Reb's Revenge (Reb Rogers Book 1)
Page 10
CHAPTER 21
Aboard Reb’s Revenge
Out in the Gulf of Mexico
70 Miles off Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
4:45 p.m. Central Time
Reb was at the helm of the Revenge maintaining the throttles at a nice, steady speed for trolling, scanning the horizon for other boats, and feeling pissed off at himself.
Earlier he had been trying to help land a big Yellowfin that Honey had finally managed to get to the surface. Like a dumbass, he’d tried to take a picture of the fish with his phone in one hand, while trying to pull the fish on board with a gaff in his other hand. Just as he’d gotten the fish clear of the side of the boat, it had thrashed its tail right into the hand holding the phone and his phone flew out into the Gulf where it quickly sank beneath the waves.
Reb heard Honey announce, “Fish on,” and promptly forgot about losing his phone. When he turned around to see what was happening, Reb saw that Honey was holding onto the rod with all of her might, the rod tip was bent way over, and the reel was singing like a banshee as the line was being stripped off by what had to be a large fish.
“Hold on,” Reb yelled out in excitement, and, after putting the boat on autopilot, quickly went back to the cockpit area to help Honey with her big fish.
* * *
Seven Months Earlier
Seaside Beach, Alabama
Monday, September 25, 2009
Monday morning Reb woke up without Honey in his bed and decided he needed something to do while she was away on her modeling assignment. After breakfast, Reb called the real estate agent he had dealt with when he purchased his condominium and instructed her to find him some acreage within a 30 minute drive of his condo. He told the agent that he was looking for something somewhat secluded where he could go hunting and not have to worry about disturbing his neighbors.
A couple of hours later, the agent called back and told Reb about a 300 acre parcel of farmland outside of Summerdale on county road 38, just a short drive north of Seaside Beach. The agent said that a little more than a third of the property was wooded and the balance of the land had been half pastureland and half cropland but hadn’t been cultivated for a couple of years and was overgrown with weeds. There was a dirt road that ran north off the county road for about a quarter mile before coming to an old single story farmhouse that would need some minor work to make it habitable again. That same dirt road continued in a northerly direction and cut through the wooded section all the way to the back of the farm’s property line which was adjacent to another tract of woodland owned by a hunting club.
Reb told the agent that he was interested in seeing the property and, two hours later, Reb met her at the old farmhouse. After driving Reb’s SUV and/or walking over almost every inch of the property and inspecting the old house and the adjacent barn, Reb decided to make an offer. After a quick couple of rounds of offer and counter offer, Reb’s real estate agent called the next day to let him know that his last offer had been accepted. Reb’s offer had been all cash and contingent on an expedited closing. Two days later, on Thursday, Reb closed on the property. Reb decided to call his newest acquisition The Farm.
On Friday, Reb made the necessary arrangements to have the utilities turned on for the old farmhouse. Next, he called a contractor, who’d been recommended by Rusty, and made arrangements to meet the contractor at The Farm on Monday. Next, he called a lumberyard and placed an order for a load of pressure treated posts, railroad ties, and fastening devices. Then, he contacted a construction equipment rental dealer in nearby Foley and scheduled to have a backhoe loader and a skid steer with an auger attachment delivered to The Farm on Monday, also.
Honey flew into Jack Edwards airport late Friday afternoon and Reb was waiting there to meet her. They spent the weekend together fishing, watching football, and fooling around like they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of days. Before they knew it, the weekend was at an end. Reb drove Honey to Jack Edwards airport late Sunday afternoon so she could fly back to New York City for another week of modeling.
On Monday morning, shortly after daybreak, Reb met with the contractor at the old farmhouse. Reb and the contractor went through the house and compiled a short list of the minor repairs that needed to be made to the house.
When they had finished with what needed to be done with the farmhouse, Reb and the contractor went out to the barn and got into an old, beat up looking, four-wheel drive pickup truck Reb had purchased for use around The Farm as a general purpose utility vehicle to save wear and tear on his SUV.
