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NEW TIDES

PROLOGUE

Two Hispanic men sat at a table outside a local Mexican restaurant in the city limits of Rome Georgia. On the table in front of each man was a Carta Blanco beer, chips, and salsa. The salsa was the owner’s private recipe, and not served to the regular customers, and was poured into two separate bowls in front of each man by the waiter. The waiter was very nervous and almost spilt the salsa. Like all the workers at the restaurant they knew who Emilio was and who he worked for.

The man named Emilio requested from the owner that no one else be seated outside in the small courtyard area until he and his guest had left. The request by the man happened at least once a month and on the rare occasion maybe twice in one month. When Emilio asked for something, the owner did as asked of him without hesitating. Crossing Emilio was the same as crossing the benefactor and no one crossed Senor Raul Garcia. Death was a blessing compared to what Senor Garcia would do to you. Most of the owners help was supplied by Senor Garcia. 

Emilio had worked for Raul Garcia for the last ten years. He was chauffeur and bodyguard to the man. His job was given to him by no other than Carlos Ramirez himself, the number one drug kingpin in the world today. Ramirez was more like a CEO of a large company with micro cartels in Colombia, Peru, Venezuela and several key states in the U.S. The only difference in Carlos Ramirez and other CEO’s was the fact that he was on the top ten most wanted lists of the DEA and the FBI. Emilio was honored to have been given such a job by the man. His loyalty to Carlos Ramirez was unquestionable.

He did Raul Garcia’s bidding but reported back to Senor Ramirez and his brother-in-law Dominga Chavez. It was the later who worried Emilio, because his son was here and Emilio could see a power shift coming very soon. Antonio Chavez would take over some day soon and Raul Garcia didn’t have a clue as to what was happening. Senor Garcia was too busy playing games with the people he blackmailed and not paying attention to the drug distribution business.

But on this day instead of keeping Senor Ramirez up to date on what Raul Garcia was doing, he was meeting with a man by the name of Enrique Guerrero on behalf of Senor Garcia. Enrique would be overseeing the execution of a problem that was starting to interfere with the distribution of the product Senor Ramirez supplied to the world and in this particular case to the Southeastern United States.

A woman prosecutor was stirring up trouble for Senor Garcia’s drug distribution network. It was now known she would be bringing a DEA task force in to the area, to help with the growing drug problem and violence.

Because of Raul Garcia’s continuing fixation with his exploitive movies of the people he blackmailed into doing his bidding, now things had gotten out of hand. Something had to be done quickly and Lori Baldwin was the first on the list. Even Senor Garcia was afraid of the two men in Mexico.  Emilio could tell by the way he talked that Carlos Ramirez and Domingo Chavez worried him. Neither man put up with excuses when it came to the business of trafficking drugs.

Drug shipments had slowed considerably over the last several weeks because of three major drug raids by the DEA in key distribution states. Alternative ways were being required in getting the product out of Miami and shipped northward. If the DEA was able to get a foothold on the size and scope of the distribution network, it could spell trouble for Senor Garcia and cost him and the cartel hundreds of millions of dollars. That could not be tolerated at all. The order had been given to kill the lady prosecutor before it was too late. She was bringing too much attention to the area.

Emilio asked the man sitting across from him if he understood his instructions.

“Of course I do Emilio. It will not be a problem. I know just the man to handle this problem for Senor Garcia.”

“Who do you have in mind Enrique?” Emilio asked knowing what the answer was, but wanted to be sure.

“I will have Miguel Sanchez and his people handle this. Do you want it messy or clean?” The subordinate asked.

Enrique could tell that Emilio didn’t like his answer. Miguel Sanchez was a violent man who was becoming a loose cannon in the organization and that was not good. On more than one occasion Enrique had thought of letting his brother Ernesto take care of Miguel Sanchez once and for all. Enrique’s job could be in jeopardy and quite possibly his life if Miguel went too far.

“I think in the case Enrique, with it being a woman, perhaps clean would be best. Make it look like a robbery. I repeat make it a clean hit and then make Miguel Sanchez vanish.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem Emilio; I will make sure Miguel understands his instructions clearly. I also have someone else in line to take care of Miguel.”

“You do understand Enrique, that failure to get this problem taken care of without any negative reflection towards Senor Garcia and the organization could reflect badly upon your standing with Senor Garcia.”

    Enrique swallowed hard and his stomach started to burn and it wasn’t from the salsa. He knew exactly what the man sitting across from him was saying, failure was not an option.

“You have my personal guarantee Emilio that what you have asked of me, all will go smoothly and the woman will be taken care immediately.”

“I knew I could count on you Enrique and will relay your message to Senor Garcia of your personal guarantee on this matter.”

Grabbing the cold beer Enrique took a long drink from the bottle hoping it would help his burning stomach. It didn’t and he knew he was a dead man if Miguel failed to take care of the lady properly.

Shit, maybe he should have Ernesto handle the killing. The only thing was this was not the kind of killing that he wanted his younger brother to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t think his brother could do the job but in this case he didn’t want Ernesto to take the chance if things went bad for some reason. Ernesto was his tool for taking care of the people within the organization like Miguel Sanchez.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now except hope things went without any trouble. He stood up and said his goodbye’s to Emilio and left. His stomach continued to burn.

After calling Miguel and asking him to come by his house for a little chat, Enrique called his brother and asked him to come by also. He felt it necessary to have Ernesto around when he was in the same room with Miguel Sanchez. The man was wound up tight and could explode into a violent rage at a moments notice. The ‘meth’ was taking over and Miguel was getting out of control.

Enrique could tell from Miguel’s behavior that he was scared of Ernesto and he should be. Miguel was a violent bully, but his brother was a highly trained killer. His brother never got mad, Ernesto killed with no emotion whatsoever. Ernesto enjoyed killing especially if he could track the man down and kill him like animal.

“So, what do you want Enrique, I am very busy.” Miguel was trying to sound tough, but Enrique could see him cutting his eyes toward where Ernesto was standing. Good, if the idiot had any common sense he would be afraid of Ernesto.

“I have a job for you. It comes from Senor Garcia personally.”

Enrique decided to use Garcia’s name in order to get the point across to Miguel of how important it was to do the job right. Even Miguel Sanchez understood what disobeying Raul Garcia could mean, he hoped. He was so wired out it was hard to get a reading on what Miguel thought or how he would react.

“What does he want me do Enrique?” Miguel was all ears now. If Raul Garcia needed something done, then it meant someone needed to be killed. He liked these kinds of jobs.

“Senor Garcia wants you to kill a woman by the name of Lori Baldwin. She is causing trouble for the organization.”

“You have to be kidding Enrique, is this some kind of joke. I don’t think it’s funny. You know that woman is about to put my brother in prison for a very long time.”

He was coming out of the chair as he spoke, when a cocking noise sounded behind him stopping him from moving any further.

“Please sit back down and listen to Enrique, to get up again until my brother is through with you will result in your death Miguel. You know I don’t make idle threats.”

Enrique looked at his brother and nodded his head in thanks. He was glad he had called Ernesto and asked for him to be at the meeting. When Miguel was through with the job of killing the woman, he decided it was time to have Miguel disappear just as Emilio had said. Without Senor Garcia’s blessing it would have been hard to justify and could get himself killed. But Emilio had said make him vanish after he killed the lady prosecutor and that was just as if Senor Garcia had said it personally. Enrique was happy that he finally had permission to take care of the pest.

“This is not a joke Miguel. He wants the woman killed as soon as you can arrange it. It is to look like a robbery and he doesn’t want it messy. That is Senor Garcia’s instructions. Do you understand the orders?”

Miguel Sanchez looked at Ernesto with a sullen expression on his face and said, “Yes I understand. It will be done by the end of the week. Is that soon enough for you Enrique?”

“I will let Senor Garcia know what the time table is and that you understand what his instructions are Miguel.”

“If you are you through with me Ernesto, I need to go plan this out with my posse.”

“Yes, I have nothing else to discuss with you, Miguel.”

Miguel Sanchez decided on the way out the door, not only would the hit be messy for the woman who was prosecuting his brother Juan. When he was finished with the woman prosecutor, he would come and kill Enrique and his brother Ernesto. It was time he started running the show around here. This town was about to find out who the big man was.

His drug intake was so high that it clouded his judgment. Miguel would never have the smarts to run the illegal drug business the way Raul Garcia ran the business. It took brains as well as might and Miguel never had an abundance of smarts to begin with. His education was limited to the third grade; he quit and followed his brothers to Los Angeles where he was educated on the streets. He eventually made his way east and ended up working for Enrique.

What Miguel didn’t realize or understand was that his drug habit was so out of control; he actually lived in a violent fantasy world of his own making. His paranoia was growing with each passing day and his fantasies of becoming the big man fueled his desires and clouded his judgment.

Enrique looked at his brother and said, “When Miguel is finished with the job, make him disappear and make it very painful for him Ernesto. He has become a detriment to our organization. That punk could get me killed and I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Whatever you say Enrique, with that man it will be a pleasure.” Ernesto pulled out a wicked looking knife and started admiring it. It was hand made and razor sharp.

“I knew when I asked you join me in this business that we would make a good team. Together my brother, we can make a lot of money if we do as Senor Garcia asks.”

 CHAPTER 1

Raw Violence

 Lori Baldwin glanced outside as she hurried by the front window to see if the kids had gotten on the school bus yet. As usual, they were going at each other back and forth, but Lori knew that they cared for each other and were very close. It was a typical morning; everybody was late getting up and getting ready for the coming day. She grabbed her keys and briefcase and headed for the door.

Lori was to be in a very important meeting this morning at eight o’clock. The local law enforcement and DEA agents who were part of a Mobile Enforcement Teams (MET) would be flying in from Florida and driving from Atlanta as part of this meeting. It was about the gangs and the sale of illegal drugs that was starting to rear its ugly head in town. Lori wanted to stop it before it got out of control. After the meeting, she had to prepare her opening brief in a case against a known drug dealer. It was going to be a busy day.

Drugs where already a problem in town and violence would follow, because it always did and there were plenty of statistics to prove her point. Lori was a prosecutor and knew all about gangs and drugs. She worried about Megan and Nicole being at school where there could be a problem of this type. Everyday she tried saying something about drugs and so far, it looked like she was able to keep them from trying them.

She walked in quickstep and got in the car, started it up and backed down the driveway, looking to see that the girls were still on the sidewalk. There was a young man up the street looking toward her and the girls. Lori then saw him motion to something or someone down the street from him.

He looked familiar and then it dawned on her who he was. Miguel Sanchez was his name and he was one of the gang members she was trying to run out of town. Miguel was as cruel and violent as his brother was. Unlike most of the people above Miguel in the cartel, he used the products he was selling. The man was an addict in the worst way and his behavior was becoming a concern to his immediate boss Enrique Guerrero.

She was also in the process of prosecuting his brother Juan Sanchez, for murder. It was then she noticed the foreign made sedan with the dark windows slowing and stopping to pick up Miguel. He pointed toward her and the kids and then got in the car.

Lori, for a long time, would not know what made her back towards the girls honking the horn telling them to get in the car and stay down. In her wildest dreams, did she ever think that these people would come after her?

By the time the girls quit being so startled to react to what their mother was saying; the sedan was almost beside her car. Just as Megan and Nicole got into the back seat, with Lori screaming for them to get down in the floor, the back window of the Explorer disintegrated into a million tiny pieces, covering the girls and their mother. Then the side windows went, and Lori, who had tried to go over the seat into the back to protect the girls, ended up being hit several times with the automatic weapons bullets, besides all the glass that hit her and sliced her up.

It was over in a matter of seconds, but it felt like a lifetime to them. Their screaming seemed to go on and on, echoing through the neighborhood.

Friends and neighbors began to come out of their houses and run towards the vehicle. The SUV was a mess; all the windows were shattered and a line of bullet holes went down the length of it. Steam was pouring out of the hood and other liquids out of the bottom of the car running into the street.

The whole block was hysterical, not sure what to do. Afraid to look in the car at what they might see, one of the neighbors finally came to his senses after the shock of seeing the violence, and called 911.

She felt very numb as if time was standing still; Lori was looking at the girls and tried to speak to them to calm them down, but could not seem to get the words to come out of her mouth. Finally, she said very softly to them, “Listen to me, girls; there is a box in my closet. In the box is an address book. Go to the “H’s,” and look for a Simon Hardman. Do you hear me, girls? You must do this, and tell him who you are and what has happened.” Then Lori passed out due to a lack of blood. The girls, stunned by all that had happened and by their mom’s unconsciousness, thinking she might be dead, they started to scream again, wishing the nightmare would end.

The ride to the hospital was in slow motion for Megan and Nicole. Neither understood why their world suddenly turned upside down. They just kept looking at each other and holding hands. Neither realized that their mother had saved both of their lives by getting them inside the car and then lying on top of them. Both had a couple of scrapes, but that was it. Their mom was not so lucky; she was behind them in another ambulance. Lori was just barely clinging to life.

The paramedics had already giving her two pints of blood since arriving at the shooting. They were afraid she was going to go into shock. The police officer sitting beside her shook his head in anger and despair, as he watched the two paramedics try to keep her alive until they arrived at the hospital.

Lori felt she had stepped outside of herself; she had no feeling in any part of her body. However, her mind seemed to be functioning clearly. The girls looked as if they had understood her about calling Simon when they got the chance.

God, he would be needed to protect the girls. If he would come that is. She had kept up on him through his sister even though he did not know. Sue had told her all about what he had done in the military and with the DEA. When Simon was at Sue’s house, healing from gunshot wounds, she had nearly gone to see him, but had chickened out. It had been along time since their days as boyfriend and girlfriend in high school, and he didn’t’ know about Megan and Nicole.

The girls would need him more than they ever needed her now that this had happened. Lori still could not believe that the gang had done this. How did they know that she was so close in getting them run out of town? Only a handful of people knew what the plan was for the meeting today. It was too hard to believe that someone in her office would have, could have set her up.

Who it was, and why, she just did not understand. Lori would not know those answers for a long time, and thankfully, she passed out again as the ambulance pulled up to the hospital emergency room entrance.

The girls tried to get out and check on their mom, but the police officer riding with them told them to wait. They did not like this a bit and started to fuss about it. The officer told them it was best for their mom, to get her in the emergency room where they could try to save her life.

“Your mom is in bad shape from protecting you from the shooters. We will also be escorting you back home after the doctor’s release you, and there will be officers at your house until we catch who did this.”

Megan and Nicole just stared at each other realizing for the first time all the danger that was involved. Both started to shake at the same time, the officer grabbed both of them and hugged them, telling them everything would be all right, realizing how lame it sounded.

Officer Johnson was also an angry man. He had two daughters, one of them about the age of these two girls and then his oldest, now, was in college. His youngest would be in the ninth grade and that is what he figured these two girls’ ages were he was hugging now; he did not realize that they were twins. Officer Doug Johnson looked out and saw that is was time to take the girls in. The paramedic’s were opening the door to the ambulance.

The doctors had Lori rushed straight to the operating room; they had stopped the bleeding and needed to get blood back into her quickly or she would not last much longer. Her vital signs were very weak and operating on her to get the bullets and glass fragments out of her might possible kill her. The surgeon looked down at her and thought a human being could go through a meat grinder and look better than this woman did.

Back on the first floor the girls were being looked at by the doctor on call, and all he can think was it was a miracle that all the girls had were at few cut and scratches. He told the girls that they would keep them over night and give them something to help them sleep.

Megan asked him how their mother was doing, and he said, “She is in the operating room and might be for a while.” Then the girls asked him if he would call their Aunt Sue and get her to come and stay with them.

Sue Faraday Malone was not their real aunt but had known them since birth and was good friends with their mother and they had always called her Aunt Sue. Megan and Nicole didn’t know that Sue was there, and trying to fight her way though to get to them.

Sue was finally able to get the police officer’s attention. “Would you please take me to the girls’ room? I am their aunt and I want to see them now,”

Officer Johnson heard her and said, “Follow me, please, and I will show you to their room.”

“Have you found out any information about what happened to their mother?” she asked on the way down the hall.

“No we have not,” he said. “We do know from what the girls said, that your sister said something about a drug gang.”

Sue didn’t correct the police officer about her not being Lori’s sister. Her mission was to get to the girls and get them out of the hospital and the madness. She was the closest thing Lori had to having a sister so why split hairs about it.

“You know she was going after the drug dealers and gangs, Officer Johnson, she was supposed to be gong to a meeting this morning about the gangs that were starting to come into the Rome area.” Sue said.

Officer Johnson looked at Sue and said, “I didn’t know this; I had better call Chief James and let him know. You go on in and see your nieces while I go call Chief James. This will change everything from what I first thought it was. We were thinking it was a car jacking gone bad by some punks who needed some money for their drug habits.”

Sue pushed open the door and when the girls saw her, they nearly knocked the doctor down rushing to her open arms. She wrapped her arms around both of them and squeezed.

“Aunt Sue, they tried to kill Mom!” they shouted.

“Yes, girls I know.” She was amazed that the girls only had a few cuts. She looked over at the doctor and said, “How are they doing?”

The doctor, whose name tag said Dr. Roberta Talbot, told her they would like to keep them over night and watch them. It was a precautionary measure.

“The girls have been through a terrible ordeal and should be watched for signs of shock or trauma for at least overnight.”

Sue replied quickly to the doctor, “I think it would be better if my nieces came home and stayed with me tonight.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, not really wanting to go along with Sue’s request.

“I would like to give them a mild tranquilizer to help them sleep tonight. You may give it to them before they go to bed. It’s not a real strong tranquilizer but it will help them relax.”

“Sounds good to me, Doctor, and would you tell the police that I would like to go ahead, take the girls to my house, and get them away from the craziness and turmoil for now?”

As Sue left with the twins, Megan asks, “Who is Simon Hardman?”

Their mother had said to look in her bedroom closet, and get her personal address book out. They were to look up a man by the name of Simon Hardman and call him and explain what had happened to their mother.

Sue was thunder struck for a moment and then realized what Lori wanted the girls to do was the right thing. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of all the people who should help, he was the man.

“Who is the man mom wants us to call, Aunt Sue? Mom has never mentioned a man by this name before.” Megan asked again.

Sue looked at the girls and said, “He is your father and my brother!”

OLD TIDES

Chapter 1

Nothing’s Private

Two things were taking place at the same time in the southern most part of Miami in the Bay of Biscayne. One was good and positive for the human race. People were coming together to compete in a friendly way and enjoy what had been created into a tropical paradise of nature while the other was the human race preying on the good side of its own kind causing misery and grief for the sake of power and money.

Today was the start of the inter-collegiate Sailing Association racing season. In the year of 1964, the South Atlantic Intercollegiate Sailing Association, ‘SAISA’, was formed for colleges in the Southeast that included colleges from the state of North Carolina all the way down to south Florida. Every year since being formed, southern colleges have been joining the competitive racing association.

On this particular Saturday, there were an even dozen teams competing in a ‘major intersectional’ event called the ‘Key Biscayne Regatta’. The teams would race under the Rule of Sailing and Procedural Rules of the ICSA. It would be an all day event ending with a big party for all participants.

The schools today would use a double-handed dinghy for two person teams. These particular dinghies were a model called Vanguard 420 and was widely used among the collegiate teams. It is a 14-foot mono hull with a beam of 5 feet and a draft of 3 feet. Sails used under the rules of ICSA would be a main and jib sail. The spinnaker sails are against the ICSA rules in collegiate racing.

The course for today’s Regatta will be in a triangle style, with a distance of two miles. Racing teams are divided into A and B groups. Today the A teams will start in odd number boats being one through eleven and B teams with even number boats starting with numbers two through twelve. After one set of races, crews changed boats, so as to give a fair advantage to all teams, since newer boats tend to be faster, it gives all schools an equal chance of winning. Both A and B teams will race twice, with points being totaled from both teams so that when all teams have finished all crews will have sailed in all boats. The college with the lowest score will win.

The first race would begin at eight am sharp this morning, and teams were already lining up behind the start finish line gibing/tacking and doing figure eights behind the start line jockeying for position using their personal experience on judging the wind patterns. The weather was perfect for a Saturday in the tropical paradise of south Florida with the temperature being in the eighties and water temperature in the mid-seventies.

Jonathan Peter Bentley, known by his friends as Pete, would start for the university as part of the A team. His partner’s name was Catherine Brown. Friends called her Cathy. The two of them are considered one of the top teams in the South and Mid-Atlantic colleges and were a sure bet to win today. Either could be a recruiting poster for Florida colleges. Both were tall, tan, physically fit and good looking.

The differences between the two would be their grades and backgrounds. Cathy had a 3.0 grade average, popular around the campus and came from a moneyed family.

Pete carried a 3.9 grade average and had no family; he was a child of the state foster homes of Florida. Pete was also a bit of a loner, but very aggressive whether it was grades or competing in sports.

Growing up in the foster care system had a lot to do with it. His parents or parent had left him in a garbage can when he was born. His mother had been a teenage runaway and a drug addict. Being moved from foster home to foster home until he was put on a ‘Boys Ranch’ at the age of twelve always made him feel like an outsider. It definitely left a lasting impression on him. He was hungry and on a mission to achieve the goal of having wealth. Having a family of his own never crossed his mind.

The ranch had provided him a real home type of environment. All the boys at the ranch were in the same boat as Pete. Life had dealt these kids an unfair hand and the ranch was a way to help even that up, if the boys were willing to work hard.

Each boy was required to maintain at least a B average and after school there was a list of tasks to be done. If the tasks weren’t done you didn’t get to eat supper until they were completed.

On weekends the boys were taken either to the beach or the mall in Fort Myers and allowed to bum around for the day. Each was given enough money to buy lunch and see a movie. That is if their grades met the criteria and tasks around the ranch were completed.

It took a big blond man with the coldest blue eyes, which he would remember for the rest of his life, talking to him to finally get his attitude right. The man actually scared the living shit out of him, but the talk had worked and he had straightened up and became a part of the team at the ranch. He started excelling at school, which helped him get to where he was today. Pete bonded together with several of his roommates to become like brothers once he adjusted to the ranch’s rules. He still kept in touch with them. They were presently stationed in Iraq.

He preferred to be responsible for himself and turned down financial help from the ranch. Any boy who decided to go to college had the option of it being paid for by the ranch. It was a scholarship in the name of Sonny Jackson’s sister.

Sonny Jackson had founded the ranch with the help of several friends after the tragic death of his baby sister.

 Pete and Cathy worked together as a finely tuned team when sailing, but when the boats were dry-docked and time for school academics and other activities were at hand, they rarely spoke to one another.

Pete was the skipper of the team and handled steering and main sail while Cathy handled crew duties like weight shifting, centerboard and jib sail. It was the way they always worked as teammates and so far they were undefeated over the four years they had been competing.

The five-second horn sounded and Pete turned the dinghy in the direction of the start line, cutting off one of his biggest competitors from a rival Florida school. He gave no mercy when it came to racing, there was winning and losing. The adrenaline flowed and he had such intensity and focus when he raced. It was almost as if he could feel every shift and change of the wind ahead of time.

The bay was calm and the wind coming from the southeast would make it a perfect day for sailing and Cathy was handling crew duties perfectly as usual. Right at the edge of maximum speed and having the dinghy cap size, it was harmony in motion with the wind the way they worked together with rudder weight and sails. In a matter of seconds they took the lead and didn’t look back as they raced around each of the three buoys and back to the finish line, another mark in the win column for them. Pete looked forward to the end of the race when he would get his ritualistic hug from Cathy. It was the only time she showed any emotion towards him. His deep dark secret was that he was crazy about her! He was smart enough to know his feelings for her were not reciprocated.

Offers of sponsorship for racing Catamarans when they graduated poured in. Pete was all for it but Cathy had plans on possibly getting married to some prick that was a clone of her father and then working for her father’s financial empire as Pete liked to think of it.

Pete had met Cathy’s father only once and came away with a lasting impression of a complete asshole and an enemy for life. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he could be teammates with his Catherine, but he had better not get any ideas about dating her or anything else of that nature.

The man then made the mistake of his life by getting in Pete’s face and trying to threaten him. The prick couldn’t be happy with his little talk, no he wanted to be the big man in front of his daughter.

Besides Pete’s passion for sailboat racing and for Cathy, he was a Black Belt in the discipline of Kung Fu. He would also practice Yoga every morning and evening when possible. It kept him in great shape for sailing. It also kept him in a calm and peaceful state of mind.

When Cathy’s father made the mistake of getting in his face, Pete had politely asked him to step back and calm down. That really set Cathy’s dad off. He proceeded to become more hostile and belligerent towards Pete. The final straw was when he pushed Pete backwards causing him to trip and fall to the floor.

Pete had been left with no choice but to physically assert himself and put a stop to the bullshit. In one quick fluid motion he had grabbed Cathy’s father by his testicles in what was called a groin snatch and squeezed with the right amount of pressure to put him down. He had left him there rolling around in his own vomit.

The ramifications of that little episode would come back in the near future to haunt him. It had happened so fast that no one witnessed what had happen except for Cathy and she never brought it up.

Their second race of the day went about like the first and Pete got his hug afterwards and headed back to the dock area of the yacht club. As he walked to the area where the food and drinks were set up for the big party after the racing was finished, he noticed a very beautiful lady watching him, almost to the point of staring him down from the bar area.

