January 14, 2008 - New York City, United Nations Building

For this historic occasion in Special Assembly, live coverage of the proceedings were being taped and broadcasted to all major global networks. The newly renovated main assembly hall was filled to within 80% of its capacity. Designed like a huge Greek amphitheater, everyone, including the foreign dignitaries, commented that the architectural detail was so realistic; they felt like they were outside in the open air, underneath a bright summer sky instead of 200 feet below ground. The architects were pleased and the United Nations staff deemed that it was completely appropriate; a proper setting for their prestigious gatherings. It would have made the ancient Athenians proud. The official flags of every nation in the world had been placed around the entire room, and each nation had its own designated seating area, which expanded upward to accommodate the largest of delegations. Every conceivable security precaution had been in place and operating, well in advance of any meeting announcement, to assure the safety of all the attendees. Each member nation was present and properly represented. More than a hundred non-member nations were also present and duly represented, and visitors and dignitaries from around the globe had been seated in their own national sections. Law enforcement had their own special area, filled with top officials from every member country. The attendee list read like the Whos Who of Crime Prevention. Bob Peters looked down at the UN program in his hand and estimated the number of hours it would take to accomplish everything on it, and then he turned to the Task Force Assistant Director, Richard Warner.

Rich, this is a huge Agenda, have you looked at it? He said. Yes, I was just getting to the part about the New Transnational Agency, very impressive. Rich said. Impressive, yes, but I do not know how they think they'll accomplish all this by late afternoon. Bob replied. Do not know. I just hope we won't be late for our dinner engagement with Director Stephens, you know how he hates for anyone to be late. Rich said. I wonder why he decided not to join us. Bob replied. He mentioned that he had some late issues to take care of, but he would try to make it here for the President's speech, then he would have to leave right after. Well, I hope they start soon. Rich replied. Bob was just about to respond, when the Consul General walked onto the stage and took the podium.

Agenda Admission of New Members - Prologue by the Consul General Madame Chairman, distinguished guests and visitors, fellow members. If we were to look into our past, history would prove that every time humanity reached economic freedom and tried to grow beyond the barest of survival instincts, some faction, plague, war or occurrence, has caused the growth to cease and thrown humanity's quest for a better life, back into the dark ages, Consul General said, as he continues his speak.

Looking into our distant past, we would see a world motivated by individual interests, greed, hatred, ignorance, bigotry, and border conflicts of every nature. In our not so distant past, we would see that humanity took some baby steps toward bettering themselves permanently, but the world was still motivated by the same interests, although to a lesser degree. Six years ago, the greatest scientists on the planet gathered together, signed a Proclamation of Reclamation and made a public declaration that our world ecology had been so severely damaged by industrialized civilization, that if something was not done to correct it immediately, humanity would suffer the severest of consequences that could not be corrected by any known means, and that in our lifetime, mankind could only look forward to a slow and painful, total extinction, Consul General explains.

Clearly, something had to be done. Swift and concise new laws and regulations had to be made and enforced. The U.N. member nations rose to the challenge, and after the first six months, we found that important strides had been made, but it was not enough. The rate of decline of our atmosphere had slowed, but it was still declining and would eventually collapse. No one could dispute that a concerted effort would have to be made by every man, woman, and child on the face of the planet. The problem of course was how, given mankind's diverse nature, to make that a reality. There was still much to accomplish if we were to overcome this greatest of all challenges, the survival of the human race. Our atmosphere continued declining for another two months while the greatest minds around the globe continued to ponder the dilemma. Finally, after taking into account every conceivable remedy, the best solution they could offer, was to eliminate half of the world's population and shut down most of our industry.

That was a sad day for all of us that had worked so hard to save the planet. It was our children; the children of the world, God bless them, which suggested a viable solution. Their young minds were fresh, open, unshackled by formalities, ethnic practices, boundaries, or national origins. It was their vision of one world, united in peace, working together, and it was their united effort around the globe that spurred the major powers of the world to formulate a different plan of action. We, as representatives and stewards of our individual nations, are gathered here today to cause and to witness the creation and acceptance of a new global community in the cause for World Peace and Reclamation. Over the past twenty three months, each of the nations represented here today, have recognized the need to form a larger, more encompassing global society, have been working diligently to reclaim the planet, and have pledged to put aside our individual differences to accomplish that goal. Great strides have been made and much has been accomplished. The tide has turned and we can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, Consul General ended his speak.

Ladies and gentlemen, history is being made here today. A new chapter is being written, and a new day has dawned for the citizens of our global community. The UN's new open-door policy, after many months of deliberation, has been approved and endorsed by all members. The new charter has been drawn and accepted, and every nation, large or small, has been formally invited to join, regardless of their past political issues or involvements. And now, without further ado, Mr. Secretary, please call the roll for admittance of new member nations into the New United Nations, One Nation Earth, Consul General added.

Confirmation by all members, one by one, the Secretary called the roll. Each nation's representative responded either nay or yeah that they wished to join. As each new member voiced their assent, their representative came up to the podium, spoke a few brief words, signed the new charter and returned to their seat. After all the new members had been formally admitted, the Consul General made his admittance speech and all rose to cheer him. Now the Structure and Acceptance of a New Transnational Agency, as the Consul General introduces the next speaker.

Our next speaker is well known to all of you as the man who dared to change the course of history. Few have dared to take up the challenge, and fewer still have shouldered any responsibility for making such broad policy changes affecting the world as a whole. I personally have known this honorable man for many years. I know his words are true, his character is without blemish, and above all else, he has strived for world peace to a greater degree than any other person in our known history. Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of The United States, Ian Adam Mitchell, Consul General said, as he turned to his right and motioned toward the curtain.

Ladies, and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America, Consul General said, as he introduces President Mitchell.

The President was standing back stage with his security detail. He came out from behind the curtain and walked to center stage as all applauded the man and his vision for the future. The President looked out on the entire assembly, then he smiled and nodded deeply, a little half-bow, toward each new member nation around the great room. The response was thunderous.

We're witnessing what makes this man so great, his sense of humility and fair play, Bob Peters said, as he turned to Rich. Yes, and his sense of drama, I didn't vote for man, Rich replied, and wanted to see his reaction. Now, well finally get to see its conclusion, Bob thought, and tried to ignore Rich's snide remark, as he remembers how long this new change had been in the works.

President Mitchell waited for the crowd to quiet, then he held up his hands, and finally everyone took their seats and waited for the speak, or prologue by the President of the United States.

