Gypsy's Sin [Wind Riders MC]

Chapter Thirty

Gypsy looked over the gathering in his living room area. Cyn and Daphne are back at her house. He selfishly hopes Cyn will come back to spend the night, because this is it, the last night before war. This meeting is for the group of ten Knight chose to meet the plane; Ben, James, Halo, Boston, Gary, Robert Nash, Justin, Angel, Dustin and Max.

All of them are solid members of the club, core members, except for Boston — that would change tonight. Boston will be as solid with the club as anyone can be after this action.

"All right everyone, I know you have some idea of what we pulling tomorrow night, now it's time to tell you how we're going to pull it," Gypsy began.

"The plane you are going to meet is a B100 King Air. A light two engine cargo plane with a payload of about 4700lbs, or just about two metric tons, including crew. It won't be carrying anything like that. It should have two hundred to three hundred kilos of cocaine and one pilot."

"Holy shit," Angel said. "Can't get popped with that much shit on us, we'll never see daylight again."

"If you want out, now's the time. No shame at all," Gypsy told him.

"No, Knight already told us it was going to be a coke drop we're after. Just wasn't prepared for the size. This is serious stuff," Angel explained.

"What's the ground resistance going to be like Gypsy?" James Rath asked.

"None. There won't be anyone there to meet the plane except you," Gypsy told him.

"No one? How?" James pressed.

Gypsy told them about Orlin's system, explaining the beacon, which was basically a cell-phone with a GPS transmitter.

"What I did, was create a duplicate of this device, which looks like it's working properly, but in fact isn't sending out any signal. I tested this on the last drop and made sure Orlin bought the fake beacon as the real one. Everything went smooth and he's had it for five weeks at this point. You are going to another one of Orlin's landing strips, number 3, and turning on the real beacon there. The pilot will see the location, recognize it as one of the ten and land the plane for you."

"How does he pick his landing strips? Is it just a rotation?" Ben asked.

"No, it's random. He has a black velvet bag with lottery balls inside. Ten of them, numbered from 0 to 9. I wanted to make sure that he was going to pick airstrip 8, so I switched all of his balls with a set of ten I purchased. All of them with the number eight," Gypsy explained.

"Why did you care which one he was going to pick?" Ben continued.

"Because I needed to set it up, it's where I'm going to die. At least, hopefully he'll buy-in to the illusion of my death. Just as we get there, the DEA will arrive on the scene, and several explosions will happen on the airstrip itself. During this confusion, I'll set off my shirt, filled with special effects deals. If I time it right, Orlin will see me get shot three times in the chest and then roll down the south side of the mesa. The DEA will be rushing up, and Orlin shouldn't have time to come down to check on me. He'll either run or give up. Giving up is the best option since he still has no plane, no drugs and hasn't done anything wrong."

"Nice, but how are you getting out? Body bag?" Halo asked.

"No, as soon as the confusion up there is in full swing, I'll slip out into the black and walk out of the canyon to where I hid my 450 thumper. When it looks like I can get away with it, I'll ride back here, get my things and head North, since everything South will be pissed off at me."

"It sounds like Gypsy has this under control," James suggested. "Let's get back to what we are doing, alright?"

Gypsy nodded, "Right, so, Knight has acquired a couple two-ton pickups and two Hummers for you. That should transport you down to the field. Once there, you turn on the beacon. As soon as you hear the plane, you light up the airstrip with flares and the lights from the trucks, like this — "

Gypsy walked them through the creation of the makeshift landing strip on the whiteboard, marking where the trucks should be located, and where the flares are placed.

"It's going to take eight of you to get the flares in place in the time you have. Don't delay on this. Move as fast as you can. The pilot will leave if he's left hanging too long," Gypsy warned.

"The cargo door is on the side, and the cocaine will be on pallets. There are rollers on the floor so you can pull the pallets out, but after that it's manual labor. Back the trucks up with the gates down, as close as you can, and pull them off into the truck then slide them forward to get ready for the next one. You'll only need one truck, but just to be sure I asked Knight to make it two. If one breaks down, then you have a chance of getting out of there with some of the dope anyway."

"Which brings up a point," Gypsy said, lifting a finger and getting everyone's eyes. "This isn't about the coke. It's about hurting the fuck out of Orlin and reprisal for Howey and Margaret. It will definitely help the club coffers getting this much coke, but don't risk your freedom or your lives over that shit. If the truck breaks down, load what you can onto the other, and walk away from the rest with your heads held high."

"What about just taking one pallet and burning the rest?" Boston asked.

"That's up to you, and if you feel that's the way to go, do it," Gypsy agreed.

"So we're expecting no hostiles?" Ben asked.

"I always expect hostiles, and besides, you aren't the only ones out there. DEA, Border patrol, bandits, those fuckers that run around in dune-buggies with automatic weapons acting like they're a home guard or some shit. So, James is going to set you up with hardware from the club armory, if you don't have your own. And if those home-guard fuckers show up, be sure to shoot first. Because they will fire on you, even if you give up."

Ben nodded his head and motioned for Gypsy to carry on.

"Good. Now we have four night vision setups for the drivers. Fucking things are expensive as hell so I only got the four. If anyone has experience with these, sound off now."

"I do," Boston said, followed by Halo, Justin and Angel.

"You're our drivers then," Gypsy told them.

"Alright, so what then?" James asked.

"Back to the club, back the trucks into the bays out back, lock'em down, and deal with them after a good night of sleep. Out of the sales you're each getting ten-grand, with option for bonus as Knight sees fit, but the ten-grand is solid."

They talk for another hour, going over details again, making sure they understand, but the plan is clear and solid enough. Get there, get the dope, get home, don't get caught.