the ceremony?”

  “Yes, they gave me a goblet of—”

  “Heavy red wine?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “That explains a lot. First, I need to thank you. That ceremony probably saved my life. Then I need to warn you. That’s a very powerful ritual. It’s been well over a hundred years since anyone has attempted La Traspuesta. It’s an old Spanish term for a sacrificial substitution. Only the most powerful have ever attempted it, much less been successful with it. That’s why Cas needed you. It was your power that made it work. It’s what I’ve believed all these years: Your combined power can do things the ancients could only dream about.”

  “And the wine?”

  “Don’t be too angry, but my guess is she roofied you, she needed your help and didn’t believe she could convince you, so she did the only thing she could in the time she had—she drugged you. Don’t feel too badly, you didn’t lose your virginity or any important working parts. And you did save my life. There is that.”

  “But she could have asked—”

  “Don’t be too hard on her, Gabe. She was desperate to do a good thing, and at least she didn’t use your heart.”

  “The heart on the platter, where—”

  “Do you really want to know? She might tell you, but then again . . .”

  That stopped Gabe dead in his tracks. “I thought it was all a dream. Nothing like that could be real.”

  “Oh, Gabe, after everything you’ve seen and done, how can you say something like that? My dear sweet boy, it’s time for you to rethink what’s real and what you wish was your imagination.”

  “Alethea, if that was real and it saved you, then I’m glad, but I’m going to have a serious conversation with Cas. If she drugged me, she’s really crossed a line and it has to stop.”

  Alethea put down the phone and turned to Cas, who was standing beside her listening intently.

  “How mad is he?”

  “I think you should avoid him for a while. Right now, I think he might wring your neck.”

  “But, Mémère, it worked. It saved you and everything we believed about him is true.”

  Emily and Paul pulled Tom away from his desk and asked him to come to the bunker’s boardroom. There, he was met by the family singing birthday greetings and the surprise party they’d planned. Emily had gone all out to decorate the command center conference room with banners and balloons. There were several presents from his family and a few boxes from the Bensons, the Rangers, and others. Tom, who had been so focused, so worried about Maria, had forgotten—or ignored—the date on the calendar.

  He checked to make sure he had his cell phone and the secure phone used only to contact Senator Benson before blowing out the sixty-five candles on his cake. He checked both phones again and then cut the cake while Emily served ice cream and iced tea.

  As the food disappeared, but before the presents were opened, Tom rose, and with a spoon, chimed a tea glass until the small crowd was quiet.

  “Thank y’all. Not that I need to be reminded of how fast the years pass when you’re fortunate enough to have reached my age—that would be the age of dinosaurs and petroglyphs. I don’t need to tell you these are dangerous times. One look at what’s left of our home is plenty proof of that. And I don’t need to tell you this isn’t over. But I might just remind you that Maria is still out there in harm’s way, and that she needs our prayers, and that in whatever is to come, we go forward with the assurance that God is on our side and will protect us. That’s all. I couldn’t be more blessed than to have all my family here to help celebrate this day. Thank you again.”

  There were nice shirts from the grandchildren, a pair of hand-sewn boots from Carol and Gabe, and an engraved Colt Peacemaker from the Ranger battalion. Senator Benson had sent an engraved brass plaque from the state of Texas thanking him for saving the refinery. And then there was one box remaining with tags that read DRY ICE. It was a heavy box the size of a small cooler.

  Tom cut the tape with his pocketknife and lifted out the Styrofoam lid, then dropped the knife and fell back into his chair.

  “Oh, God, please no!”

  From the bottom of the cooler Maria’s head, eyes still open, stared up at him with a silent scream on her lips.

  Gabe jumped to his feet and put the cover back on the cooler. Jimmy the Geek and the other techs followed Tom out of the room while Gabe carried the box to the galley and put it in the walk-in freezer. He put a hand on the box and prayed in anguish, “Dear Lord, this has to stop. We need that miracle and we need it soon.”

  He returned to the conference room. Carol held Emily, who was crying hysterically. Paul held Angelica’s hands and looked sick. They were all shell-shocked. Gabe went to Carol and Emily. He wrapped both of them in his arms and held them close.

  “We’re not safe here,” Carol said.

  “We’re not safe anywhere,” he whispered back and hoped she hadn’t heard. It could have been a bomb. It could have been anything. “You’re right. Until this stops—and we have to stop it—we will never be safe again.”

  Tom was on the phone when Gabe found him in his office. Tom waved Gabe in and pointed to a chair. Gabe entered and sat.