Mr. Consul General, Mr. Vice President, members of One Nation Earth, distinguished guests, my fellow Americans, President Mitchell said, as he opens his speak, and continues.

I would like to thank you all for such a warm welcome and I thank the Consul General for allowing me to speak here today. I personally welcome all the new members, and I commend you for your decision to join the cause of World Peace and Global Reclamation. By your participation today, you have re-formed and joined a great society, a new community with physical boundaries, but for the first time in our history, a society of nations without political boundaries, as each of you have pledged to abide by the new charter. Each nation's individual government infrastructure has changed slightly, but you have this day gained so much more: more freedom, more assistance, more protection and, of course, a place of honor for choosing to better our world, President said, continuing his speak.

Over the course of human history, we have seen all the single nations on this planet over-run with every conceivable evil, from petty thieves to crime syndicates, gun runners to drug Cartels, serial killers to total annihilationists, terrorist plots to military coups, theft of identity to monetary takeovers, theft of intellectual property to agricultural genocide, religious zealots to mass police state atrocities, and from border skirmishes to total world wars. Every society ever known has tried their own particular strategy, at tremendous cost to life and to our planet, to fix the problems, only to be shot down again and again. Today, with the signing of the new charter and the alliance of over 80 nations worldwide, the stage has finally been set to implement global strategies to eliminate these barbaric threats to lasting world peace. We have successfully combined the best of both worlds, economic growth with ecological reforms to repair and renourish our still polluted planet,as he looks out into the great hall.

With your formal acceptance of the formation of the Department of Counter-Intelligence, we will be in position to eliminate the core problems of mis-information and mis-direction, and the best talent from each nation will be pooled together, under one treaty and one roof. The DCI will then govern all agencies, worldwide. No agency has been left out and no agency has been limited. On the contrary, each agency's powers and budgets have been expanded, with more freedom of action than ever before. The DCI now stands as the first and foremost line of defense against terrorism the world has ever seen. This agency embodies the Drive behind the promise, the Cause behind the order, and the Intelligence to fight the chaos, President continues, pouring himself a glass of water. It took a long time for us to learn the lessons, to create instead of destroy, to work together instead of being greedy individuals, to humanely limit our population expansion, to improve and nourish our world and to feed everyone in it. Finally, for the first time in history, we can look forward to a future that our children can proudly inherit. With the ongoing cleanup of our air, food, and water, we are just starting to see immune response diseases like cancer, arthritis and diabetes declining. We now know that this was the only choice to make. It is a shame that we waited so long to do it. Much heartache, pain and suffering could have been avoided.

As we, individually and collectively, form new and lasting relations with each sovereign nation under one world order, we can now expect that our children will face a much different world than the one in which we grew up. With global population and agricultural reforms in place, world hunger will no longer exist. With better, more expanded technology, we are turning seawater into safe water for everyone and it is being returned to the land and to the sea in its purest form, without exhausting our underground water tables. With the New United Nations Charter in place, the threat from war and devastation has been eliminated, and today, we can look forward to a cleaner, safer, healthier existence than any of us have known in the past.

Scientists are working around the globe to repair the damage done from former destructive land practices. The ecology is being repaired and today, we can look into the past and see that this was indeed the only civilized course of action our leaders could have taken, so that we, as vast and varied individuals, may co-exist and prosper on planet earth. With the signing of this last declaration, freedom from oppression will be preserved and the terrorist threat will be eliminated.

Self and corporate interests will still be served, but not at the expense of our people or our planet. The population reforms that have been installed will slow the overwhelming burden to the ecology, and for the very first time in our history, both domestic and foreign policies will work as one. I say to those of you who have not yet decided to embrace a new way of doing things, join us in our fight for freedom from terrorist threats and deeds that have touched us all. We have learned from our past mistakes and errors in judgment, we have learned what we must do to eliminate this threat.

After every major attack against America, we later learned, after all the information had been correlated, that we had been given advance warning, from several different sources, before each attack happened. When the American people learned this fact, some of them ignored it as lies spread by the enemy, some of them refused to believe it, but some of them questioned. With knowledge of an impending attack, how could our government stand by and let that happen? After studying each situation, the truth was always the same. One agency received one piece of information, another agency received another type of information, while yet another agency had a third kind of information, but no one agency had all the information, and given the diverse nature of our agencies, the differing protocols, jealousies and red tape, there didn't seem to be an answer until we faced the real issue: our system was flawed.

Lack of information was never the problem, but the lack of a concerted effort to gather and disseminate all the information, coupled with a lack of authority to act on that information was the core problem during every conflict or catastrophe in our American history, and I would venture a guess that our problem was not so different in any other country.

What we needed, but did not have, was a single source or agency to gather, coordinate, disseminate, and act upon that information. We needed a sort of clearing house, a final word on matters of national security. After the last in-depth analysis by the scientific population, we decided to employ the same methods to find an answer to our second dilemma, how to correct the flaw in our systems. Needless to say, it was a long process, but we have found the answer and have already begun to implement the cure. We now have one agency, The Department of Counter-Intelligence, in place and operating around the world in each U.N. country, and with your acceptance today, we will be more than 80 nations strong, ready to defend your way of life, covering the globe, and assuring world peace, President continues, with his speak, nearing the end.

Three simple words define a nation, We The People. From this day forward, these words are not just for one individual nation, but also for the entire world. Today, we witness the birth of a new nation, One Nation Earth, and We The People remember and honor all those that fought in countless wars throughout the ages for those three simple words. Today, We The People give notice to any would-be perpetrator of any type of crime against humanity, wherever it occurs, no longer are we helpless to stop the injustice, no longer are we afraid, and no longer will we stand by and watch you wantonly destroy our people, our land, our buildings, or our freedom. You will not stop us. We will survive. We will prosper, and We The People will walk tall and proud as citizens of One Nation Earth, President Mitchell said, ending his speak, as the crowd cheer him on, as Mitchell walks off the stage.

President Mitchell was an impressive speaker and amongst the roar of applause, his charisma had gained even more new members to the global community and many more supporters of the new transnational agency. The Special Assembly was again led by the Consul General to confirm their support, and as promised, the entire proceedings were over by late Afternoon, as the day ended on a positive note.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One

The Camp in the Jungle

The Present - December 2009, the Compound. Deep within the Costa Rican jungle, lays a secure compound surrounded with armed guards and high-tech weaponry. The camp houses a radar system with a range of 1000 miles in all directions. At first look, this could be a military installation with its airstrip for landing cargo planes, the long line of trucks moving in and out of the compound, guards walking dogs, and watch towers over looking the area from every direction. However, looks can be deceiving. This is not a government military base, nor a covert operation of any foreign national, but a staging area for an amalgamation of drug lords and their gunrunners. This highly organized operation is capable of deployment to any part of the world in less than 24 hours. Three highly trained teams of well-paid mercenaries stand guard around the clock. Its security system is state of the art, camouflaged and well hidden within the deepest part of the jungle.

