by Jon Coon
“That could take a lot of time, but it sounds good,” Chuck said.
“We have other things working. So by the time we’re ready to start flying, we may have defined a fairly tight search area. It might not take as long as it looks now. However, I’d like to get the airship on its way as soon as possible. Oh, and the Drug Task Force can cover the expenses, or at least most of them, and that part of the operation is completely legal, so we won’t have to repaint anything.”
Chuck nodded his head in the right direction this time. “Well, I’d say let’s vote. All in favor of sending the airship on a documentary film project to Mexico respond by saying ‘aye.’”
It was unanimous.
“Okay, all in favor of a trip to Mexico for this ‘special’ air show. Let’s hear it.”
“Hell yes!” carried the day.
The minute he stepped from his Land Rover, Juan Caldera could smell the dead javelina and hear the chainsaws. He followed his men on the short trail from the parking area to the tent. Several men were cutting away the tangle of trees and branches while others worked on repairing the tent.
“Show me the bodies,” Caldera said.
His lieutenant led the way to the two half-eaten corpses. Caldera knelt between them looking at the multiple wounds. He ignored what the hogs had done, mostly lower and visceral damage, and looked at the head wounds. He ran his fingers through the hair of one and looked at the bloody residue left on his fingers, then carefully looked at the rest of the devastation before he spoke.
“Take those bodies into town and have the heads x-rayed. Everything looks like it lost a fight with a porcupine, but trees didn’t kill these guys, and I want to know what did. Go over the subs like your life depends on it, because it does, and let me know what you find. The hogs may have set off the Claymores, but something’s not right here. Clean up the mess and move the boats to one of the other sites. Let me know when that’s done. And I do mean check those boats. If you have any question they’ve been tampered with, set them on fire. Comprende?”
“We’re on.” Tom dropped into the seat to the right of Senator Benson, who was following the checklist, preparing for takeoff. “The blimp will be ready to go in two days and the bombers will be there in time for the air show.”
“You’re amazing, Tom. That’s really good work.”
“Thanks, Bob. Maria doesn’t deserve any less.”
“I’ve got the supplies you wanted coming from every arsenal in the South and then some. I just hope we can keep this quiet until you get that stuff out of the country. After that, I don’t give a damn. They killed Bobby and now they’re going to pay. That’s all that matters. Have you heard from Gabe?”
“On his way home today. Two of the SEALs and his Navy chief friend were injured, but the op was a success. We’re tracking the subs now. So far no movement.”
Lareina Caldera helped Carmencita, one of her twins, from the pool and wrapped her in a towel. She told the two-year-old to wait in the chair while she helped Carola, the other half of the pair, up the stone steps as well. With both drying in the sun, Lareina dropped her robe on a lounge chair and stepped into the shimmering pool. She loved the water and this pool especially. Clear and deep with a waterfall and bench seats at the wet bar, it was a perfect way to entertain the children and soak in the luxury of wealth and seclusion on a warm summer’s afternoon. With a full-time nanny with ever-watchful eyes, Lareina was free to enjoy a moment of liquid tranquility without worry.
She kicked with a polished stroke toward the wall, snapped a racing turn, and glided back into the center. Behind her there was a splash, and Juan cut through the water beside her like a missile seeking a target.
Juan flipped his turn off the opposite wall and launched himself directly at her. As he passed beneath her, he caught the bottom of her suit and stripped it cleanly off in one gentle tug. He kept going toward the far wall, then turned and waved the suit at her, taunting her into a game of tag. She attacked, he escaped. She attacked, he tried to escape again, but this time she caught his ankle and stopped him cold. She grabbed her suit and pushed him away with a kick to his stomach. They surfaced laughing, and he pulled her under into a long intimate kiss.
“You are a bad man, Juan Caldera,” she said and pushed him under again.
He came up coughing and laughing. “I surrender, I surrender, no more. You’re going to drown me.”
“You deserve it. My swimsuit is my swimsuit and your daughters do not need to see us swimming around naked in this pool.”
“I wasn’t naked.”
“You know what I mean. You could at least wait until they are in bed.”
When he came into their bedroom later that night, he found her sitting up reading. Cool air came off the river valley below the house. They were high enough up the side of the mountain to enjoy the breeze without the bugs a thousand feet below. He stood in the open French doors listening to the jungle creatures respond to nightfall’s gentle descent and watching the moon’s reflection dance on the broad river. There were no lights for as far as he could see. With their own airfield—the only way to the property—and a thousand feet of steep mountain between them and the road by the lake below, his castle felt safe. But then why hadn’t he slept since the incident at the submarine base?
He put his brandy glass down on the bedside table and sat on the bed beside Lareina. Ten feet above the bed, a life-sized portrait of her in a sheer wrap smiled down at them. The highly paid artist had done his best, but the magnificent work failed to fully capture her beauty.
“I may have to leave for a few days,” he said looking down from the painting into her dark eyes.
“I know you haven’t been sleeping. What’s going on?”
“We’re getting ready to send another caravan to the Texas border and at the same time send the subs. It will be our biggest shipment, and we need the money. We can’t continue feeding the camps and funding the caravans if these shipments don’t get through. The Americanos are killing us every time they intercept our boats or our people.”
