Buried Relics

From a failed drug program in Afghanistan to the lost civilization of Atlantis, Colonel Zack Kelly is pulled into an insidious, wide-ranging scheme to revive the program. With dangerous secrets lurking behind every lead, Zack has to determine how the possibility of space aliens and Mayan artifacts relate to the Afghanistan River Dance program.

Zack isn’t alone in the search, the result being one partner on his staff is shot and lays near death, the other kidnapped to Mexico. Zack must uncover the truth before a mafia boss kills one or both of his partners.

“Buried Relics is an archetypal model for the twenty-first-century thriller. Genre vet Don Helin has struck a perfect balance between societal issues, duplicitous politics, and slam-bang action. His stalwart hero Zach Kelly helps plant his latest in the same hallowed ground as Brad Taylor, Brad Thor, and Mark Greaney. Terrific in all respects.”

—Jon Land, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

BURIED RELICS

“An intriguing blend of military thriller and fringe archeology, Buried Relics begins and ends with a bang. Geopolitical thriller fans, this is your jam (and Colonel Zack Kelly is your man!)”

—J.L. Delozier, award-winning author of The Photo Thief

BURIED RELICS

“Fast moving and cunningly wrought. A thrilling tale weaving U.S. national security, a Mafia kingpin, the ancient civilization of Atlantis, and a failed operation in Afghanistan into a taut plot sure to please.”

—David McCaleb, national bestselling author of Vestmen’s Gale

Don Helin

During his time in the military, Don Helin served at several stateside posts as well as overseas in Vietnam and Germany.

He is the author of seven award-winning thrillers that draw from his military experience, including three tours in the Pentagon. He also writes for TheBurg, a community magazine based in Harrisburg. For more information visit www.DonHelin.com.

Don Helin

“Zack Kelly is back in his wildest adventure yet! Don Helin combines devious plot twists with a deft hand at character development for this awesome new thriller. Highly recommended!”

—Jonathan Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of Cave 13 and The Sleepers War

Don Helin

Publisher Page

an imprint of Headline Books

Terra Alta, WV

Buried Relics

by Don Helin copyright ©2024 Don Helin All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, except where noted otherwise, are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any other resemblance to actual people, places or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Publisher Page.

To order additional copies of this book or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Headline Books, Inc. P.O. Box 52 Terra Alta, WV 26764 www.HeadlineBooks.com mybook@headlinebooks.com Publisher Page is an imprint of Headline Books ISBN 13: 9781958914304 Library of Congress Control Number: 2023945695

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D S TAT E S O F A M E R I C A

To my grandson Ryan Barden, who got my mind stirring on the issue of Forgotten Civilizations.

1 Arlington, VA, September 5, noon Zack Kelly and his partner on the president’s national security advisor’s task force, Theodore Wilson, better known as T.J., were eating lunch at Mom’s Restaurant, just up the hill from the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia.

Mom’s was housed in an old wooden building with an outside deck for lunches. They chose to eat outside to enjoy the warm September weather and picked a spot near an old elm tree that provided them with a little shade. Zack hadn’t been to Mom’s for months and agreed with T.J. it might be time to check out their burgers, which used to be the best in town.

The only other people eating on the deck at this time were three Navy guys sitting about two tables away. The distance gave T.J. and Zack a necessary sense of privacy.

The waitress, a slender woman named Lil, hurried over to their table. “Hey guys, how you two doing? Haven’t seen you around here for a while.”

“We’re working over by the White House now, so don’t get to the Pentagon as much as we used to. Missed it, so here we are.”

“Oh, I see.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now that you’re in the fast lane of life in D.C., you’ve forgotten your old friends here in the country.”

Zack held up his hands to protest. “Not at all. It’s such a pain with D.C. traffic, particularly at noon, to drive very far from downtown.”

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She laughed. “So true. Okay, I forgive you. What would you like?”

“Keep it simple,” Zack replied. “Burgers and a couple of beers.”

T.J. nodded enthusiastically.

She laughed. “Now that’s more like it. Be back in a flash.”

The waitress brought two foaming glasses of ice-cold Bud and set them on the table. “It’ll only be a few minutes before the burgers are ready.”

“How about adding one of your large orders of fries?” Zack said. “I’m really hungry.”

“Consider it done.” She hurried off.

Zack had taken a long swig of his beer when a heavy-set man in a black jacket and jeans walked onto the porch. He sauntered to their table and pulled up a chair. Zack didn’t know him. T.J. looked up, then at Zack, and shrugged his shoulders.

Zack didn’t like uninvited interruptions, which this guy definitely was, so he stared at the man and said, “We’re eating here. I don’t remember inviting you. If you’d like a meeting with me, call the office of the national security advisor and make an appointment.”

The man sat there and didn’t make any motion to move. “I won’t be long, and I suspect your partner knows why I’m here.”

Zack glanced over at T.J., who raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Hey man, you got me confused with someone else. No idea who you are.”

The man smiled, showing a prominent gold tooth in the front of his mouth. “Let me give you a clue. You D.C. guys seem to like clues. Think back to Afghanistan and trips you took to the middle of the country to pick up things.”

T.J paused. “I remember all kinds of trips into crazy spots in Afghanistan, but I can’t think of anything which would be of interest to you.”

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Don Helin

The man smiled again, flashing his gold tooth. “Does Operation River Dance ring any bells?”

T.J. nodded his head. “Sure. Our country’s dumb-ass operation to try and limit the drug trade in Afghanistan. Never worked worth a darn.”

Gold Tooth smiled, flashing the yellow brightness. “Exactly.

You flew the staff around the country, picking up, dropping off, coordinating.”

“That’s right,” T.J. replied. “I spent about half my second tour working that beat. Kinda boring to tell the truth.”

“Do you remember a high-ranking civilian named Six Alpha?”

T.J. thought for a moment. “Kinda rings a bell. He was supposed to be in charge of one of the larger regions. Never did care much for him. Kind of a prissy jackass.”

The man in the black jacket smiled and said, “Right. Is that why you killed him?”

T.J. looked at the man, his eyes wide. “Killed him? What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone unless it was some Taliban soldier shooting at me.”

Gold Tooth dropped any pretense of a smile and glared at T.J. “You heard what I said. Don’t play dumb with me. No sweat off my ass. Why I followed you two here. I didn’t like the guy either.”

T.J. looked over at Zack, then back at Gold Tooth. Shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Must have been about four or five years ago. Last time I saw the guy, he was fine. I may have killed a bunch of terrorists, but sure as hell never killed any Americans, even if I didn’t like ’em.”

Gold Tooth stood. “Well, you’d better dust off your memory cells ‘cause this is serious stuff. Six Alpha was killed when he was out on a run with you, and the government lost millions of dollars of opium resin. We want it back. You’re welcome to your share, but not the whole package.”

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Zack had about enough of this intrusion. “If you’re with the government, show me see some ID. I don’t know where you’re getting this crap, but I know this guy, and he would never kill someone and steal a bunch of opium resin.”

T.J. shrugged again. “Look, I did fly for the River Dance program and kinda remember Six Alpha as one of the passengers I flew. We were destroying poppy flowers and trying to convince the farmers not to raise anymore. Didn’t seem they paid attention to anything we had to say.”

Gold Tooth reached under his shirt to display an M9 Beretta pistol. “To show how serious this is, next time I start shooting.

And I’ve been told not to wait too long.”

“Hey,” Zack said, “you’re not going to get anywhere with a bunch of threats with that Beretta. Maybe if you could provide us with more background, we could work together to get you what you need.”

With that, Gold Tooth sauntered off, seemingly in no big rush. Zack watched him go to make sure he didn’t return to their table. Guy really worried him. No question he was a threat.

When Gold Tooth reached the door, he lifted his shirt and pulled out the Beretta. Turned. Pointed the gun at the two of them.

“Gun,” Zack called out and hit the floor, pulling the tabletop with him. T.J. ducked behind the table at the same time. A series of shots rang out. *** When Zack looked up again, Gold Tooth had disappeared.

Zack turned to see blood spurting from T.J.’s head.

“Call 911,” Zack yelled.

The waitress peeked out from behind a corner, hands over her ears. “Are you all right?” She cried. “I heard shots, then saw a big man running down the stairs.”

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Zack called to her, “My friend’s been shot. Call 911. Hurry!

We need an ambulance and the police.”

She nodded. “Already called. Both on the way.”

Zack dropped to his knees with napkins to wrap around T.J.’s head to try and stop the bleeding. He heard a siren.

Soon, footsteps sounded, beating up the stairs. A police officer came running from the stairway and hurried toward their overturned table.

“The shooter ran down the stairs,” Zack called while holding the napkins to T.J.’s head wound. “Get a call out for a tall man, big, muscular, black jacket, jeans, gold tooth, carrying a 9 mm Beretta. He’s the one who shot my friend. Hurry.”

The officer, with a name tag Johnson, nodded and spoke into the mic on his shirt.

Zack put more pressure on the napkin. Looked up. “My friend’s been hit, needs an ambulance. Emergency. Get us some help here.”

Johnson holstered his weapon and spoke again into his radio.

“My friend needs medical help,” Zack called again. “Get me some cloths. Where the hell’s the ambulance?”

Johnson waved. “Here comes the medic. Over here. Hurry. A man’s been hit. Head wound.”

Zack heard footsteps, and then the EMT knelt down. “Holy crap, this guy’s really bleeding.”

“I know,” Zack cried out. “Tried to stop it.” A hitch in his voice. “Couldn’t. We need help here, and we need it now.”

The one EMT began to wrap gauze around the wound, talking on his radio at the same time. The other EMT burst out from the stairs and raced over with a litter. He dropped down and began doing CPR on T.J. They stood and together lifted T.J., placing him on the litter, then moved him toward the door.

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Zack hurried alongside the litter, bent down to T.J., and whispered, “Medics got you, my friend. Hang in there. See you in a few.”

T.J. didn’t acknowledge his comments as the orderlies moved him down the stairs, slowly, one step at a time, then toward the waiting ambulance.

Zack brushed tears from his eyes. He and T.J. had been through so much together. It was terrible watching him bleeding on the floor. Zack felt so damn helpless standing at the top of the stairs. As a man of action, he found it hard to just stand there.