  A half-full bottle of bourbon and a single glass sat dead center on Tom’s desk. Tom had the phone tucked under his ear. He refilled his glass and spoke angrily into the phone. “I want e
very round of ammunition those planes can carry and every gallon of napalm you can find, Bob. When I’m done with them, Sherman’s march through Georgia’s going to look like a Macy’s parade.”

  Gabe couldn’t hear the Senator’s response.

  “Don’t worry, Bob. There won’t be anything on the planes to identify them as ours. We’ll repaint them once we’re in the hangars down there. I know I’m upset and a little drunk now, but before we do this, I’ll be stone-cold sober.”

  While Tom listened, he pointed to the bottle, offering Gabe a drink. He politely refused.

  “I’ll let you know what we decide about a service for Maria. You and I are as close to family as anyone she had. I’d like her buried in our family plot here at the ranch, if you agree … Good, I’ll make arrangements.” Tom let go of some of his anger as he focused on Maria. “That’s fine. I’ll wait to hear from you. Sorry to be the messenger.”

  Tom put down the phone and took a long drink before returning the glass to his desktop. He looked up at Gabe. “Will you do something for me please?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go open that damn box and see if she’s wearing her earrings. I didn’t see them, but I want to make sure.”

  “Okay.”

  Gabe got up and returned to the freezer. Maria’s frozen face looked more like a death mask made of ice than anything human. Except for her eyes.

  Gabe was no stranger to death, but this was bad. However, Tom had been right. No earrings. He returned to Tom’s office.

  “How long could those earrings send a signal strong enough for us to track?” Gabe asked when he returned to Tom’s office.

  “I’m checking on that now, but I think it was at least a month. If that’s right, we might have time.”

  “Have you gotten anything back on our sub base?”

  “Yes, Jimmy just gave me the satellite report. They’ve spotted two subs coming and going.”

  “I’ll call the master chief.” He paused before asking, “Tom, how are you? This business with Maria … I know how you felt about her, and I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

  Tom pushed back in his chair, twisted his neck uncomfortably, and polished off the drink with one swallow. He started to reach for the bottle but then hesitated. “I don’t think Maria and I … well, we had different ideas about life. I think she always knew I loved her, but that wasn’t enough. She was independent, and she always had to do things her way.” He started for the bottle again, then shook his head and pushed it away. “That’s not going to help. But, God help me, I don’t know what will. I’m going to miss her. That’s the bottom line. I’m going to miss her and I’m going to kill the guy who did this. I’m going to kill him real slow.”

  “We’ll find them, and you’ll have retribution. But I’m beginning to wonder if there’s ever an end once we start down retribution road?”

  “Are you saying you don’t—”

  “No, I’m with you. But it would feel a lot better if we could know there’s an end, and it feels like anything that stops this killing would be better than this.”

  “I agree. I just don’t see an exit off this highway.”

  “Me neither. We have to stop them. But let’s try to avoid tunnel vision. Just in case there’s another way.”

  And pray to God he shows us one.

  Chapter 38

  “YOUR OP’S A GO, AGENT Mulder,” Kurczewski said. “The boys in Norfolk have a new toy. A SEAL Delivery Vehicle called the Shallow Water Combat Submersible. That’s SWCS in navspeak. It’s the replacement for the old Mark 8 SDV. That was the SEAL Delivery Vehicle as opposed to the even older Swimmer Delivery Vehicles used in Vietnam and earlier. Anyway, this is going to be a training and evaluation mission. They’ve only got two of the new vehicles, so I had to promise we’d bring it back in one piece. Have you got us a target?”

  “We do.”

  “Outstanding. We’ll meet the sub in Key West and deploy from there. Pack your kit, Gabe. This is going to be fun.”

  Gabe found Carol and Emily in the paddock with Diamond Jack and Emily’s Zonta. He parked the truck and climbed the fence into the field while Carol led Emily through the tight turns. She yelled encouragement as Zonta gained confidence following Diamond Jack’s lead. When they were done, Emily came charging up near where he stood and reined Zonta to a squatting, foot-planted sliding stop.

  “Impressive,” Gabe said, choking on the dust. “Looks like the two of you are getting along just fine.”

  “She doesn’t like airplanes. She shies every time one goes over. Horses remember everything.”

  Carol rode up on Diamond Jack with less exuberance. His wounds were now only dark lines on his gleaming coat. Jack nuzzled Gabe’s shirt, and Gabe stroked the champion’s neck as Carol dismounted.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m leaving for a few days. Doing a training op with the Navy. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “That’s lame, Gabe. Why does the Navy need your help with a training op?”

