by J B Black
“From the size of the return, I’d say that’s probably our cargo ship,” Reb said. “Let’s see if it’s moving or at anchor.”
After a couple of sweeps of the radar return indicated that the vessel was stationary, Reb said, “That vessel isn’t moving and I’m not picking up any other traffic on the radar. That has got to be the cargo ship the drug convoy will be going out to meet.”
“What do we do now?” Billy asked.
“From what you’ve observed the past two weeks, the drug convoy should exit the pass a little after midnight. Why don’t we go on out to near where the cargo ship is? Say about a mile or so from their location. We can set out the outriggers for trolling and start riding around like we’re fishing. As long as we don’t get too close, I don’t think we’ll spook them. And, by the time the drug convoy comes out of the pass, they’ll have gotten used to us being in the vicinity and forgotten about us being there—I hope.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Billy said.
Reb pointed the Revenge in the direction of the cargo ship and pushed the throttles on the boat’s twin 350 horsepower outboard engines all the way to the stops. In no time at all, the Revenge was charging across the water going more than 55 miles per hour.
Half an hour later, they were within a mile of the cargo ship’s location. Reb brought the Revenge to a stop and, for the next ten minutes, he and Billy went about setting out the outriggers for trolling. Once that was done, they went back to the helm, sat back down on the bench seat, and Reb put the outboard motors in forward gear and advanced the throttles to begin a slow but steady trolling speed heading in the general direction of the cargo ship.
“So, the plan is for us is to just cruise around in a trolling pattern getting closer and closer to the cargo ship until we’re about a half mile away from it, by the time the drug convoy shows up?” Billy asked.
“That’s the general idea. I’m hoping, with us already being out here well ahead of the drug convoy and looking like we’re out night fishing, everybody’ll ignore us until we make our move. In the meantime, we’ll keep an eye on the radar so we’ll know when the drug convoy goes through the pass. Their round trip from Perdido Pass takes about three hours. I figure it will take about an hour or so for them to get out to the cargo ship’s location, depending on how fast the drug sub can go.”
* * *
Pretending to be trolling for fish at night—with the Revenge’s outriggers deployed and traveling at a very slow speed—Reb and Billy were seated at the helm closely monitoring the display screen of the Revenge’s electronic navigation system. The navigation system was in radar mode displaying a map of the local area and zoomed in on Perdido Pass—the only water passage into or out of the Gulf of Mexico along this section of the Alabama/Florida Gulf Coast. Reb and Billy were looking for any blips on the radar screen that would indicate the drug convoy was traveling through the pass on the way out into the Gulf to rendezvous with the cargo ship—which was right where Billy had told Reb it would be—about 30 miles off the coast from Perdido Pass, and less than a mile from the Revenge’s current position.
At 12:10 a.m., Reb was watching the display screen of the radar system when he saw the radar return pick up the drug convoy coming through Perdido Pass. “Billy, I’ve got them on the radar. Give me a second while I get the radar to keep track of them.”
Reb reached out with his right index finger, touched the screen display where the drug convoy’s boats were shown moving through Perdido Pass, and a target symbol appeared at that location on the screen display. Reb then touched the Acquire Target menu item on the screen display and the radar showed the image of the drug sub convoy as a MARPA (Mini-automatic radar plotting aid) Target. Now the Revenge’s radar system would be able to keep track of the convoy.
“What was it you just did there?” Billy asked.
“I just tagged the drug sub convoy so the radar system will track it separate from any other radar targets it might pick up.”
“I’m not sure I understand what that means,” Billy said.
“Just on the outside chance that, while the drug convoy is heading our way, another boat or boats were to join up or cross paths with them and, then the two groups separated, the radar will know which one is the one we’re interested in,” Reb explained.
“All right, I get that,” Billy said. “Now what?”
“We just keep acting like we’re trolling for fish, until they rendezvous with the cargo ship,” Reb said. “And, while we’re doing that, now would be as good a time as any to collect the environmental data and get the data entered into our Day/Night scopes,” Reb replied.
“Just where do we get the environmental data?” Billy asked, thinking that getting the data was going to be a long and difficult process.
“We’ll get that data from the Revenge’s Marine instrument. It’s connected to sensors for every environmental condition we need to know about—temperature, wind speed and direction, barometric pressure, and relative humidity.”
As they continued to troll out to where the cargo ship was waiting for the drug sub convoy, Reb and Billy programmed their Day/Night scopes with the current environmental conditions from the readout of the Revenge’s Marine instrument.
CHAPTER 11
Aboard the Easy Money
15 miles out in the Gulf of Mexico
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
12:25 a.m. CDT
On the way out to the rendezvous point, Juan Guzman—Ramon’s right-hand man, personal bodyguard, and the person who was at the helm on the flying bridge operating the Easy Money—received a call on the Easy Money’s Marine Band radio. The Captain of the cargo ship, Veracruz Lady, was calling on the predetermined and little used frequency the Easy Money and the cargo ship used to avoid eavesdropping by the Coast Guard.
“This is Captain Montega of the Veracruz Lady calling the Easy Money. Come in, please.”