The dirt road driveway on The Farm ran past the old farmhouse north toward the wooded section at the back of the property. Reb steered the old pickup truck onto the old dirt road and drove to the back of the property. Overall, the road was in pretty good shape and Reb noted that there were only a couple of places where he would need to fill in some ruts in the road.
After traveling about three quarters of a mile, they reached an open field that had once been pastureland. It was the size of about three football fields. Beyond this field the road led to the more heavily wooded area of The Farm. Reb and the contractor parked the pickup truck and walked out into the field about twenty yards from where they parked the truck.
“What I want here,” Reb told the contractor, “is a wire mesh reinforced, four inch thick concrete slab twenty-four feet long by eight feet wide with four by six pressure treated posts supporting a shed-style metal roof with a height of ten feet at the low point. I want you to use two by ten lumber to form a band around the outside of the posts at the top to provide structural stability. Can you take care of that by the end of this week?”
“Not a problem,” the contractor said. “Do you mind telling me what you’re planning on doing with it … might make a difference in the construction.”
“This is going to be the shooting shed for my shooting range,” Reb replied.
“You mind if I make a suggestion?”
“No, what’ve you got in mind?” Reb asked.
“If you want, on the front side, I can build a bench between the posts so you can set things down on top of it while standing to shoot a handgun or a rifle,” the contractor suggested. “You plan on sighting in a rifle scope, too?”
“I am,” Reb said.
“In that case, I’d leave the area between the posts on the other side open and I can build you a shooting bench that you sit down at for shooting a rifle. The plan I have in mind has a seat on one side for the person shooting and a seat on the other side for a spotter to use. That way the bench will work for either a right-handed or a left-handed shooter, too.”
On the drive back to the farmhouse, Reb and the contractor agreed on a price for the shooting shed, the two-man shooting bench, and the repair work to be done on the old farmhouse.
Later that morning, a truck from the equipment rental company arrived with the skid steer equipped with the auger attachment loaded on it. Reb had the truck follow him to the spot where the shooting shed would be built and directed the driver to offload the skid steer there.
After Reb signed for the skid steer, the driver departed. Reb drove the skid steer to a spot that was approximately 900 feet from where the shed would be built and started drilling holes with the auger attachment for the pressure treated poles he’d ordered.
By the time he finished digging the holes, the second truck from the equipment rental company arrived with the backhoe loader. The driver offloaded the backhoe loader and Reb sent the skid steer and auger attachment back with the second truck.
Over the course of that week and the next, while Honey was out of town modeling, Reb was able to get the repairs completed to the farmhouse as well as complete the construction of the shooting shed, the shooting bench, and the backstop berm for his outdoor shooting range.
When Honey returned to Seaside Beach on Friday afternoon at the end of the third week, she informed Reb that she had the next week off and was looking forward to sp
ending some down time with him.
The next morning, Reb and Honey woke to a gorgeous day and decided to have their breakfast out on the balcony. It was the first Saturday in October. The weather forecast called for temperatures in the high 80s and, other than a few cirrus clouds, the view out on the balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico was blue skies, bluish-green water, with plenty of sunshine for miles around. It was going to be the perfect day to introduce Honey to The Farm and the shooting range. Reb told Honey he had a surprise for her. After three attempts to get him to tell her what the surprise was, Honey gave up and finished her breakfast, curious as all get out about the surprise Reb had in store for her.
After breakfast, Reb told Honey that they were going for a drive. He suggested that she dress casually and wear shoes that would be comfortable for walking. Reb had thrown on cargo pants, a navy blue polo shirt that was untucked, and a pair of chukka boots.
