Reb's Rampage (Reb Rogers Book 2)

by J B Black

  As soon as the drones were set up and activated, Justin and Rich got into the back seat of Billy’s SUV. They donned the specially modified motorcycle helmets Justin had developed for operating the drones at night, when an expedition vehicle Command Center wasn’t available. The visors of the helmets displayed the video images sent from the drones. The helmets were designed in such a way that no light would show that might give away the operator’s position at night. The helmets were equipped with cameras and the operator could switch between the feed from the drone to what the helmet camera was viewing if the operator needed to see his immediate surroundings.

  Justin and Rich connected their helmets to the control pads for the drones and powered the drones up.

  Justin sent one of the Guardian Angels up and over the wall to make sure no guards were close by on the other side of the wall.

  Rich sent the other Guardian Angel up to about 20 feet above the SUVs and maintained a lookout back toward the gated entrance of the property from that position.

  The drones were equipped with night vision and infrared capable cameras and, as the drone hovered on the other side of the wall, Justin could see there were several large oak trees scattered around the property. There was plenty of room between the trees and the branches were high enough off the ground for the drone to maneuver without any problems.

  Justin saw there were some lights on inside the house, but didn’t see any guards anywhere. Apparently, whoever was in charge of security thought the brick wall and heavy iron gate was enough of a deterrent to keep trespassers out and they didn’t post a guard this time of night.

  “Jake, it’s all clear over here,” Justin reported, “but be advised there are some lights on inside the house and there are three cars parked in the driveway.”

  Jake, Billy, and Reb had already climbed on top of the hoods of the two SUVs. With the all clear from Justin, they pulled themselves up onto the top of the wall and then dropped over onto the other side.

  “Alright, Justin, we’re ready. Let’s head for the house,” Jake said.

  Justin flew the drone past the trees to the house without seeing anyone outside on the grounds along the way. The three men followed close behind.

  When the drone got close to the house, Justin looked through the windows of the ground floor rooms where the lights were on. He couldn’t see anyone in those rooms.

  “Jake, I don’t see anyone in the rooms with the lights on,” Justin reported.

  “Alright, Justin, let’s go around the right side of the house to the back of the house and see what we can see there,” Jake said.

  Justin flew the drone around to the back of the house. He saw a patio off the back of the house and, as he got closer, he noticed that the French doors that led into the house from the patio were wide open. Inside the house, he could see two men sitting around a coffee table. They appeared to be talking.

  “Jake, I’m at the patio area. The doors from the patio going into the house are open and there are a couple of dudes inside the room there sitting at a coffee table. There’s a whiskey bottle on the table and it looks like they’re drinking and talking. I’m going to set down and try to catch what they’re saying,” Justin reported.

  Justin set the drone down on the lawn as close to the house as he dared to go without being seen or heard—where he had a clear line of sight that was not obstructed by any of the furniture on the patio—and cut the drone’s motors. As he adjusted the direction of the drone’s super sensitive microphone to pick up the conversation between the two men sitting inside at the coffee table, Reb, Jake, and Billy crept up next to the drone.

  After a moment, Billy whispered, “The man on the right there is Carl Robbins, a local reporter. He’s the person who told me how to find this place. Looks like he’s playing both sides. The man on the left must be Ramon Vicario.”

  “Alright guys, what you’ll be hearing next is the conversation going on between those two dudes inside the house being picked up by the drone’s directional microphone. I’m going to pipe it in over the comm system,” Justin announced.

  “Yeah Ramon, I was sort of surprised when your guy came up to me in the nightclub and told me he had a call for me and handed me his phone and you invited me over for a nightcap. What’s going on? I’ve been here for half an hour already and all you’ve talked about is how pissed off you are at that dumb ass Police Chief for handing your drug sub full of heroin, cocaine, and crystal meth over to the DEA. And you haven’t said a damn thing about this plastic sandwich bag full of cocaine sitting here on the table. Is that for me? How about getting to the point of why you invited me here tonight?”

