Lawyer/Security
expert Jake McCall is unexpectedly dispatched by Learjet
to evaluate a suspected terrorist plot thought to
be threatening the Crystal River nuclear power plant,
located on the Gulf of Mexico and adjacent to the
ill-fated old Florida cross state barge canal. In order
to evade the spotlight on the western border between the
U.S. and Mexico, the Mexican cartels have begun using
the old navigable canal as an unattended entryway for
smuggling illegal immigrants and drugs into Florida,
unaware that their cartel connection is a double agent
whose identity is inadvertently discovered by McCall and
his associates. A coalition quickly develops between
Jake's team and the double agent, a huge and powerful
man known to the Mexicans only as el Toro, whose little
brother had been slaughtered years prior by the
cartel. El Toro's lifelong obsession to even the score
with the illusive killer responsible for his brother's
death leads to a series of bloody encounters which
extend from the barge canal to the sleepy and Communist
deprived southwestern coast of Cuba, into the Florida
keys and ultimately the
Bahamas.
Sample chapters
The following
morning it was breakfast as usual for Jake, John and Walter.
Their first concern was whether any further problem had
developed between Knox and the skinny guy after they had all
separated the previous evening. It had become evident that a
turf war was building in the skinny man's mind since little
did he know Knox was about to become an ex-smuggler. Neither
did he know about the plan to meet with the Mexicans and
take whatever steps were required to sever the smuggling
pipeline permanently. For him to get in the middle of all
this was suicidal, but he didn't know that either. Which is
why he made the fatal mistake of following el Toro home when
he left the Log Cabin, erroneously assuming he hadn't been
seen or could slip up on the dangerous big man in his own
home.
Sensing he had been
followed, el Toro drove home, unlocked and entered the front
door, turned on the kitchen lights and TV set then quietly
exited through the rear door and waited in the shadows of
the big grandaddy oak trees. He saw the profile of the
skinny man as he came down the dark street from the west,
carefully dodging what little light there was from
surrounding homes and easing into the edge of el Toro's
yard, where he stopped and waited. But rather than approach
the house as el Toro had expected, the man sneaked along
through the dense shrubbery lining the property and headed
down toward the boat dock, passing within ten feet of where
el Toro stood frozen in the darkness.
"I'll be damned",
el Toro thought, "the dumb son-of-a-bitch intends to steal
my boat. The tide's goin' out so he plans to just untie the
dock lines, climb aboard and let the boat drift down the
river far enough to be able to crank it without being heard.
He's had just enough to drink at the Log Cabin to muster up
his courage and he needs a boat to do his deal with the
Mexicans. He's thinkin' if he can get the boat down as far
south as Homosassa he'll be able to hide it out with some of
his buddies back up Mason Creek where I'd never find it. Be
a good plan if I were sittin' inside watchin' TV."
El Toro continued
to watch the skinny man sneak down to the dock and pause,
lookin’ around to assure himself he was safe. He then
turned, crouched and went first to the stern line which he
began to untie. As the mousy little man began to work, el
Toro left his hiding place and silently trotted across the
damp lawn grass to the dock. As the big, bald man emerged
from the shadows and stepped up on the dock, the skinny
thief heard the dock boards squeak too late. He spun around
to find himself staring into the silencer barrel of a
forty-four caliber Colt revolver, aimed directly between his
eyes. The last thing he saw was the flash of gunpowder.
* * *
The cartel boat was
moving slowly to the east and Jake liked the idea of
following it to port rather than getting ahead. He tapped
Reed on the right arm and pointed to the radar screen. Reed
nodded and looked back at el Toro who was still lost in
another world and showed no interest in the radar image. The
distance between the two boats lessened rapidly and as they
rounded one of the westernmost barrier islands there was the
cartel boat, the same Cigarette which they had admired in
the Gulf, except now they were not piloting el Toro’s old
grouper boat. They were well within sight of each other and
the Mexicans waved in acknowledgement, motioning for Jake to
follow. Jake waved back and the two boats headed for the
mainland, the Magnum following at a distance of two hundred
yards. The Mexicans clearly knew their way since the waters
in the area were shallow and Jake carefully monitored the
depth sonar as they weaved in among the mangroves, following
an invisible and unmarked channel.
"Thank God for the
GPS", Jake thought. "If we have to leave in a hurry there's
no way I'd ever find this channel again without it. I can
see the reef inches below the surface almost everywhere.
This little channel must'a been blasted out years ago by the
fishermen."
Then the cartel
boat began to slow and seemed to be headed directly into a
solid wall of mangroves. It slowed to an idle and quietly
made a hard turn to the left, disappearing from sight. Jake
pulled the throttle back to idle and strained to see where
the other boat had gone. Suddenly there was a narrow opening
in the mangroves, barely wide enough for the forty-foot
Magnum to squeeze through.
The mangrove trees
overhung the channel almost like a tunnel.
Jake was again
thinking, "So much for the rapid escape option. This is the
only way in and out of this damn place. These bastards knew
exactly what they were doin' when they picked it. It's like
a fuckin' trap!"
He leaned to his
left and said to Reed, who instinctively sensed what Jake
was thinking, "John, better get the AR-15 ready. This may be
an ambush and they're using this Francisco character as
bait. This is no new route for these guys. They know this
end of Cuba like it's their own back yard and this has to be
where they pick up the Cuban illegals. You heard 'em say our
passengers were all Cubanos. Tell that damn Knox to snap out
of it and get ready to shoot our way out. We sure as hell
can't turn 'round. His buddy Francisco may be the least of
our worries if they start shootin'."
Reed's years as a
Marine in Iraq brought back bitter memories of situations
like this and he said to Jake, "This little meeting is
turning to shit fast. I'm gettin' the rocket launchers out'a
the hatch so they'll be handy. Keep movin' as slow as
possible and put the boat in neutral when we get to the next
turn. If it's an ambush I wanna’ be ready to take out the
whole boat in one shot."
Jake nodded and
idled forward for another twenty yards, putting the boat in
neutral and letting its’ momentum carry them up to the next
turn. As they floated into the turn the cartel boat came
back into view, now tied to a decrepit old wooden dock where
a dozen or so little fishing boats were also moored. There
was no room left for the Magnum to tie up at the dock but
one of the Mexicans was standing on the bow of the Cigarette
holding a dock line, gesturing for Jake to come alongside.
But something was bad wrong! No one was on the dock watching
these two unusual boats come into this little backwater
cove. No other Mexicans were to be seen on the cartel boat
or on the dock. The lone Mexican on the bow was looking
nervously over his left shoulder at something other than the
approaching Magnum.
Reed shouted,
"Ambush! It's a trap! Grab your gun, Jake!"
Reed quickly ducked
below the gunwale of the Magnum and reached for his AR-15.
At the same time Jake put the big boat in reverse to stop
the drift toward the cartel boat. He pulled his AR-15 from
its spot on the seat next to him and slid down below the
cowling surrounding the cockpit, at the same time trying to
position the boat so that it could be turned around and at
least be headed away from the other boat. But not a shot had
been fired and only the one nervous Mexican, obviously left
as a decoy, had been seen since entering the cove. Even he
now jumped from the bow of the cartel boat and began running
along the rickety dock. A gunshot shattered the drone of
the Lycomings. The Mexican fell face down on the dock, the
back of his head gone. Jake cried out to the others,
"They've shot one of their own. What the hell's goin' on
here?"