Officer Johnson came running back up the stairs, notebook in hand. “We’re going after the shooter. Help me with whatever you can.”

Zack had to refocus. He couldn’t help T.J. right now. He needed to help the cops get Gold Tooth. “My friend and I came here to eat lunch. Guy walked over to our table and sat. Started talking, then stood, walked over here, turned back, pulled the Beretta out, and started shooting. It was awful. One of my best friends.

Johnson finished a note, then looked up. “Why? Why did he start shooting?”

“Probably a mistaken identity. My friend is Theodore Wilson; his friends call him T.J. He’s an Army major, and we both work for the president’s national security advisor.”

Johnson scribbled on his tablet, then began talking into his mic again.

“T.J. is a terrific chopper pilot.” Zack decided not to mention Gold Tooth had accused T.J. of killing this Six Alpha. After Johnson finished relaying the information, he returned to Zack with a few more questions.

Zack was having a tough time focusing. When he had finished briefing Johnson, Zack said, “I’d better get out of here. I need to go to the White House and brief my boss.”

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Don Helin

At that moment, he heard a voice next to him say, “Zack, what’s going on?”

He turned with great relief to see his longtime friend, police Lieutenant Pamela Scott. In all the rush, he’d forgotten Scott was a homicide detective in Fairfax County, and no doubt the shooting had taken place on her beat.

“Oh, man, Scott, am I glad to see you. I don’t know much about what’s going on.” He repeated what he had told Johnson, Scott listening intently, making a few notes as he talked.

“Do you have any idea how T.J. is doing?” Zack asked.

“I don’t,” Scott replied. “But I won’t BS you. Head wounds can be bad. I hope it’s a grazing wound and not a direct hit.”

Zack nodded. He had seen enough wounds in Iraq and Afghanistan to know what might happen. “I’ve told your guys what I know. From what the shooter said, I think this is heavyduty stuff going back to the drug business in Afghanistan. Now I gotta get out of here to talk with Admiral Steele.”

“Okay,” Scott replied. “You don’t look in any shape to drive, so let me give you a police escort to the White House. Tell the admiral I’ll be happy to drive over and update him on what I find out here. Will probably take me another hour or so to finish up.”

“Thanks. Won’t kid you, I’m shook about T.J.” “I know, Zack; he’s my friend, too.”

She waved to one of the officers. “We need to get Colonel Kelly to the White House. Get him an escort.” She turned back to Zack. “Give me your keys, and I’ll get your car over to the White House in a little while.”

He handed the keys to Scott, completely forgetting about his car. “Thanks.”

Zack felt himself being led down the stairs and into a police car. The car jerked, then they pulled away from the curb, siren wailing.

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Zack sat in the back, trying to clear his mind so he could think. He began to compose a briefing for the admiral. This was more than an ordinary shooting. He believed more would be coming. He needed to alert the admiral.

12

2 Mom’s Restaurant, Fairfax County, VA, 1:15 p.m.

Sergey Artemis had run down the stairs and ducked into the restroom after the shooting. He had spotted it when he reconned the area early on. Could never be too careful. Always plan a failsafe getaway. Confusion was on his side, but not for long. He needed to be quick.

He closed the door and locked it. Then he pulled off his coat and turned it inside out. He put it back on and pulled the clerical collar out of the top pocket, then placed it around his neck.

Looking in the mirror, he needed to wiggle down a little because of his height. He reached up and pried out his trademark gold tooth, then placed it in the top pocket of his coat. He reshaped the straw hat he pulled from the side pocket and placed it carefully on his head.

He glanced back in the mirror to make sure the gun didn’t cause a bulge in his pocket. He reshaped the hat once more, then brushed down the coat.

Pulling a pair of dark glasses from his other pocket, he put them on. Time for a sabbatical smile. Perfect. People don’t check priests too closely. This had helped him in the past.

Opening the door slowly, he peeked out, then stepped out of the restroom into a storm of activity. Police officers were racing up the stairs, pulling yellow crime scene tape, and yelling at one another.

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An EMT ran up the stairs with a litter. Better wait a few minutes. Looking around one more time, he thought he could safely step out into the hallway.

He spotted a police officer putting yellow tape around the base of the stairs. “My goodness, officer, what has happened? I just stepped into the bathroom for a few minutes before I went in to eat lunch. When I stepped out, all this was going on.”

“Father, I think you need to hurry outside. We’ve got an active shooter here, and we’re not sure where he is. You don’t want to be a casualty.”

“Thank you, my son. Has someone been hurt? Maybe I can pray for the poor soul.”

“I’m not sure, Father, but you’d better move.”

“I will step outside and hurry across the street. I’d like to help if I’m needed.”

The officer continued spreading the yellow tape. “Okay, Father, but stay back. And be careful.”

“Thanks so much, my son, you be careful, too. I don’t want you hurt either. I will pray for you and all those who may have been hurt. I hope you have stopped this dreadful shooting.”

Sergey turned and walked down the short hallway, stepping outside into the bright sunlight and once more into mayhem. As he stood there, the two EMTs brought down a litter, set it up on wheels, and moved the injured man outside.

He stepped over to one of the EMTs. “My son, I happened to be here for lunch. Is someone hurt? Maybe I can help.”

The EMT stopped, looked over. “Father, I believe we could have a serious injury. I hope we don’t lose this patient.”

Sergey had another thought. “If he is hurt, I may be able to ride along and pray for the patient, then administer last rites if it becomes necessary.”

The other EMT looked over. “It could be bad, Father. He may need last rites. If you have time, would you help us with the patient? We can bring you back here once we get to the hospital.”

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“My son, I always have time for someone in need.”

“Wonderful, Father. You should get in first, up front, then we’ll be leaving in a moment.”

Sergey stepped in and sat on one of the side seats. He looked behind the ambulance once more. The officers continued checking everyone carefully. Then he spotted an unmarked car, and a tall woman in civilian clothes stepped out. A detective.

Good thing he made it to the ambulance. Bitch would probably be harder to convince than those officers.

He watched the woman working her way through the crowd, talking with one of the officers, then moving up the stairs.

Time to relax and look religious. Smiling, he sat back and let the ambulance take him away, the siren wailing. He gathered his hands in prayer and quietly bowed his head. *** The police drove Zack though the D.C. traffic, siren sounding.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the White House’s main gate. Zack had called ahead and asked the admiral’s secretary to clear him through the gate.

All he could think of on the way was T.J. Damn, what if he died? He decided he’d better think about briefing the admiral instead. What else could he do?

The guards checked the police car, then allowed them to pull through the gate and into the grounds. In a moment, they dropped him off at a side entrance.

“We’ll ask the guys to leave your car here,” the officer said from the front seat.

“Thanks,” Zack called as he hurried up the stairs to his boss’s office.

Fortunately, Admiral Steele, the national security advisor, was in his office, so the secretary ushered Zack right in. Steele sat behind his large desk, which, as usual, overflowed with papers.

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Zack marveled how the admiral could find the exact document he looked for in all the papers and usually in record time.

The admiral stood, then walked over to the small conference table on the left side of his office, a drawn look on his face. “How’s T.J.?”

“Don’t know, sir, but it’s a head wound, and darn thing could be bad. Bullet to the head. Bleeding badly. The medics got him loaded, and he’s on his way to the hospital.”

He took a breath and paused. “Fortunately, Lieutenant Scott showed up. Said she’d keep an eye on things and provide you an update once she had it.”

Steele sat, head down, then he took a deep breath and looked up at Zack. “Damn, not T.J. Good man.” He took another deep breath. “Okay. What’s up? This feels like it could be the start of something bad.”

Zack summarized what had happened at the restaurant.

“Some sort of confusion over what T.J. had done in Afghanistan.

This Gold Tooth accused T.J. of killing someone with the code name Six Alpha. If I understood it right, he was supposed to have killed the guy in Afghanistan.”

“Six Alpha. Any idea what that means?”

Zack shook his head. “No, sir. T.J. remembered the name and remembered flying the guy on trips in Afghanistan. I guess one of those super-secret types who had some sort of supervisory responsibility for the River Dance program.”

He paused. “T.J. said he certainly didn’t kill the guy.”

“Have you ever seen this Gold Tooth before?” Steele asked.

Zack shook his head again. “And T.J. hadn’t either. Said he assumed this Six Alpha was on the ‘Dark Money’ side of things because there was a lot of money floating around because of Afghanistan drugs.”

The admiral nodded. “I remember. At that time, I was assigned to the joint staff in D.C., so I heard a little about Operation River 16

Don Helin

Dance, but not a whole lot.” He chuckled. “Everything I heard was bad. Not well organized. Lots of wasted money.”

“I was hustling around with the rangers,” Zack said. “T.J. ended up flying the clowns around who were supposed to be checking on how we were doing. Staff needed to get out and check on the program’s status. That’s where T.J. came in. Mister Transportation.”

Steele laughed. “And a darn good one.”

“I’m not familiar with Operation River Dance.,” Zack said. “I think it started around 2006.”

Steele made a note. “I’m not either. We need to get someone in the office to hit the high points, and we need it right now. I’d like to include Fairchild. Maybe Scott can help us sort out who this gold tooth shooter is.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get something going right away.” Zack paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “T.J. felt Operation River Dance turned into a classic failure. The program primarily hurt poor farmers who didn’t have the political connections or money to pay the bribes.”

Steele thought for a moment, then said, “That’s all well and good. But where does the big guy with the gold in his teeth come in?”

Zack shook his head. “Boss, I have absolutely no idea.”

Steele got a firm set to his jaw. “We’d better find out. I can’t have some guy running around using my staff for target practice.”

“Yes, sir,” Zack said. “I’m on it. How about Garcia?”

Admiral Steele shook his head. “On leave in Texas. Let her know what’s going on. We can orient her when she returns from vacation.”

Zack hurried out the door, missions firmly in hand. He’d find the bastard who shot T.J. and make him pay.

Zack sat down at his desk, and looked over at T.J.’s desk, getting a lump in his throat. Damn, not T.J. Zack shook his head.

Okay, get your head in the game.

