Retribution Road, Jon Coon [top business books of all time .txt] 📗

Revolution. With a history of bloody rebellion and revolt, they supported the rights of tribes against the mandates of the Mexican government. Zapatistas claimed the right to work and cultivate once indigenously held lands, particularly the rainforest known as the Lacandon Jungle.

Unfortunately, clearing the land for farming by the technique known as “slash and burn” had produced soil that only supported crop production for four or five years. That created the need to clear more and more land, which reduced the once 1.5-million-acre rainforest by an estimated 5 percent per year, leaving only a remnant of old growth along the border of Guatemala. This put the Maya tribes in conflict with the Mexican federal government and conservation groups worldwide.

The conflict grew to a not-so-civil war in 1994 when Zapatista troops were severely defeated, suffering high casualties. The remnant retreated into the remains of the deep jungle they had recently been so anxious to burn and cultivate.

However, once in the shelter of the jungle, the Zapatistas were supported by other libertarian socialist/communist groups from Cuba and Central America and were able to hold off the Mexican government troops. It was money from the cartels that funded much of that resistance. Money Caldera was happy to provide in return for protection of his international operations. He hated capitalism, capitalists, and anything that threatened his ability to provide for his family or his cadre of workers.

That threat now had a face: Captain Tom Bright, head of the anti-drug task force and tenacious leader of the strike team that was costing Caldera millions. But Caldera had a plan, and it started with kidnapping Bright’s grandson as well as the three girls he already held: Bobby Benson’s daughters, the granddaughters of Texas senator Bob Benson, oil tycoon and driving force of the anti-drug war.

Gabe awoke as the Cessna banked into its turn on approach to the grass landing strip at the ranch. The touchdown was smooth, and they taxied to the first of four steel hangars. Carol cut the engines, which spun down, and then she got up and stretched. “Have a nice nap, you two?”

“Nice landing, Mom. I hardly felt it when you mowed down that cow.” Emily giggled.

“Then it’s fresh steaks tonight,” her grandfather retorted. “Let’s get unloaded and have some lunch.”

A white Ford King Ranch F-350 was waiting by the hangar. A deeply tanned and weathered ranch hand named Tony drove it to the plane and helped with the unloading. They piled into the truck.

“Gabe, leave your dive gear in the plane. Are you up for some diving tomorrow morning?”

“Of course. What’s the project?”

“Carol told me you have some pretty special abilities when it comes to interviewing victims,” the captain began. “Some friends of mine were killed in a plane crash yesterday. The plane went down on approach to Scholes International in Galveston. Sonar boat’s out looking now.”

Gabe gave a side glance back at Carol, who was in the back seat with Emily. She smiled back and said nothing.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you I knew? Well you may as well get used to it. There are no secrets in this family. But don’t worry. I’m as far as that went, and that’s as far as it will ever go.”

“No problem,” Gabe answered. That was not what he was thinking. He hesitated before asking, “What do you think caused the accident?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t reckon it was an accident. I’m not sure how, but I think it was murder.”

“And do you know why?”

“Yep. At least I think so. Bobby Benson is the son of Senator Bob Benson, who has been the lead wrangler on the task force I’m on. He got us the federal funding and is pushing hard to shut down this big Mexican cartel. So there have been threats. Bobby and Susan were coming back from Cancun. It’s just a little too convenient.”

“And the threats, you think they are the reason Paul was taken?”

“I do. So if we can learn what happened to the Bensons, that might give us a lead to finding Paul.”

“When do we start?”

“First thing in the morning, or as soon as we hear from the sonar boat. Now let’s get some steak and eggs. This old cowboy is starving.”

The white frame ranch had a large wraparound porch, eight bedrooms, a modern kitchen, a formal dining room full of antiques, and a den/office with walls covered in University of Texas and Texas Ranger memorabilia. There were several framed photos of Carol with horses and a cabinet full of trophies and ribbons, mostly blue. There were also photos of antique military aircraft and citations from the Confederate Air Force recognizing Tom for his many years of outstanding service. A bronze plaque commemorated his years as commandant, and above it was a photo of him in classic WWII pilot garb complete with leather bomber jacket and traditional long white scarf standing in front of a twin-engine bomber.

“That’s really something,” Gabe said.

“Just a bunch of old farts who love the old planes. That’s a B-25 and there aren’t many of them left. They had quite a history in their day. Carol has flown left seat in that one. Not many women have done that.” He stood reverently enjoying the memories before saying, “I think the girls are in the den. Let’s go see what they’re up to.”

A music room with a well preserved Steinway and sheet music going back to the turn of the prior century was separated from the living room by beveled glass French doors. The furniture in most rooms was antique, with the exception of a large family room with leather couches and a massive big-screen TV. That room had football photos and jerseys. It was obvious Tom had played and played hard. There were newspaper clippings with his photos and post-victory interviews.

“Scholarship,” Tom said as Gabe admired the collection. “My dad played there too. Like the Rangers, it’s a family tradition.”

“If Dad had had his way, I’d have been the first