  “Carl, you are such an asshole. If you weren’t so invaluable to me as a source of information, I’d kill you myself. But to business. I always take care of my friends. Yes, the cocaine is for you. Even though we weren’t able to recover any of our stolen drugs, you did get me the information about Reb Rogers helping the Seaside Beach Police Chief hijack our drug sub. And no matter how much it pisses me off about how my men were all killed when they followed Rogers and his friends to that farm, I know that’s not your fault.”

  “So that’s how they found us at The Farm,” Billy whispered.

  “Then you called with the information about Rogers’ girlfriend, Honey Brown, being in Cancun on a modeling assignment. That’s why I called you over here tonight. To let you know that my cousin Carlos was able to kidnap her and we’ve set a trap to capture Rogers when he goes to Veracruz to pay the ransom for her. We’ll make the bastard pay for interfering in our drug smuggling operation. Then we’ll take care of that meddling Police Chief in Seaside Beach.”

  “I’ve heard all I need to hear,” Reb whispered to Jake and Billy. “Let’s go.”

  “Justin, we’re going in,” Jake announced. “I need you to go in first and cover our entry.”

  Justin powered up the drone’s motors and flew it through the open doors with Reb, Billy, and Jake following right behind it.

  Taken by surprise when the drone and the three men barged in, Ramon shouted, “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Reb Rogers and this is Billy Morris, the meddling Police Chief of Seaside Beach, and this is Jake—he’s with the government,” Reb said.

  “Well, Reb Rogers if you ever want to see your woman alive again—”

  “You haven’t heard, have you?” Reb interrupted.

  “Heard what?” Ramon asked.

  “I hate to break the news to you like this, Ramon, but we raided your cousin’s hacienda and the good news is my woman is just fine. The bad news is your cousin is dead and we completely destroyed the hacienda’s drug production capability.”

  It took a moment for the information to register with Ramon and, as it did, he sat seething in anger and frustration at being thwarted by Reb Rogers and his friends, again.

  Ramon began reaching for the holstered .357 magnum revolver he carried in a cross-draw position on his left hip.

  Billy said, “Don’t do it.”

  Ramon hesitated.

  Then Ramon looked at Reb, who said, “Pussy.”

  Unable to help himself, Ramon went for his gun.

  Reb opened fire first and Jake and Billy fired a split second later.

  Ramon managed to pull the trigger in a reflex action while his pistol was still in the holster. The sound of the gunshot was deafening inside the house.

  Ramon’s men, who had been asleep in the next room, woke up when they heard the shot fired by Ramon. With Juan Guzman in the lead, they ran into the living room with their guns drawn and immediately started shooting.

  While Reb and Jake and Billy and Justin were busy shooting back, Carl grabbed the bag of cocaine off the coffee table and darted out the French doors. He ran across the patio and headed down the backyard lawn toward the boathouse. In his drug and booze addled state, he figured, if he could get to the boathouse, he could use one of the boats there to make his escape.

  The moon was out and Carl saw a big lo
g lying in the grass ahead. He decided to jump over it.

  * * *

  Old Snaggletooth—the nickname the other residents along Sailor creek had given him—was a thirteen foot long alligator that had been a resident of Sailor Creek long before Ramon Vicario had purchased his home there. Prior to Ramon moving in, Old Snaggletooth’s life had been relatively uneventful. Other than the occasional times when Old Snaggletooth ate a pet dog that strayed too close to the creek’s bank, the residents left the big alligator alone and he reciprocated. Then Ramon moved in and his men decided to make Old Snaggletooth’s life miserable by trying to run him down with their boats and taking pot shots at him. Recently, at this particular location in Old Snaggletooth’s territory, a little yappy dog had been coming down to the bank along the creek each morning and barking at him. Old Snaggletooth had planned to surprise the dog when it came down to the bank in the morning, but whatever it was that jumped over him startled him out of his semi-conscious state.