She was the picture perfect Latin woman from this part of south Miami. She had dark full thick wavy hair that fell down around her face and eyes so brown with just a hint of lipstick and very little makeup for the face. A woman like this didn’t need a whole lot of make up, it would be a waste. She was truly breath taking and why was she looking at him? He actually tripped walking from the dock to the bar. The lady sat her drink down and walked up to Pete; she couldn’t be over five feet tall Pete thought.

“Hello, I am Alexandra Menendez but my friends call me Alex.”

She held out her hand for Pete to shake. He could smell her perfume. God what a woman he thought. She had just a trace of accent which made her even more sensuous.

“Um, my name is Pete, Pete Bentley” and finally with a little more self-assuredness Pete said “How do you do Alex, is there something I can do for you?”

“As a matter of fact you can Pete, come and sit at the bar with me and we can talk about a little proposition you may find very interesting. You are very good at sailing, do you ever lose? Would you like a drink or are you old enough?”

“Of course I am old enough,” he said defensively. “I am twenty-two almost twenty-three.” Pete replied adding the last part to make himself seem older than he was. “To answer the last part of your question Alex, I haven’t lost a race since joining the sailing team my freshman year.”

“Well then Pete, order what you would like and I will have a tequila gold on the rocks with a twist of lime.”

As Pete turned to order their drinks, Cathy came up beside him and said “What’s going on Pete, who is the lady?” This was pronounced in such a way by Cathy to make the ‘lady’ sound like poison.

“This is Alex Menendez, Cathy; she is a new friend of mine. Alex, this is Cathy my teammate. She is quite a sailor in her own right.”

“Why, yes, of course it so nice to meet you Cathy, but if you don’t mind I need to discuss something with Pete and then you can have him back for the rest of the day. So be a sweetie and run along for now and I will send him to you shortly.”

Cathy turned a bright shade red, which was the first time Pete had ever witnessed that type of behavior in all the time he had known her, sputtering for a moment and finally she stalked off.

“I believe she likes you Pete, she is the jealous type, I do believe. You must be careful not to upset her if you want to keep her as your girl.”

Alex was enjoying taunting both of these young people so she could watch their reactions. Neither Pete nor Cathy understood the type of person Alex was.

“Alex, she’s not my girl, we are teammates and have been since the start of our first racing season together, and I don’t know why she acted that way.”

Pete didn’t know it but he gave Alex a useful bit of information about him. Pete was naive about females. He apparently had little experience with the opposite sex. What Pete didn’t realize was that Alex Menendez was a ‘man eater’ as the saying went. She went through a lot of young men like Pete.

“Well Pete, get our drinks so we can have our little chitchat. I have to leave soon for another appointment. So time is a wasting.”

Pete and Alex sat next to the water at a table away from prying ears and direct sunlight because the temp was already in the mid eighties. The breeze of the water helped some. Alex was dressed in a short dress that showed off her magnificent legs. Pete was having trouble focusing on what she was saying.

“Pete would you please pay attention to me and stop staring at my legs, this is important. I need the services of your talents dealing with sailing and will pay you handsomely for those talents. When there is more time you may look at my legs, but for now let’s get down to my proposition.”

Alex decided to give him a cheap thrill and get another reaction out of this young man, so she uncrossed her legs taking her time and giving Pete a very good view of her anatomy and then crossed her legs back the opposite way. Pete turned a bright shade of red.

“I’m sorry Alex,” he stammered. “You’re very beautiful and this is closest I have ever been to a woman like yourself. What kind of boat are you talking about me sailing for you? My experience range is nothing bigger than 40-foot Sloops, Ketch’s, and a couple of different types of Trimarans. I have hired out as Captain on all three types of sailboats in the last year. Also, I went to an accredited school for my Captain license which was nearly three years ago. I’ve sailed to the Bahamas several times and up and down the east coast ferrying sailboats for owners who were too lazy to do their own sailing.”

“I know that Pete, and a whole lot more about you. I know you have an excessive amount of school loans. You have a very high grade point average; but study very little. So that tells me you are very smart. You work at several different boat yards in the area, when you aren’t sailing with the collegiate team and that tells me you are hungry for money. I also know about your licenses. It’s why I am here talking with you at this very moment in time.”

“So, tell me Alex what’s the bottom line. You know who I am; apparently you have done your homework. So now it’s your turn, who are you Alex and what’s the job you want done that requires my expertise at sailing. Make it quick because my partner is signaling me, I need to go. I have another race coming up.”

Alex laid her hand on Pete’s right forearm saying, “This is important Pete just a few more minutes. Here’s the offer, I need you to sail from Miami to different islands in the Bahamas every other weekend, there will be times when you sail from here to the island and times when you will fly there, and sail back. Also there will be occasions when you will go both ways. You will be paid five hundred dollars per trip up front and company salary of five hundred dollars a week when you go to work full time. Half the weekly amount of money for part time work would come to two hundred and fifty dollars a week. Which you would be of course in the beginning, until you graduate college in a few months, at which time you have the option of going full time with my charter company. Half of your pay will be matched if you decide to put it in our company 401K retirement plan and we also pay medical expenses. You will have a single female mate on board to help sail and take care of things, all kinds of things.”

Alex smiled at him sweetly when she said the last sentence. She wondered if it would go over his head. The boy was so naïve.

Pete’s expression completely gave him away. “You’ve got to be kidding Alex, that’s a thousand dollars a week to start. Hey, you don’t expect me to run drugs do you? I can’t have any part in that kind of business.”

She reached out and touched Pete’s arm again sending a jolt through his body and spoke in almost a purr to him.

“Pete, my company is a sailboat charter service and I need someone like you to work for me. Our company hires a lot of college students with the knowledge of sailing. In fact my office is close to the yacht club. There is no drug running involved Pete,” touching his arm again, “It’s a legitimate charter boat company. Here’s my business card. The company is called Island Charter Service or ICS.”

Cathy came walking up to the table and spoke to Pete ignoring Alex, “The coach wants to see you right away Pete,” and turned around and walked off.

Alex stood up and said to Pete, “You have my card, think about it, and call me. I will be in my office late this afternoon if you want to call. Your lady friend could use some manners. I may speak to her father about that.”

Pete once again was startled by what Alex had said and showed it.

“You know Cathy’s father?”

“Yes Pete, he is a financial partner for my company.”

“Well, you may not want to hire me then because there is bad blood between us.”

“I know Pete, its how I learned about who you were. That was a very bold thing to do to him but also a dangerous thing to do. I must go Pete, please call me.”

Alex touch him again and then surprised him by leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek and with that turned around and walked off, with Pete watching her until she entered the main building and disappeared out of sight.

Cathy met Pete halfway back to where the rest of the team was congregating after each race. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Who is that woman Pete and what did she want?”

“Not that its any of your business Cathy, she happens to run a charter boat business and she wants me to work for her company sailing boats back and forth to the Bahamas.”

Pete thought it best not to mention the amount of money involved. He still had his doubts about the job and what it entailed. Alex was offering him a lot of money, more than was normal for boat captains.

“What about the racing team Pete, you won’t be quitting will you?” Cathy asked.

“No Cathy, I won’t be quitting, I’ll work around the racing season. Besides most of the races are on Saturdays or mid week.”

It dawned on Pete that he was talking as if he had made up his mind about the job, he guess he had. He needed the money to pay off his school loans. He had racked up a large debt for the last four years. Pete was looking at over thirty thousand dollars worth of debt.

“I don’t like the looks of that woman you were talking to Pete. She looks like trouble!”

Cathy’s hands were on her hips and the look she was giving Pete was one for husbands who stayed out too late with their drinking buddies.

“She’s ok; I can handle her and the job Cathy!”

That last statement would come back to haunt him. Pete didn’t have a clue as to what he was getting into with the very beautiful Alexandra Menendez.

 More than one set of eyes had watched the race today. Out in the bay floating with the tide was a very expensive and very fast custom made racing boat. The speedboat fit the man, powerful and sleek and very dangerous when not handled properly.

Onboard with the man was a beautiful woman in a very skimpy swimsuit standing beside him watching the races, but she was for looks and not part of his work, perhaps for amusement later. He had several other women he could pick from to perform the same function as this woman was doing today.

Ricardo Munoz was on a mission, sometimes from a distance he watched his sister, Alexandra. She was as beautiful as she was ruthless, but on certain occasions she would think with other parts of her body and would take chances with the family business.

Ricardo was a male version of his sister Alex. He was as handsome as she was beautiful. But Ricardo never let anything interfere with business. He was the oldest and next in line to take over running the family business. That is when his father either died or stepped down and Ricardo hoped it would be soon. He was ready to take over and run the multi-million dollar side of their illegal drug business better than his father could. The dream of taking over started as a young man in college and was so close to being a reality.

He had watched the meeting between his sister and the new recruit with a very powerful set of binoculars. Ricardo only bought the best of everything. The best boats, cars, clothes, and even his accessories like the binoculars, were the best money could buy and he had money to burn. He was forty-five years old and had a million dollars for every year of age. Ricardo kept it hid in a dozen different accounts around the world. That was one of his sister’s main jobs, when she wasn’t recruiting young men to sail the charter boats or seducing them.

Alex was a financial whiz when it came to money. It was also her job to set up legal businesses and banks to help launder the money that poured in from the drug business. It was easy to do when running a charter boat business. Their books showed three times the amount of business than they actually did.

Today he was bothered by the way his sister had acted with the new recruit. The boy would end up in her bed before it was over. He knew she used sex when needed to get a particular boy to hire on with the charter business when she felt he was worth having. If the boy was an exceptional sailor she would work extra hard to get him. Mostly she would use one of the more than two hundred girls she kept employed for helping convince them to work for her and they also helped out as crew when sailing. Most of the girls were as skilled when it came to sailing as the boys Alex hired.

Human smuggling helped fill that bill for having plenty of women for that task. They were paid as well as the boys and recently graduated college boys couldn’t resist a beautiful girl and the girls were told what would happen to them if they ever told the boys about themselves and what their true job was.

The young women were a good way to keep track of the boys and what they were thinking. Between the money and the girls the majority of the boys worked out fine. It was after the boats would be searched by U.S. Custom’s agents or the Coast Guard that some of them would get jumpy about the job. So far none of the boats searched had been found with drugs or money on them. There were to many boats sailing for the family business to get caught.

Alexandra, with the help of an outside financial partner, came up with the plan of using charter boats. Charter services would run the drugs, money and launder a large part of the money the family made off the illegal drugs.

The charter boat companies under Alex’s control for the cartel were at twenty-five strong. They were spread around the southern half of Florida reaching as far as the panhandle, including Mobile, Alabama. Things were in the works to add a charter service in the Jacksonville area and possibly as far north as Savannah. The charter businesses employed three hundred skippers and the same amount of female crew along with the office help came to nearly a thousand employees.

They had so many boats coming and going across the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic to and from the Bahamas that law enforcement couldn’t keep up. At any given time over one hundred sailing or fishing boats would be out on the water. About a third of the trips were completely legitimate, taking families and couples on charters. If it was a big load of drugs then it would take nearly the whole fleet of 300 hundred boats sailing. So far it had worked perfectly, many boats had been searched, but not one had ever been found to have drugs.

There were also several air charter services and a great deal of smuggling was accomplished with the aircraft, which brought in an equal sum of money for the cartel. Both legal and illegal money was made. Aircraft of various types would take off out of Florida and head for the Texas border every day to pickup money or drugs. On a few occasions people were smuggled into Florida.

As far as Ricardo was concerned their part of the cartel was completely anonymous to law enforcement. The whole family had never been before the IRS or any other agency of the government.

But, just because what you don’t or can’t see or hear doesn’t mean you are not noticed. Surveillance had many forms and sometimes agencies like the DEA were very patient and took their time before making a visit.

The last couple of sets of eyes watching the race and Alex and Pete’s meeting belong to Santiago and Dexter. They had been assigned the task of watching certain Munoz family members. Christian Bell wanted to turn up the heat on the Munoz family. It was time to take down the main illegal drug distribution network on the east coast.

Dexter was normally part of the task force along the Georgia Coast mainly dealing with the Savannah River area. Where there was a big shipping port, like Savannah, you could guarantee the illegal shipping of drugs, guns, and people. Dexter worked closely with the FBI and BATF and local agencies in the fight against crime in that area.

Dex, as he was known to the rest of Simon’s team in the past, was equal in his skill of firearms and martial arts. Dex was also the oldest of the group, being the ripe old age of forty-four. He preferred Georgia to Florida due to family reasons. Dex was married with two children and had been since his time in the Navy. He had grown up in the poorer section of town, closest to the Historic district of Savannah. His mother and five sisters all lived there now quite comfortably. With Dex’s help, he was able to get them educated and get his entire family out of the poorer section of town and into the suburbs of Savannah.

All his sisters were college educated with good jobs and families of their own. He was the older brother and respected and held in awe by the rest of the family. He had taken the responsibility of being the father figure of the family after their dad was killed on the docks by a crack head needing money for his habit. That was the main reason for his being in the DEA. He knew the bad side of drugs and the pain they caused to the victims’ families.

Both Dex and Santo dressed for the occasion at the yacht club. Each looked to be fashion statements for their age. Both gave the appearance of money and in the Bay Of Biscayne area that was a must. When they entered the bar area they had split up to two different sides and it was Dex who had witnessed up close the meeting between Alex and Pete. Santo had hung back to watch Dex’s back. The Munoz family was like of a bunch of vipers.

When Pete had gotten up and walked off after his meeting with Alex both Dex and Santo left a few minutes apart and went into the main dining area to eat and discuss what they had witnessed and possibly overhead.

“It looks like Alexandra has the hots for the new recruit. Every now and then she picks one out to use for a while,” Santo says to Dex shaking his head in distaste. “She is a man-eater when it comes to her business ventures. Those kids she goes after don’t have a clue as to what she is until it’s too late. Darius says she the coldest among the whole family and crossing her is extremely dangerous. In all the years of watching the Munoz family, I have never seen her with an actual date or steady type. Its always business with her.”

“When is the meeting with Christian and the rest of the team?” Dex asks his partner.

“Just as soon as we finish eating and can get back to Opa Locka airport. Christian has a plane waiting for us so we can fly to Simon’s place. Since Christian was already at Simon’s in Fort Walton for a meeting between Simon and Lori, he wants to meet there. Darius is coming and it will be the whole team.”

“What is he meeting with Simon and Lori about, Santo?”

“Don’t know for sure but my guess is asking Lori to join the team.”

“Really, what will the agency say about that! You know how they are about family working with family, it’s not allowed, but exceptions have been made over the years if there’s a need.”

“I don’t think Christian really cares what the agency thinks Dex; he is more interested in having the best team assembled in order to combat the drug problem in the country. The man thinks the ends justify the means. Lori is one smart lady when it comes to law and prosecuting the bad guys. Lori and your wife are a lot alike, lots of passion about putting the violent criminals away for good. If Chris thought you would move to Miami he would offer Cecelia a job.”

“I’m glad he doesn’t, she might take it. Living in Savannah with both our families can be troubling at times. I love them all dearly and think of them more as my kids than sisters.”

“It’s just me and my sister so I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a large family living close together.”

Santo sounded a little down when he talked of it being just him and his sister. He had relations from both of his parent’s families back in Cuba but going there to visit was out of the question, legally that is.

His sister Maria had tried several years ago to get their aunts and uncles to leave Cuba. Santo was willing to slip into Cuba and extract them. He had a friend who owned a charter boat that was willing to take the chance with him. The plan fell through because they were scared of being caught. You only left Cuba safely if Castro’s government said you could. Both he and his sister did send them money. Santo had a friend with the U.S Embassy in Havana and this friend would get the money to a brother of Santo’s father that lived in Havana. The uncle would then pass it around to all the other family members.

Dex knew the pain the big man felt about not having his family and thought of something to say to change the subject of family. It was hard for Dex not to be proud of his family. Hard work and determination had paid off for his family. At times when Dex felt reflective, he would wonder what his father would say about his family and their achievements.

“So why the urgency for me and you to fly to Simon’s today? Why not meet down here in sunny Miami?” Dex asks changing the subject.

Trouble or not he wanted to stay close to his mother and sisters. The good times out weighed the bad times and more importantly his mother was not getting any younger. She was getting close to seventy. Dex wanted to stay close by.

“Christian feels better about meeting in Fort Walton Beach, versus here in Miami. Too many eyes and ears for his liking, and it was one of the concessions to get Simon back on the team when they met in January and talked of his working for the DEA again. He stays out of Miami as much as possible.”

“Well then my friend let’s finish our lunch, and get to Fort Walton; I want to ask Christian about heading home for a couple of days. I have a granddaughter due; it’s the first from my youngest daughter.” Dex’s pride was showing again.

“I bet Simon will cook with the team flying in, now that I think about it. Let’s leave now, this fish taste like cardboard. I had rather wait until I get to Simon’s to eat. How about you, Dex, you want to go now?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah, let’s go, eating Simon’s cooking is a much better idea. Think one of us should call and let him know we expect a meal.”

“Trust me Dex, there will be food waiting for us. I have gotten to know Simon real good over the last couple of months. He keeps his low boil pot cleaned and ready to use.”

High Tides

Chapter 2

Secret Rendezvous

Smells of unwashed bodies, urine and several other undesirable odors Alejandro Ortega Morales breathed in and couldn’t quite describe sickened him. The combination of odors permeated the entire prison, saturating his cell and his clothes. Perhaps it was fear most of all coming out of the individual cells. Each man knowing it was only a matter of time till he disappeared from his prison cell. If you were part of any guerilla organization in this country. It was almost guaranteed you would take a ride to the darkest part of the jungle in Colombia for a visit with a paramilitary unit. The rumors were rampant about the ride into the jungle and that fueled the fear of all who visited the prison in Bogotá.

A man escaped last year as he was dragged into the jungle by men dressed in black clothes and masks. The guerilla told of his torture and harrowing escape. It spread quickly among all the insurgent groups. If or when you went to the jungle with the black clad men then it was high probability that you would never come back from a ride like that. Everyone in this section of the prison was part of one of the many leftist groups that were rampant in Colombia. They all denied being guerillas, no matter how bad the beating they received.

It was better to die in a fight with the Colombian Army or paramilitary units than to be taken alive and brought to this place. Alejandro Morales would never let it be known but he was scared shitless. It was just plain bad luck to be caught and taken alive. Several known drug traffickers committed suicide rather than be taken alive. The words “a living hell” rang true of this prison. The guerrilla’s and drug cartels even went as far as enlisting several human rights groups. Their go between, a slick corporate lawyer, asked the human right groups to look into the disappearances and put a stop to the trips into the jungle. He promised untold millions for their causes.

Large quantity’s of money were in fact contributed to the human rights groups and so far nothing had come from there investigations. In fact several of the investigators had disappeared into the jungle. This caused several of their colleagues to complain loudly to the Colombian government for help. The government replied that it was probably one of the many leftist groups and could do nothing about it. They were basically told to stay out of the mountain and jungle areas, or do so at there own risk. The human rights groups couldn’t afford to say too much since having the world know that they were accepting millions of dollars from drug cartels. This would tarnish their organizations image and reputations.

Luckily the authorities didn’t know he was Alejandro Morales when the attack on the processing camp near the Cauca River started. Alejandro acted quickly and changed his clothes with that of a dead peasant. He did his best to blend in with the others. He went so far as to rub dirt own his hands and face. Acting afraid like the others and not fighting the authorities like the guerrillas had done. If it played it cool and blended in with the others. The prison officials would eventually let him go with the other peasants or so he hoped.

A soldier hit Alejandro with the butt of his rifle in his kidneys causing him to collapse in agony. It took all his control not to lash out at the man. It would have meant instant death for the soldier if Alejandro wasn’t surrounded by two dozen of his enlisted comrades. In the very near future after he got out of this mess. He would take care of that man and his family very soon. Alejandro would kill his entire family very slowly and let the puppet soldier watch. Alejandro would save the puppet soldiers own worthless soul for last. As of now they still didn’t know he was one half of the Morales brothers. Feared by all who knew of there name in the drug trafficking business. It would only be a matter of time until they found out. Fate was that way and finger prints didn’t help the situation.

Alejandro lay on the filthy bed in the cell pondering his precarious predicament. He thought of who would die for setting him up and it had to be a set up. Only a few people in his part of the day to day operations of the drug possessing business knew he was going to the new processing site. It was located twenty miles northwest of Mompos. The processing site wasn’t far from where the Cauca and Magdalena Rivers joined near the city Mompos. The Magdalena was the main river in Colombia. It stretched across Colombia for 950 miles from south to north. The Magdalena River eventually ended near Barranquilla some one hundred miles northwest of the Morales-Guzman drug processing site.

The processing site was to have been a super secret project. Apparently he and his brother Rubio were wrong. Someone close to the Morales cartel had sold out the younger brother. Alejandro Ortega Morales made a promise to find out who the guilty man was and punish him in the worst way. Death would be a blessing for the traitor. The younger Morales brother hadn’t lived in this kind of squalor since he was a child growing up outside the city of Bogota. He fumed to himself as he sat on his cot breathing in the stench of the prison. Alejandro kept thinking he would wake up from this nightmare. How could it have happen to him?

The Morales brothers had just finished moving the processing site to a new area when Alejandro decided to make a surprise visit. It was close to the Magdalena River and the Morales family had voted unanimously in favor of the move. The idea of using river pirates to transport the cocaine and heroin to ships waiting off the coast seemed like a good idea at the time. For weeks Alejandro and Rubio were brainstorming new ways to ship their products besides flying them out of Colombia. Drastic new transportation measures were need in the distribution of their illegal products. Alejandro had come up with the idea initially. After hours of standing in front a large map of Colombia Alejandro had personally flown along the Magdalena River from Mompos to Barranquilla by helicopter. Satisfied with his reconnaissance by air Alejandro then took a trip by boat up the river. Afterwards Alejandro was completely satisfied whit his findings.

Alejandro met with his brother the very next day after his boat trip up the Magdalena River. Jubilantly he told Rubio of his findings and how they would ship the drugs. The younger Morales suggested to his older brother Rubio that they a by a dozen boats that are seen on the river everyday. Boats like the peasants of Colombia used on the river everyday of their lives. It was the perfect way to conceal their drugs. They would the replace the engines with more powerful ones. That would help make the trips quicker to and from the coast.

All drug shipments would be shipped at night. It shouldn’t take more than six and half hours to make it off the coast of the Caribbean. If the boats left at dark then they should make the long journey to the Caribbean Sea way before daybreak. They would have time to offload the drugs and make it back to the river as the sun came up.

From the rendezvous point, small size cargo ships or go fast boats waiting could take the drugs to various islands within the Caribbean Sea or to Mexico if need be. Landing strips specifically built for low flying aircraft to infiltrate the coast of Florida without detection could be establish along the Caribbean Island chain. The Morales brother should be able to execute this plan for at least a year before changing tactics once again. A conservative estimate by Alejandro to his brother had been 300 tons of cocaine and heroin could be shipped from the new site before it was located by law enforcement personal.

Flying the cocaine and heroin out of Colombia was becoming harder due to the Americans watching from aircraft with powerful look down radars. The Customs agency in conjunction with the DEA had an entire fleet of such aircraft. The Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean had become a busy place for both sides. Many of the shipments being flown out of Colombia were intercepted the moment they left the country by the powerful radars. The smugglers would be followed by radar immediately after take off. The AWACS type aircraft would keep track of the smugglers until the planes touched down without the pilots ever knowing they were being tracked.

The DEA and local police would be waiting to arrest and confiscate the drugs. In the past year more than seventy tons had been seized. The Morales brothers were beside themselves over the amount confiscated. Changing the way they were transporting the product was a must to stay in business. The drug trafficking business was a fluid business, constantly changing. It had to be if you were going to make any money and stay out of prison.

To insure the new river processing site would be a success. The Morales brothers had bribed the government officials who patrolled the Magdalena River. Just to make sure everything ran smoothly and to supply protection as needed. What better way to protect their products than have the Colombian government do it for them. The brothers thought they had left no stone unturned. Bribes normally worked because it was better to take the money than lead from a bullet. The Morales brothers had rushed the project and that could have been a sign of a bad omen?

The decision to move the site quicker than the time frame he and his brother Rubio first came up with, also lead to Alejandro’s imminent capture. Rubio had ultimately made the decision and Alejandro had agreed with his older brother. With the last processing site coming under attack by the right wing group called CCP. This particular group was lead by Felix Sabina. Felix wasn’t on the payroll and becoming a real pain in the ass to all the guerrilla groups and drug cartels. The right wing commander hated the godless leftist and drug traffickers. Felix Sabina was for Colombia and its people. “Everyone else could go to hell,” the right wing leader had said on more than one occasion.

Rubio Morales mentions on more than one occasion that it was time to kill this so-called avenger of Colombia. Felix Sabina was becoming a royal pain in the ass and was affecting the cost of doing business. Neither Rubio are Alejandro cared who was in charge of the country as long as their drug business wasn’t bothered. They would pay whoever was in charge, political philosophy didn’t enter into the drug business as far as they were concerned, protection from the United States did. Extradition was the Morales brothers’ biggest fear.

The eldest Morales told his younger brother Alejandro of his plans to have the avenger of the Colombian people killed. Rubio had more important things to think about than some trouble making do-gooder. His dreams and desires were to take over Colombia once and for all. Felix Sabina was nothing but a cockroach that needed to be squashed. Their product would flow from Colombia like never before. The new processing site would help in those matters. Alejandro would take charge of the site and see to it personally. That’s what family was for in these matters. The two Morales brothers finished their monthly meeting by discussing the final steps in getting the processing site up and running as quick as possible regardless of the risk.

