Chapter 10 – Billy's Payback
After dinner a couple of nights later, we were all talking around the dining table, when William was alerted that Montoya's car had just turned off the Trail. It was heading toward the houses. Just the one car with four occupants. A few minutes later another car was spotted with four more occupants.
Billy overheard, and jumped up from the table snarling, "That bastard thinks he can take me away again?" And then he left the room quickly, mumbling the whole way, angrier than William or Conchita had ever seen him.
We put on our utility belts and checked the weapons, put on our mics and tested them. Ranger and William finished planning what we would do, shared it with me and Rey, who had returned yesterday. I was glad that we had so much experienced back-up. William's lookouts tonight included two off-duty Miccosukee Police Officers and a neighbor who was a former Marine.
Unnoticed, Billy slipped out of the house while we were talking. By the time we heard the back door close, everyone was ready to go. No one had any idea what Billy had in mind going out alone.
Guns at the ready, William led us out of the clearing and back into the undergrowth – palmetto plants, vines and other scrub bushes that grew beneath the pines and cypress on this hammock. We were walking parallel with the road that lead into the clearing, back toward Old Tamiami Trail. About a quarter of a mile in we found two cars in a small clearing. Since they didn't belong to any of us, nor any of William's neighbors, the guys disabled them. I was left to watch the cars and alert them of anyone who attempted to escape that way.
William, Ranger and Rey headed back toward the clearing, still staying off the road. And all three were so quiet I heard not a single tell-tale sound from them. All professionals, all at home in this environment.
Thirty minutes later, with no activity in my area, William spoke to me over the comms we had all put on. "Steph, stay alert. We have four of them in our sights. My guys and I have them isolated near the piers. Three more were spotted moving toward the houses. Ranger and Rey are going to head them off. That leaves one unaccounted for. Be Careful."
A few minutes later I heard a shot that sounded far off, so it was not from any of our guys wearing mics. No one reacted, so I assumed none of our guys were hit. Then in my ear-piece I heard Ranger say in his command voice, "Face down, with your hands behind your head." Then another shot, this one from one of our guys; it reverberated through the mic. I heard the rustling and clicking as Rey and Ranger cuffed the guys they had. There was a lot of grunting and cursing as the guys were pulled to their feet. I heard Rey say, "I'll check on that other one." A short delay, then, "This one's not going to need an ambulance. William, send one of your guys over here."
I heard Ranger say he was going to check around the back of the house, so I decided to move out and join them. I tried to move as quietly in the underbrush as they had, but I didn't have quite the experience. At least I didn't sound like a herd of wild animals being flushed, like I probably would have a year ago.
However, someone had heard me. As I stepped carefully into the roadway, a hand grabbed my gun and a long arm wrapped around me squeezing my arms against my body. I started to scream, but didn't want to pull any of the guys away from their current stations. I tried to recall my self-defense training to figure out how to get out of this myself, without calling for help. What I did remember was that I had to control my breathing and my fear, which had started to roil in my stomach like bad oysters. I had a throat mic to communicate, but couldn't reach the switch with my arms pinned down. At least the bulk of the gear on my utility belt kept the guy well back from me, so his grip was less tight than it could have been. I was glad that I had taken the time to zip my windbreaker all the way up – hiding the throat strap from easy sight. The wire to the ear piece was hidden by my hair. My captor started walking us toward the clearing where the houses were.
I resisted at first; he hissed at me to behave.
"What do you want with me?"
"A bargaining chip – we trade you for the boy."
"Why do you want the boy?"
"Jefe wants his son. Man wants a son to carry on the family business."
I realized as we walked through the clearing, we were approaching the edge of the channel. I didn't see or hear anyone else. As we moved through the brush and tangled mangrove roots, closer to the water, I started acting like I was having trouble breathing. He loosened his grip even more. I didn't know what was in the water, but decided it was my best chance. As we got to an area next to the water that was relatively clear of the mangroves, I let my body go slack, and slipped partially through his arms. I wrapped my arms around the arm that had been holding me and tucked it tight into my diaphragm. Immediately, I braced my legs, bent over, jerked him over my back and flipped him into the water. It wasn't the "disabling" move that I had learned, but I didn't wasn't trying to seriously injure the guy, just get away from him, and slow him down. The water was shallow, but he made a splash and he lost my gun in the process. I hoped a gator would get him, but at a minimum he'd have a mouth full of swamp water and whatever was in it. The element of surprise, and all my training, worked to my satisfaction. As I released him, my momentum sent my elbows onto the ground. The crushed shells were sharp against my hands, elbows and arms, and sliced through my jeans to cut my knees. As he splashed around trying to get up, I got gingerly to my feet and wiped the blood from my hands and arms on my jeans, which were ruined now anyway.
I clicked the mic and quietly asked the guys where they were. William said Ranger was behind Leotie's house, and the rest of the guys were near the docks. One of his officers had secured the two cuffed men in a patrol car. The ME was coming for the guy someone had shot; seemed that no one was sure who fired the fatal shot. Although I had only heard what sounded like one shot, apparently there were at least three that hit the man. Following directions, I found Ranger standing near a wooden pier behind Leotie's house. I slipped up beside him and he pulled me to him. He noticed my breathing was a bit ragged and I was slightly sweaty. He simply hugged me and said, "Anything to do with that splash?"
"Yeah, I'll tell you about it later. Lost my gun, though."