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He called over to the secretary. “Can you get me someone from the Drug and Alcohol Policy Office on the phone? I need information on Operation River Dance, a program in Afghanistan a few years ago. And I need it in a hurry.”

As she placed a call, he took a couple of minutes to pull himself together and think of what he’d need for the admiral.

What questions needed to be answered to get things moving?

She found a representative to brief them on River Dance. It turned out Fairchild had time to help. A former FBI agent, she had all the qualifications for this sort of mission.

He’d give Garcia a call after the briefing and update her then—no need to pull her in, at least not yet.

18

3 The White House, Washington D.C., 3:30 p.m.

Two hours later, Zack and Fairchild were sitting at Admiral Steele’s conference table with Horace Meecham.

Fairchild was a tall, slender, muscular woman who pushed weights and kept herself in excellent condition. Her blond hair was cut short cut, she usually wore tailored suits. She had been with the admiral’s staff for a little over a year, and Zack thought the world of her. She’d proved herself on a number of occasions.

She had left the FBI because of a number of issues with sexual harassment, which her supervisors did little about.

Unfortunately, from what Zack remembered, her supervisor was one of the worst offenders.

Admiral Steele moved from his desk, buried in papers, over to his six-person conference table and sat.

“Sir,” Zack said, “Lieutenant Scott is still working the case and said she would be here as soon as she could. And I’ll bring Garcia up to speed after we finish here.”

Steele nodded.

Zack took a sip of coffee. “Sir, I’d like you to meet Horace Meecham from the Drug and Alcohol Policy Office.”

Meecham stood. “Good afternoon, Admiral. I’m here to present to you a short update on Operation River Dance.”

Meecham was a tall, slender man in a blue suit with a white shirt and bow tie. Zack had heard he was the right person to brief the admiral.

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Steele stared at Meecham. “One of my officers has been shot and could die because of this damn operation and some character named Six Alpha.”

Meecham shook his head. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

Steele nodded. “So get moving on this update. I don’t need or want any BS. I need facts and anything you can think of that might cause this operation to pop up now.”

Meecham put up a chart. “Yes, sir. Operation River Dance was designed as a war against the Afghan poppies, which is the plant opium is extracted from to make heroin.”

“I know that,” Steele snapped.

“Yes, sir. Afghanistan has dominated the global drug market for decades. Poppies were powering around a third of Afghanistan’s economic output and supplying eighty percent of the world’s opium.”

Meecham checked with the admiral, who nodded, then moved on. “Farmers slice open pods to drain the milky white sap, which is then fried into a resin.”

“Is the process difficult to manage?” Zack asked.

Meecham shook his head. “Unlike fruits and vegetables, the resin doesn’t rot or attract pests. The resin is easily stored and can be transported over long distances.”

Zack made a note. “Wow, perfect for setting up in the drug market.”

Meecham paused for a moment. “Afghanistan feeds markets in Europe, Iran, and parts of Asia. The U.S., on the other hand, gets most of our heroin through Mexico.”

“A little deep background,” Meecham said. “Relying on air power and input from CIA-backed warlords, we toppled the Taliban-led government in less than six weeks and killed or captured hundreds of Al-Qaeda fighters.”

“Damn it,” Steele exclaimed. “I know that.”

This guy better watch out, Zack thought. Steele really had a case.

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Meecham continued. “I know you’re in a hurry, sir, but I think this is important.”

Steele tapped his fingers on the conference table. “I remember the quick successes. The staff in the Pentagon weren’t sure who they were fighting. Al-Qaeda was primarily Arabs with a global focus, and the Taliban primarily local. It always seemed to me that after the first few months of the war, we were fighting groups who had nothing to do with 9/11.”

“Yes, sir,” Meecham continued. “It’s important you realize we partnered with certain warlords from the start. We would regret partnering with these guys later, particularly when we tried to get rid of the opium.”

Meecham paused for a moment and took a sip of coffee.

“Then, in May 2003, Iraq became a huge distraction. We focused on taking Baghdad while Bin Laden escaped from Tora Bora.

The Afghanistan operation took a back seat to Iraq from spring 2002 on.”

“By the summer of 2003, we were losing our grip on Iraq,” Steele said. “All screwed up. But what does this have to do with this River Dance?”

“The big thing for me,” Zack said, “was the Taliban could hit my ranger unit from Pakistan, then run back across the border.

Pakistan ended up playing both sides. They got a billion bucks a year from us and still played both sides.”

“Same thing we learned in Vietnam,” Steele said. “We keep learning it, then making the same mistakes over and over again.

We were in a mess.”

“We’ve got lots of opinions here,” Meecham said, “The warlords were a huge problem. They were hated by the human rights watch, but unfortunately, our policy makers had embraced them. It angered the Afghan people because they saw these warlords as corrupt and a primary root of the country’s problems.”

Steele moved in hand in a circle. “Okay, move on.”

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Meecham nodded. “By declaring opium an enemy, we opened a second front in the war in Afghanistan. Drug-related corruption was undermining the entire war effort.”

He pointed at a new chart. “In 2009 and 2010, dark money flooded the country. Poppy palaces in Kabul housed opium kingpins and warlords. To purchase loyalty and information, the CIA funneled cash to warlords, transporting piles of cash to Dubai and other foreign destinations. People were stealing us blind.”

Zack leaned forward. “By the summer of 2012, members of the Taliban infiltrated both the army and national police. My unit and many others suffered insider attacks. We didn’t know who we could trust. And corruption was destroying the morale of the Afghans.”

“During the years of 2016 to 2021, we had a huge stalemate,” Meecham continued. “The War on Opium was our biggest failure. Nine billion dollars down the drain with nothing to show for it. Opium had a stranglehold on the Afghanistan economy.

The amount of poppy resin the farmers produced tripled.”

Admiral Steele’s secretary poked her head in. “Sir, Lieutenant Scott called. She says it’s really important.”

Steele picked up the phone and listened. When he finished, he said, “Scott is on the way over. She has FBI agent Harper with her. Should be here in about fifteen minutes. We need to finish this up.”

Meecham stood. “Sir, let me close with a couple of thoughts.”

Steele nodded.

“Harvesting the opium made far more money for the farmers than destroying it. Governors, warlords, and other senior Afghan officials who supposedly were our allies became hooked on opium profits, pulling a cut from the farmers.”

Steele stood and stretched.

“In conclusion, by the end of 2006, Afghanistan had reaped a record opium harvest when the number of acres under harvest 22

Don Helin

increased by about fifty-nine percent. Operation River Dance was a failure, but the number of people getting money from it continued to increase.”

Steele walked back toward his desk. “Thank you for the update. I ask that you keep all of this information private. I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but I suspect it will be another mess.” *** Zack escorted Meecham to the door as Lieutenant Scott and Agent Harper entered the office from the outer hallway.

He reached over and shook Meecham’s hand, thanking him for coming on such short notice.

“I notice the boss was pretty short with you, but he’s really angry about T.J. getting shot, as am I. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call. Anything at all.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have one of your best friends shot. I’ll keep an eye out and forward anything that makes sense.”

“Thanks again.” Zack turned to welcome Scott and Agent Harper.

Harper, a tall, well-built man, had been a rookie for the Washington Redskins before he injured his knee. After the injury, he joined the FBI. Now the director of the FBI’s Computer Security Division, he had worked with Zack on a number of cases.

Zack held out his hand to shake with Harper. “Always good to see you, although I suspect your attendance means we have a bigger problem. And Scott, always glad to have you helping on a case. Thanks for handling my car.”

He waved for them to enter Admiral Steele’s office. “You both know Tara Fairchild. She’ll be working with us on this case.”

When they entered and Zack shut the door, Steele looked up and rose to walk over to the conference room table. “Please be seated. I do wish this was under better circumstances.”

23

Buried Relics

When they were all seated, Zack said, “I’ve briefed the admiral on what I know about T.J. We heard a short briefing on Operation River Dance which this Gold Tooth brought up. What can you share?”

Scott nodded. “After I saw you, Zack, I began to question everyone in the restaurant. It seems this Gold Tooth came in the front door, went upstairs, talked to you, then started shooting. It gets a little more confusing after he exited down the stairs.”

“How do you mean?” Steele asked.

“We talked with the waitress who saw him running down the stairs after the shots. She watched him to the base of the stairs, then turned her attention to where Zack and T.J. had been. Saw the upset table. Heard about T.J. Called for the police and an ambulance.”

“What happened next?” Zack asked.

“She was afraid she’d see the shooter downstairs, but he was gone. Then a funny thing happened. She saw a big man from the back. Thought it could be the shooter.”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “Must have panicked.”

“When he turned around, it turned out to be a priest she hadn’t seen him before. She didn’t remember him coming in or eating in the restaurant. There he stood, talking to the ambulance guys. One of the orderlies pointed him toward the ambulance, and he got in. Then he left with them.”

Zack set his cup on the table with a thud, almost spilling the contents. “You don’t suppose . . . ?”

“I did suppose, so I called the hospital,” Scott said. “The staff at the ER told me when the ambulance arrived, the priest sat in the front of the ambulance, holding the victim’s hand. They expected the priest to follow the patient in, but in a couple of moments, he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Zack asked.

24

Don Helin

“Really surprised the staff. They expected him to come in and pray for the patient. He seemed concerned about being available for last rites if needed.”

Zack thought about it for a moment, glanced over at the admiral, and shook his head.

Scott grimaced. “This guy was definitely a pro. Bothered me, so I called Harper to see if he had ever heard of this Gold Tooth character.”

Harper leaned forward. “He’s one of the hatchet men for the New York Mafia. Sergey Artemis has been a person of interest in a number of shootings. I’m surprised he didn’t hide his identity more.”

“Maybe that’s part of the message,” Zack said.

“I think so,” Harper agreed. “We now know who may be behind this.”

“Couldn’t be Sonny Angelo, by any chance?” Zack asked.

Harper straightened a bit. “How did you know?” He paused.

“Wait a minute, isn’t he the guy whose father. . .?”

“Right. Angelo’s dad is the one who had my dad shot and killed.”

Zack remembered their discussions. “Angelo lives here in the area. He seemed like a nice guy at first, but he turned to ice when we disagreed.”

