Reb's Rampage Page 7

  “Yes, Boss,” Juan said. “I’ll get right on it.”

  * * *

  Ramon was in the room—on the first floor off the living room—he used for his office. He was sitting at his desk, busily contemplating his next move. His cousin, Carlos Vicario, was the head of the Vicario drug cartel and was perhaps the most ruthless man Ramon had ever known. Ramon knew Carlos would be furious about the loss of the drug sub and its cargo of drugs and he knew it would be best for him, if he could tell Carlos he knew who was responsible for the loss of the drug sub and the drugs and that he was doing something to prevent such a thing from ever happening again, when he notified his cousin about the loss of the drug sub and the drugs.

  Ramon scrolled through the list of contacts on his smartphone until he came to the name, Carl Robbins. Carl was a 38-year-old news reporter for the Lower Alabama Times who had developed a taste for cocaine, over the years. Ramon had met Carl several years ago at one of his adult night clubs in Pensacola where Carl would make his cocaine purchases. When Carl could no longer afford to pay for his habit, Ramon worked out an arrangement with Carl for him to keep Ramon fully aware of any and all news which might affect Ramon’s business interests. Carl knew just about everybody worth knowing in the county, especially county officials and employees. When it came to getting information, Carl was better than a private detective, as far as Ramon was concerned.

  Ramon looked at his Rolex and saw the time was 7:45 a.m. He hit send and listened to the phone ring, as he waited for Carl to answer his phone.

  After the fifth ring, Carl came on and said, “Who the fuck is waking me up at this ungodly time of the morning? This better be good.”

  “Carl,” Ramon said, “this is Ramon Vicario. I wouldn’t be bothering you this time of morning, if it wasn’t important, so pay close attention. I have a chore for you.”

  “Oh, good morning, Ramon. Sorry about biting your head off like that. Late night and all. You know how it is. So, what can I do for you?” Carl said.

  “You got something to write with, Carl? I’ve got a boat’s name and the boat’s registration and I need to know who owns it and where they live. Okay?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “The boat’s name is Reb’s Revenge and the registration is AL4J2UP7. You got that?”

  “I’ve got Reb’s Revenge and AL4J2UP7. How soon do you need the info, Ramon?”

  “Are you being stupid or something, Carl?” Ramon exploded. “I call this time of morning and tell you it’s important and you want to know how fucking soon do I want the info? What the fuck is wrong with you, Carl?”

  “I’ll get right on it, Ramon,” Carl said, “but, just so you know, the people I get my info from won’t be in to work until later this morning. After I talk to them, it’ll probably be another couple of hours before I have anything for you.”

  “All the free drugs you’ve been getting from me, Carl, you’d better have something good for me when you do call back,” Ramon said, ending the call.

  Ramon looked over at Juan, who was sitting on a nearby couch, and said, “Call Eduardo and Hector.”

  Eduardo and Hector were managers at two of Ramon’s adult entertainment clubs in the Pensacola, Florida area. In addition to the revenue generated from prostitution, the clubs were conduits for the retail side of Ramon’s drug business. Eduardo and Hector each had several men on their club’s payroll who were responsible for protecting Ramon’s business interests and maintaining order in the clubs.

  “Tell them to have three of their best men to come in early and meet them at the club by ten o’clock this morning. I want them armed and ready to go on a moment’s notice. We’re going to find out who it was attacked us, then we’re going to go get our drugs back from them, and then we’re going to fucking kill them.”

  “Right, Boss.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Ramon Vicario’s Residence

  Sailor Creek

  Lillian, Alabama

  Wednesday, May 5, 2010

  9:00 a.m. CDT

  Ramon and Juan were in Ramon’s office. Juan was sitting on the couch watching a soccer match on the TV. Ramon was sitting at his desk worrying about having to break the bad news to his cousin, Carlos, that he had lost the drug sub and all of the drugs that were on board.

  Ramon’s smartphone rang and, when he picked it up from the desk, he saw it was Carl Robbins calling.

  “What did you find out for me Carl?”

  “I’ve got the information you wanted, Ramon.”

