The Murder of a Fed

By J. Huddleston

THE MURDER OF A FED

Years before DNA testing became an important factor in criminal research, many law enforcement agents had methods of their own to gather pertinent information and confessions, some not so conventional. Dee Bolin had his own methods, and when the stakes were high, he never hesitated to use them. When Dee flies to San Antonio to help his best friend, arrested for the murder of an FAA inspector, he pulls out all the stops.

Dees friend, Jay Hudson, having recently survived a near fatal crash of a Lear Jet he was flying, containing 2000lbs. of cocaine and the number one drug Czar of Mexico, thought all of his troubles were behind him. After being held hostage in Mexico for several months, Jay knew flying the drug laden trip was his only chance of escaping. His intentional gear-up landing in Brownsville, TX almost cost him his life, being shot by the drug Czar as he diverted the aircraft from Matamoros to Brownsville, TX

After months of therapy, and receiving a new first class airmans physical and recurrent training, Jay accepts the position of Chief Pilot for a fortune 500 company in San Antonio TX. Just a few months at his new job, Jay has a rude awakening as he is arrested for the murder of an FAA Inspector.

Dee Bolin, Jay Hudsons best friend and special agent for the United States Treasury Department, flys to San Antonio to prove his friends innocence. Dees investigation takes him to Mexico, seeking a suspect whom he believes is the assassin. Dee successfully uses techniques from the old days of law enforcement, long before DNA, to apprehend the real murderer.

Clashes between Jay Hudson and the FAA and Dee Bolins method of capturing the assassin will definitely intrigue each and every reader of this novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467854351

J. Huddleston

The author continues to follow the life of Jay Hudson in THE MURDER OF A FED, which is a continuation of ADIOS SENOR. The novel picks up in Brownsville, TX following a near fatal gear-up landing in a drug laden Learjet, with the number one drug Czar of Mexico on board. After rehabilitation, Jay Hudson tries to get his life back on track by accepting a new Chief Pilot job in San Antonio, TX. J. Huddleston, the author of THE MURDER OF A FED is still active in corporate aviation and resides with his wife in Brentwood, TN and Sonterra Farms on the Caney Fork River in Stonewall, TN.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Jay Hudson began to move ever so slowly in his hospital bed in the Intensive Care Ward at Brownsville Memorial. He had undergone twelve hours of surgery by a team of doctors, two of whom were flown in from San Antonio.

The soft-nose 45-caliber bullet had torn a massive hole through Jay’s right shoulder. Dr. John Dalbert, the lead surgeon on the team shook his head numerous times during the all night operation as he stood over the lifeless body and stared at a bloody mass of muscle, tendons and bone fragments. Looking at this mess one can easily see what a miraculous machine the human body is, Dr. Dalbert had said to his colleagues mid-way through the operation. I’m surprised he got this far. As much blood as he lost, he should have been dead before they removed him from the aircraft. EMS must have done a remarkable job.

Jay was flat on his back. Small plastic tubes were everywhere. The back of both hands had needles inserted and taped where no amount of movement would disturb the constant flow of liquids from the bottles and plastic bags that hung from the chrome plated stands on each side of the bed. One bottle was clear as spring water, the other was unmistakably life-giving blood. One small tube extended from a wall plug, routed over Jay’s neck and into his nostril. Another larger tube extended from his mouth. Both were taped securely.

Ann Hudson, Jay’s wife, sat motionless, close to the bed, rubbing the back of Jay’s hand lightly, saying silent prayers for his recovery, and wishing she could have gotten to Brownsville early enough to give blood, not that it would have been enough. Blood spilled between the airport and the operating room at Brownsville Memorial was immense.

#

Ann, and Petroleum Unlimited International had been notified by DEA officials as soon as Jay was removed from the terminal building at the Brownsville International Airport. Prior to being rendered mercifully unconscious by heavy sedation, Jay had given one of the agents a card with phone numbers of his wife and company. Call my wife first, Jay told the agent. I doubt if the company will care. Can’t much blame them, Jay said just prior to closing his eyes.

#

Jay began to move, trying to turn on his side, but unable to do so due to restraints on both arms. He moved his head slowly from one side to the other, first to the left, then to the right, where Ann sat mere inches away. As Jay opened his eyes, she smiled saying, Hi honey, how do you feel?

Am I still floating in the Gulf? Jay whispered as he peered deep into the eyes of his wife. Tell me this is for real and I’m not reminiscing again.