Harper butted in. “You’re right. Angelo is an interesting guy, and from everything we hear, he’s on the way up in the Mafia community.”

Steele’s secretary opened the door. “Excuse me, sir.”

Steele looked up. “Yes?” “I wanted to let you know T.J. Wilson is out of surgery.

Appears it will be a while before they know much more.”

Zack started to stand up. “Holy crap. I forgot to notify his wife. I think she lives in Virginia.”

25

Buried Relics

Fairchild leaned forward. “Taken care of. I figured you had a load on your mind, so I got her phone number and called. She told me she will probably be here by six o’clock.”

“Family?” Steele asked.

“They have a son and a daughter,” Fairchild said. “We were able to get her a place to stay at the Navy Lodge.”

Steele looked at his watch. “I have a meeting with the president in twenty minutes. I’ll give him a short brief on what we know. Not sure how this will develop, but I have a bad feeling we’re going to be up to our neck in this issue.”

Harper stood. “I’d better brief my boss before your meeting.

My plan is to set up surveillance on Angelo’s house. See if we can spot this Gold Tooth.”

Scott stood also. “I’d better get back and see what’s been happening.”

Zack looked at Steele, who nodded. “How about if we get together later tonight? Compare notes. Does eight o’clock work for everyone?”

All nodded before they hustled out. Zack and Fairchild walked out together.

Zack whispered over to her. “Let’s go to my office. I want to see if I can get ahold of Garcia. See when she is planning on returning. I can feel this mess has the potential of building, and we’ll probably need her help.”

“Okay,” Fairchild said. “Let me know what she has to say. I’ve got a few things to clear in case all of this does explode.” *** Zack pushed in Garcia’s cell number. He tapped his fingers on the desk while waiting for her to pick up and tried to sort through in his mind what else he should be doing.

In a moment, he heard, “Garcia.”

26

Don Helin

It always great to hear her voice. She’d been his partner for almost three years, and sometimes he forgot how much he depended on her. “Things are popping here. Got a few minutes?”

“You bet,” she replied. “Then I’d like to share kind of a wild tale with you.”

Zack briefed her on what had happened with T.J. “My God,” Garcia replied. “I can head back right now if you need me.”

“Thanks, but Fairchild and I are following the action. Scott and Harper are leading the search for the shooter. The boss and I received a short briefing on the River Dance program the U.S. set up in Afghanistan to try and control opium. What an incredible waste of money and resources. Really pissed me off.”

“I remember something about it,” Garcia replied, “but not much. When will you know more about T.J.?”

“We’re tracking information from the hospital. Scott and Harper are planning on coming in tonight to update the boss at 8:00. I can plug you in.”

“Great. I’ll be at my phone.”

“Now, you mentioned you might be into something.”

She chuckled. “Now you gotta understand, some of this is kinda crazy.”

That caught Zack’s attention. “Hmm. Don’t like the sounds of that.”

“Okay,” Garcia replied. “Here goes. As you may remember, my dad is a professor at the University of Texas.”

“I do remember, and I also know how pissed off he was when you fell off the road of academia to become a warrior in the Army.”

“So true. Well, one of his friends is a fellow professor of archeology. He’s been following some interesting and to be honest, slightly off-the-wall studies. It seems in Mexico, a whole series of recently discovered extraterrestrial materials have been released.”

27

Buried Relics

“Did you say extraterrestrial materials?” Zack asked.

“Yep. This guy has been into the UFO stuff for a long time, and my dad has a lot of confidence in him. It seems the findings could prove once and for all ancient aliens visited our first ancestors thousands of years ago.”

Zack had to think about her comment for a moment, not sure whether to laugh or be serious. “Okay. Sound a little off the wall. Who is this guy?”

“Professor Jeremy Kelce. He’s not much to look at, but from what I understand, a brilliant and well-read guy.”

Zack couldn’t resist. “Not much to look at? Doesn’t have two heads, does he, or maybe look like a little robot?”

She laughed. “I felt the same way when I heard about him.

I’ve only seen him once, but he’s a tall skinny guy with a gray ponytail. He wears a bow tie and sunglasses—gives him an Ichabod Crane look.”

Zack didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“I know what you’re thinking, Zack. I did, too, before I met the guy. He has some pretty surprising proof that aliens visited here many years ago.”

“Wait a minute. Seems to me I watched a TV series called Ancient Aliens off and on a while back.”

“I think that’s kind of the deal. But it is interesting. It seems these new ancient sculptures they have found depict UFOs, extraterrestrial humanoid entities, and mysterious texts.”

“Oh, boy.”

“This subject is a big deal among many UFO news sites.”

Zack glanced over at Fairchild, who had walked into his office. She sat across the table from him and shook her head. He didn’t think she was much into aliens, ancient or otherwise.

“Fairchild only now walked in,” Zack said. “She seems to be shaking her head.”

“Not my thing,” Fairchild said.

28

Don Helin

“Hey, my friend,” Zack said. “What do you think of all this?”

“Like you, I don’t know,” Garcia replied. “But, it’s something I’d like to find out more about. I can do it while I’m still on vacation here in Texas. But if you need me to help out with this shooting, I can be on the next plane.”

Zack thought for a moment. “Why don’t you follow your nose on the aliens but keep me up to speed on where you are in case we need you?”

He paused for a moment. “Probably best if I don’t bother the boss with what you told me. I’ll share that you’d like to stay for another day or so to spend more time with your folks.”

She laughed. “Probably smart. I’d like to make sure I still have a job when I return to Washington. When you have a little more time, I can share some of the various studies.”

Zack already had his hands full, so he didn’t need any more on his plate. Certainly not material about UFOs. At least not now. “How about if we stay in touch? If this thing explodes, I’ll probably need you.”

“You know, my friend. You call, we haul.”

“Thanks. We’ll let you know.”

“When T.J. wakes up, tell him I’m thinking of him.

“Will do.”

Zack hung up the phone and couldn’t resist a smile. “Well, what do you know? UFOs and aliens. What next?”

29

4 The White House, Washington D.C., 8:00 p.m.

Admiral Steele hurried into the office from his dinner with the president. President Bradford had asked Steele to join him for supper with a number of senior staff there so they could be briefed on the shooting.

Zack called “Attention!” when Steele appeared. Fairchild, Scott, and Harper all stood.

“Okay, thanks,” Steele said. “Is Garcia able to join us?”

“Here, sir,” her voice echoed from the phone.

Steele smiled. “Great. We need all hands on deck to figure out what happened to T.J.” He glanced over at Zack. “Have we heard any late bulletins from the hospital?”

“Operation went well, and the patient seems stable so far,” Zack replied.

Steele looked down at his hands. “I understand he was shot in the head. Does it look like any long-term damage?’

“I don’t think they have any idea yet. It just grazed his head, but I was told once he wakes up, they’ll have a better idea of any long-term problems.”

“What about family?” Steele asked.

“He’s separated from his wife,” Zack replied. “Apparently, they have two kids, both teens. I believe they live in Virginia somewhere, but I’m not sure exactly where. To be honest, I have never met them.

30

Don Helin

“Is she able to come to the hospital?” Steele asked. “We can send a plane for her.”

“I talked with his wife on the phone,” Fairchild said. “She told me she’s on the way to Washington. By now, they should have already arrived.”

Steele nodded. “Let’s make sure she has everything she needs.”

“Yes, sir,” Zack said. “I plan to head over to the hospital as soon as I’m done here. Now, on to Lieutenant Scott.”

Scott handed out a two-page document. “We believe Sergey Artemis is a Russian killer who did the shooting.”

“Gold Tooth?” Steele asked.

Scott nodded. “He’s earned his name because the gold tooth is very prominent on his face—apparently really stands out.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Zack said. “But Agent Harper has a file on the guy. I made a copy of the key points and faxed it to you, Rene.”

“Thanks,” Garcia said. “Got it.”

Steele glanced over at Agent Harper. “Can you summarize his history for us?”

“He’s a Mafia assassin,” Harper replied. “The guy has quite a track record: served six years in federal prisons at various times throughout his life. His bosses always seem to be able to spring him by some legal trick.”

He paused for a moment. “Normally, they get a key witness to recant their testimony, or worse yet, the witness suddenly disappears.”

“Angelo is the same Mafia guy whose father ordered the hit on my dad.”

“Zack,” Steele said, “Give us a short burst on what happened to your dad.”

“My dad was an NYPD police officer. He went in on a drug bust and was killed when I was six. Two years ago, I found out he’s been in witness protection all these years. He’d been working 31

Buried Relics

for the FBI undercover. Quite a shock when my mother and I met him after almost thirty years.”

“What was the Mafia kingpin’s name again?” Garcia asked.

“Will always stay with me. The man who ordered the hit is dead. His son is Sonny Angelo. I believe he’s also pretty high up in the Mafia structure.”

“Let me add to that,” Harper said. “Our best estimate is there is a triune who runs the New York families, and he’s one of the three. We have never been able to prove anything on the son, and as Zack said, his father died several years ago.”

“Can we pin this current hit on him?” Zack asked. “I’ve had about enough of the guy.”

Harper shook his head. “Until we actually catch Artemis and get him to point the finger at Angelo, it’s all supposition. They have an incredible team of lawyers.”

“So, where are we right now?” Steele asked.

“We’ve got a national APB out for Artemis,” Harper said.

“They may have whisked him out of the country.”

Scott raised her hand. “It looks like he turned into a priest after the shooting.”

Steele looked at her. “What?”

Scott nodded and related the story of the priest’s transformation. “It seems the waitress saw a large priest talking to one of the EMTs. He left with them apparently on the proviso he would be there for last rites or to pray. Then, when they got to the hospital,” Scott continued, “he disappeared.”

“I wonder what T.J. will think of his prayer partner?” Harper said.

Zack smiled. “Probably best not to bore him with any of those details.”

“What’s next?” Steele asked.

“Not much else we can do,” Harper said. “We’re keeping an eye on Angelo’s house and all of Artemis’ other haunts, but I don’t hold much hope those efforts will bear any fruit.”

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Don Helin

“Laura and I are going over to the hospital when we’re done here,” Zack said. “Check to see how everything is going.”