  Ramon got out a pad and pen to take notes, signaled for Juan to pay attention, put the phone on speaker, and set it down on the desk. “Okay, Carl, let me have what you’ve got.”

  “The boat registration you gave me came back on a T. R. Rogers. He goes by Reb. His address is Seaside Tower Condominium Complex, Unit 1203, Seaside Beach, Alabama. I did some digging and found out he keeps that boat of his at Rusty’s Marina there in Seaside Beach. Another thing I found out is this Reb Rogers is good buddies with the Chief of Police there in Seaside Beach. That help you out, Ramon?”

  “Yeah, Carl. That helps. But see what else you can find out about this Reb Rogers and his friend, the Police Chief, too.”

  “Will do, Ramon,” Carl said and hung up.

  Ramon looked at Juan and said, “Sounds like we’re dealing with a local drug dealer going for the big time and he’s got a corrupt Police Chief in his pocket, too.”

  “What do you want to do about it, Boss?”

  “Now that we know where this Reb Rogers lives, we’ll follow him around and see where he goes. Maybe he’ll lead us to where he’s got our drugs stashed. Who knows? We might get lucky and get the drug sub back, too.

  “Call Eduardo and Hector, tell them to meet up and drive over to Seaside Beach where this Reb Rogers lives. Tell them to find the parking space assigned to his condo unit and stake it out. When he leaves, tell them just to follow him to see where he goes. If he goes somewhere, it might be where he stashed our drugs, tell them to keep an eye on him, but to do nothing until they’ve called me for instructions. Got that?”

  “Yes, Boss,” Juan said.

  “Then get out of here so I can call Carlos and fill him in on what’s going on.”

  * * *

  Ramon looked at his Rolex and saw that the time was 9:10 a.m. In Veracruz, Mexico, they were in the same time zone as Alabama was. Carlos Vicario was an early riser and the Captain of the Veracruz Lady had more than likely already informed Carlos about the incident in the Gulf earlier this morning. The sooner Ramon gave his side to Carlos about the theft of the drug sub and its cargo of drugs, the better. Ramon found the listing for his cousin, Carlos, on his smartphone and hit send.

  “I was wondering when you were going to call me,” Carlos said, when he answered.

  “I knew the Captain of the Veracruz Lady would notify you about what happened and I wanted to get some things done, before I called you,” Ramon said.

  “So, how bad is it?” Carlos asked.

  “The hijackers got the drug sub and the load of drugs,” Ramon said. “I lost two escort boats and their crews. One of my men on the other escort boat was wounded when we tried to ambush the hijackers.”

  “Please tell me you know who did this and are doing something about it,” Carlos said.

  “I just now found out who did it and have sent my people to recover the drugs and, hopefully, the drug sub, too.”

  “Who was it, Ramon?”

  “A man named, Reb Rogers,” Ramon replied. “He is not someone I’ve heard of before.”

  “After you’ve killed him,” Carlos said, “call me back.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Reb Roger’s Condo

  Seaside Beach, Alabama

  Wednesday, May 5, 2010

  10:00 a.m. CDT

  After managing to get a few hours of sleep, Reb got out of bed, took a quick shower, and drove back over to Rusty’s Marina in his SUV. He went inside Rusty’s Diner planning to grab a bite to eat befo
re heading back up to The Farm to put his weapons back in the survival bunker for safe keeping.

  No sooner than Reb took his seat in a booth, Rusty and Dave slid into the opposite side of the booth.

  Ignoring his two friends for the moment, Reb waved and got the attention of one of the waitresses, who was taking an order at a nearby table. She nodded, indicating she would get to him as soon as she finished with the customer she was with.

  As Reb looked back across the table where Rusty and Dave were sitting, Rusty said, “Just so you know, Dave and I just got back from looking at the damage to the Revenge like you asked me to in your message. What the hell have you been up to to get your boat all shot up like that? And what the hell do you know about the odd-looking boat someone’s parked next to the Revenge in slip D-8?”

  Before Reb could answer, the waitress appeared alongside the booth and Reb decided to take care of his growling stomach, before answering Rusty’s questions.