The base is known to the local government, but their hands-off policy concerning the base, prevents intrusion or problems from government reprisals. Jose Amelio, the head of the government, repeatedly has refused to send in any militia to the area. The drug lords have much more clout than the government, and Amelio knows this could topple his precarious government rule, and would only earn him disfavor from the locals that rely on the Cartel for their daily subsistence. Secluded, but living within a mile from the base, are the native Costa Ricans, referred to as the Mud Hutters by the base residents. They pose no threat to their security.

These people are poor, living in odd looking dirt shacks formed by hand with wound twigs, vines, leaves and mud joined to branching adjube trees for stability. Subsisting mainly off the land on fruit, fresh water crustaceans, an occasional animal snared in the jungle, and handouts from the Cartel in return for their silence and their loyalty.

They own nothing and have nothing to trade for representation, so they were never visited by anyone from the Costa Rican Government. Except for poachers or a handful of natives traveling on their yearly trek into the jungle to honor and tend to the needs of the local shaman, few have ever ventured this far into the interior.

Years ago, this was a lawless region when the militia ran the country. There were no political parties in place to answer to, no one to question them or their tactics, and no one to stop the cruelties against a defenseless people or to prevent the senseless death squads that roamed the area. Wild and untamed, this spot was not designated as a favorite tourist attraction. Living in relative isolation, the local natives were an easy target and favorite sport of a depraved group of guerrilla forces trying to make a name for themselves and take over the region.

When the drug lords investigated this area and began to set up their base, they began securing their position, hunting, torturing and killing anyone that could oppose them, and they enlisted the aid of the Mud Hutters to build their hidden camp. Although they were made to work from sunup to sundown, the natives welcomed the protection and assistance from the Cartel. While the construction was going on, they fed them, clothed them and vanquished their enemies. So, to the local natives, the drug lords were their salvation.

They were fiercely loyal to them and would never betray their whereabouts to anyone. The Mud Hutters still respect and admire the Cartel, as one would revere a ruling king. As the years went by, the Cartel came to expect the homage the natives paid to them and allowed them free access in and out of the camp. They gave them fresh kills from time to time in exchange for services, but they do not live within the compound anymore, they live nearby in their strange looking mud hut village.

June 5, 2009 six months earlier, The Cartel used mostly ex-military personnel to defend their hidden base. Juan, a/k/a Johnny Sosa, an ex-Cuban security officer, was handpicked by unanimous vote of the Cartel to run their main base. He was a very different type of man than the rest of the mercenaries in the camp. Senor Sosa is the right hand man to the Cartel. His previous years in the Cuban military gave him an impressive record. His unswerving reliability, ingenuity and ability to fix whatever needs to be fixed are of the utmost importance to the Cartel.

Back in Cuba, Johnny was a member of an elite group of privately trained individuals known as The Club by his peers. His fearsome specialty was torturing a prisoner until he extracted all the information he wanted from them. He gave the phrase, Here comes Johnny a whole new meaning. No one, not even those in The Club, knew how he did it. His ratio was one hundred percent, quite unheard of in guerrilla circles. His motives and tactics are still unknown, as there are no survivors to tell any tales.

The Cartel chose him to run their base. They knew they could rely on him. When Johnny Sosa takes on a task, he completes it without question, without interference, and you can bet your last peso that it will be accomplished. Castro kept a few good men as covert operatives on the island of Grenada in the Lesser Antilles. This location was used as a listening post and early-warning system. Retired Cuban revolutionary, Rafael Samona, gave Castro's men food, clothing, and shelter in exchange for services and monetary upkeep for his once run-down boarding house left to him by his Father. As a gift for excellent service, Castro sent Johnny to this house in Grenade for a one-month tour of duty.

His official duties only took him a couple of hours a day to complete, so he had a lot of time on his hands and he wandered around the island trying to find something that interested him to occupy his time. He dressed like the locals, so no one knew of his military affiliation. Normally, he would dress, breakfast, and put in his time at the house, then visit some new and different part of the town for something to do. It was on one of these excursions that Johnny met the woman he would fall deeply in love with. Now for a man like Johnny, a cruel and expert torturer, who would believe that anyone could hold him captive, let alone a woman?

They first met at the Rum Runner Cafe, a favorite hangout for Castro's covert people. Krystal had come to the cafe to purchase a Cafe con Leche, her favorite afternoon drink. From the moment she walked into the cafe, Johnny was immediately struck almost speechless by the innate beauty of this tall, thin woman. Her face was light in sharp contrast to her jet-black hair and as she sat down at a table, Johnny could see just a hint of her voluptuous bosom underneath her typical island dress, as she brushed some sand off the newly purchased garment.

She whispered quietly to the waiter and waited patiently for him to return. Johnny was not sure what it was about her that intrigued him so much, but he determined to find out who she was and why he had never seen her before.

He made his way to the rest room and on his way back, stopped to speak to the Rum Runner's Owner, Estafan Lomelio, whom he had known for several years back in Cuba. Much to Johnny's surprise and delight, Estafan told him that she had just started coming in about this time every afternoon for the last three days. She was usually with an older woman. They never spoke to anyone except between themselves, drinking their coffee and leaving a sizable tip.

Most of the time like today, she would have a couple of bags filled with purchases from local shops, so Lomelio thought she might be from one of the tourist ships anchored in the bay. Beyond that, he knew nothing about her. Johnny finished his usual fruit drink and made his way to the front of the cafe.

Is this seat taken, I have some friends that may come by in a few minutes and will need an extra chair, he said after pulling the chair at her table. No, it's not taken, you may have it, Krystal said, with her heavy accent was reminiscent of Eastern Colombia. Thank you, he replied. As he took the chair from her table and pushed it in at the table next to hers then he sat down to wait for his friends.

His ploy had worked and he sat with an expression of quiet expectation as he ordered the same drink she was having. Occasionally he looked at his watch and at the door to the cafe as if expecting someone, while he tried to think of some way to strike up a conversation. This woman was definitely not the kind Sosa would normally associate with. You could tell she came from money, not the kind for a one-night stand. Daddy was probably very close and very rich, and Johnny knew he really should not be flirting with danger, but something deep inside him made him want to pursue her. This is absurd, why am I doing this? Oh well, the scene had already been set, no harm in playing it out to see what happens. He thought, trying to find the right words.