“Let me know how he’s doing,” Steele said. “Please tell T.J. I’ll be over in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Zack replied. “I’m looking forward to meeting his wife and seeing what else we can do to help her.”

“My secretary set them up at the Navy Lodge here in D.C.,” Steele said. “We were going to rent a car for her, but she already had wheels.”

As the rest filed out, Zack checked with Garcia. “You had mentioned you wanted to talk.”

“It’ll keep. Let me know how T.J. is and his prognosis. I can be there in a matter of hours.”

“Okay. I’ll call after we get back from the hospital.”

“Give him my best.”

“Will do.”

Zack hung up and got ready to leave. He closed everything up and walked out to find his daughter. *** Laura was to meet her dad at the South Gate of the White House. He spotted her Honda Civic and hurried over to hop in. She was still in her soccer uniform. “Hi, sweetie. How you doing?”

“Worried sick about T.J. Such a sweet guy and good friend.”

“Don’t know much yet. Hope to get more while we’re at the hospital.”

She pulled out from the curb, perhaps a little faster than Zack might have done, but he kept his mouth shut. He had found silence to be the best course of action in such cases. It had served him well in the past.

“Have you ever met his wife?” Laura asked.

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Buried Relics

Zack shook his head. “And don’t know much about her, to be honest. T.J. never wanted to talk about his family, and I didn’t want to press him on it. Figured if he wanted to talk, he would.”

It took Laura about twenty minutes to weave through the evening D.C. traffic and angle her way into the Walter Reed traffic. She parked her Honda in the large parking garage, and after checking at the desk, the two found their way to the Surgical Recovery Ward.

Zack knew his way around the hospital, having recovered twice from surgeries himself, as well as visiting a number of friends over the years.

When they entered the surgical visitor room, Zack spotted an attractive black woman of medium height with long dark hair sitting in a corner with her nose buried in a book.

He walked over to her, followed by Laura. When she looked up, he said, “Good evening. Are you, by any chance, T.J. Wilson’s wife? My name is Zack Kelly, a good friend of T.J.’s.”

She stared at him for a moment, probably trying to calibrate what he had just said. She stood and extended her hand. “Yes, I’m Jasmine Wilson. I understand you were with him when he was shot.”

“Yes, I was. Let me introduce my daughter, Laura.”

After they shook hands, he said, “It was an awful scene. The two of us were having lunch at one of our favorite burger places near the Pentagon. While we were eating, this big guy came in and sat down. Accused T.J. of killing some guy in Afghanistan.”

She looked to be fighting back tears. “How could this happen?”

“To be honest, I’ve been asking myself the same thing all day.

Just having a burger and a couple of beers. This big burly guy talks for a few minutes, then gets up to leave. When he reaches the door, he turns back toward us and opens fire. No warning.

Nothing.”

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Don Helin

Jasmine looked at Zack for a moment. “You didn’t know he’d shoot? You weren’t hit?”

“I’ve gone over what happened a bunch of times, but we had no indication he would start shooting. I’ll probably be asking myself if I should have been more alert, but I wasn’t, and I’ll have to try and live with that.”

She stared at him, her gaze seeming to burn through his face.

“It happened so damn fast.” Zack thought back. “When I saw the gun, I yelled ‘gun,’ then pulled the table down in front of us.

Heard three shots. Looked over and saw T.J. Oh, God, blood.

Grabbed napkins, anything to stop the bleeding.”

She continued to stare. Said nothing, then, “How long before the EMTs arrived?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see the scene forever. He is my friend. I love the guy. We have worked together for years.”

She continued to stare.

Silence. Then Laura said, “Jasmine, I know my dad. When you’re his friend, you’re his friend. I know he did everything humanly possible. And I know he feels like shit and will beat himself up for years about what happened.”

The woman continued to stare at Zack, then over at Laura.

Finally, she smiled.

“Thank you for your comments, Laura. T.J. talked about your dad a lot. Gave him a top star. I’m sorry for being an ass, but I’m in such a state. Please forgive me.”

Zack looked at her. “Forgive you? Please forgive me. I tried my best, but it wasn’t good enough to stop the shooting.”

Laura walked over and held out her arms to the woman for a hug. “Can we stop this crap for a few minutes? Let’s start again.

Hi, I’m Laura Kelly, and I am proud to call myself a friend of T.J. Wilson.”

The woman hugged her back. She looked at Laura for a long minute, then over at Zack. “Everything T.J. told me about you, Laura, is absolutely true.”

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Zack put his arm around Laura.

“I repeat, my name is Jasmine. And I’m happy to say T.J. and I are still married. Haven’t figured out where it’s going, but who knows?”

At about the same time, two teenagers walked into the room: a boy, tall, muscular, and a girl, slender with her hair combed in cornrows.

Their mother beckoned them over. “Casey, Jackson, I want you to meet Laura Kelly and her dad, Zack Kelly.” She put her arm around Casey. “T.J. is a big Yankees fan and loved Casey Stengel. Hence, my Casey.”

The two stood there, not sure what to do, until Laura reached over to shake hands with both of them. “Hi, I’m Laura. So sorry about your dad. Great guy. Good friend.”

They both had been crying but reached out to return her handshake. Casey seemed to find her voice first. “Hi, I’m a freshman at Harvard, and Jackson is a senior in Middleburg High School.”

Laura smiled. “I’m starting my sophomore year at George Washington and not sure what I’ll be majoring in yet. So many things interest me. How about you, Casey?”

“My first choice is medicine like my mom,” Casey replied.

“But I’ll have to see how it goes. I know the competition to get into medical school is intense.”

Laura turned to the boy. “Jackson?”

Before he could answer, Casey started laughing and blurted out, “Right now, his interests are football and girls.”

Zack laughed, too. “I can remember those days. Both fascinating subjects. I’ll have to say I never did master either one very well.”

Laura turned to Jackson. “I understand the drive to be in sports. I’m lucky to be on the soccer team at GW.” Jasmine turned toward Zack. “You’re probably wondering why we’re not together.”

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Don Helin

“To be honest, it’s none of my business,“ Zack said. “My wife and I have divorced, and I’m so glad Laura is living with me.”

About that time, a short, heavy-set man with thick glasses stepped into the room. He turned to Jasmine. “Are you a relative of Mr. Wilson?”

“You might say that. I’m his wife.”

The doctor, appearing to be a little taken aback, said, “We have managed to remove the bullet. A grazing wound. Fortunately, they were able to stop the bleeding early, and the EMTs got him to us quickly.”

“That all sounds good,” Jasmine said.

“Mr. Wilson is in excellent health. The next twenty-four hours will be critical, but I believe he has an excellent chance to recover.”

“Any paralysis?” Jasmine asked.

“I won’t bother you with a lot of medical jargon, but I’m hopeful he won’t have any lasting paralysis.”

“Doctor, I’d appreciate more details. They will help me determine a future course of PT and OT for my husband.”

“Well, I don’t want to confuse you, but let me try to make it as simple as possible.”

“Doctor, why don’t you give me the jargon? You see, I’m also a physician, and I think I can handle it.”

The doctor looked as if he might swallow his tongue, then recovered to give her the details she sought.

When he left, Zack heard Jasmine say, “Asshole.”

“You can say that again.” Zack leaned forward. “I understand you’ll be staying at the Navy Lodge.”

She nodded. “Admiral Steele called and told me he wanted us to have a place to stay, and he would do whatever he could to make the next few days livable for us.”

“He’s a good guy.”

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“I could tell it by talking with him. It looks as if it’ll be awhile before we’ll know much, so I’m getting ready to head back to the Navy Lodge.”

Zack handed her a card. “If there’s anything else I can do, please call me.”

Laura looked over at Casey and Jackson. “It’s only nine o’clock. I know a great burger place in case you haven’t had much to eat.”

They glanced at each other, then toward their mother, who nodded.

“That would be nice,” Casey said.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“No, I’d better head back to the White House. I need to call Garcia.”

“No problem,” Laura said. “It’s right on our way.”

38

5 The White House, Washington, D.C. 11:00 p.m.

Back at the White House, Zack checked the papers on his desk, then punched in Garcia’s number.

After three rings, he heard, “Garcia.”

“Hey, Garcia, It’s me. I just got back from the hospital. T.J. is out of surgery and back on a ward. He seems to be stable, which is the best I can say. Laura and I met his wife and two kids. Really nice family.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Jasmine’s a doctor and really sharp. She put T.J.’s surgeon in his place. When he came into the room, he gave her some general information. She asked for more. He said something like ‘I’ll try and keep it simple,’ so she would understand.”

Zack stopped for a moment, then continued. “She stared at him briefly, then told him she was a physician and thought she could handle it. I thought the son-of-a-bitch would swallow his tongue. Bet he won’t do that to another woman, at not least in the near future.”

Garcia laughed. “I hate clowns like that. Glad she put him in his place. Can’t tell you the number of times various jerks have done it to me. I’m sure being Hispanic doesn’t help my case.”

“Probably not. Both her kids look terrific. The daughter, Casey, is starting at Harvard and hopes to be a doctor like her mom. Of course, she’s smart enough to realize it’s a tough road.”

“How about the boy?”

39

Buried Relics

“Casey is funny. Before poor Jackson could get a word out, Casey shoots out he’s into football and girls. I’m sure she embarrassed the poor kid.”

Garcia started to laugh. “She is probably telling the absolute truth. Both of those kids sound very nice.”

“I have to agree,” Zack said. “All three are great.”

“I wonder why in the world they’re separated.”

“I don’t know. Jasmine has enough on her mind. Laura invited Casey and Jackson out for a burger in case they might be hungry.

Give them a chance to be teens.”

“Wonderful.”

“Keep your fingers crossed for T.J. Now, you had some stuff going on you wanted to talk about. So here I am.”

“Okay,” Garcia said. “Hold on to your hat. I told you a little about my dad’s friend; I like to call him Ichabod Crane. To be fair, I’d better add he’s a distinguished professor of archeology at the University of Texas with a Ph.D. he received from Harvard.”

“Harvard, wow, that is a big deal.”

“Yep. He’s a big name. Does lots of interviews and has published a number of books. Anyway, it appears this guy has gotten hooked on what he calls forgotten civilizations.”