So the Morales-Guzman cartel with the help of the Munoz brothers would have more options available to them on getting the drug shipments into the United States. When the new site was running at full capacity they would ship thirty tons a month to the Untied States. With thousands of miles of unprotected border along the Mexican U.S. border and with just as much coast line open to the cartels. Most of the shipments should reach there destination safely and without detection. The cartel members did understand that a minimal loss was to be expected.. In the range of thirty to fifty tons was to be expected. Considering the amount that made it across America borders in a year’s time outweighed the loss by billions of dollars. It was a constant game of cat and mouse.

The oldest Morales brother made another risky last minute decision. Rubio wanted to wait on letting the main ELN brigade leaders know of moving the processing site right away. His decision was to just have the local guerrillas from the Bolivar area of operations handle protection. The number of men in that particular area only numbered one hundred at most. This small group would have to patrol the entire length of Magdalena River from Mompos to Barranquilla. Plus protect the drug processing site. It took two dozen men just to protect the processing site. Their commander was a very greedy man. With such a small group involved it would also insure closed mouths by the commander to the leaders of the larger groups. That’s what the Commander told Rubio Morales as he guaranteed the safety of the processing site. Greed was powerful tool.

It would also save the Morales brothers millions in bribe money which could intern be used for start up costs of the new facility. Alejandro would never admit to himself that his own greed added to his capture. What was a hundred million peso’s to either of the brothers. If it meant more men protecting the processing sight and stopping his personal capture. To of suggested something like that to him would of meant instant death. Alejandro considers himself to be smarter than any of his subordinates. He now saw the error of his ways. When he got out of this mess he would make sure that he always had the proper protection.

Brooding as he sat on the filthy cot. Alejandro began to ponder his unfortunate luck. Who was it in his family that informed on him? Only five people knew of his traveling to the new site today and two of those were his brother and wife. The other three were underlings. They were paid well for there services and loyalty. A terrible price would be paid for this situation he was being put through at this moment in time. Clenching his fist hard until a trickle of blood dripped from them as his finger nails dug into his own flesh. He didn’t belong here in this filthy prison. It was the ultimate insult to him and his family. Yes, people would die for this, both in his organization and these puppets who kept him locked up. All the way to the top, no one would be safe once he got out of this cell. He pounded the concrete wall in frustration at his predicament. Shaking his head he continued to run through all those who new he was going to the processing site with the Syrian.

The only other thing Alejandro could figure out as a reason for the raid was the Syrian. That damn Arab terrorist, as if the whole world didn’t know who the man was and spending hundreds of millions of dollars to try and capture him. The Syrian whose name was Muhammad Al Busaid was responsible for most of the bombings, and kidnappings in the Middle East. He had to be at least the third most powerful terrorist in the world, if not the second after Bin Laden.

Those close to the terrorist knew he wasn’t a terrorist for religious reasons. Al Busaid spoke the standard radical Muslim mantra about the godless infidels in the west when he was talking in front of followers. His passion for hate of the Untied States and its supporters were because of the man who was responsible for killing his older brother in the first gulf war. Al Busaid witnessed it first hand and wanted to kill all Americans from that day forward. His only hope was to meet the man who killed his brother with a knife. Only then would Allah allow him justice for the death of his older brother Hakim.

Alejandro had pleaded with his brother not to get involved with this man and his cause. But hell no he had to have the man come and visit and talk of how the Morales family could help Al Busaid finance his radical cause. The worst part was not only had Al Busaid been to Rubio’s house on more than one occasion in the past year. His older brother was even considering using his services for some of the problems he was having with politicians in and out of the Colombia. Sheer madness on Rubio’s part and now here he was behind bars in the foul smelling prison, with the clock ticking against him. Well, it was only a matter of time before his brother Rubio would get him out of this dank cell very soon he hoped. He would not be going to the jungle! Then he and his brother would have a nice chat about Busaid. Closing his eyes Alejandro dosed off.

Morales was abruptly shaken from his sleep hours later when the first of several explosions; it shook the walls like an earthquake. Then he could hear the sounds of automatic weapons after the explosions ceased, and several screams of anguish from what he hoped were prison guards, he had no window to look outside with and see what was happening. He hoped it was his brother, coming to rescue him from this shit hole.

Alejandro was correct in his thinking of Rubio trying to get him out prison. Rubio had moved quickly and promised the brigade commander of the Bogotá territory two million American dollars if he would get his brother Alejandro out of prison. The commander had leapt like a dog through a hoop at the chance to make that kind of money. Besides he would be within three city blocks of the attack on the prison. The commander was greedy but not stupid.

Rubio told the brigade commander that the attempt had to be done quickly. Before the government understood who it was they had captured. Things in the government had changed drastically in the last year with the new President no longer gave special treatment or safe haven to drug cartels any longer. The Americans had seen to that. If his brother Alejandro was identified, then he would be shipped to America. Both of them were on the top 10 most wanted list with the DEA and FBI.

The problem for Rubio and his brother along with the insurgents was that Colombian officials did know who they had sitting in the jail cell. The CIA confirmed it late yesterday evening by taking fingerprints from their prisoner food tray. A mole had been put in place weeks early to try and infiltrate some of the newest prisoners. It was an on going process that had been started to help identify potential brigade commanders and high-ranking officers in the guerilla groups. So far three very high-ranking officers had been identified in the past year. The mole had spotted Alejandro right away and told his handlers of there catch.

Heated talks were under way as to what should be done with Alejandro Morales by Colombian and American officials. The United States wanted to extradite him back to the U.S. for prosecution in the worst possible way. George Silva guaranteed Colombian officials that the U.S. would allocate extra aid including military weapons and training if Colombia cooperated. It was also an added bonus for Colombian official s not to have to worry about retaliation by family or cartel members if Alejandro Morales was taken out of the country.

So what was not known to either of the Morales brothers was that prison officials asked for and had been given help from the Colombian Army. While the prisoners slept like babies the night before. Fifty highly trained military personal arrived quietly and dispersed through out the prison. These men had been trained by Army Rangers as part of Plan Colombia. The Rangers were America’s best at performing such tasks.

These fifty men could now match up against any army in the world and the test had begun tonight. On this very night many men would be killed in the name of their cause and a drug trafficker would remain in jail. People lives in different parts of the world would now be set in motion by others and the affect would be one of death, misery, and pain. The hand had been dealt and now the game would begin for the players.

Once again Alejandro’s jail cell shook from an explosion close to his cell loosening dust from many years past and causing it to cascade down upon his bed and half-naked body, sticking to him like glue. The cell felt like an oven and how he desperately wanted a long hot bath and to slip between the cool silk sheets with a young lady or his wife. Tonight would be the night, he knew it had to be Rubio.

The rattle of automatic weapons could be heard, it was hard to tell from what direction. Alejandro knew they had to be from a local ELN or FRAC brigade. Both groups used AK-47’s and he knew the sound well. As the thoughts ran through his mind he now heard a different sound. He wasn’t sure what kind of weapon it was. As the sounds ended he could cry’s of pain from human beings. Someone just out side his window was screaming in agony.

More sounds came from the strange sounding weapons. Only these weapons used three round bursts instead the continuous rattle like the AK’s made. This couldn’t be a good sign for his rescuers. The guards had the same weapons as the guerillas. Sweet Jesus, it came to Alejandro. It had to be the Colombian Army. They used the American version of the M16. Yes, that had to be it, the Army was here. When did they arrive, this was not good. Alejandro had a sinking feeling in his stomach; tonight he would be going nowhere. As quickly as the attack started it was finished. The sounds of gunfire ended as quickly as it began.

As his thoughts were finished, he heard noise from the door at the end of the hall. Alejandro Morales came to the stark reality standing beside his cot that he wouldn’t be freed from his cell. He would be staying in this rotten filthy cell for a very long time. A deep depression came over the drug trafficker as he stood looking out the small window with bars. What Alejandro didn’t know was that his assumption was wrong. A half a dozen men with weapons walked towards him. One man was different from the rest. He was dressed differently. The man was an American, no doubt about it.

The American glanced down at his right hand. In his hand he held a photo. He stood within arms reach of the bars of the cell. He looked at the picture and then at Alejandro. He turned and spoke very good Spanish to the leader of the camouflaged men. He said this was the man and his name is Alejandro Morales and there was no doubt about it.

The man spoke to him in Spanish. “You won’t be going anywhere except with me Senor Morales. It was your brother Rubio who was responsible for tonight’s attack on the prison. It failed miserably I might add.”

“Go to hell American.” Alejandro said. He then hocked a wad of mucous from deep in his throat and spit it at the DEA agent.

George Silva then said. “My country will be sending someone soon to take you back for indictment for your crimes of drug smuggling.” George Silva then took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mucous off his shirt. He tossed the handkerchief through the prison bars onto the floor. It landed at Alejandro Morales feet. “I believe that belongs to you Senor Morales.”

Alejandro swore under his breath, the man had to be American for sure. That damn extradition treaty Colombia signed with the Americans. He would be going to America to stand trail. His brother plan was coming to fruition and Alejandro wasn’t very happy about it.

“No senor, consider it at present from me.” Alejandro replied and picked the handkerchief up throwing it back at Agent Silva.

“No doubt about it Senor Morales, you will be going on a one way trip to America courtesy of Uncle Sam. You should have stuck to the drug trade and left the terrorist Busaid alone, asshole!” The American spoke in English and then turned and left.

“We shall see American. I haven’t left Colombia yet. You will have to get me to the airport. So good luck asshole.” Alejandro replied to George Silva in heavily accented English. He turned his back and went and stood by the window.

DEA agent George Silva enjoyed the short conversation with Morales. The fear in his eyes really showed when George spoke of his being taken to America for prosecution as a drug trafficker. There would be no pay offs or threats to get him out of prison in America. George Silva did understand the reality of what Alejandro said though. It would be very hard and dangerous for all involved trying to get Alejandro on a plane to the U.S.

Agent Silva looked at his watched as he walked out of the prison entrance. In a few hours he would board a charted private jet and fly to Miami. It had been many years since he was in Miami. His boss was sending him on a task he was not happy about. George should be the one to bring Morales back to the states! It just didn’t make since to a man who had spent so many years with the agency and the last eight in Colombia. The two men his boss Daniel Steel recommended sending to Colombia to pick up Morales and escort back to the States were complete unknowns to Agent Silva. God, how he hoped they weren’t rookies. It wouldn’t be easy getting Morales out of Bogota, Colombia. The longer the agency waited the more difficult it would be. Tonight proved that without a doubt.

Located 12 degrees north of the equator, 18 miles of the coast of the Paraguana Peninsula of Venezuela is an island 19 miles in length and 5 miles wide at its furthermost point called Aruba. It’s an island in the Southwestern Caribbean known for its sandy white beaches and crystal clear water. The weather changes very little and it’s a tropical paradise for the worlds tourist to come and vacation on.

Today the island would have a different set of visitors, not the normal tourist type who came to the island each year to enjoy the tropical paradise and majestic beauty of the island. This would be a meeting to discuss the assassinations and murder of good, decent men and women, by people who lived like kings off the misery of others. Colombian and Mexican drug trafficking kingpins along with members from the United States would meet and discuss what to do about recent events that had stopped the flow of drugs into America like no other time in the history of drug smuggling, all because of one man.

First to arrive were the two Colombian families at Queen Beatrix Airport aboard their personal jet. Their passports were false, instead of saying Morales or Guzman; they presented the customs inspector with names that would be like Smith or Jones in the Untied States. The custom official at the airport never looked twice, at least at the four men; the two women who came with them had his full attention. He would dream of them for weeks. If he only new they were as deadly as rattlesnakes, he might have had second thoughts.

Later that same day once again the customs man allowed three men even quicker this time through customs, so he could get a look at the young woman who walked beside the older gray haired man who was last to show his passport. And again the names were typical Latin names like a Smith or Jones. Instead of Colombia though, their passports said Mexico. The last to arrive and not threw the airport, were the Munoz brothers from their palatial hideout in South Caicos. They flew into Curacao instead and then had Ricardo’s monster cigarette speedboat “El Diablo” at there ready. The brother’s boat mechanics had seen to it personally that the powerful speedboat would be on the island and ready for the brothers. Being rich had its compensation.

The Munoz brothers had grown close over the past few months since leaving Miami and racing had become a big passion of there’s. Powerboat racing became an every other week pastime, with lots of money on the line in side bets or in Ricardo’s instance gold, he loved gold coins. It was decided by both that they would come to the meeting by boat. By late evening that pulled into Oranjestad and docked the powerful boat. A car was waiting to take them to the villa they were renting.

Today would be the fist time in the history of these powerful drug traffickers to meet at one time as a large group. In the past they would meet in ones or twos inside Colombia or at Carlos Ramirez villa in Campeche, located on the Gulf of Mexico. The never met in the same place twice and always with the utmost secrecy involved.

Their country had always been a safe haven for them. They were protected by the most powerful leftist guerilla group in Colombia. FRAC hated the other leftist groups because they siphoned off to much of the drug cartels money. The leftist guerillas biggest enemy was the right wing paramilitary organization called the CCP. Large amounts of money were needed to fight the right wingers. FRAC fought the CCP whenever and wherever they could find them. This was sometimes a problem and interfered with the drug business, but not much could be done about it. It kept all the groups from preying on the drug cartels families.

Money had been the lubricant of protection, times were changing and the men and women who ran the multi-billion dollar drug empire had to find new places to meet, the world was pumping money into their homeland to help the politicians take back control. It wasn’t that the cartels still didn’t have the power they used to but it was getting more difficult not be extradited by U.S. authorities with all the new laws in place.

But on this day and the next it would be their day, and it was history in the making and heady stuff for all those involved, egos exploding to there maximum limits by all. Decisions would be made in the next two days that would have long-term affects for many members, the cartel families as a whole and possibly the deaths of certain members at the meeting this day. Profits would soar to new heights for those still in the game at the end.

The Munoz brothers arrived at the villa where the meeting would be held and where Carlos Ramirez and his people would be staying. Looking ever bit the Latin playboys instead of men who had stood by and allowed their brother to be butchered like an animal and then escaped like common criminals.

Each received an extra special hug from the women of both groups which was a little unexpected, almost unnerving to Ricardo. Jorge was finally able to unleash his pent up passions that he had held back for so many years. Predominantly because of the ruthlessness of his father Juan Carlos. He now enjoyed the embrace from Consuelo letting her know how much he enjoyed the closeness of her body. Both understood perfectly what the other was thinking. Maybe there would be time for a little fun both thought smiling at each other.

Consuelo Ramirez had been assigned by her father Carlos the task of finding a safe place for all the cartel members to meet and stay in comfort. Comfort was second to security though. The meeting place had to allow the cartel members to meet in anonymity and with as much security as possible. Carlos always relied on his youngest daughter to take care of special assignments like this one. She was the pride of her father’s eye and his successor once he relinquished control of the cartel some day in the near future. She was drop dead beautiful and deadly as any poisonous snake. For all her beauty Consuelo also had the brains to go with it. She was the complete package!

The youngest daughter of Carlos Ramirez picked Aruba after much thought. After looking at the map of the Caribbean she decided Aruba would be easiest place for the members of the powerful drug cartel to escape quickly from. In just a matter of thirty minutes or less the members could be back to their homelands and the protection of the politicians still in their pockets. Consuela found three extravagant villas for rent on the Northwest coastline called Malmok beach, each group would have there own pool, plus only a few yards from each villa was the beach and the crystal clear water of the Caribbean.

Plenty of shrubs and palm trees to give them even more seclusion. They even brought there own servants and cooks. No one outside of the groups would be allowed on the grounds. Each group picked three of there best security people and they would stay in the villas with, one always awake patrolling the grounds. Security arrived one day early and already made a sweep of the villas for electronic listening devices and for anyone who looked out of place. All of these men were ex American military and they came at a very high price and were worth ever dollar.

With the staff arriving several days earlier than security with instructions to have a table or set of tables arranged in length with white laced table clothes, place holders , plenty of tropical flowers and a full bar at the ready. The Ramirez family would sit at one end of the table and the Morales-Guzman families would sit at the opposite end with the Munoz brothers filling in the center along with one other guest who walked in at the last minute, an ex DEA agent by the name of Mary Lunsford.

She was a traitor to the agency and had been since her joining it from the very beginning. Her entrapment and loyalty to the Munoz family by the father Juan Carlos was a carefully orchestrated plan, when she was in collage. To this day Mary didn’t know the whole blackmail scenario in collage was a set up and added to that was the fact that she became Juan Carlos’s lover until his death. Her deeply tanned and stunning looks didn’t go unnoticed by Jorge; he hadn’t seen her in months, not since he took her to the airport by boat from Bimini to escape the very agency she had been apart of. It was the first time Jorge had dispersed all the rumors of his being gay when he took Mary to bed for the night.

Jorge Munoz had explained to Mary that night lying naked in bed. How he made his mind up many years ago. That he would never give his father Juan Carlos a chance to have any kind of hold over him. If Juan Carlos could have his wife and the mother of his children killed for her attempted betrayal against the family business. Then his children or their families were fair game also.

Mary Lunsford went straight for Jorge and gave him a hug and kiss that left no doubt that this man had been hers and might just be hers now. Consuelo sent daggers towards Mary’s direction with her eyes. Ricardo and the others took this scene in, wondering if a problem would arise. Mental bets were being made on who would be the winner.

Finally Carlos Ramirez called the meeting to order. It was now a little before four o’clock in the afternoon. They would convene by six so the members could swim or just relax before supper at seven thirty.

Once supper was finished then it would be time for Brandy and cigars out by the pool. Hopefully if things went as planed by Carlos, an informal meeting of sorts would take place. Where the members would pair off and discuss issues concerning the cartels business interests. Sometimes informal talks over Brandy and Cigars would achieve more than a normal round table meeting with all present.

“I would like to begin this meeting by introducing the Munoz brothers, Ricardo and Jorge to everyone since this is the first time for them to be in a meeting with the entire group. One of our strongest assets over the years has been in not meeting as a large group like we are doing today and possibly taking a chance on being taken into custody together by the authorities. Due to certain events taking place over the past year has of course changed things and so here we all are now. Ricardo, Jorge may I say what a fine job you have done over the years along with other members of your family with the shipping and transportation of our products thought out the U.S., a fine job indeed until recently, with the last word s Carlos Ramirez words were like ice. I also want to include the fiasco in Georgia that caused the death of my sister Doroto’s son and my nephew Antonio.”

The Munoz brothers looked at each other and simultaneously wondered if they should have brought bodyguards with them. They both understood the type of people they were dealing with. The Munoz brothers were just like them. But neither brother said anything. It was best to hold their tongues for now.

Carlos continued his little speech, “Let me also say this, that you two gentleman had nothing to do with what took place in Georgia and I tell everyone sitting here that, so there is no misunderstanding about that subject. But I digress; please forgive me ladies and gentlemen. We will get to all of that unpleasantness shortly, for now let’s start with the opposite end of the table and go around from there.”

Rubio Morales nodded his head slightly in thanks for being picked first. The pecking order was immediately established with his being picked to speak first.

“Let’s start with Rubio Morales, who oversees the cocaine and heroin-manufacturing facilities from the Northern borders of Colombia to Bogotá. His brother Alejandro who is missing from this meeting due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time is in prison at this very moment. Alejandro was in charge of the actual growing and processing of our products. The two brothers have worked well on the way they handle there end of the business and it has been the prefect partnership for many years. Rubio can you bring us up to date on your brother and how that will affect business.”

“Thank you for the concern about my brother,” nodding his head at Carlos Ramirez. “Welcome to our meeting gentleman,” glancing at Ricardo and Jorge, was how the head of the Morales family started out speaking to the assembled group of drug kingpins.

“I attempted yesterday morning to try and break my brother out of prison in Bogotá. Apparently the police and certain government officials both Colombian and American knew who they had and brought in help we didn’t know about in the form of these new highly trained army commandos. We all know about the aid America is giving our government now and these men were better trained and killed nearly all fifty of the guerrillas sent to break my brother out of prison. I am now informed that George Silva who is with the DEA showed up and spoke with my brother briefly. Letting Alejandro know that he will be extradited to the U.S. Everyone sitting at this table knows the reputation of George Silva and the bounties we have for his death. The sooner the better as far as I am concerned!”

The members around the table nodded their heads in understanding to what Rubio was saying. None sitting at the table wanted to be extradited back to the U.S. Silva was known for doing just that.

Rubio continued speaking after getting his emotions in order. He prided himself on always being calm in front of others. It was the true sign of leadership as far as he was concerned.

“After Silva spoke with Alejandro he went directly to his embassy and met with counter parts in the FBI and CIA. It has been decided by those three men to take Alejandro back to America to be prosecuted. All of us are aware of the newly enacted laws that are now in place to extradite business people like ourselves. Anyone sitting at this table right now can be taken into custody and extradited to America for prosecution of drug trafficking. I still find it hard to believe with all the money that we spend bribing government officials that this law was passed by our government. My personal opinion is that all of us here sitting at this table need to double our efforts in getting the right politicians in place to over turn this law as quickly as possible. I am working on several options presently that should help us all.”

What Rubio would not tell the other cartel members attending this meeting in Aruba. Was that he had been in contact with the CIA agent in charge of Colombia. Rubio was thinking about making a deal with the agent in charge whose name was Scott. Swapping his brother Alejandro for the terrorist Al Busaid, but only after Busaid did Rubio’s dirty work. Rubio would make sure the negotiations would take a few weeks. In the mean time it had to look to Colombian and American officials that he was attempting to free his younger brother. That would also give his brother Alejandro time to throw a little misdirected information to the American authorities.

An elaborate scheme was in the works with the terrorist Busaid to cause horrific attacks inside Colombia. Three major cities were targeted to be exact. It was part of Rubio’s and Alonso grand scheme to take over the country. Rubio would tell them about Al Busaid, but not about any of his other plans. Carlos Ramirez may be the front man for illegal drugs in the world. But Rubio had a grander scheme and that was to be in control of his own country. Eventually he would distance himself from the illegal drug trade. His plan was to because President of Colombia one day. He had two puppets in place to take turns and then it would be Rubio Morales turn or so he schemed.

Rubio continued speaking without pausing, “I blame myself for Alejandro being caught.” What Rubio didn’t say was that it had been a blessing. One of the sticking points of Rubio’s grand scheme was how to have Alejandro arrested. His arrest was an intricate part of the scheme. “I recently found out from interrogating one of the wounded left for dead at the processing sight. The CIA was after the man my brother was showing our business operations too. He is a well known freedom fighter from Syria. He is looking for a way to generate money and a safe haven to train his people. I am sure most of you will know the name from watching the international news programs. His name is Muhammad Al Busaid.”

Several members sat straight up in there seats with a look of concern showing on there faces. There were enough problems with being the main suppliers of drugs without being associated or label terrorists. Rubio must be joking when he called Al Busaid a freedom fighter. He was a cold blooded terrorist of the worst kinds. His bombs killed the innocent. Most of the people sitting at the tables disliked terrorist as much as the rest of the world. Question’s were running through the minds of several members of why was Rubio Morales involved with this Busaid and what ramifications could it have on the group. They all kept quite for the moment though.

Rubio could see the reactions of several members and hurried into his next sentence to calm there fears. He would keep his dealings with Busaid a secret from now on. He let his pompousness get away from him. He didn’t need opposition from his fellow drug traffickers at this time. Drastic measures were needed and he was willing to use anyone or anything to get the things he wanted achieved no matter the cost. The cartel members would see his brilliance once his scheme was in place.

The only member to keep poker faced and steel his emotions about the subject was Carlos Ramirez. He sat at the end of the table like a piece of stone. Rubio had watched Carlos expression from the time he told the members Al Busaid’s name. When there was time later for a little privacy Rubio would tell Carlos about some the ideas he had in using Busaid services. Maybe the terrorist could be used to take care of Carlos revenge problem. It was a strong selling point to get Ramirez on his side. That was the most important thing to have before the members left Aruba. Rubio needed Carlos on his side.

He continued by saying to the group, “It is getting harder and harder for the cartel to find places to grow our crops and launder money safely. Now that the American’s have decided that all terrorist are to be hunted down like rabid dogs and killed or arrested and prosecuted. I was attempting to do a favor for the heads of the ELN and FRAC commanders that take care of protection in my different areas of operations. The Americans consider the very people we have helping us now as terrorist. So I ask all you not to get nervous or concerned about Busaid being in Colombia from time to time.” He thought that statement should appease the cartel members.

“Having made those comments ladies and gentlemen, I would now like to change the topic of the conversation to the young man sitting next to me. This fine young man will now handle my brother’s side of the business, until his return. This is my brother’s son and my favorite nephew Emilio Ortega Morales. His father tutored him well, and I give my assurances that nothing will stop the flow from our end of the operation and business.”

Emilio Morales stood and bowed his head towards each of the men at the table. He said nothing and sat back down and allowed his uncle to continue speaking.

“I do have one “but” though, and it has nothing to do with Emilio’s talents to handle his father’s side of the business. As you all know, we do have problems with the growing because of the aerial spraying as part of Plan Colombia. I think my counter part from the southern end of the country will tell you the same, as he looked at Alonzo Guzman. To combat this we have already begun to move some of the growing into Ecuador, Peru and Venezuela. We are coming up with a plan using the two main guerilla group’s transportation and protection that will allow us to start moving the crops safely around the country each year and make it harder for the government puppets to track us and that includes growing outside the country as well. Of course the United States is aware of this and is supplying aid to other countries that border us. The cost of using the insurgent groups is minimal since we already pay them nearly a half billion dollars a year for protection.”