It’s for real, Ann said. You’re under heavy sedation, but the doctors said surgery went well. They said with the proper therapy you should regain full use of your right arm.

What’s wrong with my right arm?

You were shot, Ann answered. Don’t try to remember, just rest.

I’ll be damned, Jay said as he closed his eyes again and entered into deep slumber.

Ann Hudson and Petroleum Unlimited International had been notified just minutes apart about the emergency landing of the drug laden Learjet at Brownsville International Airport. They were both told the same thing. A pilot by the name of Jay Hudson crash landed a Learjet in the early morning hours at the Brownsville airport. The DEA agent had informed Ann and the receptionist at Petroleum Unlimited. We have very little information other than what I’ve told you. The pilot gave one of our agents a card containing the phone numbers and requested that we inform you. Mr. Hudson has been shot and is being rushed to the hospital. We are continuing the investigation.

When Ann heard the news, she sat down next to the phone. Her knees were suddenly weak. I knew it! she had shouted, I knew it all along. I just had a feeling he wasn’t dead.

Ann had been seated next to the phone less than three minutes before it began to ring again, this time the president of Petroleum Unlimited, Mr. Robert Dudley was on the other end.

Ann, have you heard —?

Yes! Yes! Ann interrupted. I just hung up. Some agent of some sort informed me. Jay is alive!

How soon can you get to the airport? We’ll have a plane ready to fly you to Brownsville as soon as you can leave.

I’m on my way, Ann answered. God bless you.

#

Late the following day, Jay was removed from intensive care and rolled into a private room. Ann was by his side day and night for the next three days, leaving only briefly to go to the ladies room. She ate hospital food there in the room, not wanting to leave for one minute.

On the fourth day, Jay awoke before dawn. Strength was returning slowly to his pain-ridden body. He scanned the dimly lit room and saw his wife dozing in a chair not far away. A smile came across his face as he lay there watching the most important thing in his life. He dared not awaken her.

Jay had lost track of time, he had no idea how long he had been in the hospital, but he did know every time he regained consciousness Ann was there by his bed. They talked very little those first three days. Just as Jay would begin a conversation with his wife, a nurse would enter the room and say, It’s time for your shots again Mr. Hudson. This morning though Jay was feeling much better and could tell the strong medication was wearing off, or that they were decreasing the dosage.

Just after dawn, Ann opened her eyes and saw Jay looking right at her with a smile on his face. Without saying a word she rushed to the side of the bed and cautiously gave him a kiss on his forehead, the only place she could find to kiss him.

I think I’m going to live, Jay said.

Ann eased her hand behind Jay’s head and kissed him again.

#

After ten days in Brownsville Memorial, Jay was released. Dr. Dalbert was making his usual rounds like he did each and every morning of the week. He sat and talked to Ann and Jay for almost an hour.

The Doctor had insisted on being present on the sixth day of Jay’s stay at Memorial when DEA and FBI agents showed up to interrogate Jay and secure as much information as they could. He was concerned about Jay’s well being and the minute he saw Jay tiring, he insisted all agents leave immediately.

The agents returned for three days in a row. Jay co-operated with then as much as possible in their investigation, taking them back in time to when he was taken from the Mexican shrimp boat, and continuing to the gear-up landing in Brownsville. When asked about events prior to the crash in the Gulf, Jay would only say, I can’t recall anything prior to hitting the water.

Why did you abort the landing in New Orleans? one FBI agent continued to ask each day.

What were you doing in Merida?

Why did the plane go down?

Was Mr. Corn and Mr. Givens aboard when you crashed in the Gulf?

I don’t remember any of that, Jay answered. I remember ditching in the Gulf. I remember how high the swells were, and I remember hitting the glare shield on impact. Sorry, that’s as far back as I can recall.

One of Jay’s suspicions had been confirmed. The DEA informed him that the Mexican General they removed from the aircraft was indeed the largest drug dealer in all of Mexico. They also advised Jay that the General’s bodyguard, Jesus, would more than likely not have to do time after the trial because he had been very co-operative.

During the last day of questioning Jay asked one of the agents just how much cocaine they found on the aircraft.

Street value, over one hundred million dollars, the agent replied. The biggest hit we’ve ever made in Brownsville.