“Forgotten civilizations?” Zack asked. “What do you mean by those?”

“Yeah, forgotten civilizations. So many people today think of early civilizations as the Egyptians and their contemporaries, like the Mesopotamians. Professor Kelce says these forgotten civilizations go back much farther than the Egyptians, maybe six thousand or more years.”

Zack shook his head. “To be honest, I’m not sure what he’s actually talking about.”

“You and me both. My dad thought that since I was in the government and worked for the big cheese in national affairs, I could contribute something to this discussion.”

“Okay. What are you passing along?”

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Don Helin

“Well, Kelce believes there are many things that should lead us to think about these earlier generations and what happened to them. Why did they disappear? What happened?”

“Oh, boy.”

“Yeah. He believes more information about their past influence will continue to come to light. Says people, particularly scientists, have their doubts, but more are beginning to realize the truth which has been spoken for centuries.”

“Can he back all these things up?” Zack asked.

“I’m not sure. What really has me wondering is he doesn’t exclude the possibility of extraterrestrial visitors working with some of these earlier generations.”

“Did you say extraterrestrials? You mean like UFOs?” “Apparently, some of the literature has shown our ancestors talked about visitors from another world. In their papers, they often mention another race of beings that inhabited our planet long before our current humanity formed.”

“Are you saying this all transpired before humans formed on the planet?”

“Right. Ancient works of art often depict what many believe to be humans lying on a table surrounded by bizarre creatures with UFOs in the background.”

Zack was having a lot of trouble swallowing this line. “Okay . . . . And his point is …?”

“Some of my dad’s professor friends believe this could indicate alien astronauts visited our planet thousands of years ago and messed with our evolutionary processes.”

“Oh, boy. Don’t think I’ll mention this to the boss.”

“I agree. Kelce believes ancient art discovered in Mexico shows numerous anomalies without an answer.”

Zack didn’t know what to say, so he kept quiet.

“One story involves the Mexican government, which has released images of mysterious objects found at the Calakmul in Mexico. These Mayan artifacts are a provocative set of items 41

Buried Relics

which, according to many, would demonstrate ancient humanity visited us in the distant past.”

Zack had heard about enough. “Do you really believe any of this?”

“No. But, my dad is hooked. He does believe Kelce, who says it’s more than a coincidence ancient cultures around the world have registered similar activities. Distance would preclude them getting together and comparing notes with one another.”

“Well, it does make a little sense,” Zack said. “Okay, what else?”

She laughed. “Whether or not extraterrestrial beings visited ancient humanity is a debate which will remain one of the most puzzling topics for years to come.”

“No doubt about it,” Zack said.

“Many question its authenticity, I guess, like we do. Due to the fact the artifacts were in almost perfect condition when discovered, many skeptics claim they cannot be traced back thousands of years. They look too new.”

“You said they have a group of studies.”

“Right. Let me talk you through the outline of one of these studies.”

Zack tried to pay attention, but his mind kept wandering to T.J., wondering how he was doing. His attention moved back to Garcia.

“According to a study published in June in the journal Nature, nearby star systems have had a perfect viewing angle of Earth over the last 5,000 years — and more than 1,400 of them still have a clear view today.”

“I’m not sure what any of this means or if it really matters.”

“I’m with you. All of these stars sit within about 300 lightyears of our planet, and 75 of them orbit less than 100 light-years away. Given that humans have been transmitting radio signals for about 100 years, any of those 75 star systems are near enough to have allowed our radio waves to have washed over them already.”

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“Now, where are you going with all this?”

She laughed. “I have no idea, but I’ve got a bunch more studies I’m looking at. After I review them, I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay, my friend, enough for me. What’s next?”

“As I said, my dad is hooked. He’s talking about going to some conference with Kelce and wants me to tag along.”

“Are you going to go?”

“No idea. My problem is I don’t want my dad hooked up with a bunch of goof balls, then get hurt. He seems to be really taken

by Kelce.”

“Could be a problem. I think Fairchild and I have things under control so far. Both Harper and Scott are working with us.

We may need your help down the line, but right now, we’re okay.”

“Okay.” She laughed. “Stay tuned for more about the ancient and UFO worlds.”

Zack smiled. “Got it.” *** As Garcia and Zack talked on the phone, Sergey Artemis paced around a stately old home located along Long Beach Island, a guest of his boss.

Sonny Angelo entered the hideaway room, buried in the southwest corner of his house. Sergey knew he used this room for members of the family who were wanted by the authorities.

No doubt the FBI had to be watching the home. He needed to be careful.

“How are you doing?” He asked Artemis. “Do you have everything you need? Maybe that Chinese hottie you like so much. I can send her in for you later this afternoon.”

Artemis shook his head. He wanted to finish the job. The bastard had gotten away from him. “Not now. Can’t concentrate while I have this shit on my mind.” He smiled. “Wait until I finish business.”

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He felt good about using the priest get-up to slip away.

“Apparently, one of the EMTs was Catholic, so he liked the idea of having me there to administer Last Rites for the patient. And that head wound looked bad.”

“But it didn’t matter. You made your escape without any problems, I assume. I do wish you had hit him in the shoulder, not the head. I didn’t want him dead. Just scared and ready to talk.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get the information you wanted. You still have a big pile of dough tied up in Afghanistan. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. If it weren’t several million, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“This T.J. guy didn’t seem to know what happened. He sounded truthful when he told me.” Sergey paused for a moment.

“If he doesn’t know, what are you going to do?”

“It’s not just the funds from back in 2017. I know damn well those Afghans are processing the poppies today and making big bucks. And I want a piece of it. I helped set up the River Dance program, and I damn sure want my share.”

Angelo began to pace around the room again. “Are you sure the government asshole, Six Alpha, is dead? I assumed the pilot had killed him and is now milking the profits. If that’s wrong, then who’s in the know?”

“The only thing I can tell you is this fucking T.J. was in the middle of it and knows where this stuff is and how the pipeline works.”

“He didn’t seem willing to talk. I think he needs more influence.”

“What are you thinking?” Angelo asked.

Artemis got a smile on his face. “I understand his family arrived at the hospital. If he won’t help us, I bet he will sing loud and clear if we have his family.”

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Angelo smiled back at him. “I love the way you think. Now go out there and get it done.”

Sergey nodded and began to plan as Angelo headed out the door.

He paced around the room. This was his chance to make another positive impression on his boss. He wanted to be number one, and the way to get it done was to search out the answers for him. He had to figure it out. And make it work.

45

6 The White House, Washington, D.C., 11:30 p.m.

Zack paced around his office, thinking, building a strategy.

He needed to uncover the current management of the dark side of this River Dance program if he was going to find the drugs Gold Tooth had been looking for. He hoped this meeting would do the job.

Who was this Six Alpha, where was he, was he even dead?

Where to start? And he needed to do it all in one heck of a hurry.

Zack felt sure the shooter wouldn’t stop until he knew T.J. wasn’t the right guy. He had pulled out his telephone log and dialed the number of Special Agent Samuel Wright, his CIA point of contact, and set up a meeting for 2330 hours. Now he waited.

He thought about it. It would probably be better if the admiral wasn’t involved until Zack knew more. He decided to invite Fairchild. She needed all the background, too.

Zack sat in one of the secure conference rooms a little early, waiting for Fairchild and Wright. Zack had no idea how much of this might be classified but didn’t want to take a chance, so he set up the briefing in the special room.

Wright had gotten into trouble with the CIA director a few months earlier when his nephew’s involvement in a plot to bring down the government was discovered. It had almost succeeded.

Too close for comfort.

Fortunately, the plan had failed, thanks to Zack and a number of his staff. Wright had been able to convince the CIA director he had tried to prevent his nephew from implementing the plot.

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Zack had never completely trusted Wright, and the last time had not helped. Of course, could you ever completely trust any CIA agent? These guys were always floating on the dark side. It seemed to be where they lived and worked.

Wright arrived right on time with a package of papers under his arm, followed by Fairchild. Zack greeted him, then led him into the classified room and shut the door, where the three gathered at the end of the conference table.

“Appreciate you coming over on such short notice,” Zack said.

“I have the uneasy feeling this could balloon up into something big, really big.”

Wright opened the stack of papers. “As you might surmise, this River Dance program is classified and closely held.”

Wright leaned forward. “Highly classified not because of national importance, but because we screwed up so badly all the brass wanted to prevent the press from getting any more access to it than they already had.”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but a Russian assassin tried to kill T.J. earlier today.”

Wright nodded. “I’d heard. The River Dance program was so full of dark money, I’m not surprised.”

Zack paused for a moment. “The bastard walked into where we were eating, cool as ever, and claimed T.J. had killed a guy named Six Alpha, then run off with millions of dollars’ worth of poppy resin.”

Wright waited, not saying anything.

“T.J., of course, denied any piece of what the shooter had talked about. T.J.’s denial led to an argument as the shooter obviously didn’t believe him.”

“What happened next?” Wright asked. “I heard it got pretty messy.”

Zack shook his head and had to take a moment. “The shooter stood and walked to the door, easy as you please. When he 47

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reached the door, he turned and opened fire. Hit T.J. in the head.

Fortunately grazed him. ’Course, that was bad enough.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry to hear that,” Wright said. “How’s T.J. doing now?”

Fairchild shook her head. “He’s out of surgery, but we don’t know yet how he’ll do. Have you ever heard of this Six Alpha?”

Wright nodded. “He was a bag man for CIA money supporting River Dance. He gave it away like water to various warlords to gain their support for the program. And also to probably feather his own nest. Lots of that going on during the war.”

It pissed Zack to hear this stuff when so many good men who had worked for him had gotten killed. When Wright talked about the program so easily, Zack wanted to punch him in the nose, but he needed information only Wright could offer.

Zack held his breath on this one. “Was T.J. a bag man?”

Wright shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he was only the wheel man for Six Alpha.”

“Do you know this Six Alpha’s real name?” Zack asked. “Is he alive?”

“No on both accounts. I’m pretty sure he got on the wrong side of one of the warlords and didn’t survive.”

“How did the program work? I’m particularly interested in the dark money side because that’s why this shooter was after T.J. I doubt he’ll quit until I can point him in another direction.”