Rubio stopped for a moment to see if there were any questions. He looked to each person sitting at the table to make sure no one had a question and then continued once more with his portion of the briefing.

“Now, one last down side to using either of the guerrillas groups is the fighting among the leftist groups against right wing groups. It does interfere with business at times and all the groups’ siphon off a tidy sum from the profits, as I mentioned a few minutes ago. But it keeps them from kidnapping our families and holding them for ransom as they used to do several years ago. So now you have an idea of what is taking place in my area of operations. I will now turn it over to my counterpart to the south if you agree Carlos.”

“Thank you Rubio and for now all I will say to the members is that plans are in the developing stages to avenge your brother Rubio, and punish his captors. I have personally enlisted the help of someone who can remedy the extradition of Alejandro. This topic will be discussed shortly with all the members. Now Alonso what do you have to say?”

Rubio Morales nearly choked when he heard what Carlos said. Could the defacto head of the cartel be showing his own leadership and power by freeing Alejandro? This would screw everything up. The attempt to rescue Alejandro was to make the Americans act quickly and take Alejandro to America. That was prudent to Rubio’s scheme. Damnit! Why couldn’t the old fool mind his own business in this matter?

Alonso Guzman stood up looked at Ricardo and Jorge nodded his head and said, “On behalf of the cartel I welcome you gentlemen. It has been way to long for us to finally meet you in person.”

Senor Guzman gave the appearance of being an elder statesman. He was silvered haired and perfectly dressed as if he were attending a board of directors meeting at a Fortune 500-business meeting.

“I am in charge of the manufacturing and shipping from Bogotá to the southern coast. My counterpart, pointing to Rubio, split the country nearly in half. It is a good arrangement and allows us to keep a hands own approach. My brother Edgar sitting at my right, handles the growing and on my left is Alicia and she handles the judicial and financial side of things for my side of the business. She has a law degree from Harvard,” saying it proudly as any father would when speaking of his children.

“Her husband was the second in command of one of the larger groups of leftist guerillas and that did come in very handy. It also didn’t hurt that he was about to be sworn into the Senate the day he was killed. Upon his untimely death from an assassins bullet, he did leaves us with well-placed connections within his group that allow us to continue running the operation smoothly. As far as the growing and shipping, we are having the same problems as the northern sector does. Thanks mostly to our new beloved President being in bed with the Americans so that he can get free American military hardware.”

There were murmurs around the table of agreement to what Alonzo was saying. The President was a puppet of the U.S. It was a difficult pill for of the cartel member to swallow. In the past the Presidents of Colombia looked the either way when it came to the illegal drug trade.

“I would like expand on why Rubio’s brother was at this new processing site. It was decided by both Morales-Guzman families to come up with a new processing facility that would process the bulk of our combined harvest of coca leaves. The new site was located on the Magdalena River just outside the city of Mompos. The site was built in a very secluded area and with the assurances of certain police officials for protection. River Pirates would also be employed to transport the refined drugs to ships waiting out off the coast of Cartagena. The pirates would also add a small layer of protection. We were also in the process of enlisting pilots with floatplanes so the product could be flown into the Munoz area of operation. From that point the Munoz brothers would transport into America using the people inside their organization. The planes would also be useful for getting the product to Mexico and into the hands of Carlos group for transportation. Our thinking was to hit the coastline of America and its borders hard and continuously for many months. Letting the price come down and get as many people using our product as possible. Then we back off and let the prices go up and then inundate America again. Profits should increase ten fold.”

Taking it all in, Ricardo Munoz was impressed with these people. They weren’t just common thugs or street criminals. These people had common sense and solid business instincts. Both sets of cartel families were smart businessmen and women, with education to back it. When you added cold-blooded ruthlessness to those qualities it made for a very dangerous group of people.

They also used family like his father had, but with one difference. These people worked as a team and didn’t let the business get in the way of being family. Ricardo and Jorge’s father would kill anyone who got in the way of the family business, including wives, or children.

Maybe that’s why these people had been in business for so long, and didn’t have to hide the way he and his brother were hiding now. It was something to remember. He glanced at his younger brother, made eye contact. Ricardo could see was thinking the same way. Over the past several months they had grown closer and were good at reading each others thoughts.

Now it was Domingo Torres Chavez turn to brief the group and as he stood he touched the hand of the woman sitting beside him. It had to be his wife Ricardo thought. There was that something that close married couples tend to have between them and these two had it. She must have been a real looker in her younger days. Age had been kind to her and the beauty was still there, but with a more mature look. Ricardo wonder if that thought could get him killed sitting at this table.

Another thought crossed his mind, the group looked like business people, but you didn’t get where these people were with out killing a whole lot of people. For all their facade and show of being above it all, underneath there was a ruthless and cunning instinct. Getting in the way of any of these people would get you killed very quickly. This was a room of rattlesnakes, no matter how they dressed or acted. That was what he and Jorge would always have to remember foremost. The Munoz brothers would have to watch there backs or they could wind up dead. If these people thought they double crossed or ceased to have a need for them. It was no different in the way Ricardo and his brother thought or conducted themselves.

The second most powerful person in the entire world of drugs spoke. His voice was deep and boomed through the entire room. It was the exact opposite of his statue. He was no more than five feet tall and slim in his build. Domingo Chavez was dressed in a slip over shirt and light colored slacks. He gave the appearance of having just left a golf course. It was his eyes that could give you a case of the jitters. They were lifeless eyes.

“Welcome Ricardo and Jorge, I have spoken many times with you over satellite phone and through go betweens. But this is the first time in person so welcome my friends.”

He then surprised everyone by walking around to each of them and shook their hands warmly. Domingo then turned and walked back to his chair. This was quite a show of affection in the Hispanic world. And it caught the Munoz brothers off guard. Both brothers wonder what that was about and what was coming next.

It was only a few seconds until the answer came. “Tell me Ricardo, deferring to the older brother. Have you been able to punish the man responsible for the death of my son? I don’t care about the slow down of the drugs being shipped; I already have more money than I can spend in my lifetime plus three. You see it’s a matter of honor to me and my wife Doroto.” Reaching out and touching her hand as he spoke, his eyes boring into Ricardo like two red hot laser beams. The lifeless eyes had now come alive.

Ricardo slide back his chair and stood, looking Domingo Torres Chavez in the eyes, something very few people did and lived to tell about it. Clearing his throat he said with quite determination. “I know where the man lives and have paid five million dollars to Mary Lunsford.” Glancing briefly at her and continuing in the same soft voice. “She is supposed to have one of your fellow countrymen take care of your problem. I don’t have anymore information to add at this moment in time. I believe Mary Lunsford will have more to say later about the subject.” Ricardo stopped for a moment to let the members take in what he had said. The problem was theirs and not his or his brothers. He continued speaking, “The two chances we had late last year didn’t go our way. The first time my younger brother was killed, but not this Simon Hardman or his family. The second time Hardman killed the man we thought could get the job done in a stand up knife fight. At least that’s what we think happened to our hired killer. The man was an ex-American military person who was very good with a knife. Apparently he wasn’t good enough to kill Hardman. The man was found floating in the water dead off the coast of Miami several months ago.” Ricardo sat back down and waited for Domingo to speak.

What Ricardo didn’t say to the members sitting at the table before him. He personally wanted to distance himself from Simon Hardman. The man had proved more than once that he was a tough and dangerous man. In all the years Ricardo had been in the drug smuggling business. He had never come across a man like Hardman. The man should be left alone. It was smart business sense to do so and it could keep Hardman from personally coming after Ricardo. Being invisible was the smart choice. The people sitting at the table didn’t seem to comprehend the sort of man Hardman was. It didn’t help that Mary Lunsford fueled these people. Ricardo wished his younger brother would find a different playmate. Mary Lunsford might possible be the death of both brothers.

Domingo Chavez broke into Ricardo’s dark thoughts by asking him a question.

“I am sorry to hear about your brother, Ricardo. Did this Simon Hardman kill him?’ Domingo asked.

“No, he was killed by our man. You see ladies and gentlemen my younger brother was an agent of the DEA. He was killed for being a traitor to the family.” When Ricardo finished that statement he added quickly, “You see our family has but only one credo that we live by. It goes for every family member, never turn your back on or do anything against the family or you will die.”

For the third time today both Ricardo and Jorge were caught off guard, everyone at the table stood and clapped. The members then approached each of them individually and patted them on the back or gave them a hug. It was most unnerving to the Munoz brothers.

When everyone made it back to their prospective seats Carlos spoke for the first time since Domingo started his report to the members. He motioned to Mary who from the moment of her arrival sat quietly and said nothing.

“Mary, would you please bring the members up to date on my plans to have the agent in charge of the DEA for Colombia assassinated. After that would you then share the plans we have for Simon Hardman and his family. I believe Rubio, that the man who spoke to your brother in prison will not be among the living much longer. Consider it a gift from me to you personally from me and Domingo the same for you.”

Rubio stood, walked over to Carlos, and gave him a manly hug, thanking him, the emotion was apparent to all at the table and a quite a surprise to several members at the table. He turned walked back to his seat, patting his nephew own the arm as he set down.

“Thank you Carlos,” was all that Mary said and started to speak to the group. Her ego was on overtime. She loved being center of attention around these people. No one dared interrupt her when she spoke except for her part time lover and boss Carlos Ramirez.

“First our plans had to be put into place a few weeks quicker than we wanted, due to the capture of Rubio’s brother. There is a twist that I have just found out about and will get to momentarily. I want to assure the members at the table first and foremost, that Alejandro Morales premature capture won’t stop Carlos wishes. The head of the South American sector of the DEA, George Silva, has been called back to the states for a secret meeting this weekend. The meeting he is to attend has been moved up due to the capture and identification of Alejandro Morales. George Silva will be going to the states in two days to make plans for taking Alejandro back for prosecution under drug trafficking laws. The failed attempt of getting him out of prison has caused the Americans at act quickly.” She looked at Rubio and said “They want to make an example out of him.”

All present at the table noticed how Rubio griped the arms on the chair. They were in microseconds of being torn from there mounts. He should have won an Academy award for his false display of emotion, he thought to himself. Would the attempts on George Silva and Simon Hardman be good or bad for Rubio’s grand scheme? Only time would tell, he thought.

Rubio’s nephew and son of Alejandro couldn’t restrain him self any longer and jumped up and started screaming. He would kill all of the American pigs who were involved with his father’s extradition. His Uncle Rubio stood up and grabbed Emilio embracing him first and then shaking him. In a soothing, but commanding voice he tells his nephew to calm down. It would all be taken care of, but without emotion. The emotion could come later when things were taken care of. Emotion would could judgment and that wasn’t good for business. He hugged him and patted his back and then both sat back down. The distraction by his nephew was a bonus.

Mary waited until everyone had time to take a deep breath and be seated again. They all took a sip of whatever drinks each of the members had in front of them. It also gave them time to get their thoughts in order after the emotional outburst of young Emilio Morales.

She spoke in a voice now that had the tone of do not interrupt me again and continues with her portion of the briefing.

“Mr. Silva will be flying into Miami tomorrow morning. He will meet with several top DEA officials in Miami. Upon the completion of the meeting in Miami, Agent Silva will then fly to Destin, Florida. This is his final destination and where he will try and recruit Simon Hardman.”

Domingo Chavez arose from his chair like he had been catapulted from it. As he did this, he knocked the chair over with a thunderous crash. He was about to speak when Carlos shook his head and told Domingo to sit down.

Mary continued once again. She was getting tire do being interrupted. Her expression told all members this and not to interrupt her again.

”Silva’s plans are to return to Colombia on Monday. This is his first visit to the states in quite a while. Considering he has Alejandro locked up securely in prison. Silva is going to spend the weekend in Destin. It is also Labor Day weekend and is the last big holiday signaling the end of the summer for tourist. On Sunday Agent Silva will be boarding a charter boat to go deep sea fishing. That’s when he will be taken out. I have hired an expert assassin by the name of Kira Machado to kill Agent Silva.”

Mary no sooner got her name out to the cartel members than Alicia Fuentes Ortega spoke out objecting loudly to using Kira Machado. Mary expected the outburst and kept her face neutral. She didn’t want to tangle with Alicia Ortega.

“How dare you use Kira Machado? She killed my husband two years ago. He was the number two man in FRAC and that cold-blooded killer of a bitch, shot him in the head at a ceremony after his election into the Senate. She is an enemy to all good communist of our country!”

“I am well aware of what happened to your husband and who killed him, Mrs. Ortega. But Kira Machado is the best assassin in South America or maybe even in the world. What’s important is that the world doesn’t know who she is. That’s what is important. She has never missed and I think you know how she became what she is. I believe it was a FRAC brigade out of control who killed her parents and tried to rape her. Had it not been for Felix Sabina of a little known right wing paramilitary group at the time? It was his daring rescue of her that kept her alive! She would have been killed and left in the jungle to rot?”

Mary’s contempt for what happened to Kira did not go unnoticed by all at the table. Alicia Fuentes Ortega had only been married a short time when her husband was killed. Her so called communist leanings were and would be short lived. At the time it was the in thing to be a rich communist and Alicia had followed along not realizing her late husband had been looking out for his own personal interests and power rather than supporting the ideals of communism. He just picked the wrong group to be apart of. Had he chose the right wing side he would have been alive today instead of dead by a lady assassin who had a personal grudge against all communist in her country.

The woman also had a half billion dollars in banks around the world. What would she know about the poor and suffering, Mary thought. Looking across the table at her all Mary saw was a spoiled rich bitch.  A dangerous spoiled rich bitch that Mary would have to be very careful when she was around her. Alcoa’s father would have her killed in an instant of he thought Mary was showing disrespect to his only daughter.

“Now if I may, I would like to finish, I am waiting on a call and may have to leave for Cartagena. I have to finish up the particulars for the assassination on George Silva and Simon Hardman. The weekend is almost here and Kira is already in place. But I have to meet with Felix Sabina possibly if things in Destin become unmanageable. For the five million dollars you people are paying for the deaths of George Silva and Simon Hardman. I expect no failure from Kira Machado. Most importantly if what I think is going to happen, happens. Agent Silva is in Destin to recruit Simon Hardman.” Marry waited a second to let that sink in. “Silva wants Hardman to fly to Colombia and escort Alejandro Morales back to the U.S. If she misses her chance in Destin to kill Hardman and I think she will. Then Kira Machado can terminate him in Colombia once he arrives. Trying to make two hits in the same town in the same week will almost be impossible. I personally don’t think it’s possible to make two hits in the same town in the same week or day. Unless Hardman shows up and goes fishing and I don’t think that will happen. He stays close to his family and home.”

Mary had everyone’s attention now, all eyes were own her, especially Jorge. His disappointment in hearing she might have to leave didn’t sit well with him. He wanted to take her to bed a soon as possible. In fact he had heard enough for now. Jorge was ready for some drinking and romance! He almost pleaded over the phone three days ago for her to come see him. Jorge had caught himself just in time. He would not beg, it would have to be mutual, but now looking at her, damn she was looking fine and he wanted her in the worst way.

The call started as a business call three nights ago dealing with the assassination of Simon and his family. Because the Munoz brothers were in partnership with a group of three brothers in Destin, they were asked to help. The three brothers handled all the drugs and most of the prostitution in the Destin area and Kira Machado would need friends. Once Jorge and Mary had finished the business side of the phone conversation it turned quickly to his wanting to see her. Mary seemed to try and put distance between herself and their night in the Bimini. It upset Jorge and he ended the conversation quickly and hadn’t tried to call her since.

Jorge glanced over at Consuelo and smiled at her, maybe she wouldn’t be a bad choice for the night. She was very beautiful and her expensive perfume filled the room. Yes indeed, if Mary didn’t want to join him in his bed. Then Consuelo Ramirez would be a prefect substitute for the night.

The smile between the two didn’t go unnoticed by Mary. Her eyes spoke volumes of what she would do to the young woman if given half the chance. Jorge just smiled even more once he saw his flirting with Consuelo was getting to Mary. Good, the bitch needed a taste of her own medicine. After all he was Jorge Munoz.

Carlos Ramirez stood once more and said, “I think that brings a new light on the situation my friends. Think you Mary, good work.”

Carlos knew from talking with her earlier that there might be trouble from Alicia Ortega since her husband had been killed by Kira. The Machado woman was the best and would fit in perfectly in a tourist place like Destin. The Munoz brothers had contacts in that area and they would be used to get Kira Machado in and out. That was part of the guarantee that Kira demanded regardless of the money. She wouldn’t be in her own territory and therefore stipulations had to be met in order to acquire her services. Kira had never killed anyone outside of Colombia and this would be a first for her. On top of that the man had nothing to do with Colombia and her fight against the communist or the cartels. That was her passion in life.

When Carlos spoke again he said with emotion in his voice, “No one at this table wants Simon Harman dead more than my sister Doroto, her husband Domingo, and me. But business must come first and then the pleasure of killing that man. In fact I want his family killed; I want no one left that this man cares about, pounding the table, is that under stood.”

Turning to Mary, see what you can do about making that happen Mary,” he says with pure hatred in his voice. Then getting his emotions under control and calming down Carlos then says, “This meeting has lasted long enough for today. We will meet back in the morning around 10:00 to discuss the legal side of the business with Alicia and Doroto speaking. As laws are passed to make it easier to take us out of our own countries and prosecute us, we need to understand how that works and what we can do to avoid extradition.”

Ricardo bent over quickly to his younger brother and said, “Lets go to the marina an bring the boat here. We can have it fueled and then park it at the beach. I want the boat close, ok with you Jorge?”

The disappointment showed in his voice but he agreed in the end.

Ricardo picked up on it and said, “Ask Mary to come along. It’s still an hour or so before we eat. Maybe a little speed will get her in the mood,” smiling at his brother.

A fast ride in El Diablo tended to make women weak kneed. It was then that Ricardo noticed Alicia looking at him. “Perhaps I will have a companion of my own.”

He walked quickly around the table and asks Alicia point blank, “I am bringing my boat from the marina. Would like to join me and my brother for a fast ride?”

At the same time Jorge was asking the same thing of Mary. Many sets of eyes watched in amusement and pleasure. Having Ricardo Munoz in the family wasn’t a bad idea and just maybe he would change Alicia’s political views. They were a sore point with most members at the table.

“I would like that very much Ricardo,” replied Alicia, purring out his name while touching his arm, which in turn sent a jolt up his arm. “Let me change into something more relaxing, it shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”

A few minutes went by and then fifteen more minutes before Alicia was ready. The brothers didn’t mind though. It gave both of them time for a quick shower. Next each of the brothers rubbed expensive cologne over their bodies. Then came the kaki shorts and slip over shirts with boat shoes. Ricardo was wearing a solid gold necklace with a single gold Krugerrand fastened to it. The elder Munoz loved gold. Jorge didn’t wear much in the way of jewelry, only a watch. The brothers were ready and left the room as Alicia Ortega exited her condo.

A car in front and behind with two security guards in each followed them to the marina. Arriving at the marina Mary and Jorge sat in the back of the car with seat belts fasten and holding hands. The ride over had been like two kids on a hot date, lots of groping and kissing. Jorge decided the smiling charade at Consuelo during the meeting must have worked on Mary.

The ride back to the villas was a great deal more exciting. The water was calm and it was nothing for Ricardo to have El Diablo running 90 miles an hour across the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean Sea. The power of the massive 1200 horsepower engines throbbed through the boat giving both women quite a charge. Their faces were flushed and their legs were closed tightly together causing a greater sensation to run through their bodies. Ricardo’s speedboat became Mary and Alicia’s individual sex toy if only for a moment.

In fact they went flying past the villas with engines announcing there coming and passing. History was in the making on this day in the Caribbean. For the first time a woman was allowed to handle the controls of El Diablo. Alicia derived great pleasure in driving the boat and for the first time in many years deep laughter came from her. She told Ricardo after they swapped again allowing him to bring the beast of a boat onto the beach that he would have his people build her one identical to his. All she had to do was to pick the color scheme. Alicia pressed her breasts into his bicep to show her delight. Ricardo eased back on the throttles as he approached the beach taking care not to ground his boat hard on the bottom and cause a stress crack. He treated El Diablo better than he did most humans. When Alicia had press up against his arm he nearly lost his train of thought. With quick maneuvering Ricardo just barley stops El Diablo within inches of running aground.

Fifteen minutes later he was in the shower with Alicia, having his back washed and then another forty-five minutes of passionate lovemaking. This was something he had never experienced before and he enjoyed the experience immensely with this woman. Just like his brother he had been careful not to show any kind of affection towards a woman. During his fathers reign as head of the family and business Ricardo had been like a monk to a certain extent. The only women allowed ion his bed were women who could be thrown away like a piece of garbage. Around Juan Carlos it was a sign of weakness to show affection. He was amazed that he had ever been born with the way his father had been. They were late for the dinner with the cartel members and Jorge and Mary never showed at all. The servants brought food to Jorge’s room, after a phone call hours later.

Jorge wasn’t missed; most of the Colombian-Mexican cartels members knew of Ricardo’s reputation in their business. As long as he showed up for dinner with Alicia own his arm, that’s was all that mattered. After all he was the oldest and that meant something in the Latin world. Ricardo was the defacto head of the Munoz family. And now it looked like a union by marriage could be made between the oldest Munoz and the daughter of the second most powerful drug cartel in Colombia. Alonso hadn’t seen his daughter this happy in a very long time and he was immensely happy for her. The Aruba meeting had turned out to be a positive event in many aspects he thought.

The pilot of the sleek white Gulfstream 350 with its signature winglets pointing upward at the ends of its wings started lining his aircraft up for approach towards Opa Locka airport at 2100 on a clear Thursday evening. He was twenty minutes out flying at 2000 feet and 200 knots and lighting off in the distance towards Fort Lauderdale could be seen from the cockpit windshield, typical weekday thunderstorms that pop up around the coast of Florida daily. Due to the passenger on board aircraft 09KY73, the tower would stay open a half-hour longer than there normal 21:00 to allow a smooth and timely landing for the aircraft and its passenger. Who ever the man was and he was the only passenger sitting in the cabin carried a lot of clout apparently. The pilot had flown into this airport many times in his twenty years of flying. Opa Locka airport had never stayed open late, unless it was someone with a lot of clout.

This particular plane was not cheap to fly, even for short distances. His company mainly flew the 350 on long hauls like the flight he was presently flying. They took off out of Bogotá a little after 1830 and flew at 40,000 feet at a speed of .88 mach to get to Miami as quick as possible. The jet fuel was burning by the microsecond as the corporate jet rocketed across darkening skies to its destination.

The passenger was in a hurry and money wasn’t a problem for this trip. The pilot commented to his copilot, that their passenger must be an important government bureaucrat belonging to one of the many agencies. “You can smell it own him. Probably a spook, they were always in a hurry.”

His copilot didn’t comment only made a mental note of the passenger. This was third time this week the flight crew had flown to South America and back. “Something big must be happening.” The pilot said not expecting his copilot to answer. The pilot had gotten used to his copilot not talking very much. About the only time he did was if the conversation was about women or golf.

The copilot did what he normally did and just grunted his reply. He then went back to monitoring the two Multi-Functional Display Units. The “MFDU’s as they were nicknamed, displayed all avionic and power systems onboard this sleek jet. They were directly hardwired to a mission computer that spit out all the information on the MFDU’s screen every few micro-seconds. It was standard avionics for all corporate/private jets. They had become flying computer systems.

Glancing away from the HUD “Heads UP Display” and out his windshield the pilot could see the lights of downtown Miami coming at him quickly His copilot punched in the numbers 120.7 on the radio control box for the proper frequency and keyed his microphone headset and ask for instructions from the tower on what runway to line up for. Now that he had been passed from Miami International’s radar air traffic controllers to the Opa Locka tower. The pilot held to a course of 25 degrees north and 80 degrees west waiting on specific instructions from the tower at Opa Locka.

A deep voice came through his headset telling him to line up with runway 9L/27R giving him the information for this particular runway with a heading of 269 magnetic. Winds were out of the North at 8 miles an hour, temperature was 85 degrees, and altimeter pressure was 29.93 inches. It looked like he would be landing on the longest runway at 8000 feet. They were taking this passenger from Bogotá Colombia to Miami and then would refuel and RON “Remain over night” for the evening and then head to Destin, Florida in the late afternoon.

The pilot was still scratching his head over who the man was and how important he must in order to keep the airport open past its normal hours. Only that he must have the juice, because you didn’t change the hours of air traffic control unless it was some body heavy in rank or a high level bureaucrat. The pilots’ curiosity was working on overtime on this particular flight. The company he flew for had a lucrative contract with the Federal government for doing just the job he was performing at the moment.

Aircraft 09KY73 lined up for approach using the aircraft “Enhanced Vision System” to land. It was like landing in the sunshine he thought. This was the pilot’s favorite jet of all the companys aircraft. Touchdown was perfect and the flight had only taken a little over two hours. This beat flying fighter jets for a living. He had joined the military to use it as a stepping stone. His ego wasn’t as such that he strutted around like a peacock the way his fellow officers had. To this pilot it was about money and comfort not ego at flying the hottest fighter aircraft. He liked making over a hundred thousand dollars a year and being at home when he wasn’t flying.