  * * *

  Billy turned on his rifle’s tactical flashlight, put the beam on Carl, who was standing down near the bank of the creek, and said, “Hold it right there, Carl.”

  Old Snaggletooth was old, but he sure as hell wasn’t slow. He opened his massive jaws as he swung his upper torso around toward Carl. His jaws snapped shut on Carl’s midsection and, before Billy could finish saying “What the fuck?” the big reptile carried his catch down the bank and into the creek with Carl screaming the entire time.

  Reb, Billy, and Jake walked down to the creek’s bank and looked around for Carl and the alligator.

  “How big did you say the gator was?” Reb asked Billy.

  “Damn thing was huge,” Billy said. “Had to be fourteen, fifteen feet long. Before it moved, I thought it was a log that had washed up.”

  “I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing Carl again,” Jake said.

  “Well, while we’re down here at the boathouse, I’d like to take a closer look at that sportfishing yacht of Ramon’s,” Reb said.

  “Might as well,” Billy said. “It sure looked like a real beauty.”

  After the men had looked the boat over, Billy said, “By the way, Reb, Rusty called me this afternoon and told me it’s probably going to be two or three weeks before he can have the Revenge seaworthy. Apparently, the bullets that hit it did more damage than we thought.”

  “Damn, how am I going to run a charter fishing business without a boat?” Reb lamented.

  “What about Ramon’s boat?” Jake asked. “You seem to like it and it sure would be a step up from the Revenge. You could do a lot more with it.”

  “Hell, I can’t afford something like that—”

  “Wrong, my friend,” Jake interrupted, “By the power invested in me, as the Deputy Director of the FBIS, the FBIS hereby confiscates this boat under the terms of its charter and, for purposes of expediency, I’m holding a public auction right now. I’m going to sell this boat to the highest bidder for cash on the barrelhead. Whoever has the most cash on their person right here and now will be the proud new owner of this fine fishing boat. Billy how much cash money have you got on you?”

  Billy reached into his right pants pocket and pulled out some bills. After counting them, he said, “I’ve got seven dollars.”

  Jake turned to Reb and said, “Reb, how much cold hard cash have you got on you?”

  Reb reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out what he had. After counting the bills, Reb looked at Jake, smiled, and said, “I’ve got nine dollars.”

  “This boat is hereby sold for the high bid of nine dollars to Reb Rogers. This auction is officially declared closed.”

  Jake turned to Billy and asked, “You got a problem with that, Billy?”

  “Hell no,” Billy said. “If it hadn’t been for Reb, my police department wouldn’t be getting that ten million dollar reward from the DEA for the drug sub Reb helped me capture. And, if I hadn’t asked Reb to help me capture the drug sub for the reward, his boat wouldn’t have gotten all shot up.”

  Jake turned to Reb, stuck out his hand, and said, “Hand over the nine dollars, Reb.”

  “Damn, Jake, you can’t be serious,” Reb said. “That boat’s got to be worth several million dollars.”

  “I’m as serious as a heart attack, buddy,” Jake replied. “You remember that ten million dollars you and Honey turned over to the company’s war chest earlier today? All things being equal, I figure the company is ahead by that ten million and one less drug cartel we have to worry about.”

  Reb shook his head in disbelief, then handed Jake the cash, and said, “Well, I sure as hell ain’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, buddy.”

  Jake turned to Billy and said, “Billy, can I depend on you to collect all of the registration paperwork the State of Alabama has on the boat and send it to me in Washington so I can get the paperwork drawn up to legally transfer title of the boat over to Reb?”

  “You sure can,” Billy said with a smile.

  “Alright then, that’s settled,” Jake said. “I’ve sent for a cleanup crew to take care of the mess up at the house. They’ll be flying in from Washington and should be here within a few hours. What say we get back to Seaside Beach and get some shut eye before the sun comes up?”

