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

With that, he took a socket wrench and unbolted the two rear seats. It took some maneuvering to get them through the door and down to the deck. Then they loaded four large pelican cases, the type used by the military to transport electronics. Tom secured them and came off the wing and went to a waiting coffee mug on a desk by the door. “Cold, of course.” He put it in the microwave atop the file cabinet and set the timer. “Can you be ready to go in about an hour?”

“Ready now.”

“Good. They called me again last night. They want us there tomorrow, so it’s starting. We’ll get fueled up and get in the air. It’s only a little over four hours, but I want to make sure we get there with plenty of daylight. My night vision isn’t as good as it used to be, and I’d like to be able to see where we are going to land.”

“Good, that’s good. What do you need me to do?”

“I’ve got passports and IDs for us. Leave anything here that says cop, and I set out some shirts for you. Ones that scream ‘tourista.’ We’ll work on a little Spanish for you on the way down.”

Tom stretched and put the tools back in a chest on rollers. Gabe followed him as Tom rolled the tool chest back in the shop area of the hangar.

“Have you got an idea of how long we’ll be gone?”

“A week or so. I hope we can delay our return. I want all the time we can get to look for Paul and those girls. But we’re going to have to convince the cartel we’re not a threat. Just a couple of dumb cops doing what we’re told.”

Carol and Emily stood and waved as the Bonanza taxied to the far end of the field.

“This is the fun part,” Tom said. “This engine makes this one of the most powerful civilian planes built back then.” He set the brake and brought the engine revs up to a roar. He checked the gauges, wagged the flaps and ailerons, released the brakes, and they were launched into the air. Gabe was shocked at the power the little plane had as he found himself forced into his seatback. They climbed quickly to altitude, and Tom leveled out on course.

“These were called V-tailed doctor killers in the early days. Their ads said anyone could fly them, but they didn’t come with IFR electronics for limited viz or bad weather. Pilots overestimated their own abilities, and there were several notable accidents. It’s easy to get disorientated when you’ve lost visual references. Then bad things happen.”

“Have you had her long?”

“The government bought several for Nam to use as observation planes. When the war was over, they dumped them. I got this one from a shop who bought several and reconditioned them with the newer, bigger engines, new metal skins and electronics upgrades. Just about everything you could ask for. Turned out to be a good investment. They bring good money these days.”

“Only one steering wheel. Why is that?”

“It’s called a yoke, and it will flip from side to side. It probably saved a couple bucks, but it made instruction difficult. Takes too much time to flip if the instructor needs to solve a problem in a hurry.”

An hour passed, and they had flown over Galveston and the Baytown oil field. Gabe saw the tideline where the brown river water met the clear, deep-blue Gulf. It brought back memories of a project he’d worked at the West Texas Flower Gardens, a seamount rising from seven hundred feet to within seventy feet of the surface. It was a hundred miles south of Galveston and some of the most beautiful diving anywhere. His mind wandered and the drone of the engine was hypnotizing. He wondered how many crashes had occurred because pilots simply fell asleep.

Chapter 15

CAROL FOUND EMILY IN THE cutting horse barn rubbing the nose of Mr. Mister. She saw the carrot disappear from Emily’s hand and realized why the horse was paying such rapt attention.

“He’s a big baby for a stallion. He loved to compete and please his rider, as long as you did things his way. He had a great run.”

“Like Diamond Jack?”

“Almost, but Jack was a one in a million. He could read a calf’s mind and outsmart it every time. All I had to do was hang on. And he loved it.”

“Almost as much as you?”

“Almost as much as me.”

“Have you seen him yet?”

“Nope. I was planning to ride out to his paddock this morning. Want to go?”

“Sure. Can I drive?”

“Yep, but we need to make a stop on the way.”

“Can I feed him carrots?”

“All you can carry. Let’s go.”

They climbed into the ATV and cut a dusty trail toward the lake. They could see the massive Southern live oaks before they saw the lake or the three dilapidated buildings. Emily parked in the shade, and they walked up to the tin-roofed, rough-cut-siding bunkhouse.

Carol didn’t remember all of the history, only that it had been standing since her great-grandfather owned the ranch, which because of the original land grant of nearly 100,000 acres was five times the size of what remained. Partitioning of property for inheritance to her grandfather’s four siblings had been the reason for the divisions, and now the only land left in the family name was the 20,000 acres her father owned, along with the homeplace and an assortment of barns and outbuildings.

“It’s kinda creepy,” Emily said of the bunkhouse.

“Yeah, it is. Let’s have a look.” Carol wanted to know what her dad had been talking about when he mentioned the new construction and the extra hand he’d hired.

A large, creaky covered porch overlooked the centuries-old live oaks and, below, the 500-acre lake where she had swum and skied and occasionally gone skinny-dipping with Charlie. Only after they were married, of course. Happy memories of campfires and cookouts