They were instructed to pull up to the terminal for private charters and wait for a car to pull up and blink its lights twice. The jet no sooner came to a stop and its tires chalked than a big black SUV with, dark tinted windows pulled up. No one got out though, now that was strange. The passenger came towards the front with his carry on bag and a second bag that stored his computer. The man had been on the computer from the time the plane had taken off out of Bogotá, it was now stowed back in its case. The passenger said thanks as he walked past to exit the jet.

Maintenance personnel opened the door and extended the steps and the mysterious passenger stepped off and walked to the ominous looking SUV. The passenger got into the back seat and with a squeal of the tires it sped away into the darkness. The pilot looks over at his copilot and commented. “Now that’s what I like about this job, lots of strange things and total weirdness.”

The copilot nodded his head in agreement. He didn’t care about the strange passengers. Being a sky-chauffeur was easy and the money was real good. Plus there was always someone willing to give him a little extra money for information about who was on board and where they were flying to. His secret bank account in the Bahamas proved that to be true. He would make a phone call when he got back to D.C. He was sure the man known as Mister Carter would be interested.

“Shall we go get a room now and fuel this thing in the morning or fuel it now?” The copilot looked up from the paperwork he was singing off and said, “Lets get a room, this is Miami and the women are beautiful. We can meet back at 10:00 tomorrow and get the jet ready. It says here on the flight manifest that we don’t takeoff for Destin until 1300. Sound good to you.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” replied the pilot. He was ready to sip on a couple of mojitos and bed a Latin beauty.

George Silva was a man on a mission and in a big hurry when he left Bogotá Colombia only a couple of hours ago. The flight had been quick and George barely finished emails to his boss and others in the agency. His last email was to his counterpart in the CIA back in Bogotá, a man by the name of Scott. That’s’ all the CIA spook went by. When the tires squealed as the jet touchdown, George hit the send button on his lap top.

Earlier as the jet crossed the Gulf of Mexico, George Silva had watched out the window as they chased the sunset. It was a beautiful sight and allowed George to relax just a little. Something he couldn’t afford to do when he was in Colombia. Being relaxed could get you killed in South America. When you were the head of the DEA for the region, caution was the norm in such a deadly game. The heads of the Colombian cartels wanted him dead. There was a rather large bounty for his head by cartel members in Bogotá, Medellin, and Cali Colombia. Added to the list could be the leaders of the leftist guerilla groups. George Silva was not a popular person in Colombia. It was the nature of the business he gladly volunteered to be apart of since his gradation from college.

George wasn’t sure what to expect once he landed and was met by his equal in Florida. Christian Bell was known though out the agency and George was impressed with him as a leader who got things done. He only hoped Chris as he was called could handle being told that two of his people would be going to Colombia to pick up Morales and “No” wasn’t an option. This was coming from very high up and even George didn’t have a say. Since the attempted breakout, things were buzzing and that’s why George was here in Miami at this moment in time!

As George sat in his luxury leather seat aboard the jet, he went back over the chain of vents for the past several hours. He took a note pad from his briefcase and made notes. He would brief the two men as best he could on what had transpired so far. Like a cameras film being rewound, George made his notes. After the attempted prison breakout of Alejandro Morales that turned into bloody failure for the leftist guerillas. They had been hired by none other than Rubio Morales according to George Silva’s counterpart in the CIA. The spook had good “Intel” inside the Colombian drug cartel. Had it not been for the quick thinking prison officials upon learning who was in the prison cell. The prison officials immediately called and ask for support from a special commando group within the Colombian Army. Next they called George Silva and Scott from the CIA. The decision was made quickly by all involved that they had to get Alejandro Morales out of Colombia as quick as possible. The number two man in the Morales drug trafficking organization was going to sit in a Federal Penitentiary for a very long time indeed.

George Silva loved the new laws that allowed the U.S. to take theses people out of there own country and try them in America for drug trafficking. It had taken many years of negotiation’s and world politicians getting the right economic pressure on government officials in Colombia to get the law enacted. George also thought that many of Colombians present day politicians were tired of the drug traffickers and the money they paid the different communist groups to cause instability within the country. And that’s what it really took to get a country straightened out. It took its citizens finally getting fed up with the status-quo and wanting change for the better. George finished his notes and put the note pad back in his briefcase. He then locked it and put the handcuff around his wrist. George and the briefcase were now one entity.

George closed the door to the SUV and look to see who came to meet him. He wasn’t sure who would meet him. His phone conversation while in route from Colombia to his boss in D.C., didn’t say. The only comment his boss would made. “The man in charge you will be meeting tonight name is Christian Bell. He is the leader of the best team of agents in South Florida. They are the best field agents in the DEA.”

“Yes sir, I understand sir. I am to meet with a man by the name of Christian Bell. But why am I meeting with him?’ George tried to interject into the one sided conversation.

The next thing his boss said was, “Christian Bell has been briefed personally by me George, right before you called. The names of the two men who will volunteer have already been suggested to Christian.”

“What are their names if I may ask Director Steel?”

His boss had become tight lipped when George had asked further questions about the people he would meet. The gruff reply had been, “Just get to Miami and make sure Christian Bell cooperates with your request. You have to pick a couple of tough bastards George. Because getting Morales out that country isn’t going to be easy. Word is spreading through out the streets of Bogotá of big rewards for anyone who gets Alejandro out of prison. So time is of the essence and there is no time for squabbling. Christian Bell is very protective of his agents.”

“But sir, if you already have the names of the two agents. Why am I flying to Miami?”

Director Steel changes the subject to the names of the two agents he wants to fly to Colombia. George was now in complete disarray with his boss. The man was bouncing around. First he wouldn’t say who he wanted to escort Morales and now he was gruffly telling him the two agent’s names.

“I have two names for you, George. Have you got a pencil so you can write the names down? The first name is Santiago Esteban. He is a Cuban and first generation American. The man is as big as a house. He also speaks Spanish which is going to be very helpful. The second man to volunteer is Simon Hardman. He also speaks Spanish fluently. Don’t let Christian Bell soft soak you, George. Those are the two agents who should go,” and then his boss hung up the phone.

George looked at the dead satellite phone with a blank look on his face. Why was the director doing things this way? This was not standard protocol. Who were these two men that would be forced to volunteer? It sounded like to George that he didn’t have a say at all as to who would go to Colombia. That was out of line as far as George was concerned. This whole scenario was getting weirder by the minute. Were the two agents on Director Steel’s shit-list, apparently so? George wondered if they knew they were about to volunteer for a very dangerous assignment.

There were two men in the big vehicle besides the driver. The first individual, who looked like a marathon runner sitting in the front passenger seat turned and stuck his hand out. “How was your flight, I am Marty Cipriano. I will be escort here in Miami and then Destin. I’ve been with agency for 10 years, mostly fieldwork until recently. My main area of operations was in the panhandle of Florida with a few operations in the Caribbean and South Georgia. The man sitting next to you is my boss Christian Bell. We call him Chris for short.”

“How do you do,” he said, shaking Marty’s hand. George then turns to face Christian Bell and sticks his out. The two men shake hands and George then says, “It’s nice to meet both of you. I have heard good things of you Chris within the agency.”

Chris spoke as the big black fortress of an SUV heads towards the DEA offices in downtown Miami.

“Mr. Silva did you have a chance to eat on the flight? If you’re hungry we can stop and eat. Neither Marty nor I have eaten. There is a place just up the road that we can stop at and have a quick supper. The seafood is fresh and the steaks aren’t half-bad either. The beer is the coldest in Miami.” Chris never acknowledges George Silva’s comment about his reputation.

“Please call me George and yes that would be fine. I didn’t eat on the flight from Bogota. It was a pretty quick trip and I was busy on my computer catching up on reports to send to my boss in DC. In fact when we are though eating I need to get somewhere and hook up my laptop. I will need to send Director Steel another email with my full report of our meeting.”

“No problem, George. If it’s all right with you after we eat we can go by my office. You can send in your reports and then we can have a more secure chat and then my driver will take you to your hotel and you can sleep in late and come back to my office in the morning around 10:00.”

Chris was good at putting people at ease when he wanted too and tonight he was in high gear. Chris could also be the exact opposite if you pissed him off. He was also telling George Silva ever so subtlety that he was in charge. The man was a natural born politician.

“It sounds good to me. Director Steels only concern is to have two of your men ready to head to Colombia as soon as possible. They are to escort Alejandro Morales back to Miami where a military transport will fly him to Washington D.C. His brother Rubio has already tried to break him out once and according to rumors on the street in Bogotá. There is a substantial reward for busting him out of prison.”

Marty turned around in his seat nearly strangling himself from the sudden movement and tighten of the seat belt. His eyes blazed with fire. Needless to say his normal poker face was gone.

“What the hell did you just say, two agents from Miami to escort Morales back to here. Why not use the military or the CIA. Uh excuse me George sorry about bringing up the later of the two.” Seeing the look on George Silva’s face made it clear the CIA was not an option. “Scratch the CIA, no spooks. Who is your boss and what did he specifically say,” Marty asks, letting the concern in his voice show. He was already getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. Marty noticed Chris just sat and kept silent with a stoned look on his face.

“I report directly to the Chief of Operations, Daniel Steel. When the director isn’t available I report to his deputy Ronald Smith. To answer the first part of your question Marty, yes I am here to see that two agents fly to Colombia for escort duty. Mr. Steel said without a doubt that Christian Bell would have the perfect men for the job and that “No” was not an option for you Chris. He said that you would have at least two people highly qualified to take on the assignment. If you refused, then he would have you in his office before the sun went down Saturday. The names Daniel mentioned during our phone conversation were a Simon Hardman and Santiago Esteban. I take it you know both of these men.”

Chris spoke quickly cutting Marty off from speaking further, “Did Director Steel give you a reason for his suggesting those two particular men, George?” There was nothing but steel in Chris’s voice.

“He said it was up to you personally. But that he was sure you would know exactly whom he was thinking of after the meeting in his office a few days ago. He expects you to send whomever you and he were discussing and if it was someone different. Then he was to know immediately. Is there a reason these two men are not available?”

Marty looked from Chris to George trying to understand what was being said silently between the two men and guessing correctly within a matter of seconds. With a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Marty nearly doubled over. The two agents would be Simon and Santo and no other agents would be selected for this operation. This was not good for his two friends. Chris spoke with Marty privately on the subject of his meeting with the Chief of Operations after landing in Miami a few days ago. It didn’t take long for rumors to work there way up the chain of command about possible rogue agents and the mess in Georgia and Miami. Chris felt someone in the Miami office informed the administrators in DC of two certain agents and their possible activities outside the law.

Of course it would be all guessing on the part of anyone else in the office. Only Chris, and the people involved knew it was true. DEA agents did go outside the law. Their names were Simon Hardman and Santiago “Santo” Esteban. Chris told Marty he felt sure that before it was over with he would be relieved of his duties. Actual proof didn’t matter. It was what was right ethically to the heads of the DEA. The agency couldn’t handle behavior from any of its agents of this magnitude.

Daniel Steel had been really mad and when Chris said the rumors were false. That had sent the director into quite a rage. Daniel Steel even knew the names of the two agents. There stood Chris telling him to his face that he didn’t know what he was talking about and apparently was miss-informed. It was absurd to think that agents employed by the DEA were taking the law into their own hands. How the director knew about Simon and Santo he never said to Chris.

The last thing Chris said before leaving the office of Daniel Steels was to suggest Marty’s name to him as a replacement. Apparently Director Steel thought that was a good idea and would look into it. Chris’s finally comment was that he had already made plans to work with the CIA as a liaison between them and the DEA. As far as Chris was concerned you didn’t step down from his type of job and still hang around as someone’s assistant.

Chris felt he still had a good 15 years of service to contribute his country. Mainly combating the flow of drugs into the country he loved dearly. Hell, Chris thought as he left Director Steels office. Let the director figure out who the snitch was to ex-agent Mary Lunsford. They wouldn’t snitch much longer if he found out. Christian Bell had a zero tolerance policy for sell outs. He had proved once before when Simon Hardman was almost killed.

Now riding along with George Silva, it looked like Chris was right, Simon and Santo were on the shit-list and this was a message to both of them. Marty wondered what his friends of many years would say. Over the summer Simon had refused any operations from the agency. He looked at files and made comments and not much else. He stayed close to his girls Megan, Nicole at all times. His wife Lori was only left alone during the time his friend was running with the girls each morning and swimming before lunch at noon time. Megan and Nicole were in top shape now and looked like marathon runners. Their senior year would be there best on the cross country team. Both girls were running nineteen minute 5K races.

Simon had worked hard getting them ready for the season. Marty also knew his friend had taught his girls how to shoot handguns over the summer break also. Along with the shooting came proper gun safety when handling a handgun. Simon had recently given each daughter their own personal handguns, semi-auto 357’s. Marty stood back and watched his friend over the summer do these types of things and how he was acting more and more like a watchdog. Marty thought it was one thing to teach Meagan and Nicole how to shoot and proper gun safety. But to buy his 16 year daughters their own handguns was a bit much.

Marty knew his friend didn’t see what he was doing, that it was all done subconsciously, Lori did see it, even understood it and had called and talked with both him and Sue on several occasions. Of how Simon would stay up past midnight each night walking around inside and outside the house like a guard dog. If he wasn’t pacing around the house he was sitting out at the end of the dock looking out at the bay waters. Lori was worried that some night a stranger might be in trouble and seeking help. God forbid if they walked up on Simon unannounced. Lori also told Marty and Sue that the whole time he was doing this, it just seemed natural to him and he couldn’t see what he was doing.

When Marty had finally decided he should talk to his friend. Lori had called and talked with Sue about a week ago and said Simon had finally come to the same conclusion everyone around him already could see and understand. He was worried about people coming to hurt his family. He was protecting his family as a female lion does for her cubs, except Simon would be a hell of a lot more dangerous.

Marty looked at his boss and contemplates whether he was thinking the same thing. It would surprise both of them if Simon would leave Lori and the girls and fly to Colombia and baby sit a kingpin drug trafficker. With all the risks involved with such a dangerous assignment. Santo was another problem of sorts. He was as independent in his thinking and actions as Simon. If Simon agreed to go, then Santo would go with him no questions asked. But if Simon balked at the assignment, then all bets were off on Santo going, Marty thought.

The thought of loosing both his friends because the agency had a corn cob up their butts was almost too much for Marty to think about. What if he did replace Chris as head of the southeast sector in the not so distant future? Then loosing two men like Simon and Santo would be devastating. He would start off with a major handicap. All Marty could do was shake his head in disgust.

They pulled into the restaurant that was more of a local hangout than for tourist and had no problem getting a table this time of the night. Something outside close to the water Chris suggested to the waitress. The bay sparkled and shimmered from the many lights coming from businesses and condos in the area. Both Chris and Marty had become very tense from the short ride and their brief talk with George Silva. The two men were thinking the same thing. I stiff drink was needed.

Things were going to be changing in the agency. If they were going to find an excuse to force Simon and Santo become escorts. Then how long before someone in the agency came up with another dangerous assignment that wasn’t normal field work. Undercover work for the DEA was dangerous enough without being forced to volunteer for escort duty. Marty knew Simon would pick up on this and would eventually if not sooner than later, tell the agency to take a flying leap. His friend of many years main concern was his family. He walked away once before from the DEA. He would do it again.

Chris ordered for everyone, starting with oysters on the half shell. When they had finished the oysters he had ordered a pound of crab claws steamed in beer and spices that were brought out on a bed of ice. The main course was grilled mahi-mahi and a salad with the house Italian dressing. Normally Chris would have had beer with this meal but tonight he chose a ½-gallon pitcher of frozen margaritas. He was going to see what else George might know and this was a good way of doing just that. It was now after 10:00 and with such a rich meal of seafood and margaritas. It should be a good tongue loosing tool. Chris had already decided that if need be a second pitcher would be ordered. Chris would then pick his mind for every bit of knowledge George had about this request for Simon and Santo’s services.

Finishing the pitcher of margaritas by topping off everyone’s glass, Marty asks George, “What else do you know about the assignment of picking up Morales and bringing him back to the U.S.?”

George looked around and noticed they were the only ones in the sound of there own voices. He leaned over anyway and spoke in a low tone.

“Only that the government wants Morales real bad. You know how this country is. They want to send a message to the traffickers in Colombia and elsewhere that they are no longer safe from America and its reach when it comes to drug trafficking. I think its naive thinking on our part to think this will do anything to deter drug smuggling. Every year the amount profits made from the selling of illegal drugs goes up. It’s nearly at the 60 billion dollar mark now. Those people don’t give a shit about messages. I have been in Columbia for eight years as the special agent in charge. I understand the people, their culture and have a great deal admiration and respect for them. But the people running the drug operations don’t care about our laws or anyone else’s. They are entrenched in Colombia and Mexico like ticks on a hound dog. I will tell you something else my friends. As long as Americans want drugs, then the Morales and Guzman’s and Ramirez’s will have a job. Something has to be done here in the U.S. to stem the flow of drugs by educating the people to harmfulness of drugs and where the money goes. We know without a doubt that money is being sent to terrorist groups around the world. Members of both the Irish and Muslim terrorist groups have been caught in Colombia. We are tacking large sums of money through the international banking community to the Middle East and Afghanistan. We are also at this very moment tracking a known mid-eastern terrorist in Colombia. The man has been seen on several occasions by CIA assets with certain members of one particular drug cartel.”

Marty was watching George’s facial expression’s the whole time he spoke. This man had a lot of passion and apparent knowledge when it came to drug trafficking. His eyes got wider and his face redder as he spoke. Finally Marty broke in and asks again, “So why a couple of agents from Florida George, I just don’t get it.”

“Because that’s the way the boss wants it and I follow orders Marty and I strongly suggest you do the same. I haven’t been told everything and don’t need to be. This is what the agency wants and I am in charge of seeing that it gets done. Why don’t you tell me about who these agents are and why the agency thinks they are just the men to get Alejandro Morales out of Colombia?”

“It’s very simple George,” Christian Bell said interrupting Marty, “The two men the agency wants are responsible for the slow down in drugs in the Southeastern states all the way to New York right now. They did it out of sanction of the agency for the most part. As far as I can tell over twenty drug traffickers, including some very powerful ones are dead and those two men are personally responsible. If you ever repeat what I said to anyone and I mean your boss as you like to call him. I will deny it and then have you shot!” As Chris spoke he leaned over real close so he would be looking George in the eyes when he said it. “Every so often Mr. Silva,” pronouncing the Silva very hard, “In the real world where our laws can hinder an agent from taking down the bad guys. It takes someone willing to step outside of the law to get something accomplished. Those two men are probably best two individual I know of who can do that. Simon Hardman and Santiago Esteban are as deadly as rattlesnakes when pushed into a corner.”

George held his hands up, palms out and said, “Hey man you’re preaching to the choir. I have at least two attempts on my life a year since being assigned to Colombia. Twice now they nearly succeeded and I carry the scars of those bullet wounds on my chest. Your two guys can kill every damn one of them for all I care. All I am in this situation is a go between and to do as I am told to do by the people in Washington. I am to give a briefing to two men by no later than Sunday morning. So they in turn can get on a plane by Tuesday morning after Labor Day. Those are my instructions simply stated.”

Chris stuck his hand up and signaled for the check and then looked over at George and said, “I think we understand each other perfectly wouldn’t you say,” both smiling at each other. “We will take you to my office so you can get your email sent out and then my driver will take you to your hotel.” As they walked out of the restaurant Chris went to the bathroom and left Marty standing with George.

“Your boss seems concerned about the two agents, why is that?” George asked.

“Simon and Santo are like sons to him and I guess that includes me. Simon was our Chief in SEALS many years ago. Then we all joined the DEA after we were recruited by Chris. The Navy wasn’t happy considering the amount of time and money they put into training us. At the time we all thought this was a better way to serve our country and make more money too. The military doesn’t pay all that good!”

Marty finally got back own the subject of Simon and Santo, instead of why they all left the service. There were other reasons for them leaving the service, that weren’t George’s business.

“Once you meet Simon you will understand why Chris thinks so much of him. But Simon does have one major flaw, especially being an agent in the service of his government. When he gets mad, he is hard to control. He gets this rage own and it’s hard to stop him.”

“You mean he’s a loose canon?” George said with disapproval in his voice. “That’s not what will be needed to bring Morales back. It will take a cool head and brains. Also can either man be easily bribed? I am sure Morales will offer both men a millions of dollars to set him free.”

“Not in the since or terminology of saying is he a loose cannon George. The man is a cold calculating fighting machine. He doesn’t go off half-cocked. I have never served with anyone who commands people the way he does. Simon is a natural when it comes to commanding people in tough or messy situations. He also has an uncanny knack for thinking like the bad guys. Not to long ago a group of local drug dealers in Simon’s hometown attempted to kill his high school sweetheart. She was in the process of prosecuting one of the leader’s brothers. They almost succeed in killing her I might add. Simon went and killed everyone involved and broke up a major drug trafficking ring in the area. He would have stopped short on killing so many of them, George. But they left him no choice when the drug dealers took his old sweetheart out of the hospital and held her hostage. From that point forward everyone one of them paid the price with there lives. The cartel also took an old friend of his too and tortured him and shot him up with heroin and would have killed both of them if Simon hadn’t stopped them. That’s the kind of man Simon is. I don’t want to paint the picture of him as some kind of killing machine. All the man really wants to do is be left alone and raise his family now and be a beach bum of sorts. Along with a new wife, he has twin teenage daughters and one on the way now. Its one reason Chris doesn’t like the idea of Simon going to Colombia.” As Marty finished his last sentence Chris came out of the restroom, heading towards the door with a lets go guys trailing behind him, it’s nearly midnight. Marty never had a chance to answer about Simon or Santo being the type who could be bribed. It would come up again.

The ride to Chris’s office was a quite one. The food and drinks relaxed everyone, causing each man to slump in their seats. It wasn’t until the vehicle stopped and parked, that Chris leaned forward and told the driver to get a cup of coffee and wait. He would need to carry George Siva to his hotel shortly. Once the three men were inside Chris’s office sitting comfortably while George sent his emails, did the discussion resume?

“Tell me George,” as Chris poured strong black coffee for each, to help jump start there minds. “Why you didn’t you bring Morales with you? If getting Morales out of Colombia is so important. There was plenty of room on the aircraft. One other person wouldn’t have been a problem, don’t you think George?”

Marty watched his boss asked his question to George Silva. He was staring the man in the eyes. Chris’s never blinked, and his eyes were almost as cold and blue as Simons. It was almost as if Chris was trying to suck his soul right out of him. He had to give it to Silva though; the man looked directly back into Chris eyes without as much as a blink. He spoke without an ounce of intimidation in his voice or expression. The man had sand, he wasn’t just a bureaucrat, Marty thought, watching his boss and this man match wills.

“I wanted to do just that Chris and Marty.” acknowledging both men. “I even suggested it to Washington. You see I was part of the group that captured Morales in the first place. He is my prize for sitting out in that damn jungle for five very long days. Shit, I was being eaten alive by every insect known to man as I waited on the order to raid the drug processing site. We didn’t even know who we had at first. I was looking for a particular commander of one of the leftist groups who was supposed to have a Middle Eastern man with him, possible from Syria. The man is a known terrorist by the name of Muhammad Al Busaid and my informants told me he would be at this particular processing site as a guest. Without beating a dead horse again we all know illegal drug sales help fund terrorism. My informant said this information was good as gold. But something went wrong and he didn’t show or he escapes when the raid first started. Instead Morales ended up being caught. I haven’t had a change to talk to Morales for more than a couple of minutes before my flight. So I don’t know why he was there instead of Busaid.”

“Nothing makes sense about this whole assignment George.” Marty was exasperated and it was evident in his voice.

“The number two CIA man that works in conjunction with me in Colombia said it would have been a major coo to capture Busaid. From the little I got from the man, I don’t think his capture would have been made public. Apparently this man Busaid was the main moneyman for the several of the mid eastern terrorist groups. When he didn’t show I thought Mr. CIA would have an epileptic fit. I have given serious thought as to whether my informant will be alive when I get back to Bogotá. I think his days are numbered. The little I know of the other agent whose name is Scott. He was going to hunt for the informant and get answers as to why the Syrian wasn’t there or if he was at the site then how did he escape. This CIA man, the little I know about him, he never forgives at least not since 9/11. He’s definitely a cold hearted bastard and absolutely without an ounce of mercy. Personally I hope he leaves my informant alone. My informant has always delivered solid information before. I spoke with the CIA agent boss before I left for our meeting. A man named Cort Faraday and I tried to get him to keep his number two man under control.”

“You talked to Cort Faraday? What did he have to say George about this Busaid character and Morales?” Chris didn’t know if Marty knew who Cort Faraday was. Chris didn’t think George realized that Cort was Simon Hardmans’ older brother.

George shook himself and said, “Excuse me guys; I kind of got off the beaten path a little. I hope both you two know how to keep your mouths shut about what I just said pertaining to the Syrian. So anyway, when I called Mr. Steel, he said Colombian officials asked for a little quality time with Morales. At least a couple of days and to be clear on this Chris, you know as well I do. The Colombians don’t even have to give him up. They can thumb there nose’s at the U.S. and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. The law allows us to extradite Morals, but only on the ok of the government involved. We both know about the large amount of aid we give Colombia. I feel; sure that will be brought up to the Colombians.” George ducked the question of Cort Faraday.

