Sensing it was safe to return, the others moseyed back into the main room and picked up waiting weapons. Vin headed outside and climbed the steps to the tiny airport tower where he set up the M310 and laid his ammo block, loaded with twelve wildcat .408 Cheyenne Tactical centerfire cartridge rounds, beside it on the window's ledge. Back in the Quonset hut, the clock ticked noisily in the quietness of the room as the others waited.
"Scum bags at twelve o'clock high!" Nathan's voice boomed in the silence as Vin's warning came through his earpiece.
Josiah pulled his mechanic's overalls up the rest of the way and tucked his handgun into the pocket of the baggy garment. He and Nathan sprinted out to the Cessna as Vin watched the approaching aircraft and waved at the pair.
Buck sat in the cab of the fuel truck, radio blasting Country and Western, until Nathan hit the side of the truck to give him a heads up as he passed by. Dust could be seen coming toward them on the dirt road leading to the airfield but there was no limousine for Cain. He rode in the back of a Humvee with one "soldier" driving and another riding shotgun.
The jet touched down and made its way slowly toward the Quonset hut. Buck started up the fuel truck, pulled his cap down lower over his eyes and, when the jet finished its taxi, he drove up next to it and stopped. Hopping out he unrolled the long hose and clumsily spilled a rather large amount of fuel on the tarmac before finally connecting fully to the aircraft.
Seeing the fuel spray, the Hummer driver made a wide loop and parked fairly far away from the jet.
Ezra, his heart hammering in his chest, watched through the window as Cain got out of the vehicle, a metal briefcase in his hand, and swaggered up to the jet. He waited for the cartel's man to come down the stairs in the forefront of the plane with a duct taped bundle about the size of a brick and taking a proffered bundle Cain started in on the process of testing a sample. The kit was laid out in plain sight on the fuel truck's hood and, as Buck continued to refuel the plane, he surreptitiously watched the duo.
Satisfied with the purity of the drugs, Cain turned to call his men over and that was when Buck pulled the slide back on his weapon and smiled. Both men stopped, Cain with a look of disbelief on his face while a look of pure anger distorted the features of Torres' courier who shouted in Spanish about being set up by Cain and the different ways all of them were going to be tortured first and then killed by his boss.
"You think we're workin' for this asshole?" Buck asked in perfect Spanish and pointed his gun at Cain, "We're DEA. Now raise 'em high, you fuck sticks."
Josiah walked to the pilot's window, tapped on it with his weapon and winked. The pilot shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands. He was only paid to fly and wasn't about to try anything heroic.
Nathan hurried past Buck, ducked inside the cabin and stuck a gun into the cockpit whereupon the co-pilot raised his hands, too.
"Keep your eyes on those two morons," Ezra said and pointed to Cain's two men anticipating every move the two were going to make. He stepped silently out of the Quonset hut and came up behind them as they climbed out of the Humvee to see what was taking Cain so long.
"We'll gentlemen, we meet again."
Both men turned with their guns drawn and Ezra fired, hitting one in his reaching arm just as Chris pulled up on the other, who immediately dropped his gun to the ground.
"Assume the position, dirt bags," Chris growled.
Buck heard the gunshot but kept his weapon trained on the two men he was assigned to neutralize. "Now, Mr. Cain and whoever the fuck you are, down on the ground or I'm gonna signal agent Tanner. You do remember agent Tanner don'tcha, Cain? Well, he's up in that tower just itchin' to blow your brains all over this tarmac so I suggest you both eat concrete."
Both men complied, the Mexican still glaring at Cain as Ezra walked up, cuffs in hand.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Fucking Upright Citizen Cain." Ezra's drawl was more pronounced as anger and righteous indignation filled him. He pulled Cain's hand roughly behind him and cuffed him. "That affidavit you gave Judge Travis was pure fiction and I cannot wait to hear what you could possible come up with to negate this situation."
"I could tell 'em all about a smart mouthed ATF agent who's just one fix away from bein' the cryin', pukin', slobberin' piece a crap he was six months ago," Cain suggested with a sneer.
"I suppose you could at that," Ezra said, his tone mocking, "But it won't make a bit of difference to the DA - or to Torres." Stepping over the prone man to cuff the Mexican, the ATF agent landed a powerful kick to Cain's rib cage after which he apologized profusely.