While Honey was getting ready, Reb retrieved his Wilson Combat full-size model 1911 .45 from the nightstand on his side of the bed in the master bedroom and holstered it—cocked and locked—in the inside-the-waistband holster he always wore on his right hip. On his left hip, Reb attached a couple of spare 8-round magazines in a double magazine pouch to his belt. Having been in a few firefights over the years where he almost ran out of ammo, Reb was a firm believer in carrying as much ammunition as he could, just to be on the safe side. After checking to make sure he had his concealed carry permit in his wallet, Reb then went to the hall storage closet and took out the tactical gun case holding his AR-15, a rucksack full of loaded 30-round magazines, and a couple of military surplus ammunition cans full of 5.56mm rifle ammunition and .45 ACP pistol ammunition. He stopped by the kitchen and set all of the gear down in a pile and decided to have a cup of coffee while he waited for Honey to finish getting ready to go.
Reb was halfway through drinking his coffee when Honey came into the kitchen wearing a loose fitting pair of faded blue jeans, an oversized Texas Aggie T-shirt and a pair of comfortable looking hiking boots.
She saw the gun case, rucksack full of spare magazines, and ammo cans. “I’ll bet I know what the surprise is. You’ve found a range where we can shoot your AR-15.”
“Well, so much for the surprise,” Reb said, trying to sound disappointed that the surprise had been spoiled. “Help me with some of this and let’s get going.”
After loading everything into the back of Reb’s SUV, they took the Foley Beach Express north until they came to Highway 59, then they headed north on Hwy 59 to Summerdale, which was only twenty miles from Seaside Beach. There they stopped in at Summerdale Guns and Ammo.
The week before last, after purchasing the farm, Reb had ordered and prepaid for a Springfield Model 1911 EMP 9mm semi-automatic pistol and a Colt AR-15 with an Aimpoint Red Dot sight—identical to his own AR-15—for Honey. Reb had also ordered a laser range finder that was good out to 1,000 yards, an inexpensive spotting scope with a tripod that was supposed to be powerful enough for the spotter to be able to see .22 caliber bullet holes in targets at 300 yards, a Barrett Model 82A1 .50 caliber semi-automatic rifle with a Leupold Mk 4 riflescope, a bipod for the Barrett, a Turbodyne suppressor for the Barrett, an extra 10 round magazine for the Barrett, a cleaning kit for the Barrett, several boxes of 9mm ball and hollow point ammunition for Honey’s new pistol, an inside the waistband holster for Honey’s pistol, and a 100 round can of .50 caliber M33 ball ammunition.
Reb had requested that the pistol, the rifle, and the holster for Honey be gift wrapped. The owner of the gun store, who was ecstatic to have such a large order, had gladly complied. He had even volunteered to gift wrap all of the other items, too, but Reb had told him that just gift wrapping the pistol, rifle and holster for Honey would be fine.
When Honey saw the gift wrapped boxes, she asked, “What’s in the boxes, Reb?”
“You’ll see when we get to our destination.”
When she saw the Barrett, Honey jokingly commented, “Damn, Reb, are you planning on going hunting for elephants?”
“Don’t know about elephants, but it might come in handy for pirates and such,” Reb replied with a grin.
When they arrived at the farm, Reb pulled around behind the old farmhouse and parked his SUV near the steps leading to the back porch.
Honey looked around at the old farmhouse and the nearby barn and asked, “Reb, darling, what are we doing at this place?”
“Welcome to The Farm, sweetheart,” Reb announced. “While you were gone, I decided that we needed a place where we could go shooting anytime we wanted to with no restrictions on type of weapon. So, I bought this place and have been working on fixing it up while you’ve been gone these past three weeks. Hold on for a second while I go get our ride up to the shooting range.”
CHAPTER 22
Aboard the FBIS G450
45,000 Feet Above Ground Level
45 miles South East of Montgomery, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
6:30 p.m. Central Time
Jake had been sound asleep when he woke up to find the steward shaking him and saying, “Sorry, sir, but you need to get your seatback up and fasten your seatbelt. We have to make an emergency landing.”
Jake quickly did as he was told and then glanced at his watch. It was only 7:30 p.m. his time.
“Steward, where are we and what’s going on?” Jake asked.
“Sir, we’re experiencing some technical difficulties and are going to be making an emergency landing at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Alabama,” the steward replied.
Jake heard a hellacious noise coming from what he figured was the jet engine in the rear on his side and told the steward, “Damn, sounds like that engine is about to fall off the plane.”