Chris decides not to bring up Cort Faraday a second time and let George continue to talk. The Margaritas must have had the desired affect. The man was discussing classified things and giving names that he shouldn’t be to complete strangers.

“Personally and I wouldn’t be surprised when your men arrive in Bogotá that Morales isn’t in to good of shape to travel. So many family members of police and government officials have been killed by the drug cartels, that when the police get one of them in their grasp, it’s not very pleasant for them. Also untraceable money can be made by finding out where the cartel members have money stashed. You have to understand, most of the prison officials and the guards and even the police don’t make a lot of money. I told you earlier that I understand there culture quite well and the majority of the people are poor. Money makes the world go around and its human nature to want to take care of your family and it takes money no matter where you live. What concerns me is Morales may get to some of the people in the system and pay them off. Your men will be in danger the whole time they are in Colombia, you must understand that.”

Chris let out a deep breath and said, “Thanks for telling me what you know and surmise George. Let’s do this since it’s so late. Sleep in and when you get up, call me and we will set up a time for the three of us to fly to Destin. I am pretty sure both Simon and Santo are in Destin. They are in the process of building a home on the beach, along with several other people. From what I hear it sounds like a “compound” for them. Does that suit you George?”

“Sounds good to me Chris,” stifling a yawn, “I have heard of Destin being a fisherman’s paradise. Do you think we could get a little fishing in before we meet with your men or afterwards. I enjoy deep sea fishing, and it isn’t often I get the chance to go fishing for big sea fish.”

“That sounds like a good idea, I will set that up and then Marty can let Simon and Marty know we are coming for a visit Saturday night. Knowing Simon like I do, he will be cooking something big anyway. The man can cook!”

One last time George looked at Marty and said, “You never gave me an answer about whether Simon and Santo being the type of men who could be bribed?”

“What’s this,” Chris said with steel in his voice. “Its ok boss,” Marty replied. “I don’t mind answering him. If the man offers either one of my friends money he will probably end up with his jaw broke. It’s as simple as that George.”

George nodded his head and said, “Sounds good to me, I like these two guys already,” and then he stood up. He stuck out his hand which caused Chris and Marty to stand also. They shook hands and Marty escorted George Silva to the elevator and down stairs to his ride to the hotel.

Marty returned and the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t like this whole scenario one damn bit Chris. It stinks and the agency is setting up Simon and Chris.”

“I know Marty, I told you something heavy was coming down last week and at the time didn’t know exactly what it was. I guess we both know what it is now.”

“Are you going to try and do anything about it Chris? We both understand if the Ramirez cartel finds out about Simon being in Bogotá, it could get real bloody. Phone intercepts prove Carlos Ramirez knows who is responsible for his nephew’s death. Mary Lunsford has done a fine job of telling the man everything about Simon and Santo. What are we going to do about that bitch? I wish you would let me go after her. She needs to be brought back and prosecuted, or shot. I don’t care which one it is, that’s just how I feel about Chris.” Marty was building up a full head of steam. He hated what was about to happen to his friends.

“No she doesn’t Marty. Bringing Mary back is not an option and it could cause a lot of embracement for the agency. On top of that, you need to stay lily white, I want you to be able to assume my position as head of the southeastern sector. I don’t have much longer with the DEA. All the honchos in Washington are not happy with me. As long as things were kept quite and the flow of drugs sent prices up and made the politicians look good everything was kosher. When it leaked out about the mess in Georgia and eventually Florida, it sent the big boys over the top. Plus when you add in the accountant who figured out I paid Simon the whole time he was doing his self-imposed exile in Destin. That was a tidy sum of money for five years. But I will say this and mean every word Marty. Simon Hardman man is worth every damn penny. This agency has to have people like Simon. You have to have a good violence to overcome and defeat evil and Simon is that man. I have never said this to anybody Marty; I love the man as if he was my own son. But I am in the minority. So prepare to take my job.”

“This whole scenario sucks Chris. I don’t like what the agency is trying to do to my friends or you.” Marty wasn’t going to let the subject go. He was like an out of control pit bull when they had bitten someone.

“I believe the Directors words were something to this affect. I want have a bunch of damn vigilantes running around killing people even if they deserve it. It will be done by the book or I will personally send every one of them prison.” I think that about sums it Marty.

“Shit Chris, I don’t want your job. I want to be with Simon and Santo out in the field and on occasion work with Dexter in Savannah. I am a grunt just like Simon and Santo.”

“Dexter will be promoted to the same position just as you will be and soon. They want him to run his own team in Savannah. Things are heating up on the coast of Georgia, not only drugs but also gun running is becoming a big problem. You see Marty things are changing, don’t know if it’s good or bad for the DEA. But things are changing and nothing can be done to stop it, so be smart and go with the flow. One more thing I want to say. You may think of yourself as a grunt, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and you don’t get in a rage like your two friends.”

“I am beginning to see the big picture now Chris. They don’t want your team in business anymore. The agency is going to break it up, so what am I supposed to be in charge of, myself?” Marty says throwing his hands up.

“You would have John Nichols for one and I know Marty he isn’t much of a field man but the man knows how to get data out of any computer. That’s very important in this day and age. Also you will have Pete when he gets out of the academy. And Simon and Santo if they don’t get their butts killed in Colombia. Once you take over you can see about requesting more agents if you want. You will need several here in Miami along with Simon and Santo in the panhandle of Florida. Of course that will be you decision when the time comes as to how you want to use your people.”

“I am going need my two friends if I am going to be affective Chris. The agency can’t handicap me from the start.”

“We can discuss this further tomorrow Marty. It’s late and I am sure Sue is waiting for you. So let’s call it a day and I will get in touch with you in the morning once I hear from George.” Chris fondly patted Marty on his back and walking him to the elevator just as Marty had done earlier for George. As the doors closed, Chris looked at Marty and said, “It will all work out for the best, trust me my young friend.”

Chris turned and walked back to his office, surprised to see John Nichols standing beside his desk.

“I thought you would be gone by now John?”

“Not tonight boss, I am to close to figuring out who is leaking information to Mary. I kind of lost track of time and then as I walked by your side door. I heard the last part of your conversation with Marty. Thank you for your support, but I don’t think he likes me. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

John thought of the lousy job he and Mary had done of keeping surveillance on Marty and those other people at Hardman’s house in Destin. Of course then came the ultimate humiliation. He was thrown off the dock and into the brackish water. Marty had manhandled him as if he was a little boy. John now knew he wasn’t in the same league as Marty or his friends when it came to fieldwork. But he had his strengths and the main one, was his understanding computers. They were his weapon just as a field agent used a handgun. He understood how to look for things that didn’t fit. He could spend hours upon hours looking at data. He loved it. He knew Chris understood this and used his talents, even appreciated his talents with computers. But now after such a short time he was going to lose this man as his boss. It just wasn’t fair!

“John when the time comes, I want you do the same great job for Marty that you have done for me, ok. Marty is smart and will come to appreciate what an asset you will be. Help him learn the bureaucracy side of this job. It can be as dangerous as being in the field. You can see it first hand with me.”

“Yes boss, but its up to Marty. I will work for him if he wants me.”

“I’ll make sure you have a job with Marty. Now go home and be back tomorrow, I want you to go with me to Destin. Its time you came to now the people you will be working with and protecting from the bureaucracy machine in this agency. That will be one of your main jobs once I am gone. Who knows I may even need your assistance from time to time. After all I will be the liaison between the DEA and CIA. Daniel just thinks he’s getting me out of his hair. Very soon I will be a bigger pain in the ass than he ever thought I could be. Steel wants to cover up the leaks and have everything running smooth again and he doesn’t care who he shits own to do it. So as I said John, your job will be to protect Marty and his people from the agency and themselves. This agency needs men like Simon and Santo, just as it need men like, do you understand.”

John nodded his head and was going to speak when Chris cut him off.

“Good night John, don’t let me say it again, I have had enough meetings for one day.” With that Chris sat down in his chair and turned his back to John so he could stair out the window at the blue waters of the bay. He would miss the view, closing his eyes to sleep for a few hours.

A last set of meetings was taken place behind closed doors in the southeastern coastal town of Turbo, Colombia. It was a dangerous town for the innocent population and it was the perfect and safe place for this particular meeting. Turbo was like a town in the old west and the lawless ruled the day. It was two days after the meeting in Aruba, Rubio Morales and Alonso Guzman met with Mario Rodriquez and Octavio Torres of the Colombian Progressive Party to broker a deal to combine all the right wing paramilitary forces into one large group and Mario and Octavio would be its new leaders indirectly. Both men would become part of the government as Senators which was more important.

They met in what appeared to be an old abandon warehouse right on the water front; the location was perfect since all flew in from other parts of Colombia on the same type helicopters. The inside of the warehouse was another story. The two drug cartel leaders spent a million dollars each to have the warehouse renovated into the perfect secret meeting place, plus it was a nice way to lauder money using American dollars. And on occasion when someone within the two cartels needed special attention and severe questions asked of them without worrying about there visitors screams being heard.

Rubio and Alonso came together flying in over the banana fields near the town Apartado, landing only after the second helicopter filled with armed guards touched down first. The heavily armed guards checked the area thoroughly for intruders. Their helicopter hovered several hundred yards back from the warehouse waiting for the all clear over the radio. Mario Torres and Octavio Rodriquez pilot did like wise. Once the all clear sign was given the two helicopters landed.

The Eurocopters were bought and paid for by Rubio and Alonso legal businesses. The two drug smugglers brokered a good deal through French contacts for 2 each of the Super Puma’s. The Super Pumas would carry their entire families. Morales-Guzman also bought several other styles of the Eurocopter including the AS 350B3 Ecureuil which the drug kingpins were flying in today for a total of a dozen helicopters all together. The Ecureuil was better suited to the mountain regions of Colombia due to its more powerful turbine engine and FADEC system. Rubio and Alonzo purchased four of these out the dozen helicopters ordered for that specific reason. Colombia was surrounded by large mountain ranges.

The French didn’t care about another country politics. It was all about selling a product for a huge profit. They didn’t care if the leaders were dictators or tyrants. Money was all the French business men cared about. Morales-Guzman used American dollars, to the tune of 400 million for the purchase of the helicopters. It wasn’t a bad way to lauder money and both drug traffickers retained half dozen lawyers each. The lawyers constantly were looking for ways to lauder money. The two heads of the cartels split the dozen helicopters down the middle. It was a safe way for them and there families to get around Colombia. The only safe guard was that all pilots watched where they flew. Parts of Colombia mountain ranges were dangerous to fly over, no matter who you were. Anything flying was fair game with the guerillas and their shoulder fired rockets.

A final helicopter came in over the concrete ramp and touched down just as Morales-Guzman and their associates started walking across the concrete ramp area to the entrance of the warehouse. The man on board the last helicopter would wait until he was summoned by radio before he would appear at the meeting. This was a meeting that would change the lives of several people and destroy a friendship going back to childhood. Mario and Octavio were fixing to sell out Felix Sabina and would become traitors to a worthy cause and a childhood friend. It would prove to be the downfall and death of both men in the months ahead. Power and money could blind a human and these two men were hungry for both power and money and friendship be damned.

“Well let’s get down to business gentlemen,” Rubio spoke, once the four men were seated and drinks placed in front of them. “I have someone I want you to meet once we are through with our business. So let’s get started with our meeting. What I and my counterpart would like from the two of you, is to join with all other paramilitary groups like the CPP and become one large force. The leftist have become greedy and tiresome with there constant internal bickering and we would like you to get rid of them and take over the entire operation of protection of our products. Hundreds of millions of dollars are at your disposal to get the job done. I realize it could take a couple of years to completely weed out all of the leftist groups. Just get it done as quickly as possible.”

“Of course, Senor Morales.” Mario replied. “That is exactly what we have agreed to and are working towards achieving.”

Rubio held up his hand and said, “Let me take back one thing, we prefer it to be done quietly and not in a few years. We are realistic about the plan however. The leftist are well financed, but we hope to cutoff their money rather quickly. Without the constant supplies of weapons, ammunition and food they will be far easier to get rid of. Alonso and I do ask for one other minor stipulation. Avoid killing the innocent when you can. There are so many human rights groups and agencies watching this country now. With the power of the internet so much is spread across the world and that’s the main reason we want something done about the leftist groups. They are killing too many innocent people and the world’s bleeding hearts know it. So what do you say my friends, are you up for the task?”

Both traitors tried to speak at the same time, with Mario winning out and speaking first. “What about the upcoming elections, you promised the last time we talked that you would get us Senate seats, is that still part of the deal? We have commanders to lead the attacks against the leftist. Over a period of the last several months we have secured the alliances of many of the military commanders from the different factions. The ones who aren’t receptive will be dealt with shortly. That includes our friend Felix Sabina and his assassin lady friend. We have been in contact with the Munoz brothers and they assure me that Kira Machado will not make it back from America. Regardless of her completing the kills she was sent over there to do. It’s imperative that the woman be killed as quickly as possible. She is very good at what she does and I don’t want her lining me up in her gun sights, Kira never misses! As for our friend Felix Sabina, he won’t leave Cartagena alive. Plans are in motion as we speak.”

Octavio spoke interrupting Mario, “What about the money? When will see it in our bank accounts as we discussed months ago in our first meeting. I want to know right now when the money will be deposited.” Octavio then slammed his fist down hard onto the table in an attempt to drive home his point. It was a very bold statement to be done in front of such ruthless and dangerous men.

As Octavio finished his outburst the other three men at the table looked at him with complete astonishment. The obvious greed he was showing was truly unbelievable. Every man sitting at the table was greedy and power hungry. But to have this man bring it out in the open so bluntly was astounding to say the least.

Realizing very quickly that he had possible gone to far with his actions. That he had not expressed himself correctly in front of Rubio Morales and Alonso Guzman. Octavio backtracked rather quickly. He became concerned that they might figure out his true plans. Octavio was a dead man if they did realize his ultimate plan.

Octavio Rodriquez planned on siphoning off as much of the money as possible into a private bank account in the Bahamas as an insurance policy. History proved time and again that the best laid plans could always unravel. Many a man had been killed for trying to over throw his country or sell it out and he Octavio Rodriquez was a student of history. Much could be learned from reading how countries were lead in the past. Especially his country, many politicians had died for there cause’s in Colombia. Octavio would die for no cause except his own, greed. He already had arms dealers lined up who would kick back money for the sale of arms and weapons. If everything went according to his plans he would have at least a quarter of a billon in the bank by this time next year. The money was completely untraceable. Even Mario didn’t know what he was doing, his friend wanted to be President. That was only a second priority of Octavio, he wanted money most of all and lots of it.

So Octavio changed tactics and spoke in a calmer voice, one that sounded of reasoning and would explain his outburst. He needed to sound as if the money was needed only for the weapons and support of the plan to get rid of the leftist.

“It is going to take a lot Colombian pesos or American dollars to get done what you ask of us gentlemen. Weapons aren’t cheap and we will need the best automatic weapons, preferably American or Russian. Along with hand held rockets, explosives and plenty of ammunition. What about military helicopters Rubio? Will the army help us with such a momentous undertaking? We must have superior air power to succeed. Our plans to run the leftist of Colombia can’t be achieved without the helicopters. You men understand this don’t you? The Americans have proved this consistently over the past decade. Our strategy is to draw out the guerrillas and then use the helicopters to decimate them. I have planned to pay a great deal of up front money to a disgruntled Colonel in the American Army. He is in what is called the Air Calvary. He will come up with detailed plans in the use of helicopters against the leftist. We will not loose, gentlemen.” Octavio thought his little speech sounding convincing.

“I fully understand your concerns gentlemen.” Alonso said nodding his head. “The money will be transferred at the end of this meeting to the half dozen accounts spread around to the different banks in our country. This also includes accounts in the Bahamas. With international banking laws we must all be careful. When the accounts get low, additional money will be deposited into them. I have been assured by the head of the Colombian Army that when we need the air power we will get it. His wife was killed by one of the leftist groups bombing a movie theater two years ago in Bogotá. The large sum of money we gave him didn’t hurt his decision either. Perhaps you Colonel should meet with our man?”

“Very good gentlemen,” Rubio comments rubbing his hands together in a show of satisfaction, “It sounds like the two of you have thought this out militarily, politically and have taken initial steps in getting rid of Felix Sabina and the leftist groups. There are many in the government who feel the same as all us here. They want us to succeed and are offering their assistance. Once our plans are achieved, it will be easier to control the country. That is why Alonso and I want both of you in the government. I can personally guarantee both of you will become Senators in the next election and then eventually President in the years to come. It may be possible that one of you become President sooner. I believe that’s the deal gentlemen. It will be up to you two to decide who will become President first. It doesn’t concern us which one of you it is. Both of you will make fine leaders of Colombia.”

“What will you want from us Rubio, once we have been elected?” Mario wanted the deal laid out for all to hear. He didn’t exactly trust these two drug kingpins. Being in bed with them only went so far. Mario Torres kidded himself into believing the end justified the means and that he was still a good man at heart. Selling out his long time friend Felix Sabina had to be done for the greater good of Colombia.

“In return for our help, Alonso and I would like you two gentlemen to turn a blind eye to our export businesses. This also includes your help in not and I mean not supporting past extradition treaties. The only help you will give the Americana is to extradite our competitors.”

Alonso and Rubio stood and walked around the table so they could shake hands with the new leaders of the Colombian Progressive Party. It would now encompass all right-wing paramilitary groups. The CPP would now have a 10,000 strong man army. With the help of the Colombian Army there would be no stopping the plans of these Colombia drug kingpins. It was ego inspiring to the four men standing at the table. The rush adrenaline gave them all a high no drug could match.

“The next time we meet, we should be calling both of you Senator or one of you quite possibly Mister President,” Rubio said with a big smile on his face. His and Alonso plans, along with the blessing of there inner circle of family members of their perspective cartels plans were taking seed.

Within a couple of years their families would be running the country. By the time the CPP and the leftist groups finished waging war with each other. It wouldn’t take much for the Colombian military to finish the job of mopping up. In the end there would be no guerillas or paramilitary groups in Colombia. It was a bold plan, but one both men felt confident that could be achieved. The businessmen of Colombia were own there side. They wanted peace and the rest of the world off there back so profits could be made by all. It took stability for that to happen and cheap labor. It was time to put the peasants of Colombia to work.

Phase two of the Morales –Guzman meetings was about to take place. The Colombian drug kingpins were exceeding the word defining megalomaniacs.

“Now we would like you both to meet the man who was asked to wait until our business was concluded. Muhammad Al Busaid will be helping us with the political side of our plans in a behind the scenes kind of way. I want keep you much longer gentlemen. Just a brief introduction and then you may go about your business. You will like the results of what he will achieve for our combined plans gentlemen, I promise you that.”

Rubio picked up a hand held radio and spoke into it, asking the pilot of the helicopter to please send in his passenger. Rubio then called the head of his security detail and told him to be on his toes.

Muhammad Al Busaid walked into the room and engulfed it. Mario and Octavio could only wish or dream someday to have the presence this man had when he walked into a room. His stature was not that of a man six feet in height and muscles bulging at two hundred plus pounds. Busaid was a man of five feet in height and one hundred and forty pounds in weight. He was clean shaven, not the normal scraggly beard that most terrorist are seen with. His hair was also a contradiction. It was long, past his shoulder blades hanging straight down and combed back. The man could have been a rock star because he had the appearance of one. Appearance’s can be deceiving. It was his eyes and the intensity that came from them that would give any normal person second thoughts about approaching the man. Added to those traits was the way he walked, no stormed into the room. Al Busaid was a commanding presence and all in the meeting room felt it.

Today he was in standard military fatigues, used by all the guerillas groups in Colombia instead of his normal Arab attire of the one-piece white cotton dress called a Thoub. Covering head was a military ball cap instead of the standard Arab head dress called a Smagh with the black band or Ogal that surrounds the headpiece. He preferred his native clothes to this type of military garb. But when he was away from his homeland he preferred to blend in with others and so he wore military fatigues.

Behind him no more than three steps was another man and he was much different. He gave off a different impression and that was one of killer, perhaps a crazed killer. He had long unwashed hair and scraggly beard. He also wore military attire. The difference was that his clothing was unwashed. In his hand was a small machine pistol and he held it tight in his hands like someone might try and take it away from him. His eyes were almost messianic in there look as he stared at the men in the room. It appeared to the Colombians that the man never blinked and was taken all of them in at one time. Sizing them up as potential antagonists to the man he was guarding. If Al Busaid had said kill the Colombian the man wouldn’t have blinked but pulled the trigger. The tension among the four Colombians in the room tripled instantly.

Rubio’s right foot automatically went towards a button mounted in the floor by his chair. His foot hovering ever so close to it in case he needed to press the button in a moments notice. His own personal guards were all ex-Special Forces and would come charging into the room ready to kill if the warning signal was given. He spoke instead of pressing the button and asked Al Busaid what was the reason for this man and his abrupt hostile actions. The tone of Rubio’s voice expressed his dislike for the man and his actions.

“He is my most loyal bodyguard, Senor Morales. His name is Aziz. After the fiasco at your processing site I decided it was best to have my own personal protection loyal only to me. There is another man still in the helicopter. I will not take any more chances when it comes to my personal safety. This man and the one outside will die for me. Being captured and put in an American prison is not an option! My work is not finished and I still have much to do before going to Allah. Do I make myself clear in this matter?” The whole time Al Busaid spoke he voice never changed, it was the same soft-spoken voice both men were accustom to hearing form the terrorist. He never raised his voice in anger; his anger was betrayed in his eyes.

“Of course Muhammad, last week was unforeseeable and totally unexpected. It is very rare for the authorities to travel into the guerrillas’ stronghold and attack one of our processing sites. The Americans were behind this incident and we think it’s because of your presence at the site that it was attacked. The America’s were looking for you and not for my brother. Alonso was a side bonus to the raid. Apparently someone within the guerrilla organization is an informant and told of your coming to the site. But before we get into that let me introduce these two gentlemen and then they must leave. May I present Mario Rodriquez and Octavio Torres, they are about to become future leaders of Colombia. They will be able to help in our future dealings immeasurably.”

“It is my deepest pleasure gentlemen to meet both of you and good luck with your quest. May Allah shine down upon your lives blessing each of you.”

Octavio and Mario didn’t move from where they were standing. Not with the crazy body guard staring at them. They did extend their hands. It was a wasted move on their parts.

Muhammad Al Busaid didn’t stick his hand out to be shaken. He wasn’t the type of man to shake hands with other men he felt were lesser than him, instead he brought his hands together with palms touching and fingers out like a steeple.

“Perhaps we shall work together in the future to further our individual goals.” Al Busaid bowed his head. His voice was very soft and almost hypnotic as his spoke to them. All the man needed was a white robe and beard he would give the appearance of a holy man from a thousands years ago.

Both Mario and Octavio felt as if they were standing before some kind of extremist religious fanatic. It was extremely unnerving to them, especially when they stared into his eyes. Muhammad Al Busaid eyes were the contradiction to his priestly presence. There was nothing but pure hatred that burned deeply within them. It was plain to see by any sane man. The two traitors made their way too the door rather quickly and said there good byes to Rubio and Alonso. They didn’t so much as nod their heads at the terrorist. They just want to get away from AL Busaid. That also included his viscous looking bodyguard Aziz with the messianic eyes and machine pistol that followed them out the door like a third eye.

As the two traitors left the building, Mario asks his counterpart. “Why in the world Rubio and Alonso embrace such a notorious terrorist like Busaid. This could only lead to undue attention or trouble for them.” He complained.

“I know my friend,” Octavio says to Mario, the concern was evident in his voice. “We better keep our eyes, and ears open too whatever Morales and Guzman are planning. They could take us down with them if they fail or have us labeled as terrorist sympathizers. Either of the two scenarios would ruin us from achieving our goals as President of our country. It most certainly could mean a lengthy prison sentence.”

Another thought crossed Octavio’s greedy mind. It was a good thing he was stacking the deck in his favor with the money from Morales and Guzman. He would start buying of arms and transferring his cut of the money to his accounts as soon as possible. Another thought also occurred to Octavio. The time had come to look for a place to hide on one of the many islands in the Caribbean.

A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that he and Mario had made a big mistake in joining the Morales-Guzman cartels and that all there plans would backfire. Shaking off the negative thoughts he buckled up and waited for the helicopter to take him back to his home in Medellin. A bottle of wine and his young wife would put him in better spirits. He smiled to himself if nothing else came out of this madness it would be to make him a very rich man. Octavio wondered if his friend sitting next to him had thought of the future and a potential hiding place if they failed with there present plans.

It wouldn’t be too long into the distant future before both men would know what the answer to Mario’s question about Al Busaid and his involvement with the cartel’s was and neither man would like the answer.

“Now that Mario and Octavio have left, please be seated and let’s talk about our plans Muhammad.” Rubio Morales spoke as he pointed to a chair at the end of the table. Normally the chair was reserved for Alonso, but with Busaid and his guard both present. His counterpart Alonso preferred to be at the opposite end of the table. Rubio’s arm movement caused the messianic looking guard of Al Busaid to point the machine pistol at them once more.

Neither Rubio nor Alonso wanted to be that close to the man or his guard. Even for callous and harden men such as themselves, Al Busaid unnerved them greatly and the guard was making it very uncomfortable for them as well. It was a situation these two men had seldom experienced in the last several decades as drug kingpins and neither liked it.