  “I’ll have coffee and the club sandwich special,” Reb told the waitress.

  When the waitress looked at Rusty and Dave, Rusty said, “Darlene, bring me and Dave the club sandwich special, too, but bring us sweet iced tea, instead of coffee.”

  When the waitress walked away with their order, Reb said, “After the poker game last night, Billy and I took the Revenge out to capture a drug sub. That’s what they call the boat parked next to the Revenge, by the way. And, that’s where the bullet holes in the Revenge came from.”

  “You don’t look any the worse for wear,” Dave said. “How’d Billy fare?”

  “Billy’s just fine,” Reb said. “Oh, by the way, Rusty, Billy said to tell you to send the bill for the repairs on the Revenge to him and he would take care of it.”

  “That’s awful nice of him,” Rusty said.

  “It was the least he could do under the circumstances,” Reb said. “Billy’s going to turn the drug sub over to the DEA for the ten million dollar reward they’ve got out for the capture of one of those things. I’m surprised they haven’t turned it into a media event yet. Hope you don’t mind having a bunch of suits from the government and a herd of reporters wandering around the marina?”

  “I make it a policy to never turn down free publicity,” Rusty said.

  Reb heard someone say, “Scoot over.” He looked up, saw it was Billy, and made room for him to join them in the booth.

  “We’ve already ordered,” Reb said.

  “That’s okay, I caught the waitress on my way over here,” Billy said, as he adjusted his gun belt and tried to get comfortable next to Reb on the booth’s bench seat.

  “I hear you were busy last night,” Rusty said to Billy.

  “Last night, early this morning, and all morning long,” Billy said. “It’s been non-stop since I’ve been back to the office.”

  “What’d the DEA have to say about the drug sub?” Reb asked.

  “They’re happy as all get out,” Billy said. “They want to hold a press conference right here at the marina. Do a live broadcast for the 5 o’clock news down at the dock where we left the drug sub. They said they’re going to bring one of those big cardboard checks for ten million dollars made out to the Seaside Beach Police Department so they can present it to me at the press conference.”

  Billy looked at Reb and asked, “You want in on the press conference?”

  “You don’t mind if I pass on the publicity, do you?” Reb said.

  “Nope, it’s probably a good idea not to get your name in the paper when it comes to getting on the bad side of the drug cartel,” Billy said. “Anyway, I’ve got a man keeping an eye on the drug sub until the news conference and nothing much to do until then. What are you guys up to?”

  “After I finish eating lunch, I’m headed back up to The Farm to put the weapons we used last night back in my survival bunker where they belong,” Reb said.

  “You want some company?” Rusty and Dave both asked at the same time. Unlike Billy, they already knew about the survival bunker.

  “Let me guess,” Reb said. “You two want to get in some target practice while we’re up at The Farm.”

  Rusty and Dave both smiled and nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Guys, if you don’t mind, could we put off the target practice until the next time?” Reb asked.

  Rusty and Dave both looked disappointed.

  “But I could use some help cleaning the guns we used last night before I put them back in the bunker,” Reb said. “Y’all want to come along and help out with that?”

  Rusty and Dave both smiled and nodded their heads again.

  “I’ve got nothing better to do until the news conference,” Billy said. “Mind if I tag along, too?”

  “The more, the merrier,” Reb said.

  * * *

  After they finished eating their lunch, Reb, Billy, Rusty, and Dave went out to the parking lot and climbed into Reb’s SUV for the trip up to Summerdale where Reb’s farm was located.

  When Reb and his passengers pulled out of the marina’s parking lot onto Perdido Beach Boulevard, no one noticed the White BMW 750 or the Black Mercedes S550 when they pulled out behind them. The two cars quickly dropped back several car lengths behind Reb’s SUV and followed at a distance far enough back to avoid being noticed.

  When Reb’s SUV turned into the entrance road to his farm off county road 38, the BMW and the Mercedes following him were a quarter mile behind.

  * * *

  The BMW and the Mercedes stopped at the entrance to Reb’s property. Hector got out of his Mercedes and ran up to the front passenger side of the BMW just as the window lowered completely. Hector listened in on Eduardo talking to Ramon on his phone.