Are you also waiting for someone Senorita? He said. No, I've been shopping and stopped to rest, she said, as she looks down to see the packages that lay on the chair beside her.

When Krystal offered no further conversation, Johnny was just about to speak again, when an older woman, looking very anxious, opened the door of the cafe, saw Krystal sitting at their usual table, quickly crossed the distance and hurried to Krystal's side. The woman whispered something to Krystal and Rosa started gathering Krystal's parcels, and then Krystal motioned to the waiter for the check. Johnny felt a wrenching in his chest and his throat felt tight as he struggled to find some provocative words to coax her to stay, but the waiter produced the check before he could speak and Krystal paid him.

Unexpectedly, their eyes met for a split second and she smiled a thin, demure acknowledgment of their brief conversation. Johnny could only manage a courteous nod as the two women walked out of the cafe. Up until now, none of the women he spent time with ever made him feel this way. She had such a profound effect on him; he knew that somehow he must see her again. His coffee came and he sat sipping the hot liquid and imagined what it would be like to have her in his arms, stroking her long shiny black hair.

Although they had only spoken briefly, she had captivated him, and in the days to come, he would go back to the Rum Runner every day about the same time to see if she was there. He would sit there on his off-hours, sipping Cafe con Leche, remembering the smell of her perfume.

About two weeks before Johnny was scheduled to return to Cuba, Krystal stopped in again for her favorite drink. This time he was ready for her and he quickly engaged her in casual conversation. Now Johnny Sosa was a slim, good-looking man, in a rugged sort of way. He had a quick wit and a quality about him that immediately made you feel comfortable. Krystal did not know why, but she felt strangely drawn to this man with the deep voice, mild manner, and clear brown eyes.

Johnny was different from the usual visitors to her Father's yacht, other landowners, government type officials and traders of goods. The differences were refreshing. He appeared to be genuinely interested in the same type of things that she was interested in, and she didn't feel threatened by him like she did from some of the more aggressive types she met.

No harm in casual conversation, it might prove interesting, she thought, her mind wonders, when their eyes met one another.

Every afternoon they would meet for Cafe con Leche and stimulating conversation. Neither Krystal nor Johnny noticed as their conversations began to take a more serious turn. At the time, Johnny would not admit it, but he was totally intrigued. He felt that the time he spent with Krystal was in a whole different world where nothing else mattered. They spent the long afternoons sipping their coffee, talking about her home and her young life as she was growing up outside Caracas on her Father's sugar cane plantation.

Born in Cartagena, Colombia, famous for their beautiful women, Krystal's Father had met and married her Mother there. They moved to Caracas when Krystal was a very young girl, to the Rodriguez sugar cane plantation owned by her Father.

The plantation grew in size and wealth throughout the generations since his Grandfather won it in a card game during the First World War. Eduardo Rodriguez, II enlarged it and planted the first stalks of sugar cane, hiring poor dirt farmers back in the 40's. It was passed down to Krystal's Father, Eduardo Rodriguez, III, who also fought to defend it. He managed to enlarge it even further, despite the political coops in Venezuela at that time. Land is a very powerful commodity in a poor country.

Today, the Rodriguez estate is a one-man empire, and Eduardo Rodriguez, III is not a man to trifle with. At the beginning of the Cartel takeover, back before the base was built, as more and more government leaders and civil workers were being killed without regard for life or limb, some locals banded together to try to put a stop to the murders and tried to bring those responsible to justice. Don Jose Baize, 35 years of age, a landowner with a wife and three small children, heads this new coalition of the people.

Don Jose first began to fight against the ruling forces by voicing his opinion and gathering very limited support from some other locals and a few well-placed officials in the militia. Knowing that more than likely he would be tortured and killed like the rest who tried to make a difference, he still had to try. Don Jose had seen all too many of his friends beaten and robbed of their meager possessions.

His neighbor's wife was shot while trying to save her daughters and the rest of the family was held hostage and forced to watch while seven men raped them repeatedly. After his own younger Brother was tortured to death and left to rot, dangling on a tree as a warning to others, he could stand by no longer.

Jose and two of his friends, Manuel and Ricardo, were making a trek through the jungle for needed medical supplies from a neighboring village when they came across a clearing that had been recently trampled. They stopped short, dropped to their knees, and fell silent, cautiously listening for any sounds or signs of movement. Hearing nothing, they ventured out from behind the brush and found a large pool of blood on the ground. Manuel motioned toward something hanging up in the tree above them and they all stepped into the clearing to see what it was. In speechless agony, they suddenly recognized Don Jose's Brother tied to the tree.

My God, they all cried out, in unison.

Manuel was the first to climb the tree and Ricardo jumped up behind him. Manuel checked for a pulse and slowly shook his head from side to side. Ricardo cut the ropes from the bloodstained tree and together they lowered the body to the ground. The smell of fear still hung in the air as Jose received the body and carefully laid it on the ground. He felt like a zombie carrying out an obscene task. In his mouth, the taste of grief and death remained like an acrid lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. Manuel and Ricardo made their descent from the tree and joined Don Jose. Manuel had noticed something on his brother's back as they were lowering his body, and he turned him slightly to see what it was.

The scum drug dealers have done this, why him, he yells out.

Jose's backbone stiffened and his eyes glazed momentarily as he recognized the large circular insignia they branded him with. Don Jose managed a nod. He knew who had committed this vile act. Suddenly, the anger welled up inside him and he could not contain it. He shouted to the heavens and swore revenge to his dead brother's body.

I will find the ones who did this to you. I swear it on our Mother's grave, he said, turning to Ricardo. Where is my back pack? He said. There, I'll get it, Ricardo replied.

Pointing to the ground where Don Jose had left it, Ricardo brought Don Jose's pack and sat it on the ground in front of him. He rummaged through it and finally pulled out his blanket and laid it on the ground beside the body, and then as they lifted the body onto the blanket, he could see the marks on him.

Judging from the scrapes and cuts all over his body, Jose knew he had been dragged a long distance before being hoisted into the tree. He inspected the torn clothing and rope burns on his wrists and ankles. He also knew from the lack of blood from the neck, that the jagged marks of a jungle machete, sawed across both sides of his neck, were an after thought. That kind of death would have been a quick one. Jose knew his Brother had suffered a long time before he finally died.