Rubio continued to keep his foot close to the button on the floor. He didn’t like the bodyguard and his behavior. The man called Aziz continued to stare at him and his partner in the drug business as if they were some kind of insects. His best guards would be watching from a camera in the next room, poised and ready to barge into the room at a moments notice. Shooting anyone that posed a threat. He would wait for the man to relax his weapon and then he would teach the terrorist at the end of table a valuable lesson. No one should ever about bring a man like the guard around him personally or Alonso. Rubio had not looked at his partner so nothing would be given away by a look or involuntary movement.

Finally Al Busaid took his seat at the end of the massive twenty-foot long hand made Mahogany conference table and his personal guard relaxed his grip on the machine pistol. His attention was now on his boss as he sat down at the table. Rubio pressed the hidden button as he sat down in unison with Al Busaid.

The door swung open and the sound of a spit could be heard in the room and then a second and third. The crazed looking bodyguard fell to the floor with his head blown apart. Three men in black military fatigues stepped into the room. Pistols were pointed at the terrorist leader.

“All clear,” was given by each of the black fatigued guards.

One of the men spoke gruffly and said, “Please keep your hands in plain site where I can see them, is that understood mister?” The man was American and an ex-Special Forces sergeant. After serving for fifteen years in the American army and having his family use food stamps to eat. H enow enjoyed the money his boss, paid him for his services. Working for Rubio Morales was a lot better job than being in the service. His wife and kids lived the good life now.

The ex-sergeants pistol or eyes never wavered from Al Busaid. He spoke next to his boss, “Are you ok Mr. Morales? The situation is under control sir. What are your orders pertaining to this man?” The long barrel with its ugly looking silencer continued to point at Al Busaid’s head.

“Yes I am fine now David, you and your men are well worth the money. Your performance was astounding. Have your men dispose of the body quickly. Also have them watch the other man in the helicopter. If he becomes a problem to your men, kill him! And then would you please check Mr. Busaid for weapons. I am afraid this discourtesy must be performed after his rudeness in bringing such a man to this meeting and allowing him to be so uncontrolled.”

Rubio was looking at Al Busaid the whole time he talked. His anger was evident, and it reached through to the terrorist. “Never again bring such a man to a meeting with me or my counterpart Mr. Guzman is that understood Muhammad.”

The terrorist Al Busaid said nothing at first. He looked down the table at Rubio in a clam manner. There wasn’t a hostile look emitting from the terrorist at all. It was hard to tell if the threat sunk in or not.

“You are more of a threat than my follower Aziz was. If you don’t want my help say so and I will go.” Busaid said calmly. The words were almost chanted. He stood up and prepared to leave the room. Al Busaid ignored Rubio’s guard David and the pistol he was pointing directly at his head.

This pisses off Rubio Morales even more. “I can find another individual with your same special talents to help me with my plans. You can end up buried in the jungle with pork stuffed in your mouth, is that understood Muhammad.” Rubio then pounded his fist own the table. “Am I getting through to you?”

“Of course Rubio,” was Al Busaid’s calm reply as he stood and was roughly searched by the man named David.

“I apologize for bringing such as man as Aziz to this meeting. I didn’t realize the man would upset you so. I felt you were not taking my safety seriously. A man like Aziz doesn’t expect money for protecting me. He does it because it’s Allah’s will that he protect me. Aziz has gone to his reward and his family will be rejoicing for him.”

David snorted and said, “Maybe you should think about paying someone, because that wouldn’t happen to me.” Pointing to the body of Aziz as his two assistant’s dragged the body out of the room. “As of right now you are a dead man if my boss gives the word and there isn’t a damn thing Allah can do to protect you.”

In a flash a puff of smoke shot out of the right sleeve of Al Busaid’s fatigues. The man named David grabbed his throat choking. David screamed out once and fell to the floor dead as the terrorist step back out of the way. He looked at Rubio and Alonso and said in the same calm voice both men were used to hearing come from this man, “If your underling had of done his job and kept his mouth shut instead of insulting me. He would still be alive. Now can we get down to business gentlemen so that I may leave? I must be in Afghanistan by tomorrow evening to meet with my people who fight the puppets of the Untied States.”

Rubio and Alonso looked at each other with concerned expressions and debated on pushing the button on the floor again. Both men sat back down and Rubio spoke, “Please sit Muhammad, and let’s finish our business. I think we have both proved our points at the expense of an underling.”

Muhammad AL Busaid sat down and stared at the two drug kingpins. His black eyes burned with the hatred of a thousand men who had grown up in a Palestinian refugee camp. There was no greater hatred in all the world as when man was enslaved. Al Busaid put his hands in the temple position again with the fingers pointing down the long highly polished table. The terrorist then takes his time before replying to Rubio’s statement. Even to the point of looking at his reflection for a brief second in the highly polished table. A slight curl of a smile forms at the corners of the mouth as he looks at his reflection. Al Busaid lets the silence in the room become almost unbearable for Rubio and Alonso.

“Tell me gentlemen what it you wish to use my special talents for?” Using the same words Rubio used minutes ago and saying them in a mocking way.

Al Busaid didn’t consider himself to have any special talents. His purpose in life was to find the man responsible for the death of his brother, Hakim. He would search the world for the man and had for many years. The face of his brothers’ killer etched in his brain for a lifetime. As the years went by he had killed as many infidels as possible. It was Allah’s will. The death of other humans meant nothing to him. Only the one man with the black painted face and his death would be a painful one. Allah was his guiding light and his life’s mission was revenge.

“Its very simple Muhammad, we want you to set off a series of bombings in several of the major cities around the country. The first bombing would be in the city of Bogotá near several government buildings. Then like wise in Medellin and lastly Cartagena. What would really be effective is to have the bombings take place on the same day if possible. The amount of destabilization this would cause in our country would help the two men who were just here make it to elected office rather easy we think.”

Both Rubio and Alonso looked like little Buddha statues at the end of the table with big smiles own there faces. They waited on the number one bombing terrorist in the world to comment on their idea. Both men had spent many hours thinking and talking of the plan. Only one other man knew what they were planning and he was in Mexico.

In fact Carlos Ramirez liked the idea so much after hearing Rubio tell him of his plans. That once he sees how it works in Colombia, he may want it done in his country of Mexico. There were several politicians starting to cause him trouble and something had to be done about them. Killing them would be hard and more trouble than it was worth due to there popularity. Ramirez hands would have to be clean of any wrong doing.

Having the people vote them out was much better idea. Once they were defeated he would have them killed and buried in unmarked graves. The reason for Carlos Ramirez willingness to support Rubio Morales daring scheme was because of a rumor. Word had gotten back to Carlos of politicians who wanted the borders tightened themselves. Too many of the best workers were leaving the country. America was sending business after business to Mexico and the best workers were heading to America to work for more money and benefits. These politicians wanted better wages for there people and to achieve the same kind of middle class that America had. And that was just unacceptable to all the cartel members. The borders had to remain as they were and the drugs could flow freely.

What Carlos Ramirez didn’t know was he may not be able to enlist the services of Al Busaid. It would depend on what Rubio decision was pertaining to whether he would swap the terrorist for his brother. Rubio would meet with the man named Scott in the morning and see what his final offer was going to be. If they could get the terrorist to move quickly with the bombings, then Rubio and Alonso would have all there plans come to fruition.

The Morales-Guzman duo had one last ace up there sleeves to get this man sitting at the end of table, to do there dirty work for them. Lying on the table in front of Rubio was a folder. In the folder were a picture of a man and one single piece of paper with not more than two paragraph's written on it. He stood up and walked to the end of the table and laid the folder in front of Al Busaid and said, “I think this will up the ante a bit for you. It’s what your quest has been about for many years.” Then turning Rubio walked back and sat down and resumed his Buddha look.

As Rubio left his seat and had walked to the end to the twenty-foot conference table towards Al Busaid. The small, but deadly terrorist had been poised like a cat. He watched as the drug kingpin came towards him with the folder in his hand. The closer Rubio came the more wound up Busaid became. He was at his breaking point to strike out when Rubio laid the folder it in front of him. Busaid was ready to strike. His hand was inches from a small, but very sharp knife. It was when Rubio spoke those words that they made his heart leap. His quest, the man knew about his quest and here was something in front of him that could help. In the name of Allah how?

Very slowly Al Busaid reaches up and opens the folder. He wanted to tear into it and see what the folder contained, but his face and actions remained controlled in front of these infidels. The face of the man leaped out at him, it was the face from hell! He had dream of seeing this face again and exacting vengeance for his brother Hakim. “Glory be to Allah,” he chanted to himself.

The young terrorist lived everyday of his life visualizing the death of this man and he had killed many infidels practicing for the moment when Allah would bless him by answering his prayers and now sitting in this room with these two men who were sellers of misery to others had taken him one monstrous step closer. “Allah be praised,” came from his lips and the two men at the other end of the table new this man would do there bidding. The Buddha like figures smiled even more.

Muhammad stared at the picture; the man was standing out at the end of a dock near a boat gazing out over the water. He was in shorts with no shirt and the scars on his chest were evident. The man had felt pain; well he would have more of it before his death.

He was older than Al Busaid’s memory remembered. It had been fourteen long years since that uneventful day in a side street in the city of Al Basrah. It was a day burned into the terrorist mind when his brother Hakim was killed by this man. A terrible fight between two men, knives slashing, grunts of physical assertion. The sound of fists hitting flesh, and grunts of pain, curses from each man and finally the scream from his brother as his life was taken. A bloody knife in the hand of the infidel could be seen by the younger brother from his hiding place. The last act of his brother Hakim was to rip the mask off of the man’s head showing his face in the light of the moon. Mohammed AL Busaid would never forget those cold blue eyes.

The young terrorist had hid in the darkness behind wooden crates witnessing the bloody event. Wetting on himself, frozen in fear at the time. But as time went by reality changed his story and he hid because it was Allah’s will for him to fight at another time and avenge his brother Hakim. Muhammad Al Busaid had been fourteen at the time and now finally years later at the age of thirty-two his journey was almost complete.

The page with the two paragraphs was written in his native language, the fist paragraph told of were Simon Hardman lived and the second said Hardman would be coming to Colombia very shortly. Within days he would be here to escort Alonso Guzman’s brother back to America for prosecution. He looked up at the two men again, there smiles beamed down the table at him. They had no clue to man they were dealing with. He would do as they asked, but it would be on scale that would be unimaginable to them. The end results of the bombings by Al Busaid would cause the drug kingpins more harm than good. Al Busied would do his best to make sure of that promise.

Speaking in his calm soothing voice showing no emotion in front of these two men, although he wanted to desperately to scream out his joy at knowing his chance for revenge would be coming soon. His answer to Morales and Guzman was, “How soon do you two gentlemen want me to put you plans in motion.” The twitch of a smile was evident. “I will need explosives, preferable something made by you own country. If you want you plans to succeed then the bombings must tie back to the guerillas here in your country. Is that not what you want? I will also need the services of some of the guerillas and this is key gentleman, each group of men should not be aware of the other groups. Each city has to be independent of the others. On my end and to make sure things are done as you request, I will bring in two of my own people and they will each take a city so it looks like we will be setting bombs off in only one city and not three. I will need these men flown into Colombia right away. Does this sound agreeable to you?”

Alonso spoke, “Yes it sounds fine Muhammad, and it’s exactly how we want it done. The explosives have been acquired and are being stored outside of Medellin awaiting your orders as to how they are to be divided. We have two men available for you in each city; we thought any more than that would draw attention to our plans. As long as you or your two men say nothing about the other cities, then you should be able to implement our plans in total secrecy.”

Rubio added, “You do realize that once you have set off the bombs that you must leave the country immediately. You can not return for quite possibly a year while things cool down. Lots of finger pointing will be going on and it can’t be pointed back at you Muhammad. It has to look like the guerrilla’s inside our country were responsible. You were never here! Once things cool down and we have our people in place within the government will we be able to look at how we can help assist you with training camps here in Colombia. The money we promised you is already packed and will go with you when you leave after the bombings. I think the amount will help further your cause in the Middle East greatly. We would like you to set the bombs off on Tuesday the day after the American Labor Day. The man you want will be here by then, a nice little bonus for you Mohammed!”

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Alonso asked hoping there wasn’t!

The ten million in American dollars should have been enough along with the folder they gave this terrorist. He and Rubio already decided if the man showed back up a year from now. They would have him killed and buried in the jungle. Having terrorist camps inside of Colombia would be out of the question. The only thing there country would have a year from now is more coca fields.

Again the soothing voice of Al Busaid spoke; “Yes gentlemen, I want to personally take care of this man in the folder,” slamming his fist down on top of the folder showing his emotion for the first time. “I want this man named Simon Hardman dead! I will be back in two days time to make plans for his death. After that is done, then and only then will I do as you have asked.” Al Busaid stood up and walked out of the room, with out saying another word.

STORM TIDES

PROLOGUE

Judd Martian was in trouble and he didn’t even know it at this moment in time as he crept closer to the building not more than a hundred yards in front of him. There was man and his son and Judd desperately wanted their picture. It would be his crowning achievement and the answer to a promise he made to his younger sister. Justice would be his and his sisters and it would be done with the courts and no bloodshed. Judd had witnessed enough over the past several years.

This wasn’t the first time his determination and complete focus of taken a picture would put him in danger, but this time he wouldn’t have his knight in shining armor to protect him. His time was near and he had forgotten the advice of a warrior who had saved him once before many years ago. The scars on his body weren’t able to talk to him and tell him to remember the past and learn from it.

Judd was a freelance photographer on assignment for several new agencies during the retaking of Kuwait by the American military. His luck had prevailed and he had been able to wrangle himself a much coveted spot with the liberating coalition forces. He was assigned to the 1^st Marine Division which along with the 2^nd Marine Division came in from the south and moved towards Kuwait City with the ferocity of a caged lion. Judd wouldn’t know at the time, but he would be apart of history in the making as the100 hour ground campaign to take back Kuwait from the invasion forces of the Iraqi Army begun. It stated February 24^th and ended on February 28^th in the year 1991.

The pictures he would take during the 100-hour ground campaign would make all the main news magazines. A book would soon follow and he would make the late night television circuit. He became the golden boy of combat photography and capturing the human spirit on film. There was only one significant “but” to this happening and it nearly didn’t happen. Because Judd Martian let his guard down and became focused own one particular incident.

At first, Judd thought the gods had shined down upon him with being assigned to the 1^st Marine Division. But at this moment in time he wasn’t so sure anymore. The driver of the Humvee he was riding in was lost or not so much lost, but because he had asked the Corporal to stop for a minute, so he could take a picture of a soldier that caught his eye. The armored division they were following had gone off and left them and that was not good.

Out of the corner of Judd’s eye he had caught a glimpse of a soldier carrying a young girl. He had a bloody bandage around his head, with streaks of red running down his face. The young girl wasn’t in much better shape herself. Every step he took looked to be a monumental effort for the young man. The young girl clung to the soldier as if she were apart of his uniform. He gently put her into a back of a Humvee. He then covered her with his field jacket, got in and turns the vehicle around to head south towards the field hospital out side of town. During the entire time the soldier was carrying the girl and then putting her in the vehicle with such tenderness, as if she were his child. Judd let his camera capture the moment. He was completely oblivious to the sounds of gunfire getting nearer.

Judd Martian knew he had a good picture in the roll of film, maybe even several. Surely one would be on the cover of a top magazine by next week. He would send out the rolls he had already taken the past two days. His one and only sister Jenifer Lynn would go through them and pick out the best ones and use her contacts throughout the multitude of news magazines on the market today. She would also send several top pictures to the people paying his way. It was a perfect deal he had manipulated for himself.

It was when he felt the vibration of an explosion rocking the buildings and road around him that his thoughts were brought swiftly back to the present. The corporal driving him looked concerned and told him it would best it they left and tried to find the rest of his squad. “Hopefully the convoy hadn’t gotten too far ahead of us,” he said. He was young, no more than twenty-one and his nervousness showed.

They didn’t get two blocks before armed men came running out of an alley pointing there weapons at them. When the weapons did stop Judd’s driver they began to shout in their native Arabic language. Judd was pretty sure what they were saying regardless of the language barrier. They wanted them to stop the vehicle. The driver did what anybody would do in a situation like this and mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The only problem was the vehicle wasn’t a hotrod and was slow in the response off picking up speed. But the driver did his best to pick up speed quickly and make a hard right hand turn. It would be there only chance to escape being shot at.

The armed men didn’t shout a second time. Instead they fired their weapons. Judd heard the sounds of gunfire as he felt the impact of the bullet in his right shoulder. His driver wasn’t so lucky. He took a round in the head and chest. Judd screamed out in pain as it felt like a hot piece of steel being rammed through his shoulder. It didn’t take a second glance to see that his driver had died instantly. The young soldier was slumped against the steering wheel causing the large vehicle to careen wildly to the left smashing into a store front. The sudden impact of the large vehicle caused the large front window to shatter into a thousands pieces peppering Judd like a shotgun blast. Judd screamed out once more in pain. He groaned as he tried to remove several large piece of glass from his legs and chest. The driver’s blood or his was all over the front of the dashboard and window of the Humvee.

Judd Martian came to the conclusion in an instant that this was it, he was going to die. He would have never of thought of it ending this way. And God how much his shoulder throbbed and ached. Other people died, but not him, not lucky Judd. He had lived a charmed life every since the day he was born thirty fives years ago. He could hear the sound of feet pounding the road behind him. Well this was it, this was the end. They were shouting again but he had no idea what they were saying. Judd turned to look at the men and brace for the bullet that would kill him. Just maybe there would be photographers wherever he ended up. He had never given heaven and hell much thought. He was about to find out for himself.

All four men slowed to a stop and raised their weapons at him, shouting at him. They were only ten yards from him now. He couldn’t see there faces, they were covered with a mask. Just as Judd thought the end was near a lone figure stepped out of building next to where the vehicle ended up. His weapon was raised and he fired four quick bursts. All four men fell to the ground dead with a sickening thump. The American soldier or Judd thought he was an American, walked slowly towards the four men lying in the road where he had just shot them. When he was ten feet from were they lay, he shot each one again. He then looked to the south end of the road and then towards the north. He scanned the tops of each building taking his time. Next he scanned the store or business fronts to see if anyone else was in the vicinity that might be an aggressor for the Iraqi Army.

Turning and walking to where Judd sat in the Humvee. He was finally able to get a look at the man that saved his life. He was dressed in desert fatigues and his face had apparently been completely painted black at one time. Only about half of the camouflage grease was still intact. It made the soldier look all the more intimidating. The funny thing about what the soldier was wearing was instead of a helmet he wore the Arab headdress called a Ghutra. It looked like a red and white table cloth that belonged in an Italian restaurant.

It was the eyes of the man that really got Judd’s attention. They were the coldest blue eyes he had ever witnessed seeing is his thirty-five years of living. The rifle looked at home in the crook of his arm. It had a big barrel underneath that must have been a grenade launcher. Judd was not familiar with weapons. His weapon was a camera. Judd now wished he knew more about weapons like this man standing in front of him had. He came so close to loosing his life.

Judd looked closer at the man who saved him from sure death. There was a pistol on his side and a very large knife was hanging from a scabbard across his chest. The knife looked like a small sword. He had a brown colored pack on his back. He took it off and dropped it to the ground. The soldier then shrugged his shoulders a couple of times attempting loosen aching muscles.

“Are you hurt bad mister? We need to get out of here right away before anymore of their friends show up. I don’t have the ammo to take on a large group of their friends.” Were the soldier’s first spoken words to Judd since his appearance just minutes before Judd Martian thought he was about to die. Judd detected a southern accent.

“Yes I’m hurt bad I think, but that want slow us down. Getting out of this place is all I can of doing at the moment.” He said weakly to the man with the ice blue eyes.

“Good, let me get your driver into the backseat and we can get you to a doctor. There is a place right outside of the city north of here. I saw them setting up tents early this morning. The corpsmen there will be able to stop the bleeding. After that they will probably send you to the coast and put you on a hospital ship that’s anchored in Kuwait Bay.”

The soldier didn’t say any more and quickly moved the dead driver to the backseat of the Humvee. With the driver situated, the soldier began to look around again to see if anyone was approaching them that weren’t part of the coalition forces. The man was very careful, Judd could see. His hand was always close to his weapon.

“Now that I have your driver situated, let’s take a quick look at that shoulder. Hopefully it’s a clean would. Does it feel like you have a broken bone?” he asked.

“No it doesn’t feel broke, but it sure hurts like hell.” Judd said grimacing.

“Excellent, I’ll put some gauze own both sides of the wound and tape it tightly. That should slow the bleeding till we can get you back to safer territory.”

“That sounds good to me. Uh what’s your name by the way? My name is Judd Martian; I am a combat photographer on assignment for a couple international news outlets. I was tagging along with the 1^st Marine Division.” Judd replied.

‘My name is Simon, or you can call me Chief Faraday if you’re a stickler for military protocol.” He said with a grim smile, showing very white teeth against the half black painted face.

“Nice to meet you Simon and no, military protocol is not something I am a stickler for. I don’t have a military bone in my body. That doesn’t upset you does it? I mean I’m not trying to insult you.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Judd and let’s have a quick peak at your shoulder. We have been here to long already and no your not having a military bone in your body doesn’t bother me in the least bit.” Simon said sticking his hand out and shaking hands with Judd.

The man named Simon had quite a grip, Judd realized. Simon was quite the physical specimen. Judd estimated in his head that Simon was over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds. He was a rock. The photographer knew he was blame lucky to have such a man come out of nowhere and help him.

Simon took his knife from its scabbard and proceeded to cut the shirt away from Judd’s right shoulder area. “Hmm, it looks a clean shot my new friend. I don’t think it hit a bone Judd and that’s a good thing. It will keep you from having lots of surgery.” Simon commented.

Taking thick gauze and placing it first on one side of Judd’s chest which he ask Judd to hold in place. He then grabbed the tape and cut several large strips with his knife. Quickly Simon taped the gauze pad in place. He then placed the second gauze pad on the exit side of his wound and then used another piece of tape and taped the gauze into place. All the while Simon kept a wary eye out for anyone who wasn’t friendly. The last thing Simon did to Judd was wrap tape around his upper chest tightly as if his ribs were broken. It did the trick though. Judd stopped bleeding.

“I guess you realize now Judd that you can get shot just as easy as us grunts? We haven’t driven all the bad guys out of Kuwait yet. You should have had a couple of grunts with you besides the driver.”

“To tell you the truth Simon, I never really thought it would happen to me until it did.” Judd’s voice started to quiver. His head started to spin and out his went. He was saved from feeling the pain for a short time.

The man called Simon walked around to the driver’s side and took his last piece of the thick gauze. He then proceeded to clean some of the brains and blood from the dead driver off the seat and steering wheel. When Simon realized it was going to be about as good as he could get. With only the one piece of gauze it was all most a wasted effort. Simon would have to sit in the dead soldier’s blood and brains. He had seen and been in worst situations.

Simon looked to his left and right one last time before getting into the Humvee. It took a couple cranks, but the rugged vehicle finally started. He backed out of the rubble and pointed the damaged front end south towards the outskirts of Kuwait City. Simon went as fast as the damage vehicle would let him go from the bad guy’s. His passenger didn’t wake up during the twenty minute ride.

As Simon reached the outer city limits of Kuwait City, he came upon several squads of Marines sitting in the shade of a building. They all looked tired and definitely in need of a hot shower. He stopped and asked about were the medical tents were. The young Staff Sergeant in charge pointed north and said. “About one mile straight as the crow flies. You should run right into them, Chief.” The Staff Sergeant knew who the Chief was, and had personally witnessed him in action. He was one tough bastard.

“Thanks guys and keep your eyes open, this guy,” pointing to Judd. “Flushed out four Republican guards not more than ten minutes ago about six blocks north of where we are talking. His driver is dead and he is in pretty bad shape.”

“No shit” the Staff sergeant replied getting to his feet. “Thanks for the heads up Chief.”

“Your welcome sergeant, ya’ll be careful.”

“Mount up Marines; let’s go find some bad guys.” The young staff sergeant was very gung ho. And off they went in their Humvee’s waving back at Simon as they sped off in the direction Simon had mentioned.

Five minutes later Simon pulled up in front the first tent he came to and parked the battered Humvee. There were two corpsmen standing just outside the entrance of the tent. One of them didn’t waste anytime when Simon hollered for him to come and help him. That he had one seriously wounded and another man dead in the backseat.

When the corpsman reached the Humvee and got a good look at Judd and the dead driver lying in the backseat. He turned and waved for a second corpsman standing at the entrance of the tent to help. The first corpsman open the passenger door and eased Judd our as best he could and carried him into the tent. As the second man approached the Humvee, Simon asked him if he had a body bag handy because he was going to need it. Simon told the corpsman that the driver had taken a bullet in the head. The man immediately turned around without asking any further questions. He ran back into the tent he was standing in front of a second before. He came back out with a blanket under his arm. The corpsman said he was sorry, but all they had right now were blankets. It would be late in the day or tomorrow before they were supplied in the proper way for taken care of their dead the corpsman said.

Simon stuck his hand out and asked for the blanket and told the man he would take care of the driver. He then took the blanket and unfolded it on the ground. Turning he reached into the back seat and pulled the man out of the backseat and stood him up. Simon then scooped him up in his arms and walked over to where he had unfolded the blanket and laid the dead soldier on it very gently. He then wrapped the dead soldier up and proceeded to pick him back up and carry him into the tent.