“You’re right on both counts. I think Angelo is the guy he works for, and neither of them is known to back off. Gold Tooth is a real son-of-a-bitch, not one to screw with.”

“How did it work? Can I tape it?”

Wright shook his head. “Don’t think that would be wise or healthy.”

Zack nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

“The whole mess started in 2006 with the U.S. push into the Afghan poppy fields. As you probably know, the Afghan poppy is the plant they pull juice from to make resin. It’s a big deal as 48

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the Afghans supply about eighty to ninety percent of the world’s opium.”

“How was it supposed to work?” Zack asked.

“We would pay the Afghan farmers to destroy the crop. As things moved along, the farmers, not being dumb, soon learned they could make more money harvesting the opium than destroying it.”

Zack made a note. “A real economic issue.”

Wright pounded his fist on the desk. “Hell, yes. Ninety percent of the farmer’s earnings in Helmand Province came from selling the poppies, and we wanted to destroy it. You can imagine how far we got with that idea.”

Zack thought for a moment. “But Helmand Province was a beehive of activity for us. We had a bunch of operations in that sector.”

“Right. It was a quiet sector until we started destroying the poppies, then the insurgents started pouring in, and things heated up.”

Zack shook his head. “You mean we were our own worst enemy. We had a lot of good people killed or wounded in Helmand for nothing?”

“I know. The white sap from the poppy can be easily dried and stored, then transported to sell and make money on.” He shrugged. “And we wanted to destroy it.”

“What happened then?” Zack asked.

“We told the farmers we’d pay them to destroy the crops.

Great. They just grew more which we paid them to destroy, costing us a bundle, and they still made money. By declaring opium an enemy, we effectively opened a second front in Afghanistan.”

Zack got up and walked around the office to cool off, then looked back at Fairchild. “Who were the dummies in charge of this program?”

“One group was the staff folks who did what they were told,” Wright said. “Another group was the senior policymakers who 49

Buried Relics

only had limited knowledge of what was really going on. A third group was the very smart guys who wanted to make a lot of money for themselves.”

Zack kept getting madder and madder seeing the faces of the rangers killed or seriously wounded in Helmand Province. Killed so this damn program could make bastards a ton of money.

Wright looked over at Zack. “I know you don’t want to hear more, but let me finish it for you.”

Zack nodded.

“Many of the governors, warlords, and others who were supposed to be our friends became wealthy on the profits from this program. The money spent growing and distributing opium strangled the rest of the economy. Nothing else had a chance.”

“Okay. Where are we now?” Zack asked.

Wright pulled a sheet of paper out of his briefcase. “To summarize, in 2006, Afghanistan farmers reaped a record harvest of opium. In two years, it was up by almost eighty percent.”

“No,” Zack said. “I mean, right now.”

“I’m afraid it’s worse,” Wright replied. “From the reports we receive, Afghanistan supplies eight out of every ten opiate users worldwide, while Afghanistan accounted for 85 percent of global opium production in 2020.”

Zack was stunned. “If that’s true, no wonder the Mafia bigwigs want their oar in that water. Do we have any idea the amount from Afghanistan going into the U.S.?”

“I don’t know the exact breakdown, but the opium harvest in Afghanistan increased by eight percent in 2021. This could lead to markets around the globe being flooded with over 300 tons of pure heroin.”

Zack’s heart sank. “What are we doing about it?”

“The experts believe this highlights the urgent need for international assistance to promote sustainable reductions in illicit drug cultivation.”

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“Crap. That sounds like a lot of political BS,” Fairchild said.

“Who’s doing all of this?”

Wright looked at his notes for a moment. “The brief was launched at a policy meeting of the Paris Pact Initiative, which brings together fifty-eight countries and twenty-three organizations to combat illicit trafficking in Afghan opiates.”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “I agree with Fairchild. Sounds like a lot of nonsense?”

Wright shook his head. “The group is expected to endorse a list of recommendations for action in four areas: crossborder cooperation, detecting and blocking illicit financial flows, preventing diversion of precursor chemicals, and drug prevention and treatment.”

“Will it make any difference?” Zack asked.

“Increased political uncertainty in Afghanistan since August 2021 is driving up opium prices, which almost doubled in August compared to May,” Wright said. “Higher prices may provide an incentive for farmers growing opium poppies this winter to cultivate more, increasing next year’s harvest.”

Zack got up and paced around the room again. “All this may hurt our chances of stopping them from going after T.J.” “The brief also warns that alongside rising opium and heroin production, methamphetamine manufacturing in Afghanistan, using the wild ephedra plant as a precursor, has sharply increased in recent years.”

Zack glanced at Fairchild and shook his head.

Wright continued. “Higher regional and global demand for methamphetamine, coupled with a saturated global market for opiates, could push further expansion of methamphetamine manufacturing, as well as that of other synthetic drugs.”

“Where the hell does T.J. fit into all this?” Zack asked.

“I’m afraid he may have just drawn the short straw. This is a global problem which won’t be solved for a long time.”

Zack decided to switch topics. “Was this Six Alpha a target?”

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“Yes,” Wright replied. “Shot in Helmand Province, I forget the exact location. As far as I know, Six Alpha was going to blow the whistle on the whole program. Lots of people couldn’t let that happen. Gonna be tough for T.J.” “Don’t tell me it’s going to be tough,” Zack said. “Tell me where to start.”

“The best place to start would probably be with the other pilots. They were like a small community.”

“Do you have the names of the other pilots?”

Wright nodded. “I’m not sure who’s still alive.”

“Can you help me with locations and whether they are alive?”

Wright nodded again. “I suspect most of them are good guys like T.J., who just got suckered into the program. Some of them probably took a few bucks, then a few more. Dirty money sticks to your fingers.”

“How about the other bag men like Six Alpha?”

“Probably be less helpful.”

“When can you get me the information?”

“Noon tomorrow.”

Zack made a note. “What else should I be doing?”

“Just keep pulling on the string and asking questions. I suspect the dirty bastards will fall out on the floor before long.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d let your boss know I’m trying to help.

I need to get back in the game after the death of my nephew.”

“Okay. We’ll see what you come up with.” Zack stood. “Let’s see if we can clear T.J. He’s a good guy and deserves it.”

Another nod from Wright, who shook hands with Zack, nodded to Fairchild, and moved out of the office.

Zack turned to Fairchild. “I wonder what he must be thinking.

First, the loss of his nephew, then what appears to be the end of his career. He’ll probably never be promoted again, no matter how he does.”

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Fairchild seemed to pick her words carefully. “Zack, you know I was in the middle of that mess. Damn near died in the shoot-out with his nephew.”

Zack nodded.

“You’ll never be able to convince me he tried to stop his nephew. I think he was playing both sides and now is trying to get back in with us.”

“To be honest, I don’t disagree with you. Guess we’ll have to keep working with him and see what comes of it. What I do know is with all the money coming out of Afghanistan, it’s going to be tougher to convince the killers T.J. is clean.” *** Zack pushed in Garcia’s cell number. He didn’t want to get in the middle of some ancient civilization deal but needed Garcia’s help in figuring out Operation River Dance.

In a moment, he heard the reassuring “Garcia.”

“It’s me. Sorry it’s so late. Need your help.”

“Name it.”

“I think I know how to get started in helping clear T.J., but, as always, it looks like a big deal to tackle. Fairchild is here and maybe I can rope in Scott to help a bit. Don’t think we can bring in anyone else. Too sensitive.”

“Okay. What’s the deal?”

He explained what Wright had told him and the information he would be providing Zack by the end of the day tomorrow.

“Wow, I see your concern about bringing in just anyone.”

“My idea is each of us can take a name, search them out, then develop the next step. I suspect we’ll find most of them not particularly helpful, but someone has to know something. We need to find it.”

“Okay. You going to brief the boss?”

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“Only in general terms. I think he’ll need some deniability in case it explodes in our faces. How can I help you with your crazy professor?”

“Oh, man, I don’t know. My dad wants me to look into it.

Bring it up to some high governmental authority.”

“Does he really think there is something worth studying?”

“I’m afraid he does. Not as much as the other guy does, but he thinks there is something there.”

“Where are you going to start?” Zack asked.

“Their study seems to come from things scientists have already found. They are thinking more of a long-term effort.”

Garcia paused for a moment. “For the short term, my dad was given three or four different studies, and he’s hoping we can use our offices to determine their validity and maybe add some emphasis.”

“Okay, what’s step one?”

“Here’s the first study. I think it’s the easiest one to sort out.

The subject is if people are observing us from a close distance, what’s the best way to establish communication?”

“Why would we want to do that?” Zack asked.

“My understanding is they want to find out who they are.”

Zack had had about enough but knew Garcia was trying to help her dad. He didn’t want to turn her dad off.

“Apparently, Life Science writer Joanna Thompson investigated this question in December and found out no one method is flawless,” Garcia said.

“What else?” Zack asked.

“Radio waves broaden as they travel, meaning any message we send will become more diluted the farther it travels. Let me burn a copy and send it to you. I know you’re tied up on this T.J. mess. Now, I gotta go.”

Garcia hung up.

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Zack knew the last thing he wanted to do was work on some UFO study, but he at least had to look at what Garcia sent to him.

He knew the first thing he needed to do was to get a little sleep, then begin to tackle things.

55

7 The White House, Washington, D.C. September 6, 7:30 a.m.

Looking at his watch, Zack saw it was after one o’clock. Too late to call anyone; he’d have to do it first thing in the morning.

He reviewed all of the notes he had done, then put them together into some sort of order, and ended up falling asleep in his chair at about three-thirty.

In the morning, after a couple of cups of coffee, Zack debated again what to do with the information he had received from Agent Wright. He needed to find the helicopter support organization for Operation River Dance and, after pondering for a while, came up with the right person to help him.

He decided to call his friend, Brigadier General Ray Loewe, who had coordinated aviation support in the Helmand Province—at least a good place to start.

Fortunately, Admiral Steele was an early riser so after briefing the admiral and giving him a basic outline, Zack called the number in the book for Loewe.

The person who answered said they would page the general for him. Loewe, at that time a brand-new general, had been a reference for T.J. when Zack was looking for aviation support for his ranger battalion.