If only I had joined my Brother's fight sooner, I could have kept this from happening, Jose murmured in his grief. Don Jose, that may be true, but more than likely, you would be hanging from the second tree up there along side your brother, Ricardo replied.

Who had been silent up until then, as he pointed above them? Jose looked at Ricardo and fell silent. In his heart, he knew Ricardo was right, and Jose knew that it was only a matter of time before everything he owned and loved would be gone. With the resolve of a religious zealot, he vowed revenge to bring this lunatic to his knees. The red circular crest, still vivid in his mind, now stood as a somber reminder of what would happen if he did not end this reign of terror.

Now, ten years later, Don Jose has become the voice, and unofficially, the judicial arm of the Costa Rican people. He continued speaking out at rallies, gaining more support.

Slowly, government officials were replaced by less fearsome, although still corrupt officials, and it evolved into what it is today, mostly a puppet regime, operating under the cloak of popular opinion, Don Jose said, speaking at one of many villages he has visited.

He and his wife and children, all that is left of his family, live in a secure location where not even his closest acquaintances know where he is or have access to him, and due to the protection of his self-made coalition, they have never been harmed. Now, with the voice and protection of Don Jose, their only defending champion, the townspeople of Costa Rica finally have a fighting chance to win out against the insanity.

Don Jose knew that they had to become even more powerful and expand their operations, and he instigated a major enlistment effort, spread by word-of-mouth between the local townspeople. All of the available men from age 13 on up, were going off to the jungle to train in The People's Army. He knew that it would be a long, hard fight and they must be prepared for anything if they are to succeed. He must have well-trained men that are tough enough to survive in the jungle on their own, a far-reaching intelligence network in place, and lots of dinero to fund it all. His aim was not only to quash the guerrilla factions roaming the jungle, but also to take over the Cartel and destroy their hidden base.

In his quest to free Costa Rica from tyranny, Don Jose has made a few enemies, but he also had many friends that supported him in one way or another, and he knew he could rely on most of them to help him in whatever way they can. All too few, but nonetheless carefully chosen, some of his friends were in positions of wealth and power. One such man was one of Jose's oldest and dearest friends, a wealthy and powerful Venezuelan landowner, who lived with his own painful memories of terror and of loss. He is a man that would fight to the death if need be, but what Don Jose was about to ask this dear old friend, could be asking more than he may be willing or able to do. It most certainly would change both of their lives forever.

At this point in time, Eduardo Rodriguez was the only ally he had or knew of that could further Jose's cause to such a great extent. The question was, can Don Jose come to terms with all of the ramifications of what he was about to ask of him, if his old friend did decide to comply? What of the lives of those that he called his friends? He could not risk losing an ally and a long-time friend; his friends were very dear to him, not merely target practice. On the long trip, Don Jose asked himself again, could he and they forgive themselves for what they were about to do, and would their efforts be in time?

Caracas, Venezuela - The Rodriguez Estate. The long day ended with the cover of night shading his arrival, as Don Jose made a surprise visit to his friend, Eduardo Rodriguez. Jose had been there many times before and Manuel, Eduardo's servant, knew the drill and guided Jose into Eduardo's library. Eduardo was reading by the fire. Eduardo stood to greet him and the two embraced.

Don Jose, it's good to see you again, come in, come in, warm yourself by the fire. What are you doing so far from home this time of year? He said. Thank you Don Rodriguez, it's good to be here, it's been much too long, my friend, Jose replied. That's an interesting box you have there. Is that for me? He said, seeing the brown intricately carved, wooden box in Jose's hand, he accepted the gift. Si, Don Rodriguez, I brought you a special humidor, hand carved by a very talented man especially for you. He has etched your family name into the design and it's filled with those hand-rolled aromatic cigars I know you like, Jose replied. Jose, I don't know how you do it, but you always know exactly what I enjoy most, thank you my friend. This is a very special gift and the perfect complement to a good brandy, he said.

Eduardo motioned for Jose to sit in one of the big leather chairs by the fire. Eduardo placed the box on the table by his favorite chair and walked to the bar.

Your usual, Jose? He said, Jose sat by the fire while Eduardo poured their drinks. Si Eduardo. How have you been doing? Jose said, settled into the soft leather chair as Eduardo brought their drinks. Oh you know, the usual matters, Eduardo replied, as he handed Jose his drink and then sat down across from him by the fire. I can never seem to find enough help when it's time to bring in the crop, he replies, while placing his brandy down, opened the box and took a cigar. As he unwrapped it and clipped the end. The over abundance of rain at the beginning of the growing season, then the lack of it toward the end, reduced the yield by 28 percent below what we expected, he replied. Si, Don Rodriguez, the weather hit us hard too, the men always complain that it is difficult to stay dry in the rainy season, Don Jose responded. Good field hands are hard to find these days, I think most of them heard of your offer to train them to defend themselves, and have run off to join your army in Costa Rica. Only the very youngest and inexperienced are willing to work to bring in the crop, Eduardo countered.

Some of the young ones could not complete their training and have returned home, Don Jose responded. Ah, nothing in the world like a good Cubanero, he said, lit his cigar and took a long puff, Don Rodriguez raised his glass to Don Jose and Jose nodded politely. Well, maybe now I will have a few more hands, you know it is always the same with me here, not much changes, so tell me Jose, how goes your fight, are you making any progress? He said, after taking another sip of his brandy. My friend, I have good news, we found the Cartel's main camp and are preparing to spring a trap, Jose responded, as he twirled the ice in his glass. You found it? That is very good news, the other landowners will also be glad to hear it, Eduardo yells out.

If you can destroy the Costa Rican base, maybe we can finally be rid of the scum in this Country. The Magdalena Basin used to be a wild, untamed natural beauty, but with the Cartel's expansions, it has become a haven for the cut-throat drug dealers, and now they are much too close for comfort. What can I do to help you this time? Eduardo added.

With just a little luck and a bit more information, we will finally be in position to bring Garcia to his knees. Mostly, we need more information on his whereabouts at any given moment, Jose replied, took a long drink, preparing to ask for what he needed. Jose, I don't think I can help you this time, I know nothing of their operations, Eduardo added, looking perplexed. No, Don Rodriguez, but Krystal does. I have been informed that she is at their hidden base, Jose carefully responded, with trepidation, seeing Eduardo sat straight up in his chair.