#

The president of Petroleum Unlimited International had informed Ann Hudson just before she boarded the company jet in Nashville to advise him when Jay was being released, and he would have a jet standing by to bring them back home. Jay refused the offer, instead, flying out on Trans Texas Airlines to Dallas, then American Airlines. The direct flight on the company jet would have been much easier, but Jay already felt too obligated to the company and insisted Ann not call the president. I’ll have to talk to him soon enough. Don’t push it, Jay said.

Two stops later, Jay and Ann arrived back in Nashville without fanfare, just the way they wanted it. No one knew they were coming home that day.

The following weeks, Jay improved remarkably. Ann drove him to Vanderbilt Hospital for therapy each day. Most evenings the phone rang constantly. If it were not pilot friends of Jay’s, wishing him well, it would be newspapers wanting to do a feature article about his incarceration in Mexico and his escape back to the states.

He doesn’t remember enough to talk about, Ann would inform the ever-inquisitive press. All he needs at this time is to be left alone.

#

Six weeks after Jay’s return home, he received a letter from The Federal Aviation Administration, Flight Standards District Office in San Antonio, Texas. The letter stated the incident in Brownsville was under investigation by the Federal Aviation Administration and he had ten days to respond with a statement containing all pertinent facts and mitigating circumstances that might have a bearing on the incident. The letter further stated the flight into Brownsville was contrary to Federal Aviation Regulations and was in violation of FAR 91.13, Careless or Reckless Operation.

Jay read the letter, then laughing, said, Kiss my ass. If I hadn’t personally seen this, I wouldn’t believe it. I risk my life to escape from Mexico’s largest drug dealer, hand him over to authorities, and they get one hundred million dollars of cocaine off the streets and the FAA has nothing better to do than start an investigation into the crash. Amazing.

Not wanting to cause any more problems than he already had, Jay promptly went to his computer and typed a five page letter stating all events that led up to the crash landing in Brownsville. He mailed the letter that day.

That night Jay called Bill Whitsett, a life long friend of his, and an aviation safety inspector who had just retired from the FAA with more than thirty-six years with the agency.

As Jay read the letter over the phone, he could sense the mood of his friend.

The only reason I retired when I did is because of crap just like this, Bill said as Jay finished reading the letter. Would you believe out of all the people we have up here at the local FSDO, not one soul can fly an airplane? They can fly the hell out of those computers, but not one bastard up here is qualified to fly any type aircraft that I know of.

I just thought you would like to know where the agency has gone in the past twenty years, Jay said. Don’t worry about it though, I’ve already responded to their letter. Hopefully that will be the end of it.

Unless you have a son of a bitch sitting on his ass out there in San Antonio who has nothing better to do than harass corporate pilots, Bill said. You know the kind, never could make the cut with the airlines, the corporate ranks don’t want him either, so he comes away with a hard-on against the world, primarily corporate pilots. Let me know if you need any help. My guess is your letter should be the end of it.

I’ll keep you informed, Jay said. Have a good evening.

CHAPTER TWO

Moon Glow Aviation, a San Antonio based air charter and maintenance facility had been in business for ten years before coming under suspicion by federal authorities. They specialized in air charter, aircraft maintenance, and they also leased hangar space to several corporations. Their facilities also provided line service to aircraft, including refueling.

On any given day numerous corporate jets sparkled like diamonds on the ramp at Moon Glow Aviation, most of them having Mexican registration indicated by the letters painted on their vertical stabilizer or engine cowlings.

Principals at Moon Glow Aviation included Joe Hendrix, President and Chief Executive Officer. Joe had a background in corporate aviation and had a prior conviction for drug smuggling. He served very little time for his first conviction and upon his release from federal prison turned up in San Antonio with enough money to buy one of the largest fixed base operations on the airport.

Dave Whitson, a retired Army pilot, who flew King Airs during his last few years of enlistment was Chief Pilot for Moon Glow. Dave was known among other pilots on the airport for his lack of better judgment, especially those who provided pilot service on a day to day basis for Moon Glow Aviation. They were always amazed at some of the foolish life threatening escapades Dave pulled: landing with less than 300 lbs. of fuel in a Learjet returning on a charter trip, constantly ducking under on approaches, descending below minimums even in mountainous terrain, constantly busting altitudes and being written up by Air Traffic Control. The list went on. Dave led a charmed life. He always managed to squirm his way free just short of having his licenses suspended or revoked.

Moon Glow Aviation made a practice of undercutting every charter company on the airport. It was common knowledge, if Moon Glow got a chance to bid the trip, and the customer knew nothing about their operation, or reputation, Moon Glow always got the trip. They constantly bid under their actual cost of operation. This was a known fact all over Southwest Texas.

