Today’s excerpt is from Escape
From Mexico, a standalone action/adventure book featuring Clyde Feegle
and several old friends. Clyde and
friends catch man red-handed putting arms into Michelle’s rental car as he had
done with a friend before she drove into Mexico. Enjoy and have a wonderful day.
m.j.
As they followed
her, Ralph dryly muttered, “Well, two down, one to go. Hope you guys are right about the guy at the
service station.”
Clyde and Bob
had told Ralph the previous Monday they had a feeling the weapons were probably
added to the trunk of Sandy’s car during her stop for gas. At Ralph’s words, Clyde grunted in reply,
“Yeah—me, too. This is gonna be one hell
of a wasted bit of time and energy if we’re wrong.”
Bob mumbled, “I
sure hope we don’t have this thing figured out all wrong.”
Ralph joked, “It
sure would be the pits to find out Mitch’s sister is a gun runner who just got
caught.”
Clyde growled,
“Not funny, Mr. Mead.”
“That’s ‘Special Agent Mead’ to you, pal. And, yes—it was funny…or at least I thought
so.”
Those three were
still joking around when Michelle pulled into the filling station. She got out and started filling the car. As she did, the man on duty at the station
came out, looked at her, smiled, and nodded greetings. She smiled back and continued filling her car
as the man asked, “Haven’t seen you before—you from around here?”
“No, just a
tourist. Gonna go into Mexico and wanted
to fill up on this side of the border, since I have no idea what the gas
situation is on the other side.”
“Good move,” the
man replied as he walked around the car, then suddenly squatted down as he
spoke.
Ralph in the
rear, and Bob in the front—both had binoculars trained on him. As the man deftly loosened the tire stem to
let air out, Bob growled, “Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitch.”
As he spoke, the
attendant walked around to Michelle who was putting the gas nozzle back in
place. “Ma’am, you’ve got a low front
tire…probably picked up a nail or something.
I better check it out for you.”
“Oh,
alright. Thanks for checking things over
for me,” Michelle muttered as she put the gas cap back in place. “Will it take long?”
“No more than
half an hour or so. Around the corner,
first building is a nice café, if you’d like some good grub. I eat there nearly every day. Mostly Mexican, but they serve other things—and
they’re all good, too. I’ll come round
you up when I’m finished, if you like.”
“Thanks—that’s a
wonderful idea…much appreciated. See you
in a while.”
As she talked,
Michelle tossed the keys to the car to the man, and headed in the direction he
had pointed when telling her about the café.
When she walked
off, the man got in and backed the
car into the garage bay, onto the rack there.
Ralph asked,
“You see that? Who in the hell backs a
car onto a car lift?”
Bob growled, “No
one I ever heard of. Do have to admit he
did a good job of it.”
Clyde joined in
the conversation, “Yeah—probably has a lot of practice.”
The three in
Clyde’s car watched as the attendant went to the front tire with a tire-plugging
kit and jabbed it into the tire, pulled it back, and cut the patching material
off at the tire, before he started airing the tire back up to full.
Bob shook his
head. “Hey, asshole—you forgot to take
the nail out.”
Clyde and Ralph
agreed with the man’s ‘oversight’, while waiting for what they expected Bob to
see on his laptop.
When the trunk
came open, Bob reported, “Here we go—bet he loads it up soon.”
And so he
did. Bob watched and relayed to his two
friends what he was seeing, as the attendant put a large armload of arms in the
trunk. They continued to wait until he
returned with still more, before covering both loads with a blanket.
Bob suggested,
“I’m thinking we may as well go bust the bastard, fellas.”
Clyde started
their car, without responding verbally.
As he drove to the same pump Michelle had used, Ralph made a call to the
men he had standing by a few blocks away.
“Okay, we’ve got him red-handed.
Just pull into the station and go about filling you car, until I give
you the high sign.”
Bob growled,
“You stay right here in the car, ‘Special
Agent’ Mead. Clyde and I will have a
few words with him. You got your comm
set turned on?”
“Yes. Go.”
Bob and Clyde
hurried into the garage bay and charged the attendant. Both had their weapons out and pointed at
him. Clyde grumbled, “You might want to
stand very still if you like living.”
“What? What?
Who are you? Cops?”
Bob shook his
head. “Nope. We’re your worst nightmare. We’re citizens not attached to the government
in any way. Oh—and we have a nasty
attitude.”
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