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

snake and all the voodoo stuff? Can any of that be real?”

“You still have doubts? There’s a lot more in this world than what we can easily understand. And you’ve seen enough to know that’s true. Or, as she says, ‘that’s for certain sure.’”

Chapter 5

PAUL EVANS AND ADRIANA CORTEZ (usually called “Chica” or something worse) waited in the dark car beside the grass airstrip near Gulfport, Mississippi. Car headlights would be the only lights on the field, and then only for as long as it took the pilot to get his bearings and get the twin-engine Piper Aztec on the ground.

Paul had been quiet for too long. He was working up his courage to confront her about the events of the past two days.

“I want my truck back, Adriana. What did you do with it?”

“Once we get to Mexico you can have any truck you want. You’ll see. It’s hermoso, beautiful, there. You can go diving every day. It’s paraiso. Paradise. Now shut up and leave me alone.”

“And that girl at the party … I saw them carry her out. What happened to her?”

“She’s fine. She just needed to sleep it off. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine when the plane gets here.”

“I need to pee.”

“Fine, go pee. Just watch out for snakes and gators.”

Paul got out of her Corvette and walked behind it. From his pocket, he pulled her phone, and, holding it as if he were holding something else, he popped the back and used a paper clip to open the lid and flip out the SIM chip.

“What are you doing?” she called from the car.

“What do you think?”

“Well don’t make a career of it. Hurry up.”

“You’re welcome to help.”

“Fat chance. Just hurry up.”

He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t watching, then pulled out the SIM chip he’d hidden in his underwear, the one from his own phone that she had destroyed, and inserted it into her phone. He closed the phone, zipped his fly, and with her phone concealed in his coat, sat back down in the car. She was smoking a joint.

“Is that a good idea now?”

“Relax, we’re safe now. No one is going to find us out here in the middle of nowhere. Here, have a hit. It’s the best there is.”

Later that evening, as they were clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, Gabe’s phone rang. Marty was calling from the state police office.

“Paul’s phone just came back online. He’s just outside Gulfport at an old abandoned airfield. We’re sending a chopper for you, and we’ve alerted the local police.”

“Thanks, Marty. I’ll be ready.”

“News?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, chopper’s on its way. We need to turn on the yard lights and get the dogs in.”

“Can I go? I might be able to talk some sense to him.”

“Good idea. Get your stuff. But only if there’s room in the chopper.”

“I understand.”

“Chill, Boy Wonder, just a little bit longer and we’re golden.” Chica sat back in the seat, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. She held the smoke and let it out in small bursts like smoke signals. She moaned softly and melted slowly.

Paul took advantage of her distraction and slid her phone down between the seats. He sat back and opened his window. Smoke rose into the clear midnight sky. He was half asleep when the plane flew over. She bounced awake. “What the . . .? They were supposed to call.”

The plane circled and began its approach. It landed cleanly on the grass, taxied to the end of the field, and turned.

“Let’s go. Hurry up,” she ordered.

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t dealing, you and your friends were. You go. I’m staying here.”

She pulled a small pistol out of her purse. “Our friends want to see you in Mexico tonight. Get out of the car.”

“Why would anyone you know want to see me?”

“Wise up, kid. Your grandfather is Tom Bright, the famous Texas Ranger, right? That’s what you said. He’s cost us a lot of money. And you’re going to help get it back. Get out of the car.”

Paul opened the door and eased out of the seat. He checked the terrain, looking for the closest cover, but hesitated. Two armed men from the plane were walking toward them. “What the hell’s the holdup?” the larger one asked.

“He doesn’t want our all-expense-paid vacation.” Chica snickered.

“Let’s go, kid. You either come with us or we leave you here face down, full of holes.”

“Yeah, okay. I get it.” Paul raised his hands and moved toward them.

As they walked back toward the plane the leader said, “You were supposed to be on your phone, Chica. We called you a half dozen times.”

“I had it right here. It never rang.” She pulled the phone from her purse and looked at it as if confused. “Those aren’t my calls—what the hell did you do?” She glared at Paul.

Headlights and blue lights and sirens came at them from the opposite end of the field.

“He tipped the cops, that’s what he did, you stupid puta.”

Paul broke into a run toward the police cars. Chica fired her .380 and hit him twice in the back. Each shot felt like a baseball from a line drive. As he fell, he saw the flight crew leader cut Chica down with a blast from his .45.

“We needed him alive, puta.”

Paul’s vision went fuzzy and he couldn’t feel his legs. He was being dragged to the plane and wasn’t strong enough to fight back or run. They strapped him in and left him bleeding.

The police cars were closing in. The plane engines came up to speed and turned for takeoff. The plane roared off the field, barely clearing the oncoming police cars. Adriana Cortez to her parents and the police—“Chica,” or worse, to everyone else—lay dead in the grass.

Chapter 6

IN THE CLEAR NIGHT SKY, Gabe and Carol saw the plane turn south and disappear over the Gulf. Minutes later the chopper landed by the police cars