Several customers shopping price often called other legitimate, safe operators, with well-trained pilots to tell them they were several thousand dollars higher than Moon Glow.

People kept waiting for Moon Glow Aviation to file bankruptcy and eventually go out of business. It never happened.

It never happened because Moon Glow was a front for a large Mexican drug cartel that used their aircraft not only to fly drugs out of Mexico, but to transport money to major cities throughout the United States to be laundered.

After several years of operation, a number of ex-pilots began to talk and tell of the mysterious late night trips to Monterrey, Mexico City, Guadalajara, and other major cities in Mexico. Most of these trips were flown by Joe Hendrix and Dave Whitson. They left alone and they returned alone. Soon other pilots were being used as co-pilots to fly with Dave or Joe; that was when the suspicions of most legitimate operators on the airport were confirmed. The part time pilots told of suitcases being placed on the aircraft in Mexico, loaded by men in civilian clothes, who all wore shoulder holsters with large handguns in the holsters.

One pilot, who quit after being so frightened by his one and only flight into Mexico, told his friend about the entire trip.

"We left San Antonio at 02:00 AM for Monterrey, Mexico. On arrival, we didn’t have to clear customs or adhere to any of the normal procedures. We were met by three men, who drove out on the ramp in a Mercedes. All three of them were armed. I could see their pistols as they bent over loading the big suitcases into the aircraft.

I questioned Dave about our cargo and the fact we didn’t have to follow protocol with Customs and Immigration on our arrival. He just replied, ‘They will take care of everything,’ meaning they as the three Mexicans who loaded the aircraft.

"We flew directly back to San Antonio, since Moon Glow has an over-fly permit. I was wondering all the way back how Dave was going to handle clearing Customs in San Antonio and how he was going to get those suitcases by them. I even asked him. His remark was, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

"I can’t help but worry about it, I told him. My ass is on the line here too you know, and I know whatever is in those suitcases is not legal. Dave just grinned. When we landed, Dave let the plane roll out all the way to the end of the runway and started taxiing back to the terminal to clear Customs. As we turned on the taxiway that went by the Moon Glow hangars, Dave told me to take the controls and to continue to taxi slowly. He went to the back of the plane and just as we went abeam the hangars, Dave opened the door and threw out all the suitcases, then returned to the cockpit. I looked back toward the ramp and saw a Mexican lad running across the ramp carrying two of the suitcases. They had it down pat. Their hangars couldn’t be seen from the tower. There was no other traffic out.

"I found out later, the drug cartel had their own man who always showed up at the hangar about thirty minutes before Joe or Dave was scheduled to arrive. He would have a cup of coffee, then ease out the door onto the ramp and disappear. He would position himself just a few feet off the taxi-way in front of the Moon Glow hangars and the minute the first bag hit the ground, he would pounce on it like a cat.

"Joe and Dave would always leave the next night in the Lear to points unknown, with the big suitcases neatly tucked away in the baggage compartment. Joe wouldn’t even tell his wife where he was going or when he would be back.

Had Joe Hendrix not gotten so brazen and never hired contract co-pilots, he would probably still be operating instead of serving time in a federal prison.

Joe Hendrix operated for ten years unabated by any law enforcement agency. His downfall was his mouth and his drinking habits. Joe constantly bragged about how much money he had made in the charter business. At this point and time in aviation, no one was making any money in the charter business.

During one all night drinking spree, Joe made a remark in front of several pilots that he had well over one million dollars buried on his property. Within a few months, unknown to Joe or any employees at Moon Glow, all phone lines were tapped, and Joe Hendrix’s world came down around his shoulders.

After the FBI spent over six months in a secret investigation, they drove into the parking lot of Moon Glow and started making arrests. A lengthy trial followed months later. Joe Hendrix co-operated with the FBI and DEA, naming each accomplice. Through turning state’s evidence and naming names from the Mexican drug cartel, Joe Hendrix was able to convince Federal agents to drop all charges against other employees of Moon Glow, specifically Dave Whitson.

It was never known if Joe actually had over one million dollars buried on his property or not. If so, he probably had it dug up and delivered to his attorney who put together a masterful defense. In the end, Joe Hendrix was sentenced to seven years in a Federal penitentiary, fined $750,000.00 and all assets at Moon Glow Aviation were left