Read Online The Geronimo Breach by Russell Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: Russell Blake
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Cruiser. A weary customs agent emerged from the small shack near the end of the landing strip and waved at the pilot. Don Tomas reflected on how relaxed crossing international borders could be when the local officials had gambling debts they needed to pay off. The pilot killed the engines, restoring the hushed quiet of the thick jungle on all sides of the clearing.
The door of the Cessna opened and a small folding ladder descended gracefully from the fuselage, coming to rest on the waterlogged gravel. Two black-haired males in their late twenties followed the white-suited Don Tomas as he made his way towards the Toyota. The younger men, one tall, one stocky, scanned the surroundings and slipped into step on either side of the Don in a protective formation. The driver, who waited by the vehicle, stepped forward as they approached and hugged Don Tomas, enthusiastically shaking his hand in greeting. “Don Tomas. Always good to see you.”
“Thank you, Cesar,” the Don replied, an easy smile complimenting his cherubic, yet forty year old face. “It’s good to be seen.”
The stocky young man waved at the pilot. After a few moments the props slowly turned as the starter fought to engage. After a splutter or two the engines roared to life, leaving a puff of black smoke hanging in the air as the plane taxied to the far end of the runway. The motors howled as the RPMs went into the redline. It leapt forward and within a matter of seconds was airborne, its wheels narrowly clearing the surrounding tree line.
The tall man attended the passenger door for Don Tomas before getting in the back with his partner. Cesar took the wheel and started the engine. He opened the center console and extracted a small black nylon sack. He handed it to Don Tomas, who unzipped the bag and extracted three Glock 17 pistols, one of which he slipped into his jacket pocket, passing the remaining pair to his two younger bodyguards.
“ Gracias , Cesar. You did well,” Don Tomas said.
“ De nada , Don Tomas. Any time I can be of assistance, you know you only have to call,” Cesar replied. “And how long will you be with us this trip?”
“Just for the weekend,” Don Tomas said. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, about the same time. The pilot knows to arrive at seven.”
Cesar frowned. “A very short trip indeed.”
“ Si . And how are things?” Don Tomas asked Cesar.
“Ah, you know. Always the same. The police want more money every month. The politicians want more money every month. Everyone wants to do less for it,” Cesar complained as they navigated the road north.
“It’s the same everywhere, Cesar.” Don Tomas raised an eyebrow. “And have you had any trouble with our associates here?”
“No, it’s been business as usual. Seems like things have settled down since the last disagreements,” Cesar said cheerfully. “But I still don’t trust them.”
“The only ones you can trust are family, and even then you have to sleep with one eye open.”
The three men laughed at the Don’s dry observation, and when the mirth subsided Cesar said, “When the police stop us at the checkpoint ahead, let me handle it. There won’t be any trouble.”
“I trust there won’t be,” Don Tomas said.
The bumpy dirt track steadily wound its muddy way to the intersection with the Transamerican highway.
“Do you have any special requests for your only night in town?” Cesar asked. “Do you want entertainment brought in, or are you in the mood to go out?”
“I think I’d like to go out. Surprise me. Somewhere tranquilo , but where the ladies are friendly,” suggested Don Tomas.
“I know the perfect place,” Cesar assured them, as he turned onto the main road. A rusting green sign, almost hidden by encroaching vegetation, advised Panama City, 32 KM. .
~
They’d had no luck locating the cook. He hadn’t returned to the house and his roommate had come up empty, so now it was time to move to plan B. Sam’s only problem
The door of the Cessna opened and a small folding ladder descended gracefully from the fuselage, coming to rest on the waterlogged gravel. Two black-haired males in their late twenties followed the white-suited Don Tomas as he made his way towards the Toyota. The younger men, one tall, one stocky, scanned the surroundings and slipped into step on either side of the Don in a protective formation. The driver, who waited by the vehicle, stepped forward as they approached and hugged Don Tomas, enthusiastically shaking his hand in greeting. “Don Tomas. Always good to see you.”
“Thank you, Cesar,” the Don replied, an easy smile complimenting his cherubic, yet forty year old face. “It’s good to be seen.”
The stocky young man waved at the pilot. After a few moments the props slowly turned as the starter fought to engage. After a splutter or two the engines roared to life, leaving a puff of black smoke hanging in the air as the plane taxied to the far end of the runway. The motors howled as the RPMs went into the redline. It leapt forward and within a matter of seconds was airborne, its wheels narrowly clearing the surrounding tree line.
The tall man attended the passenger door for Don Tomas before getting in the back with his partner. Cesar took the wheel and started the engine. He opened the center console and extracted a small black nylon sack. He handed it to Don Tomas, who unzipped the bag and extracted three Glock 17 pistols, one of which he slipped into his jacket pocket, passing the remaining pair to his two younger bodyguards.
“ Gracias , Cesar. You did well,” Don Tomas said.
“ De nada , Don Tomas. Any time I can be of assistance, you know you only have to call,” Cesar replied. “And how long will you be with us this trip?”
“Just for the weekend,” Don Tomas said. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, about the same time. The pilot knows to arrive at seven.”
Cesar frowned. “A very short trip indeed.”
“ Si . And how are things?” Don Tomas asked Cesar.
“Ah, you know. Always the same. The police want more money every month. The politicians want more money every month. Everyone wants to do less for it,” Cesar complained as they navigated the road north.
“It’s the same everywhere, Cesar.” Don Tomas raised an eyebrow. “And have you had any trouble with our associates here?”
“No, it’s been business as usual. Seems like things have settled down since the last disagreements,” Cesar said cheerfully. “But I still don’t trust them.”
“The only ones you can trust are family, and even then you have to sleep with one eye open.”
The three men laughed at the Don’s dry observation, and when the mirth subsided Cesar said, “When the police stop us at the checkpoint ahead, let me handle it. There won’t be any trouble.”
“I trust there won’t be,” Don Tomas said.
The bumpy dirt track steadily wound its muddy way to the intersection with the Transamerican highway.
“Do you have any special requests for your only night in town?” Cesar asked. “Do you want entertainment brought in, or are you in the mood to go out?”
“I think I’d like to go out. Surprise me. Somewhere tranquilo , but where the ladies are friendly,” suggested Don Tomas.
“I know the perfect place,” Cesar assured them, as he turned onto the main road. A rusting green sign, almost hidden by encroaching vegetation, advised Panama City, 32 KM. .
~
They’d had no luck locating the cook. He hadn’t returned to the house and his roommate had come up empty, so now it was time to move to plan B. Sam’s only problem
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