“Yessir, that’s the technical difficulty I was telling you about,” the steward said.
Ten minutes later, they were on the ground. While Jake and the crew evacuated the plane, one of the base’s emergency fire truck crews made sure that there was no risk of the failed engine causing a fire.
* * *
Jake and the G450’s crew were in the ready room of one of the large hangars at Maxwell Air Force Base. The G450 had been moved inside the hangar where an Air Force maintenance crew was inspecting the plane’s jet engine. Jake was anxiously waiting to hear the results of the ground crew’s inspection. He glanced at his wristwatch. If they couldn’t get the plane back in the air in a reasonable amount of time, he was going to have to find an alternate means of transportation to Gulf Shores. He wasn’t looking forward to those alternatives.
The door to the ready room opened and the maintenance crew chief walked over to where Jake and the others were sitting.
Jake got out of his seat and asked, “How bad is it, Chief?”
The maintenance crew chief ignored Jake and started to address the plane’s pilot, but the pilot shook his head and said, “Chief, that’s the man you need to explain things to.”
The maintenance chief turned back to Jake and said, “Sorry about that, sir. The engine’s pretty badly damaged, but we’ve got a spare on hand. We can have it swapped out for you in about an hour and a half or so.”
Jake looked at his wristwatch and then looked at the pilot. “What time will that put us in Gulf Shores?”
“Somewhere around 8:30 p.m. local time, sir” the pilot replied.
Jake looked at the maintenance crew chief and said, “All right, Chief, let’s do it.”
* * *
Good to his word, the maintenance crew chief and his men got the engines swapped out in about an hour and Jake was once again on his way to Gulf Shores.
As the G450 climbed to cruising altitude, Jake looked at his wristwatch again. The earliest he figured the jihadist cell would show up at Reb’s condo in Seaside Beach was 9:45 p.m. local time. Jake’s margin for getting to Reb before the jihadists could arrive was getting slimmer, but it looked like he would still get there with more than an hour to spare—plenty of time to setup
a trap for the jihadists.
CHAPTER 23
Aboard Reb’s Revenge
Out in the Gulf of Mexico
30 Miles off Seaside Beach, Alabama
Saturday, April 17, 2010
7:15 p.m. Central Time
After two hours of hard fighting, the blue marlin on the end of Honey’s line had finally worn down enough that they were able to get it to the surface and close enough to the boat that Reb could tag it, remove the hook, and, once it was sufficiently revived, release it.
It was later than they had planned to be out, so Reb and Honey called it a day and headed back in to Slip D7 at Rusty’s Marina in Seaside Beach.
* * *
Seven Months Earlier
The Farm
Summerdale, Alabama
Saturday, October 3, 2009
While Honey stood waiting at the rear of the SUV, Reb walked over to the old barn and, after opening the sliding barn door, went inside. Honey heard an engine start and a minute later Reb drove out in the Polaris 500 all terrain vehicle that he’d purchased in the past week. A salesman at the local recreational vehicle dealership in nearby Robertsdale had convinced Reb that the ATV would be perfect for running around at the shooting range and for hunting at The Farm.
Reb pulled the ATV up to the rear of the SUV. He and Honey transferred all of the gear from the SUV into the open cargo box on the rear of the ATV and then secured everything with bungee cord straps.
Reb and Honey got in the ATV and Reb drove it along the dirt road until they came to the new shooting shed. Reb drove off the road into the pasture and parked the ATV behind the shooting shed. “How do you like the shooting range?”
Honey looked at the shed. On the left side, there was a waist-high, two-foot deep workbench built between the support posts. On the right side of the shed, the front was open between the support posts and there was a wooden two-person shooting bench available for rifle use. Three hundred yards out in front of the shed, Honey saw the fifteen-foot high earthen backstop berm, covered in sod, that was there to prevent bullets from going further downrange and possibly injuring someone or causing property damage. Between the shed and the backstop berm, Reb had set up target stands that were spaced out at different distances for both pistol and rifle target shooting.