Where upon Simon laid the soldier on a cot as if he were still alive. Simon then bent down and whispers something in the dead soldier ear and then touches his forehead. Once he finished those acts of kindness for the soldier he didn’t even know. Simon covered him with a second blanket. He then stood up and turned to see several sets of eyes watching him. His act of kindness didn’t go unnoticed by the corpsmen in the tent. Word would pass quickly thought out Kuwait of the Navy Chief with the cold blue eyes and what he had done. How he had shown such a display of respect and courtesy to a fallen soldier.

Looking down at his watch Simon realized the day was getting late and he had to get to the Kuwait International Airport. He still had a ten mile ride ahead of him. It was located south of Kuwait City. The rest of his team was to meet him there at 14:00 and it was nearly 13:00 now. His team was assigned to secure the airport until a squad of Marines could be made available. They were to also look for booby traps. It was a dangerous job and that’s why his SEAL team was given the assignment.

He had just left a briefing with a Marine Colonel in charge of the southeast sector of Kuwait when he had come across Judd Martian. The Colonel was asking Simon and his team to help him for a short period of time. While the Colonel made sure he mopped up the last remnants of the Iraqi Army still hiding in Kuwait City. Plus those who might be sympathetic to the Iraqi army in the northeastern sector of the city his 11^th Marines were responsible for. He was starting to spread out a little to thin because of the speed they more moving with the recapture of Kuwait City. The Colonel needed a day to get his people formed back up.

Simon had just left the building where the meeting had taken place and was riding back towards the airport. With Simon was his friend and fellow team member Marty Cipriano. All of a sudden Simon had Marty stop the Humvee. Simon had seen movement in a window and wanted to see what it was. He told Marty, he would get a ride to the airport with someone else. His friend had been a little dubious about his friend going on the hunt alone. Marty new better to argue with him, it would be a waste of breath and time.

By the time Simon made his way through the alley to the next street he saw the four men run across the street toward another alley way. They were Republican Guard by the looks of what they were wearing from the 7th Adnan Infantry Division. How the hell had they not been spotted earlier unless their orders were to stay out of sight and disrupt things as coalition forces sped through the city They might even be suicide bombers, he had been briefed about the possibility of that happening.

Making his way across the street at a fast jog, after checking windows and storefronts for more bad guys, he went to the door of a clothing shop. Kicking the door in Simon stepped in looking for any signs of movement. No sign of anyone that he could see, so he headed to the second floor and proceed to kick the door to the roof open. There was only a single dead bolt and it opened after the third kick.

Quickly he stepped out and looked left and right, nothing no one was on the rooftops but him. He ran to the edge and looked down to see the four soldiers open fire on a Humvee with two men in it. The driver of the Humvee was doing his best to get some speed up and make it around the corner opposite of the four men firing at him and his passenger. From what Simon witnessed though, it didn’t look good for the two men. As the Humvee came around the corner he veered sharply and headed for the store front down below where Simon had just come from. He must have been hit Simon thought. Hell, he had to of been hit, with four AK’s shooting at him and his passenger. As he turned to head back down the stairs he could feel the building shake as the Humvee apparently went head on into the building. “Shit”, was all Simon could think of to say.

On second thought, Simon sprinted across the roof to what would be the next business and kicked the door in and ran down the two flights of stairs to the first floor. His leg was starting to smart from kicking doors in. Looking out the storefront window he could see the four bad guys approaching slowly towards the wrecked Humvee. They were shouting something toward the vehicle and pointing their weapons.

Checking his weapon and making sure the selector switch was on semi for single round fire, he opened the door prayed it wouldn’t squeak and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He didn’t hesitate or ask the four men to drop their weapons; Simon just pointed his M203A1 with a 40mm grenade launcher at each man and pulled the trigger slowly and methodically. He had debated for second on using the grenade launcher, but decided not to take any chances; a man’s life was a stake. Once all four men were down , Simon looked up and down the street just to make sure no one else wanted to take part in the fun and then walked to within a couple of yards of the four men and shot them again. There was no time for prisoners and these guys had gone after a civilian and that was the wrong to do in his book.

Simon turned to leave the tent when he heard Judd call his name out rather weakly. He turned and walked to the cot where Judd lay. The corpsman already had a pint of blood running into his right arm. Some other fluid way being pumped into Judd’s left. Simon saw the corpsman was preparing to give Judd a shot of something also. Probably a painkiller of some type, if Judd was lucky it would be Demerol or Morphine. Either one made the pain of a bullet wound go away for quite a while.

“I wanted to thank you again Simon. If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead.” As Judd struggled to sit up the pain hit him and caused him to fall back onto the cot groaning.

“Hey Judd, be still and try not to move man. You are going to hurt for several weeks. Rest is the best thing you can do for now.”

“How can I get in touch with you when I get better, I want to buy you a beer Simon. I really owe you for stepping in and saving my life.”

“No need to do that Judd, were in this together.”

“Please Simon; I really want to buy a round that is if you drink beer?”

“Ok Judd, if you insist and I am still here in Kuwait. I will be out at the airport for a couple days and after that, I may be shipped back to the states. It depends on what the Navy wants my team to do.”

“The Navy, your in the Navy, Judd asked somewhat confused?”

The corpsman interrupted Judd and said “You must be a SEAL, if you in the Navy and dressed like that.”

“Your very astute and wise my friend,” Simon said smiling at the young corpsman.

The corpsman didn’t know what to say because Simon’s eyes had gone icy when he had interrupted him and told the wounded man what Simon apparently was.

Judd said incredulously “You’re a SEAL?”

“Yeah man, but don’t mention it to others, ok Judd? It’s not the kind of thing I don’t need to get out. You understand don’t you? The bad guys have bounties on us SEAL’s.”

“Sure Simon, I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Good, well I need to go Judd, I have to be somewhere by 14:00. You take care of yourself and look me up when you get better or back in the states. I am based out of Tampa and it will be an honor to have you buy me a beer.”

“Its deal Simon,” Judd said sticking his hand out to shake Simons.

“Oh, one other thing my new friend, in the future make sure you have a weapon when you go into Indian country or have a couple of people to watch your back. It can keep you alive or prevent from getting a whole in the shoulder like you have now.”

“I will definitely take your advice into consideration Simon. One more thing though and then I won’t keep you any longer. Can I have the corpsman take a picture of us?”

Judd showed the corpsman how to take a picture and Simon knelt down beside the cot and the corpsman took several pictures of them.

Judd was singularly focused on getting to the large truck parked beside the make shift building being used as a warehouse by the Ramirez cartel or to be more accurate the Chavez family. The father and son, Domingo and Thomas were both here tonight. Both of them were monsters of the highest magnitude and tonight would be Judd’s crowning glory. It had taken him two years to get in position to take this picture and to have the proof he needed to get these men put behind bars for a very long time or so he hoped. Father and son on this very night were standing behind two men down on there knees. Their hands were tied behind there backs and the Chavez’s had guns pointed at their heads.

A woman who had lost her oldest son to the Chavez family recently tipped him off. Her priest had told her about the photographer who was sympathic to the people of Mexico. The priest set up a meeting in his small church for the two to meet. The woman wept while she told Judd what she knew. Something big was going to happen at the building out in the desert outside of Ojinaga close to the Rio Bravo River. Her youngest son had left the warehouse the day before when an older man working their told him to not come back. The patron was coming for a visit which meant only trouble for the people working their.

So Judd Martian set in the bushes waiting for the right time to take his pictures. The sun was in the last stages of setting for the evening and Judd had prepared ahead of time and brought his camera best suited for this type of work. A wide-angle lens was his weapon of choice and he had it set for a 30-second exposure. That philosophy was the way he thought of his photography equipment.

As the last rays of sun finally dipped in the west Judd began to take pictures. His finger pressed the button every few seconds taking pictures as the moment approached. He wished he could do something for the two men, but what could he do. Judd told himself this countless times to ease his conscience, as he witnessed the death of so many men, women and children by the hands of the Ramirez cartel. He had given up on getting a picture of Carlos himself. The man never dirtied his hands. The drug kingpin had plenty of others to do his dirty work for him or so Judd thought.

But tonight he would get the second most important man in the cartel on film. What Judd really wanted was to work around to the other side of the building. That way he could get a picture of the faces of Domingo and Thomas Chavez standing behind the two men on their knees bound and gagged preparing to execute them. Such a gruesome sight to behold as one of God’s children, it was truly heartbreaking. Judd had given up on the inhumanities man could perform on each other.

As Judd Martian started to move around to the other side for the picture he wanted most a thought ran though his mind about what the man called Simon said to him about having a weapon. Judd shook his head, he had his weapon and it was a camera. His camera was way more powerful than any weapon or so Judd thought. His naïve nature would put him in the worst possible situation on this very night. The seconds of his life tick slowly by.

With the proof Judd told himself that he got tonight. He would send it to his sister who would then forward it to a certain man. Along with a multitude of other pictures he had taken of the Ramirez cartel members. All carefully documented with dates, times and names of individuals if he was able to find out who they were over the years. The peasants of countless villages and towns had talked to him cautiously on many occasions. They told him many things about the people who worked for Carlos Ramirez.

After tonight all his pictures and information would go to a man named Simon who lived in Florida. Judd had done his homework and at first it had been difficult to track down the man. He had left the military and joined the DEA. From that point the trail had gone cold. It was if the man named Simon Faraday had fallen off the earth. With the help of his sister Jenifer Lynn and her contacts in the DEA that had changed and Simon had been located. Thanks mainly to an interview she had done with Carlos Ramirez and then turned over to DEA.

Judd’s sister was able to ask her contact in the DEA Michael Cortez about the man named Simon and where he was living. Jenifer Lynn had called Judd back immediately and told him that she might have asked the wrong question. She was worried that she might have stepped over the line with the agent. When Judd asked why she thought she stepped over the line. Jenifer Lynn told him it was because the agent had gone on the defensive. He asked her why she wanted to know where the man named Simon lived. She had hung up saying she would call Agent Cortez back.

To calm his sister down Judd told her about the man named Simon Faraday. What he had done for him by saving his life many years ago in the first Gulf War. It took Jenifer Lynn calling Agent Cortez a second time. She then began telling the Agent Cortez about what happen to Judd in the first Gulf War. She then finished with the information Judd had been collecting for the past several years. She didn’t go into why her brother decided to do what he did. It was for a kind of redemption for her. It was personal and between a brother and sister who loved each other dearly. After hearing her story, the agent told her he would make a few phone calls and call her back.

Michael Cortez called his friend John Nichols and asks about a possible fellow DEA agent by the name of Simon Faraday. Just as Michael Cortez had done with Judd’s sister and become defensive, so did John Nichols. John immediately asks Michael why he was asking about the agent whose name was Simon. So Agent Cortez told John about Judd Martians sister and how the information from two years ago Carlos Ramirez came to be. John remembered receiving a copy of the information on Carlos Ramirez from Michael and now it was pay back time.

When Michael had finished his story and told her where the woman was staying in Miami. John Nichols said he would have to call Michael back in a few minutes. There was someone John would have to get permission from in order to give the man named Simon Faraday address to Michael. John went immediately to his boss Marty Cipriano and told him what Agent Michael Cortez wanted and why. Marty agreed reluctantly but with stipulations. John would call Jenifer Lynn Martian and bypass Agent Cortez. He could vaguely remember the story of Simon saving a combat photographer. It was a long time ago. A life time ago Marty thought to himself. Why did the past always come back to haunt his friend Simon.

John called Michael back and told him that his boss wanted him personally to call the lady. He would need Miss Martian’s phone number. The less Michael knew about the man named Simon the better. The last thing John said to his friend was the best thing he could do is forget the name Simon Faraday.

With Marty standing beside him, John Nichols called Miss Martian and introduced himself. John thought it best not to show up at the woman’s door and his boss agreed. It might spook her. Jenifer Lynn remembered John’s name from two years ago. It all came rushing back to her memory. Michael Cortez had told her about a fellow agent by the name of John Nichols. He could help her if she ever needed help back in the states he had told her. She had forgotten about the agent until now.

John told her the man whose name was Simon lived in a small tourist town in the pan handle of Florida and went by a different last name. His name was Simon Hardman not Faraday. The agent gave her Hardman’s cell phone number, but told her it would be best if her brother Judd called. The agent did ask one other very important thing from her and that was to send any future information she might come across to the headquarters of the DEA in Miami with the package marked attention to Marty Cipriano. His boss thought it best to do it this way. The man named Simon was having a great deal of trouble with the Ramirez cartel and he could be killed at any time. Several attempts had been made on his life and his family. It was a nasty situation and that she may have seen some of it own the news. When she pressed about it he said, I can’t go into it but a smart reporter ought to be able to dig around and find out a few things.

She had told agent John Nichols that if his boss thought it best to do it that way, then she would see to it that he received any future information. Her brother would be sending it to her any day now. Their last phone call had only been a week ago. John gave her the address of DEA Miami and the name of his boss, Marty Cipriano. She thanked John Nichols. Judd’s sister was alone once more with her thoughts and demons.

The silence of the room was more than she could stand, so grabbing her purse she headed down stairs to the bar. Maybe a Rum Collins would sooth her anxieties, along with the view. She stayed in this particular hotel anytime she was working or vacationing in South Florida. Most her time was usually spent in New York, when she wasn’t traveling abroad.

Lighting a thin cigar and taking a sip of her drink she let the breath taking view and minor vices calm her nerves. While talking with the agent she thought of Judd and how he ended up on his crusade of sorts against the Ramirez cartel, and a dangerous crusade at that, but especially for her brother, who wasn’t the Rambo type. Her brother viewed the world no matter how good or rotten from a camera lens. It was because of her that Judd was in Mexico right now and had been for several years.

Her return from the one on one interview with the reclusive drug kingpin Carlos Ramirez had left her in a state of absolute shock. The interview was at his secluded island home on the west coast of Mexico. This interview was supposed to be her biggest interview to date and the crowning achievement in her life as a journalist. On top of that the interview itself was a major coo over all the other journalists in the world vying to interview the number one drug kingpin in the world. Her naiveté and ego had taken her down a road she never thought possible.

Upon her arrival by private jet into Mexico City immediately turned into total elation. Once she was finally able to get away from such an evil and vile man. What a monster Carlos Ramirez had turned out to be. She had immediately called a college friend at the embassy. Judd’s sister asked her friend at the embassy if she knew how to get in touch with someone working with the DEA in Mexico City. She declined to answer her friends prying questions. Finally pleading with her to call the agent and have him call her immediately. It was very important that she talk with an agent right away. After hanging up she had taken a very long hot shower and did her best to scrub the filth of the man from every part of her body. It would take months for her to feel clean again.

By the time she got out of the shower, the phone rang. The man on the phone didn’t say he was with the DEA. Instead he asked her if she was the friend of so and so at the embassy. Next he asked if she had some kind of information for him. He was very guarded in his talk with her.

“Does the name Carlos Ramirez mean anything to you?” Judd’s sister wanted to get his attention and it worked.

The man’s breath sucked in and then he said, “Don’t say anymore than that name over this phone. He owns Mexico City. I will call again when I get to the lobby of your hotel. Do not answer the door, until I get there is that understood. Is it locked, if not go lock the door right now,” and then the man hung up the phone.

Thirty minutes later the man called from the lobby and said he was own his way up and would knock three times. He now had her full attention with this cloak and dagger stuff.

He did as promised and knocked three times on the door. Jenifer Lynn let him in the suite. The agent stepped into the hotel room closing and locking the door behind him. He then proceeded to look around the room as if someone might jump out any second.

He handed her his badge and said his name was Michael Cortez. He was agent in charge for Mexico City and several surrounding states of Mexico.

“My name is Jenifer Lynn Martian.”

“I’m familiar with you news magazine articles Miss Martian. You are an excellent investigative journalist.” Agent Cortez said trying to cut the ice. He could see the lady was upset.

“Thank you for the kind words Agent Cortex. The reason I am here in Mexico is because of my job.”

 An awkward silence follows. Neither of them was good at small talk. “So, what do you know about Carlos Ramirez?” Michael decides to get to the point of his being in her suite.

“I just came from his island home off the coast of Sinaloa.”

“You have done what?” Agent Cortez asked incredulously.

“I said, I have just returned from Carlos Ramirez home. I am a journalist and have had a two day interview with him. It will be in a monthly news magazine once I get it typed up and shop it around.”

“Never in my wildest dreams lady would I have believed he would do an interview. The man has been a complete recluse since his rise to the number one position. Jesus, I wonder if this could finally be his first mistake.”

Cortez started to pace back and forth across the room. After a minute he looked at the woman facing him. He could see a dark bruise showing on the side of her neck. He started to ask her something and stopped. It became awkward for a moment.

The lady turned slightly red and then she went over to the desk and picked up an envelope. Turning she walked back and handed it to Agent Cortez.

“That is everything he talked about along with photos and my own observations of his home and things I witnessed over the two days I was there interviewing him. Only a small portion of what’s in the envelope will actually end up in the magazine story. Carlos Ramirez will probably not like what I have to say when it’s all said and done.”

“Is their anything else you want to tell me?” It was hard for Agent Cortez not to stare at the bruises on Jenifer Lynn’s neck.

“No Agent Cortez, it’s all there in black and white in that envelope you’re holding. Do what you can with it. The man is a monster and needs to be brought to justice in the worst way.”

Having said that she walked to the door unlocked it and opened it for him to leave.

Before stepping into the hallway Agent Cortez turned and handed her a card with his name and number on it and then spoke to the lady one last time.

“There’s a name of a friend and fellow agent in Miami written on the back of the card if you ever need to talk to someone. He is a good listener.” And then he walked out and closed the door behind him. At the end of the hall was another DEA agent. He stood with his hand behind his back. Agent Cortez nodded to him and he quickly walked to the elevator and punched the down button. He would get on the elevator first and God help anyone who wanted trouble.

“Is it good?” the second agent asked Cortez on the way to the lobby.

“I think so amigo; help comes from places you never expect.”

After Agent Machado had closed the door, Judd Martian’s sister got very drunk and eventually called her brother crying and told him what Carlos Ramirez had done to her.

Two years and some odds months later, Judd Martian was working on finishing up his quest for vengeance and redemption. His sworn oath to his sister after she had called that night and told him about what the monster Carlos Ramirez had done to her was now in site. Judd idolized and love his sister dearly.

Judd was so close now and he was ready for it and relished in the fact of his accomplishments and the finality. His insides felt like a cancer was running rampant through his entire body and soul, with the sicken acts of violence he had witnessed by these people who were a part of the Ramirez cartel. Others would know soon of what he had witnessed through his camera. There was one man in particular that he wanted to see this horror.

Oh how Judd wished Simon Faraday Hardman could have been here to rescue these poor peasants. No one deserved such treatment, unless it was the Chavez family. Just like Simon had done on the streets of Kuwait City years ago for him. Simon would send these monsters straight to hell, no doubt about. He was one of the good guys.

At first after the attack had happened in Kuwait and he saw first hand what Simon had done by shooting the wounded men laying in the road. Judd was somewhat repelled by the way he had cold bloodedly walked up and shot the four men again. Judd thought his rescuer was a cold blooded killer. Judd had already forgotten that the four men would have killed him without a second thought.

It was the way he had treated the dead driver with such respect and care that changed his mind about the man whose name was Simon Faraday Hardman. He would never forget the way he carried him into the tent and laid him on the cot and then spoke to him. But what really got to Judd was the he touched the driver’s forehead and looked up like he was asking God to take care of him that made Judd realize Simon Hardman was a good man doing a terrible job.

Yes, Judd wanted Simon here to avenge these people and so many more. He inched closer to get his perfect shot of the father and son. The smell of cocaine was strong in the air. When he looked through the camera again he realized the son wasn’t there. Where had Thomas Chavez disappeared to? Quickly Judd took his eye away from the view finder and scanned the area in front of him. He should have looked behind him, not that it would have done any good.

The first sound Judd Martian heard was the pistol cocking in the night air and then he heard the second sound of the gun being fired and felt the impact of the bullet at the same time, just as he did many years ago in Kuwait City and then Judd fell to the ground and died.

Out in the darkness was Judd’s assistant for the last two years and he filmed the horror of his friend and boss being killed as best he could in the waning light. When Judd fell to the ground he did exactly as he had been told countless times, leave immediately and get all the film and documents to his sister. The assistant had the address and would mail them first thing in the morning, along with the video he took tonight and his eye witness account of what happened to her brother. He would continue where Judd had left off, the world needed to know about the monster called the Ramirez cartel.

Judd’s sister received the very large package two days after her brother had been killed. After reading the letter in the envelope written by Judd’s assistant telling her of her brother’s death. She fell to her knees and cried. Her brother was dead because of her.

Once she gathered her whit’s about her and had a stiff drink, she remembered what the DEA agent by the name of John Nichols had instructed her to do. She did as he requested and contacted John and told him she had a rather large box from her now dead brother and that she didn’t think she should ship it to him or his boss. He would understand when he saw what the box contained. Did he want to come to New York and get it? John Nichols was flown on his boss’s private jet to New York the next day.

When John Nichols knocked on the door of her downtown apartment and when Judd’s sister opened the door she was surprised at first. This man couldn’t be an agent. He was too feminine in his features. Was this some kind of joke? She expected a man to look like a football player. John showed his badge and she relaxed some what.

“This package came to me yesterday with a note telling me that brother had been killed by someone with the name Thomas Chavez. I don’t know who that man is, but my brother was documenting the Ramirez cartel. He wanted you to pass the contents of the package along to the man with the name Simon Hardman. Are you sure you’re a DEA agent?” Judd’s sister thought the man looked a little prissy to be a DEA Agent.

“Yes I really am a DEA agent. I also know who Thomas Chavez. He is a member of the Ramirez cartel. He is the nephew of Carlos Ramirez. Simon Hardman is a friend of mine. If you will give the package I will be on my way. My boss is waiting on this.” John was a bit put out by the insinuation that he wasn’t a DEA agent. He guessed she would have been happier if Simon had showed up. He looked the part of a masculine DEA agent you might see in a movie.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.” Anyway here is the box. Have a nice flight back to Miami.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

John Nichols opened the box and started reading and looking at pictures the minute the jet took off for Miami. He nearly lost his lunch twice looking at the pictures. He didn’t have the stomach for such violence personified and caught on film.

There was only one thought or perception the young woman thought at the moment. She should have listened to her father and not ventured out alone at night on the beach with someone she didn’t know. She was in a box of some type that was almost like a casket. Tami had no idea where she was at or what happened to the young man. Tami only felt a terrible fear in her gut.

Tami Gordon had become overwhelmed by the young man at the famous night club. The young man had approached her on the dance floor not long after they arrived. She and her friends from college had been on the island for only a day and this was the first place they visited.

The young man plied her with Mojito’s and before long she was drinking them almost non-stop. This behavior didn’t help matters at all since the young woman was not a drinker. It wasn’t like her to act this way and she had no idea why she was letting herself go. Maybe it was pent up frustrations and finally finishing her masters degree. Who would know how she was acting. She was having fun and that’s all that mattered to her at the moment.

After watching many others dance couples dance in such sexually explicit ways as the music played. Tami had joined in and brazenly danced seductively on the dance floor with the young man. He said his name was Andy and he from Miami.

When he whispered that they should find a private place to be alone, she had readily agreed. The rum was thinking for her and she didn’t tell her friends that she was leaving the night club. It wouldn’t have mattered though. All the girls were drunk on Mojito's and letting their inhibitions go for the night.

Before long the young couple high on Mojito's was on the beach naked and making love. The bright Caribbean moon lit up the beach allowing the lovers to enjoy their nakedness. The young man name Andy had continued to make love to Tami until she passed out. She woke up only briefly as she was placed in a coffin like container. She didn’t even have time to scream for help.

What seemed like an eternity later to Tami the container was finally opened and her eyes watered from the bright sun light. Hands grabbed roughly at her arms and pulled her from the box. She tried to cover her nakedness and was abruptly stopped.

“The boss wants to see the goods, little girl. You’ll get clothes later. Turn around and keep your mouth shut.”

It was hard to stand at first and when Tami finally got her bearings she was standing before a very handsome Latin man. Beside the man was a pretty woman. To his left was a large black man with lots of gold around his neck.

The handsome Latin man spoke and said,” You’ve done an excellent job Eric. I didn’t expect you for at least two more days. You will have a bonus for such quick work. Our friend in Venezuela will like this young chick. She’s just what the man’s taste run to. I see she is a true blonde, very good. That will put another million dollars in my bank account.”

This caused Tami to become weak-kneed. She started too sagged to the marble floor. The man who had spoke to her seconds before jerked her roughly back to her feet. He slapped her hard on the cheek and told her to stand up straight.

“Thank you Senor Munoz.” It wasn’t difficult. Fishing for big game fish is much harder work.” The man named Eric Author let out a terrible laugh.

“Get the girl some clothes and prepare her for the trip to Venezuela.” The man with the gold chains around his neck said.

“Yes Sir Mr. Author.” The guard said and left the room.

“Help me please!” Tami said weakly to the woman.

The pretty blonde woman turned and walked away without saying a word. There was nothing but a stone cold look on her face. Tami couldn’t believe what was happening to her. Why would the other woman help her?

Tami Gordon started to ask for help again, when she felt a prick in her arm and she didn’t wake up again until her stay in hell started.

                                ****All books are copy write  protected and are listed with the Library of Congress.****