Juan picked up the radio’s microphone and pushed the transmit button. “This is Juan, Captain. Go ahead.”
“Juan, tell Ramon there is a small fishing boat on my Gulf side. It’s been out here for an hour or so trolling around doing some night fishing. So far, the boat hasn’t gotten any closer than half a mile of us. It’s probably nothing, but I wasn’t sure you were picking it up on your radar since I’m in the way. I didn’t want it to be a surprise for Ramon when you arrive and come around to my Gulf side and see the other boat on your radar. Over.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’ll let Ramon know about the fishing boat. Over,” Juan signed off.
Juan turned around toward the stern of the Easy Money where Ramon was sitting in the fighting chair down below in the fishing cockpit of the boat, so he could keep an eye on the drug sub. Juan yelled out, “Hey, Boss, the Captain of the Veracruz Lady called to let you know there’s a boat about a half mile off his Gulf side doing some night fishing.”
Ramon turned and waved at Juan to acknowledge he’d heard him and then resumed watching the drug sub following behind the Easy Money to make sure it was not encountering any difficulties on the trip out to the rendezvous point.
* * *
It was a quarter past one in the morning when the drug sub convoy arrived at the rendezvous point and went around to the Gulf side—the side facing away from the coastline—of the cargo ship. The Easy Money and the three smaller boats in the convoy fanned out and took up positions about 100 feet away from the cargo ship as the drug sub made its way alongside so it could be lifted aboard by the ship’s crane.
From his seat in the fighting chair, Ramon called up to Juan on the flying bridge, “Hey, Juan, you picking up that fishing boat on your radar yet?”
Now that the large cargo ship was no longer blocking the Easy Money’s radar from picking up the fishing boat, Juan saw that the other boat was about three quarters of a mile away and slowly moving in their direction. “Yeah Boss, it’s three quarters of a mile from us and headed our way, but real slow, like they’re trolling.”
Ra
mon drummed his fingers on the fighting chair’s arm, as he thought over the situation. Out here in the Gulf, he had two major things to be concerned about. One was the Coast Guard showing up. If they caught him with a load of drugs, it could mean some serious time in prison, if convicted. The second thing he had to worry about was some other drug gang attempting to steal his drug shipment from him. Whenever that happened, it was no different than piracy and, for the losing side, the end result was that dead men tell no tales. If this was just a one-time rendezvous with this particular cargo ship, Ramon would have had no compunction about sending a couple of his boats out to this unknown fishing boat—if that was what it truly was—to kill all of the people on board and then sink the boat—just to be on the safe side. But, for the foreseeable future, he was going to be rendezvousing with this cargo ship every Wednesday morning to pick up a load of drugs. Therefore, he couldn’t afford to do anything that might draw the attention of the law enforcement authorities like a missing sport fishing boat and missing fishermen would do.
“Let me know if they get closer than half a mile to our position or if there is a sudden increase in their speed coming toward us.”
“Right, Boss,” Juan said and went back to watching the display screen of the Easy Money’s electronic navigation system.
Ramon went back to keeping an eye on the drug sub to make sure everything was going as expected.
The drug sub pulled up alongside the cargo ship as the ship’s cargo crane lowered a heavy lifting rig—consisting of a steel beam and four steel cables, along with two of the ship’s crewmembers—down to the water where the sub was waiting.
One of the sailors standing on the steel beam signaled the crane to stop when the beam was just five feet above the sub. Next, the two sailors jumped down onto the deck of the sub and quickly connected the four steel cables to the bow and stern connection points on the sub. While the sailors were making fast the connections at the bow and stern of the sub, the sub’s pilot opened the plexiglass canopy, exited the cockpit, closed the canopy, went to the bow of the sub, and grabbed on to one of the cables—same as the two sailors did—as the crane lifted the sub out of the water and up onto the upper deck of the cargo ship where the drug shipment would be loaded aboard the sub.
Ramon fired up a cigar, settled back in the fighting chair, and tried to relax while he waited for the crew of the cargo ship to load the sub with its cargo of illegal drugs worth two hundred million dollars on the streets of America.
* * *
Three quarters of a mile away, Reb and Billy—looking through high-power night-vision binoculars—saw the cargo ship’s crane lift the drug sub out of the water and up onto the upper deck of the cargo ship.
“Damn it,” Billy said, lowering his binoculars. “The pilot didn’t get off the sub like I was hoping he would.”
“Yeah, but he did get out of the cockpit and he closed the canopy for the ride up,” Reb said.
“So, you’re thinking he’ll come back down the same way he went up and maybe we’ll have a chance to prevent him from re-entering the sub, once it’s back in the water?”
“If he’s not in the cockpit when the sub hits the water, he ain’t ever gonna get back in it again,” Reb said. “I guarantee you that.”
“In that case, I guess now’s as good a time as any to get set up,” Billy said.
As Reb maintained the Revenge’s course and speed, Billy went down into the Revenge’s cabin and proceeded to bring their weapons and ammunition up on deck. On his first trip, Billy came back up from the cabin carrying the two hard-sided gun cases containing the Barretts. The next trip, he brought up two hard-sided gun cases containing the M4s Reb had gotten from Jake. Then Billy brought up the ammunition boxes loaded with .50 caliber ammunition and spare magazines for the Barretts and 5.56mm ammunition for the M4s. On the last trip, Billy brought up the carrying case with the skull and cross bones decal and set it down on the deck.