“I will never forgive what they did to my family,” she said and put down her book. “Their DEA killed my father like he was a snake.”
“I know, my love. And we’ve made them pay many, many times.”
“It will never be enough. Never.”
He took her hand and gently rubbed her palm with his thumb. “I’ve been worried about this shipment. It could be nothing, but it’s been too long since our raid on the Ranger’s house. I know he’s planning something. It may have been that disaster at the sub base. But until I know, I think you and the kids will be safer if I go to one of the other villas.”
“All right, but you’re going to miss me.”
“More than you know, my love. More than you know.”
“But you’re here tonight. Let’s not waste it.”
She turned off the reading light and rolled into his arms.
“Who is this guy, El Patrón?”
Tom and Gabe sat under the massive live oak’s picnic table at the edge of the lake. The sounds of tractors and hammers—workmen building the new house, tractors continuing to clear the debris—disrupted the normal tranquility of life on the ranch. It put everyone on edge, especially the horses.
“The locals down there protect him like he’s some sort of Robin Hood. Even after we took out that villa, no one knows who owned it. Or who built it. Or that it ever existed. The guy’s a stone-cold killer and they treat him like a saint.”
“You must really miss Maria.”
“Hell yes, I miss Maria. And there’s nothing I won’t do to get the guys that killed her. Nothing.”
Gabe thought about that. How could it, how would it ever end? How could that much hate be answered? He simply couldn’t see a peaceful resolution. That hate, it was just going to keep growing, keep killing until there was no one left. He wanted to talk to Tom, ease his pain, find another way, but he knew the minute he suggested an alternative, even if he could f
ind one, Tom would turn his back and refuse to let him help—with anything, and that might include pushing him away from Carol and the kids. It was not a risk Gabe was willing to take. He would wait and pray something would change.
“Henry, it’s good to hear from you,” Tom said, sitting in his command center office, staring at an untouched bourbon glass and wondering if it really was five o’clock somewhere.
“Hello, Tom. I just wanted you to know the airship mission is a go. It’s loaded on the C-130 and will be ready to make the flight to Mexico City by Thursday. The crew will wait there for your instructions. Weather is good and we have a full crew. That includes you and your friend, of course.”
“Good. Hopefully we’ll have narrowed down the search area by the time they arrive. Will it take them long to get her inflated and ready to fly?”
“Forty-eight hours or so. They’ll need to set up a base and get the helium tanks off-loaded. But they’ve done this so many times, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks again, Henry. I feel like we’re finally making some progress.”
Carol waited in the office doorway for Tom to put down the phone. She came in and sat in front of his desk when he did. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Everything is falling into place for us to use the airship to track Maria’s earrings. The government down there went for the documentary pitch, hook, line, and sinker.”
“Assuming you find them, Dad, then what?”
“Remember who we’re talking about, honey. They destroyed our home and tried to kill all of us. That makes this right personal, don’t you agree?”
“I know all that, I just don’t want you to get killed going up against unwinnable odds.”
“Is this going to be another Don Quixote lecture?”
“Not exactly. Just a reminder. In his own mind, Quixote never doubted what he was doing was right, but he still ended up dead.”
“And didn’t he become a legend? That counts for something.”
“You’re already legend enough. You don’t need to become a martyr just to satisfy your ego. Texas has enough of those without you adding your name to the list.”
“If you’re gonna have your name on a list, that wouldn’t be a bad one.”
“Oh, give me a break. You’re impossible.” She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.
“It’s about love, Carol. I love you, I loved Maria, and I love our country. If I don’t do something, I could lose you both. We saw that right here. And that cannot go unanswered.”
Jimmy the Geek interrupted Tom and Carol’s conversation with a loud knock. He stuck his head in the door. “We’ve got something, Chief. You need to see this.”
Carol got up, kissed her dad. She left the room while Jimmy entered and handed Tom a stack of maps and papers.
“Senator Benson got us feed from the Keyhole satellite yesterday, and this morning the images show a lot of activity in the camps by the Guatemalan border. Our guys estimate there could be thousands of refugees there. 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 pilot’s seat, brought the throttles up to full power, and pulled the yoke back as far as it would go. Rainbow Chaser took her own sweet time responding, and in turn was hit several more times by the ground fire. She climbed slowly as Tom studied the controls, trying to get more speed, or more lift, or both.
“Shift the ballast. Get the bow up,” a feeble voice said from the floor. The pilot was trying to sit up but didn’t have the strength.
“Help him, Gabe. Get him into that seat.”
Gabe lifted the pilot under his arms and helped him into the copilot’s seat. He was bleeding from an abdominal wound and a leg wound. Gabe found a first aid kit mounted on the bulkhead and returned with gauze pads and Ace wraps. He did the best he could packing the wounds and making the pilot comfortable while the pilot gave Tom a crash course in flying airships.
The deadly gunfire stopped as the blimp gained altitude and changed course away from the river. “Henry is going to be pissed,” Tom said, mostly to himself. “Restoring this thing was his pet project. He is not going to like us getting his pilots shot and bringing the ship home full of holes.”