  He laughed. “You got me. I’m going because I know where the narco-sub base is in Mexico.”

  “And what are you going to do when you find it?”

  “Put trackers on the subs and also on any product they have there. We’re going to follow the shipments back into the States and try to shut down their distribution networks.”

  “And if they catch you and—”

  Gabe glanced toward Emily, but she’d heard enough.

  “So what if they catch you, Gabe? What then?”

  “That’s why I’ve got the Navy, the best guys ever. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  Carol gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. She whispered, “Just come back to us, please. Before this gets worse.”

  The SSN 790, USS South Dakota, a Virginia Class Attack Submarine, was commissioned the second of February, 2019. She was the newest of this class of subs and was moored, with new paint gleaming, in the Key West summer sun, and had a dry deck shelter, or DDS, nested just aft of her conning tower.

  “Only the best for our friends from the twilight zone,” Master Chief Kurczewski said as he slapped Gabe on the back and welcomed him aboard. “Let’s get your gear squared away and I’ll give you the tour and introduce you to Captain Anderson. He’s anxious to hear about the mission and the details of the attack on the refinery. I’m afraid you’re sort of an anomaly. It’s hard for the Navy to believe anyone without an MK 5 helmet tattoo can actually dive. But don’t worry, I’m here to protect you.”

  Gabe laughed, and they stowed his gear in a small cubicle with two bunks.

  “Welcome to the VIP guest suite, Agent Mulder. The rest of us are sharing a bunk room.”

  The captain and crew were cordial, and the food excellent for a person with Gabe’s modest palate. After the meal and a bowl of ice cream, Gabe asked the chief when they would get underway.

  “Well, that’s classified. I could tell you but then—”

  “Never mind. I know how that ends. Thank you.”

  Kurczewski laughed. “The truck with the SWCS is still en route from Norfolk. We’ll leave as soon as it gets loaded.”

  “Remind me again what that means.”

  “En route means the truck is still on the—oh, you meant SWCS. That’s Shallow Water Combat Submersible for you civilians.”

  “Thank you. I can tell this is going to be a long trip.”

  With a crew of 132—15 officers and 117 enlisted—plus the six-man SWCS crew, the South Dakota was full but not crowded, as submarines go. The meals were good and the crew accommodating and friendly. Gabe was fascinated by the technology and intrigued by the new propulsion system called a propulsor or pump-jet. The system consisted of two massive water pumps capable of thousands of pounds of thrust. They reduced cavitation and enabled the sub to run at a nearly undetectable level of quiet. Other features, like a torpedo room capable of being reconfigured for special ops and a diver lockout chamber that could comfortably hold fifteen divers and th
eir gear, made the South Dakota the ideal two-billion-dollar vehicle for this kind of operation.

  Gabe had worried the four SEALs he was to work with would be skeptical of the skills a civilian dive school graduate and Louisiana oil rig diver turned cop and body hunter could possess. While the tactical training and physical prowess of the SEALs was beyond impressive, Gabe also found them bright, engaging, and interested in his training and the job opportunities for post-military diving careers.

  As the South Dakota took them toward the Mexican coast at speeds in excess of twenty-five knots, Gabe heard stories of SEAL training and past operations. They went over the plans for this mission numerous times with each operator listing his specific tasks. They introduced Gabe to the weapons they used and to the navigation tools.

  Gabe would carry two SEAL favorites: the Sig Sauer P226, 9 mm handgun, and a Heckler & Koch MP5SP, an internally suppressed submachine gun built for special ops groups with the unique feature of being able to fire with water in the gun—a nice feature for operators making assaults from wet submarines or long, submerged swims. From his police training, Gabe was familiar with the HK, but not with this special version.

  The six-man team talked long into the afternoon until Master Chief Kurczewski declared “lights out” and told them they would launch in seven hours.

  Geared up and waiting to enter the diver lockout chamber, after a light meal and final briefing, the men entered and gave the order to open the valve to flood the chamber. They came out a hatch in the sub’s side and went up to the DDS, the dry deck shelter, on the South Dakota’s deck, opened it, and after a quick systems check, untethered the Shallow Water Combat Submersible.

  Designed for two crew and four passengers, the little sub had a twelve-hour range with the divers in wet suits and breathing from onboard compressed air. They boarded, switched from their back-mounted, twin, eighty-cubic-feet tanks to the vessel’s air, leveled at forty feet, and began a one-hour run to the target. Gabe was just beginning to feel the chill when he heard the hum of the electric motors stop and felt the nose settle into the sand.