  “Looks like it’s a farm, Boss,” Eduardo said.

  Eduardo listened to what Ramon had to say.

  “Yeah, they could have hauled the drugs up here earlier today from the marina there in Seaside Beach in a large truck,” Eduardo said. “It don’t take long to get from that marina to where we are. About half an hour.”

  Eduardo listened to what Ramon had to say.

  “Okay, Boss. We get them to show us where the drugs are, then we kill all of them, and then we call you to let you know it’s been taken care of.”

  Eduardo turned to Hector as he was putting his phone away and said, “You heard what he said. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Reb drove around to the back of the farmhouse and parked the SUV with the rear end facing the back porch to make it easier to unload the weapons and ammunition. Reb, Billy, Rusty, and Dave unloaded all of the gear from the SUV and were about to enter the back door when they heard the BMW and the Mercedes as they accelerated down the dirt road coming toward the farmhouse.

  Billy said, “You’re not expecting any company are you, Reb?”

  “No,” Reb said as he got the back door unlocked. “Just in case it’s the drug cartel, let’s get this gear inside.”

  The four men got all the gear inside the house and closed the back door just as the two cars turned off the dirt road and pulled into the gravel driveway area at the rear of the house.

  Reb opened the gun case containing the two M4s, took them out, and handed one of them to Rusty and the other one to Dave. Reb reached back into the case and took out four 30-round magazines and gave two to Rusty and two to Dave. “Guys, those are M4s and will fire full-auto if you need to.”

  Rusty and Dave inserted the magazines and chambered a round.

  Billy had already taken the Barretts out of their gun cases and, after putting fresh magazines in them, chambering a round and checking that the fire selector switch was set to Safe, handed Reb his, and said, “You’re good to go.”

  The four men spread out and each found a window along the back wall of the kitchen and inside of the pantry to look out of, as two cars arrived at the back of the house and came to a screeching halt in front of Reb’s SUV, effectively blocking it in.

  Four armed men piled out of each vehicle and stood behind the car doors w
atching the house. Two men were armed with AK-47s. The rest of them were armed with handguns. One of the men yelled out, “Hello, inside the house. All we want are the drugs. Put them out on the back porch and we’ll leave you alone.”

  “Those stupid fuckers think we hijacked their drug sub for the drugs and we brought the drugs here,” Billy said.

  “Not only that, they think we’re stupid enough to believe they’ll let us go, if we give the drugs back to them,” Reb said. “How do you want to handle this?”

  Before Billy could answer, the man outside yelled out, “You’ve got five minutes to start putting our drugs out on the back porch or we’re going to come in and get them for ourselves.”

  “We just ran out of options,” Reb said. “I’m going out the emergency exit of my bunker and flank these assholes. When I open fire, I’m going to take out the guy with the AK on our left. Billy, you take out the guy with the AK on the right. After I leave, tell Dave and Rusty to hold their fire until you and I open fire and then to shoot to kill any of those assholes they can.”

  Reb ran out of the kitchen into the dining room carrying his Barrett. He opened the door to the wardrobe and then ran down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs he kept running until he got to the end of the tunnel where the heavy metal entrance door to the bunker was located. He unlocked the door, ran through the mud room, and stopped at the first gun safe where he exchanged the Barrett for the Winchester Model 1897 12-gauge pump shotgun his grandfather had given to him. Reb then ran through the living area of the bunker, and, at the far end of the bunker, entered the emergency exit shaft that led up to the 3-car garage above. Reb quickly climbed the rungs to the top, lifted the emergency hatch, and crawled out inside the garage with two minutes of the five- minute deadline to go.

  Reb moved quickly and quietly to the open door of the first bay in the garage and got into a prone position on the floor. He stuck his head out just enough to peek past the garage and saw he had a clear shot at the man with the AK nearest him. The man was standing behind the open door on the rear passenger-side of the car holding his rifle at port arms intently watching the back door of the farm house. The other cartel members standing at the car were all focusing their attention on the back door of Reb’s farmhouse waiting for the five-minute countdown to end.