Billy took the Barretts out of their carrying cases, inserted 10-round magazines loaded with armor piercing rounds in each of them, pulled the bolt back to chamber a round in each of them, and checked that the fire select switch was set on Safe for both of the rifles. Next, he extended the legs on the bipods and then set the rifles down on the deck up against the portside gunwale—which was the side of the boat Reb planned to shoot from—where they would be handy, but out of the way, until needed.
Then Billy took the M4s out of their carrying cases, inserted loaded 30-round magazines in each of them, chambered a round in each of them, and checked that the fire select switch was set on Safe for both of the M4s.
Next, Billy took out a couple of tactical vests and filled the magazine pouches with extra 30-round magazines for the M4s and extra 10-round magazines for the Barretts.
When Billy went back to the helm, he said, “That’s all of the gear. You ready?”
Reb smiled and nodded his head. “I was born ready for this shit.”
Billy looked in the direction of where the cargo ship and the drug convoy boats were located and said, “Think we can continue to fool them that we’re just out here fishing much longer?”
“For our sake, I’m hoping they don’t catch on to us until the drug sub is back in the water,” Reb replied.
* * *
Forty minutes after the drug sub had been lifted aboard the cargo ship, Ramon heard the whine of the cargo ship’s crane’s motors as it lifted the drug sub back off the deck for its return trip back down to the water.
The crane had just swung the drug sub out over the side, when Ramon heard Juan yell out, “Hey, Boss.” Ramon swung around in the fighting chair to see Juan leaning out over the rear railing up on the flying bridge.
Juan called out to Ramon again, “Hey, Boss, that fishing boat just crossed the half mile mark and is still heading in our direction.”
Ramon puffed on his cigar for a second then decided that he couldn’t afford to take a chance the unknown boat might not be just an innocent fishing boat that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too much was at stake.
“Tell Carlos and Ricardo to take out that damn fishing boat—if that’s really what it is—and everyone aboard,” Ramon said. “No survivors. You understand?”
“Yes, Boss.”
Juan called Carlos and Ricardo—the operators of two of the escort boats—and passed on Ramon’s instructions. A moment later, as Carlos and Ricardo pushed the throttles to the max on their triple 300 horsepower outboard engines, both boats quickly accelerated off in the direction of the unknown fishing boat.
* * *
Reb and Billy were at the helm of the Revenge, as Reb continued at trolling speed on a course towards the cargo ship and the drug convoy. Both men were watching—with their high-power night-vision binoculars—the cargo ship’s crane start to lower the drug sub over the side of the ship, when they noticed that two of the escort boats had started coming in their direction. Almost immediately, the warning sounded from the radar system, indicating that one or more of the boats in the drug convoy Reb had tagged earlier were moving in the direction of the Revenge.
“I think our luck’s run out on them thinking we’re just out here fishing,” Billy said.
Reb got up from his seat behind the steering wheel and said, “Take the helm while I go prepare a welcome for our visitors. And don’t forget to put your earplugs in.”
As Billy took his seat behind the wheel, Reb stepped down into the cockpit area of the Revenge, knelt down on the deck, and opened the carrying case with the skull and cross bones decal on it. Inside the carrying case was an AirTronic USA rocket propelled grenade launcher and four RPG rounds.
Reb had his earplugs in, but he could hear popping noises in the distance.
“Better hurry it up, Reb” Billy yelled. “Those bastards in the two boats have opened fire on us, not that they could hit us with anything but a lucky shot.”
After quickly loading the RPG launcher with a HEAT warhead round, Reb switched on the night-vi
sion scope, took aim at the boat on the left, and, when he had the boat in the cross hairs, pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang like a 12-gauge shotgun being fired and the RPG round streaked downrange. It exploded when it hit the boat. A second later, there was a secondary explosion and then a big fireball, as the boat’s gas tank exploded and caught fire.
Reb took another HEAT warhead RPG round out of the carrying case, loaded it, took aim at the second boat, and pulled the trigger again. Again, there was a loud bang like a 12-gauge shotgun being fired and the RPG round streaked toward the second boat.
The second boat tried to veer away at the last second, but it was too late. There was another explosion as that boat blew up and then another fireball, as that boat’s gas tank exploded and caught fire, too.
After dispatching the two escort boats, Reb turned his attention to the drug sub, which had almost reached the water’s surface.
* * *
Juan was at the helm on the flying bridge of the Easy Money keeping an eye on the boats operated by Carlos and Ricardo, as they raced out to meet up with the unknown fishing boat, when he saw first one explosion and then a second explosion in the area where the boats would have been.
Ramon was sitting in the fighting chair watching the cargo ship’s crane as it was lowering the drug sub back down to the sea when he heard the first explosion, which caused him to jump out of the chair in surprise. He spun around in time to see the second explosion and heard Juan yell out, “Hey, Boss, Carlos’ and Ricardo’s boats are gone.”