What? What do you mean? I just heard from her last Sunday. She always calls me once a week. Are they holding her captive? He is yelling from the top of his lungs. No, no Don Eduardo, She is there of her own free will, staying with Johnny Sosa, the base commander, Jose quickly replied.

Don Rodriguez could not believe what he was hearing and shook his head.

I do not know what has gotten into her, how did you come to know this? He questioned. My Intel network informed me that Krystal has been there for some time, and been told she is planning on leaving the base to go shopping in Caracas next week, Jose answered, fearing reprisal from Eduardo.

Jose lied and then he hastily, as Don Rodriguez listened intently.

She will be heavily guarded, but I have made arrangements to meet with her. She is in a unique position and I really need to know, Jose continues.

Suddenly, Don Rodriguez could not listen to any more and cutting Jose off in mid-sentence.

What the hell is the matter with you, are you crazy? This is my daughter you are talking about, not some revolutionary informer, Eduardo snarled in reply, fixed his eyes on Jose. How would you feel if I put your son or daughter in the line of fire? I will not hear of her being used in this manner. Krystal is the only thing left in my life that is worth holding on for. You should be trying to get her out of there, not use her. I am sympathetic with your cause, but you have gone too far this time, He said, with a tone in his voice, he rose to his feet and Jose carefully chose his words.

Don Eduardo, please sit down and let me explain. We have been friends for many years. I would never do anything to hurt Krystal. I am trying to help, but it is a very delicate situation and if not done exactly right, she could be in real danger. Believe me, this is not my doing. She did this on her own, but I have arranged for a woman that I know to watch over her and bring word to me if anything looks like it might be getting dangerous, he explains.

My God, you have known about this for some time and did not tell me. You have betrayed my friendship. I ought to feed you to my dogs. If anything happens to Krystal, you will wish you were dead. Get the hell out of my house! He yells once again.

Now, Eduardo was far from being stupid and he could read between the lines. Jose stood to face Eduardo and pleaded desperately.

Don Eduardo, please do not do this. We have been friends too long to end this way, he replied. Friends? No friend uses someone this way. You are no friend of mine. Get the hell out of here before I throw you out! Eduardo said, as he is furious.

Jose could see that Eduardo was very upset and no amount of argument was going to change his mind, and he did not want to take a chance on upsetting him any further. In time, perhaps he and Eduardo could once again sit down and enjoy a brandy and some pleasant conversation, but for now, it was best for him to go. Sadly, Jose left as Eduardo made a phone call.

Chess is Don Jose's favorite game and he uses it to the fullest on the board of life, but he is not beyond reason and he always questioned if his motives outweighed the need. Who were the people he was putting into play and were they willing pawns? He could not afford to make too many mistakes or to lose any more friends in the process. Were they joining of their own accord or simply being maneuvered into play without their knowledge? These were the questions on his mind, but after due deliberation, Jose knew that his motives were pure and his conscience was clear. With Eduardo's refusal, Jose began to put his second option, already in place, into motion. This plan was a bold one, but it was time to fight fire with fire. His revenge would now begin to come full circle, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The troops were nearly ready, communications were adequate and Jose was prepared, both mentally and physically. They say, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, but the vinegar can be used as well, it just depends on timing and how you use it. Now, the honey had been placed and the trap had been set. All that was left to do, was to let it play itself out and see what develops, as the game changed to set and match. He thought his next moved.

Back at the villa, Costa Rica, Krystal still working thins out, did not know where Johnny had gone, and just continue to wonder. Why did Johnny left so early without any word to me, Krystal thought, into the night, pacing within her lock room. On the island of Grenada, she had been close to her Father and friends, but here at Sosa's Villa, north of the compound over-looking the river, there were few that she could talk to. Built especially for Krystal and Sosa, the villa sat off to itself, isolated from the daily noise of the camp, a beautiful, but lonely reminder of her life with Sosa since leaving Grenada. Twenty-four hours had gone by since Krystal sent the message to her friend in San Antonio and she had no way of knowing if it was received or if it was intercepted by one of the guards.

Nevertheless, she had to do something, to get some word somehow to the outside world to let Jose know that she was still alive. If only she could have found a way out of the compound without anyone noticing, but that was impossible with all the guards, including her personal aide that watches over her 24/7.

The message, if it gets through, will have to do for now, Krystal thought, still working things out within her head.

When she joined Sosa at his base, she left no word with anyone where she was going except for her friend, Don Jose. It was a precarious position for Krystal with only one contact, a housekeeper at the villa. Now she wondered if that decision was a good one and if she really knows what she has gotten herself into. Don Jose talked her into using her position with Sosa in order to provide knowledge of Garcia's actions, but she had not planned to fall in love with Johnny.

When she first began this subterfuge, her main goal was to enter the Cartel's stronghold and learn everything she could about the organization, and then pass that information back to Jose. Now she had more than enough on Garcia and the Cartel to end this charade. As she waited for the return message.

If one of my messages were to be intercepted, no telling what would happen to me..., but enough of this, no sense in worthless self-recrimination. I have come too far to let my own fears get in the way, she thought.

December 1, 2009 - Washington DC. A high-ranking official received a call on his private, secure line. This time it was from his pipeline contact.

Talk to me, he said. Sir, I have some bad news, we have problem, caller replied. What is it this time? Official replied, as he hesitates. A small team of agents from DEA has stumbled onto one of our pipelines, caller said. What? Damn! What else is going to happen? He screamed into the telephone. Sir, we just found out that they've been monitoring some of our transmissions for the last two weeks, he replies.

The official took a moment to compose himself, and then he asked for all the details.

Go on, he said. After the discovery, the DEA made a request to the Justice Department to investigate, then they informed the FBI of their involvement because FBI has full authority over all domestic and foreign crimes within its borders, he continues to explain.

Shit, I know all that, get on with it! Impatiently, he responded. The DEA is now working on this case with the Feds. Just give me the word, sir and I can set up a team to cut them off, he replied.

The official didn't need any more screw-ups. It was too delicate a situation, too many agencies were involved, and he just was not sure he could plug all the holes.

No! Just prepare a team, put them in place, and wait for my word. I can't risk losing control of this situation, he replied.

The official hung up and dialed again, setting up a meeting for later that same day with two men, General George Brooks, U.S. Army and Frank Martin, CIA The warehouse was located just outside of the city. It was wired for security and when Martin arrived at the warehouse, he scanned it to make sure it was safe. General Brooks arrived and they proceeded with their meeting. Martin opened a box that contained a scrambler, and then he dialed a number and placed the receiver in the cradle.