  CHAPTER 40

  Guantanamo NAS, Cuba

  Friday, May 7, 2010

  6:40 a.m. EDT

  The Navy C-20G—the long-range military version of the Gulfstream IV business jet—was sitting on the taxiway. It had been about to takeoff when the control tower notified the pilot there would be a slight delay in order to accommodate an additional passenger for the flight.

  There were four passengers on board already. They were bearded Middle Eastern men wearing loose fitting white cotton trousers, loose fitting knee length long sleeved white cotton shirts worn outside the trousers, sandals, and white cotton turbans. They were also wearing full shackles. The kind that involved a heavy leather belt at the waist with a D ring through which a heavy chain ran that was connected to a set of handcuffs at the top and a set of leg irons at the bottom. The four passengers were wearing sleep masks as blindfolds.

  The men were seated in the front section of the plane where there were five seats on the right side of the aisle and there were five seats on the left side of the aisle. The men occupied the first two seats on each side of the aisle closest to the cockpit. The men were secured to their seats with a locking 4-point seatbelt harness system and a padlock.

  There were four big, burly Marines dressed in BDUs guarding the four passengers. The Marines were fluent in the language of the passengers. Their primary responsibility was to make sure that the four passengers did nothing to disrupt the flight. Other than that, they were to provide the passengers with water, if requested, and to assist the passengers if they needed to use the toilet facility. The guards sat in the rear of the plane separated from the prisoner seating section by the galley area.

  The passengers would not be eating during the flight because of their religion’s dietary restrictions.

  The passengers had been warned not to talk during the flight. If they needed anything, they were instructed to raise their hand and to talk only to the guard who came to assist them. They had been warned that anyone disobeying the instructions would be sedated for the rest of the flight.

  * * *

  After fifteen minutes of waiting on the taxiway with the engines operating to keep the air conditioning running in the tropical heat, there was a knock on the door. One of the guards opened the door. A van was parked next to the plane and the driver, a Marine guard, was standing at the door next to another man dressed like the four passengers already on board.

  The new passenger was assisted up the steps of the jet’s door stair and guided to the third seat from the front on the left side of the aisle by one of the Marine guards on the plane. The guard assisted the newest passenger into the seat and then buckled him to the seat with the 4-point seatbelt harness system and locked it with a padloc
k.

  While the newest passenger was being secured, another van drove up just as the other van departed. The driver of that van escorted the final passenger to the jet’s door stairs. This passenger was wearing a black burka, was shackled, and was wearing a sleep mask, also.

  After being assisted up the steps by a guard, the final passenger in the black burka was led to the fifth seat from the front on the right side of the aisle and secured to the seat.

  Now that all of the passengers for the flight were on board the jet, the pilot contacted the control tower and received permission to resume his takeoff. He wasn’t thrilled about this trip. It was going to be a long flight—eighteen hours. The flight’s final destination was Doha, Qatar with one stopover in Dakar, Senegal for re-fueling.

  CHAPTER 41

  Port of Veracruz

  Veracruz, Mexico

  Friday, May 7, 2010

  7:10 a.m. CDT

  The Captain of the Star of Baghdad dialed the number he had on his satphone for General Tariq Al-Waheed, the new leader of the Jihad Brotherhood. When the General’s personal secretary answered the line on the other end of the connection, the Captain said, “I need to speak with the General.”

  Tariq’s personal secretary buzzed Tariq on the intercom and announced, “The Captain of the Star of Baghdad is on line two, General.”

  Tariq picked up the phone’s handset, punched the button for line two, and said, “Did you make the delivery?”

  “No, General, I did not,” the Captain replied. “The reason I am calling is the local news here in Veracruz is reporting that a rival drug gang attacked Hacienda Vicario yesterday and completely destroyed most of the buildings there. And they are reporting there are very few survivors of the attack. By all accounts, almost all of the people who were there when the attack took place were killed.”