"You OK?"
"Nothing serious or immediate."
Billy was sitting in the high pilot seat on a very large Airboat down the pier in front of us. He waved, then started it, the loud airplane engine making enough noise to rattle all of the windows in the Village. He signaled to us to join him. I had gotten a brief tour in one of the smaller airboats, but wasn't sure what his plan was. Ranger nodded, so we climbed into Billy's airboat. He called down for us to strap in. The smaller boat didn't have the 5-point harness straps; it occurred to me to wonder why this one did.
Billy backed out from the pier at full throttle, turned ninety-degrees which headed us down the channel. Away from the hammock, it is mostly shallow water with sawgrass. Some paths had been cleared of grass to mark the "channels", like trails in the water. He turned right down the next channel behind the other piers where the smaller airboats were docked. Now I understood the need for the harnesses – the G-forces as Billy maneuvered the fast moving boat around corners and over the water and grass made the harnesses necessary to keep us from flying off the seats. I grabbed Ranger's arm to hold on and he slid as close as he could and wrapped his arms around me. When I looked up he was laughing. He raised his arm and gave Billy a thumbs-up; I guess he knew what Billy was up to, but was going to let me find out on my own.
We flew past Montoya and two of his men as they climbed onto another airboat. Our prop wash sent a lot of debris and water out behind us spraying Montoya and his crew. Montoya didn't have the key for the boat, so they were trying to hotwire it.
Apparently William had an idea about what was going on, and led the rest of the team quietly across the clearing to the other side of the hammock. From here they could see Billy coming perpendicular to their channel, but they could also see headlights on the Tamiami Trail a half a mile north. Montoya got his airboat started, but he didn't take off after Billy yet.
We turned and saw the fourth man dripping down the dock muttering curses; he then climbed into Montoya's boat and took a seat, away from the others. Ranger looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. I simply nodded. "Proud of you, Babe," he whispered in my ear. Finally, Montoya backed out of the slip and started down the channel behind Billy, at less than full speed. He didn't know the canals like Billy, who had grown up on them and had been operating his boat for tourists for years already.
As Billy heard Montoya's boat coming up behind us, he turned south, still full throttle, fishtailing down a wide channel. I closed my eyes and clung to Ranger, but he seemed to be enjoying the ride. Montoya followed us down the channel at half speed. About a mile down, Billy cut a fast U-turn, and went speeding back north, this time staying out of the channel, gliding across the grass instead. As we passed William and the rest of the crew, we had to be doing at least 80, Billy's long hair flying behind him as he sat high above the fan cage. About 150 feet from the edge of the Tamiami Trail, Billy aimed at what looked like a ski jump mostly hidden in the tall grass. I buried my face in Ranger's chest as our boat cleared the jump, went fully airborne, and out over the highway. Ranger was enjoying this too much, but I was terrified; it felt like the scariest amusement park ride I had ever been on. I peeked out to see the highway fly below us – probably not more than 10 feet down, and over a SUV heading west. I bet they were shocked to see us, but they managed to stay on the highway. We hit the water with a jolt and a huge splash. Billy did a fast 90-degree turn, slinging us around in our seats, and he headed up the very wide channel on this side of the highway. While I was trying to calm down, I recalled the photo I had of a younger Ranger and William in the airboat with tourists.
"Did you ever do this when you were driving airboats?"
"Me, no; but William did, and I was usually on board with him. It was a treat to make up for the silly questions we had to answer for the tourists."
William was giving us a play-by-play of what was happening on the other side of the highway. Montoya had made the U-Turn, but not as quickly and he worked hard to stay in the channel and away from whatever could be hidden in the grass. He had watched as Billy's boat flew over the Trail. And at almost the last minute, Montoya spotted the ski jump in the now compressed grass and cut over to line up with it.
He didn't realize that he didn't have the speed needed to carry him over the Trail. Lined up with the jump, he hit it, went airborne, and in less than 10 seconds we heard the shattering sounds of the airboat crashing down on the highway, then the explosion of the fuel tank.
William assured the other guys that we had landed safely in the swamp on the other side of the Trail. This was a special "show trick" performed for tourists, but not while they were still in the boat. He had figured, when Billy grabbed the "trick" boat, that this was his intention.
Billy returned to the pier via an underpass, docked and secured the boat, gave us a big grin and headed into the house. The muscle-bound, weapon-swathed warriors had come to save him, but he had saved himself, and duped the worst of the bad guys into eliminating themselves.
We released our harnesses and since my legs were still rather shaky, Ranger steadied me as we walked over to join the rest of the crew. Rey reached over, tugged on my hair and grinned, "I was hoping the Bombshell would treat us to at least one explosion."
"It wasn't my fault," I said.
William went out to check on the wreck – no survivors. He called it in and waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive. The deaths were ruled accidental; misadventure on the part of the airboat operator.
Just to clear up some possible questions, Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, the word hammock is derived from hummock, but the exact origin is unknown. It is defined as "a fertile area in the southern U.S. and esp. Florida that is usually higher than its surroundings and that is characterized by hardwood vegetation and deep humus-rich soil." I've come across Florida authors who use the term more broadly to mean a raised area, with clearings, which are habitable. I used the more broad definition which may or may not be technically correct, and added the more common Florida ground cover of sand and crushed shells.
For an idea of an airboat tour, Google Everglades Air Boat Tours and watch some videos.