Ok, we're scrambled, Martin said. Gentlemen, we have a major situation on our hands. All our assess are on the line this time. Up until now, it's been fun and games and raking it in, but now it's time to pay the piper. If our involvement ever leaks out, we won't stand a chance in hell, and with the new DCI coming into power, we'd be publicly branded and shot for high treason, he said, through the speaker phone.

Shit! What the hell's happened this time? Brooks replied. Martin was silent, waiting for the worst. One of our pipelines has been breached by the DEA and they're working with the Feds, trying to uncover the particulars, he replied. Damn, Martin replied, as he winced.

Brooks glared at Martin, who scares back at him.

You said there was no way we could be discovered. What happened to all your extra precautions, and how could they have decoded any of our secure transmissions? He said. I'll find out, I just need some time, Martin replied, in shock, as he walks around the table, and looks over towards General Brooks.

The official spoke again, this time not in a very happy mood. You'd better do it quickly mister CIA, or your ass is grass, he replied, with a stronger voice.

Martin nodded towards General Brooks. Yes sir, I get right on it,he replied.

Brooks on the other hand, frowned at Martin. What can I do at this point? Brooks said. I've given this some thought and we have to end this before we're discovered. After today, we cannot risk another buy. If it was only one, we could handle that, but with both agencies involved, too many noses are sniffing around, he explains.

First of all, I want you to set up our contingency plan and put the hit on Garcia. I can't trust him. If the DEA ever catches him, he would be offered immunity in exchange for information. He has to be taken out, I want you to put Operation Freedom Bird in high gear, he added.

Brooks waited for him to finish, when Martin spoke up. Our inside man continues to feed us with good Intel, should we keep him in place or move him out of there before the shit hits the fan? Martin asked, reminding him of is contact person at the compound.

Brooks, put him on the list with Garcia. He knows too much. We can't risk him talking either, he replied. But, he's one of our best men and we've spent a lot to keep him clear,Martin responded, going with his last statement. No, I want the plan put into motion today Brooks, and you Martin, find out who breached our pipeline, who is involved and has knowledge of it, and then I want to know how they did it, then report back to me. I need to know which holes to cover before the rabbits jump in them, he added, then the dial tone comes our the speaker phone...

Both Martin, General Brooks knew what to do, Martin is not to crazy about losing his number one deep undercover man, he has his own ideas on how to use the pipeline, and must find out how the DEA found out of their operations. General Brooks, just did what his is told, and did not care for Martin's tactics. However, he has his orders, and need to contact his inside man at the Defense Department. Nevertheless, there is one man who has a lot to lose, as he is now wondering if is was all wealth it?

I better got a handle on this, or the shit is going to hit the fan, and all I work for would will be lose, he thought.

Two weeks later-December 15, 2009 09:55 a.m., Dulles International Airport, flight 204 from Mexico City has arrived, as the passengers this embark.

Passport please, Customs Agent asked, behind the desk.

The man handed over his passport as he scanned the room looking for something or someone. He then turned back to face the Agent so he could check his photo on the passport. The Agent recognized that the man is the Mexican Ambassador's Attache, carrying a diplomat pouch. The customs Agent dutifully matched the photo and the man, and then checked it against his computer's diplomatic ID listing. The Customs Agent handed his identity papers back to him.

Here you are sir, sorry for the delay, Customs Agent said.

Then the Agent unlocked the side door and the attache walked directly into the airport without checking his diplomat pouch. Millions of bags get checked everyday by security personnel, cameras, and x-ray machines, but because of their diplomatic immunity, U.S. Customs let these diplomats go around the system by passing them through without inspection, regardless of what they might be carrying.

Undercover DEA Agents, on a tip from an informant, were positioned at the airport, waiting for a man from Costa Rica. Just as their target was approaching the main lobby, the Ambassador's Attache stepped into the flow of foot traffic with his silver case and walked toward the concession stand. Agent Barnes zeroed in on him, and recognizing his diplomatic pouch insignia, ignored him and turned his attention back to the Costa Rican, who had just reached the main flow of traffic. As the agents were positioning to detain their target, a wild-eyed woman yelled out.

Angelina, where are you? She said. All eyes turned to see what happened. Barnes cautioned. All teams, hold your position, Barnes said, via his radio, to his men.

He briefly lost sight of his target, quickly scanned to pick him out again as he left the concession stand. The Costa Rican, now carrying the diplomatic pouch, was nearing their position when Barnes, suddenly realized that a switch had been made and he decided to put a tail on both of them rather than detaining either one, risking diplomatic entanglements. As the two men reached the exit, he signaled to his men that there was a change of plans. Barnes assigned a two-man team to follow the Attache and a two-man team to follow the Costa Rican.

Do not apprehend. Follow and report whereabouts. COVERT ACTION ONLY. Team A, you have the Costa Rican. Team B, you have the Attache. All other teams report back to command, he said, giving strict orders.

The two men exited the building without interference and proceeded out of the airport in different directions. The Attache is unaware he is being follow by agents from the DEA, as he goes about his business, and two of Agent Barnes best men, were assigned to follow the Costa Rican man who is more in tone with what is going on around him.

That afternoon at DEA Headquarters, Agent Frank Barnes reported to Tom Parker, DEA Director of Operations, about the sting that didn't happen. Agent Barnes is seating in his office listening to his messages, when Director Parker call him into his office. Barnes walks over to Parker's office, as Parker could see him coming though the glass door. He stands he front of the door way waiting for Parker's to motion him to enter, as Director Parker is on the phone. Parker waves his hand to let him know to enter, and pointing to a chair in front of his desk. Barnes waits until he is finish with phone call, when Parker finally hangs the phone.

So Barnes what happen out there? He said. Sir, this case has taken a 360 degree turn, Barnes replied. Yes, I heard some rumor about your people being led astray, Agent Barnes. Is there any truth to that? Parker said, looking very sternly at Barnes. Ah, sir, please let me explain, Barnes, noticeably shaken, explains.

Eliciting the response he wanted, Parker sat well back in his chair and interrupted Barnes in mid sentence. We know about the Costa Rican. What do you have on the Diplomatic Attache? Parker said.

The answer to that question would win the million-dollar prize, and came as quite a surprise to Director Parker when he finally got his answer. At first look, it was hard to fathom all the implications. The DEA has a big fish in the game, but not knowing what ties these men might have, they were reluctant to step in and tip their hand until they had more information.

Sir, I've set up two teams to track both suspects, he said. Oh good, then we haven't blown our cover? Parker replied. No sir, but it will take a little time for Intel to catch up on the second person, Barnes replied. Just keep me informed of the situation, he said, as Parker waved him out of the office. Yes sir. I'll keep you informed, he replied, Barnes got up and walked toward the door.

The Attaches diplomatic immunity would indeed make it very difficult, to say the very least, to catch a fish they are not allowed to touch, and the Costa Rican carrying the diplomatic pouch, is now in the envious position of being on a diplomatic mission, preventing anyone from detaining or questioning him, even from the highest levels. It is unheard of that a diplomat would use his diplomatic position for moving or dealing in drugs. Barnes reasoned that, since they are dealing with such a sensitive mission to begin with, the main objectives here are to find the source, find all persons involved and find a way to shut them down.

After the briefing with the DO, Barnes called to see if any of the undercover teams had checked in. A couple of hours later, Director Parker was speaking on the telephone with the Justice Department's internal Chief of Communications, Earl Bash.

Yes, I'm looking at the report as we speak, he said. Are you sure about the second man? He replied, Bash could not believe his ears. Yes Earl, but we're waiting for more Intel on his total involvement, Parker countered. We have to be sure before we can act. Do not leave any stone unturned. We can't mess this one up, so if in doubt, don't, Bash said, he remembered the last time they jumped before knowing what they were involved in. Of course, but we need just a bit more time to bring this one home. Parker replied, he is pushing again, hearing the recrimination in Bash's voice. Ok, old buddy, but hurry. We'll set up a meeting with the other departments as soon as you have what you need, he said.

Parker calculated the time he needed. Give me another 24 hours and I'll get back to you, he said. Much too friendly, and why the rush, Parker thought. Ok, but 24 hours is all you have before I have to report this incident, he replied, Earl knew he had to stress the time.

Why is the Justice Department in such a hurry to set up a meeting with all the department heads before he has even finished his investigation, Parker wondered. He needed to wrap this up before anything else could go wrong and he headed for communications to see if there was any word from Barne's teams.

The Attache arrived at the drop off point on time and drove to the end of the deserted dock. He could see the 8-foot, barbed wire fence surrounding the warehouse and cautiously approached. The guard opened the gate and Allen drove inside. He parked, and holding the case passed to him by the Costa Rican, was shown into the warehouse office and told to wait for instructions. All he knew was that he was to deliver the contents to a man named The Shadow.

Unknown to him, the case contained the drug money and three passports. Allen had not seen this man before. His long-term dealings were usually with a man named Manuel. Allen had heard rumors about The Shadow, but he had never actually met him before. They say he has been involved with a long list of people whom have never been seen or heard from again.

Therefore, with much trepidation, Mr. Allen carefully placed the case on the desk and stepped away from it. A bodyguard came in, followed by a well dressed, dark-haired man. Without a word, the bodyguard slid the case over to The Shadow as he sat down at the desk. Mr. Allen, wanting to make the exchange and get the hell out of there.

Ok, you have the case. Do you have something for me? He said. The man named Shadow noticed Allen's apprehension and reassured him. Relax Mr. Allen, I won't bite you, he replied.

Without another word, the Shadow turned to the guard and rubbed his thumbs and fingers together, signing the universal language for money. Understanding his wishes, the guard opened the case and began counting the money. Mr. Allen really did not want to see all this, but he had no choice in the matter, so he watched as the money was counted. When the guard finished, he took out the passports and handed the case and the passports to the Shadow. Although only a couple of minutes had passed, Allen was still very nervous and he was not used to seeing the contents of the pouches he carried.

It, it should all be there. If you have something for me, I'll be on my way, he said, in soft tone. Yes I do, but indulge me a few more minutes, Mr. Allen, he replied, in no hurry, looks up from his desk. My job here is done. I do need to be going, Allen said.

The shadow could hear protesting within his voice. Allen didn't know what kind of man he was dealing with and just wanted to get out of there, but that was proving to be easier said than done.

There's another matter that needs to be taken care of, he replied, as he turned to the guard by the door. Please get Mr. Allen a chair, he said.

The other bodyguard took the corner chair and placed it in front of the desk. Now Allen was getting very nervous and shook his head. The Shadow, enjoying watching him squirms.

Please, Mr. Allen, have a seat, this will only take a moment, he said, with a rough tone in his voice. Thanks, but I must go now. I do have people waiting for me, Allen replied. What is going on, Mr. Allen wondered. Please Mr. Allen, do not make me ask you a third time, he replied, as he was getting impatient with Mr. Allen.

Reluctantly, Allen sat in the chair and looked around the room to see if there was another way out, but there were no windows, and only the one door that he came through. The Shadow gingerly walked from behind the desk and sat on the corner of the desk, one leg touching the floor.

Please, what is this all about? Allen asked. Don't worry, Mr. Allen. I just want to ask you a question? The Shadow replied. And what would that be? He managed to ask, with great trepidation, he could feel his throat dry and he swallowed to moisten it. It has come to my attention that you might have been followed. Is this true Mr. Allen? He asked.

The beads of sweat were just starting to appear on his brow. Allen considered his trip from the airport and the route he took to get there. He had not noticed anything out of the ordinary, however, the truth was, and that he made the usual devious turns and run-around, but he could not know for sure because he was busy talking on the telephone. Not wanting to mention that, he had to have a better answer for The Shadow. Allen, pretending to be fully confident.

I always double check my tracks and I'm sure I wasn't followed, he replied. Ok, The Shadow rose and said, as he walked behind the desk. You see, no harm done. Our business here is finished. Please feel free to go now, Mr. Allen, he said.

Cautiously, Allen looked around the room to make sure he wasn't going to get a bullet in the back of the head, and then rose to go to the door. As he reached the doorway, the Shadow had a few more words.

Please inform our friend that the next shipment will arrive on time, however I'm not sure of the location yet. Inform him that a change of plans will be forthcoming. He will know. Just relay the message and bye for now Mr. Allen. Have a safe trip, he said. Yes, of course, Allen replied.

The guard handed him a satchel and he hurried to his car. Why the questions about him being followed, and why the change of plans for the next delivery, he wondered about what just happened. He was glad he didn't know anything more than what he already knew. He had gotten through it and he was still alive, happy to be on his way back to his townhouse instead of lying somewhere dead. Once out of the gate, Allen made a call to let his contact know that the exchange had been completed and to tell him of the forthcoming change of plans.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading the Introduction and the first chapter of Executive Betrayal, the first of the Max Stone Series.

Edwin Santiago