It took about five minutes before Loewe came on the phone.

“Zack, good to hear from you. You’re up and moving early this morning. Been a while. How can I help you?”

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Zack explained what had happened and the fact T.J. was in the hospital with a serious head wound.

“Oh, no, you think the shooting was tied to River Dance?”

Loewe asked. “As I told you when I recommended T.J., he’s a good man and straight shooter. I knew he was pissed about all the corruption going on below the surface with River Dance.”

“Did you know this Six Alpha?” Zack asked.

“Ya, a real jerk and dirty as hell. I worked with the Criminal Inspection Department—you know CID—and tried to help them prove his involvement in the dark money floating in the program.”

“I understand it was pretty bad,” Zack said.

“Terrible. The Army knew they had a mess on their hands so they launched Operation Iron Tempest.”

“What was that?” Zack asked.

“The idea was to target the clandestine opium processing labs in Helmand Province. A lot of the lab’s money went into funding the Taliban.”

“The more I hear about this mess, the angrier I get.”

“I understand,” Loewe replied. “Me too. We dropped everything but the kitchen sink on those labs, figuring the Afghan drug lords would cut and run when we knocked out the labs.”

“Did it work?” Zack asked.

“Nah. We only got the smaller labs and some of the older ones, so it wasn’t effective. Would you believe that by 2017, Afghan farmers had quadrupled the land devoted to growing poppies and extracting the resin from the poppies?”

“No success at all in stopping production?” Zack asked “None. The opium industry did better than any industry in Afghanistan. And right here in Helmand Province, they did better than any other province in Afghanistan.”

“So what did this Six Alpha do?” Zack asked.

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“The State Department appointed six guys to travel around the country and check on how things were going. Hence the need for choppers.”

“That’s where T.J. came in?”

“If those guys lied on their reports, they would be in the good graces of the drug kingpins. Easy to move the resin. So if some of it got siphoned off to the note-takers and their buddies, no one would notice.”

Zack made a note, then said, “The guy who shot T.J. accused him of killing this Six Alpha and knowing where millions of dollars of the drug stuff was hidden. I assumed he was primarily talking about the resin and where it had been stashed. This shooter works for a Mafia boss who wanted a part of the money.”

“That’s bullshit. T.J. was one of the best pilots we had. Of the six guys they flew around, I think half of them were crooked. In other words, keeping profits for themselves by dropping off the resin in secret spots.”

“Was T.J. involved?”

“You gotta ask? Hell, no. I think Six Alpha was murdered because T.J. reported him to the CID, and one of the other dark money guys had him killed. Good thing T.J. got out of here and transferred to your rangers. Otherwise, I don’t think he would have made it out alive.”

“I gotta find a way for the shooter to back off T.J. He seemed hell-bent on killing T.J. if he doesn’t tell where all of this drug stuff is. T.J. has convinced me he doesn’t know. If he had any ideas, he would have shared them to get the shooter off his case.”

“Damn right, he doesn’t know. The funny thing was that we built all sorts of canals and ditches in Helmand Province to help with the production of fruit and vegetables, and all it did was make it easier to grow and smuggle out the resin for heroin.”

“What should I do to help T.J.?”

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“I can give you the names of the guys I think could be in cahoots with the Mafia here in the states, but I gotta tell you they are a mean and nasty group. I have to recommend you stay away from them.”

“Yeah. But they are the only guys who can help me prove T.J. is okay and not hiding the stuff.”

“Oh, man. I hate to see you get involved with them. To be honest, I hate to give you their names ’cause they could come after me. And you know the Mafia has a long reach and supposedly never forgets.”

“Ray, I hate to get you in trouble, but I gotta figure a way to help T.J. I know he’d do it for me. He has saved my bacon a number of times.”

“Understand. He’s done the same for me. I’ll give you the names and where I think they live. Not sure which ones are actually tied up with the Mafia, but I suspect at least two of them are. “ “How do you know?”

“Both of them live in Manhattan in big damn houses, and they can’t afford that lifestyle on retired lieutenant colonel’s pay.”

“How did these guys operate in Afghanistan?” Zack asked.

“Afghanistan justice relied on political and tribal connections, plus a bunch of bribery.” Loewe laughed. “If the crook got prosecuted, he had to be incompetent or have pissed a bunch of folks off.”

Zack tapped his fingers on the table to cool down. “Wow, what a system.”

Loewe agreed. “Plus, some of these guys operated under the protection of the Afghan president’s half-brother. Tough time to be a good guy.”

“Well, T.J. is one of those good guys, so I’ve got to help him.”

“Understood. I’ll get you the list. Give me a few hours. Gotta get into my old files.”

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“Thanks, Ray. I appreciate anything you can do.”

“You bet. I really liked T.J. and want to help.”

Zack hung up and thought for a few minutes about what he could do with the list. Somehow he’d have to trace these guys.

And it could only be a small group so the word didn’t leak out. *** It took about an hour and a half before Zack received the list of names Loewe thought would be the most likely ones to be hiding the drug materials. Once he received the list, he tried to sort out the best way to proceed. But he needed help and decided to make some calls.

It took another two hours to form the group he thought could help him. He was concerned about meeting at the White House, so he rented a conference room at the nearby Hotel Washington.

It was almost eleven o’clock before he could get everyone together, so he ordered in sandwiches. Food would make it easier to focus on everything they needed to do.

All of the group thought the world of T.J., so it didn’t take long for them to assemble in the hotel room to help.

He looked around the room with satisfaction and affection at a super group of talented people and good friends. Garcia attended on a phone line.

Zack opened. “Thanks to you all for coming on such short notice.”

He summarized what had happened to T.J. and updated them on his discussions with General Loewe.

When he finished, he held up the list Loewe had sent him.

“These are the names of the men Loewe thinks are involved in the smuggling. To be honest, I’m not sure how to proceed and am looking for advice.”

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Harper spoke up first. “Let me quietly screen our drug files and talk with the head of drug enforcement. We’re pretty sure the shooter works for the Angelo family in New York.”

“Wait a minute,” Garcia said over the phone line. “If they had the resin, they wouldn’t be blaming T.J. for stealing it.”

Zack sipped his coffee. “Good point. What else?”

Scott raised her hand. “I can’t help you in New York, but these two guys in D.C. and the one in Annandale are in my area.

I’ll take a look at them.”

“Once we run checks on all of then, what’s next?” Zack asked.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Bruiser said. “These guys aren’t going to talk with you no matter what you do. If you’re dealing with the Mafia, the silence will be deafening.”

Zack knew to pay attention to Bruiser. Before he had met Scott, Bruiser was vice president of a motorcycle gang in D.C. with several brushes with the law. At six feet, five inches, he was an impressive man, very muscular with lots of tattoos. He knew these guys better than anyone else in the room.

“What do you suggest?” Zack asked.

Bruiser thought for a moment. “I’ll enter the scene with my knife and threaten to cut their balls off if they don’t tell you what you want to know. I have found my approach can be very persuasive.”

Zack thought about his comments for a moment. “Yeah, but we can’t follow through if they still won’t talk.”

Bruiser watched Zack. “How badly do you want to help T.J.?

Do you think the guys you’re talking about would hesitate to do the same to you? You’re dealing with real bastards.”

“Bruiser makes a good point.” Garcia’s voice echoed from the phone. “We need to push the issue until these guys are convinced Bruiser will follow through on his threat.”

“You’re right. Can you all get to work with your people, then we get back together in a few hours?” Zack asked. “I’d like to get out on the road as soon as possible.”

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He looked around at the nodding heads. “All right. Call me when you have something.”

After everyone left, Zack sat there, looking at the wall and drinking his coffee. What else could he be doing? He couldn’t come up with anything.

He thought again about T.J. and how he might be doing. He picked up his cell and pushed Jasmine’s cell phone number. In a moment, she answered. “Hello.”

“Hi, Jasmine. It’s me, Zack Kelly. I’m checking on T.J. Planned on stopping by in a little while and wondered how’s he doing.”

A quiet sniffle. “Oh, Zack, there’s no change. They keep telling me he’ll wake up, but so far, nothing has changed.”

“Knowing T.J. like I do, he’ll pull out of this. You need to give him time. Anything new from the docs?”

“No. They keep saying they won’t know much about his recovery time until he wakes up, and they can talk to him.”

“Hang in there. We’re doing what we can to get the bastard who shot him and figure out what’s going on.”

“I know you are, Zack, and I appreciate it.”

“He’s my friend, and I know he’d do the same for me.”

“I’m sure he would.”

“I remember in Tibet I was being chased by a whole slug of Chinese soldiers. We were about a mile from the border when they blew out a tire on our jeep.”

“Oh, Zack.”

“Jasmine, they had us. Then out of nowhere, this helicopter comes flying in. I thought it was more Chinese soldiers, and then I saw the U.S. markings. That helicopter blasted the hell out of the soldiers chasing me and landed so I could get on board along with the guys helping me. Know what I heard?”

She chuckled. “I can just imagine.” “’Bout time you got here, Kelly. I thought we were going to have to wait all night. With that, T.J. got us the hell out of there.

Saved my life. ” 62

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“Thanks, Zack.”

After Zack hung up, he thought, I gotta follow through.

63

8 Austin, Texas, 11:00 a.m.

While Zack was working to resolve the shooting of T.J. and prevent a repeat performance, Garcia had her own fires to extinguish. Her dad was convinced his friend, Professor Jeremy Kelce, had the inside track on one of the biggest stories of the century.

Very few would believe what Kelce had to say, so that’s why Garcia kept trying to calm her father down. It scared her that if her dad went off the rails and started blindly tracking all of this down himself, he could get into real trouble.

She had to determine the truth of what was going on. But from what Garcia had heard, it might be a challenge.

She sat at her desk in the den working on one of her programs when her dad rushed into the room, a big smile on his face. “We’ve been invited to accompany Professor Kelce to a conference where Kelce will be presenting his findings.”

“Wait a minute,” she replied. “Where’s this meeting going to be?”

“I don’t know.” He settled into a chair. “Actually, Professor Kelce doesn’t know either. Apparently, this is a hush-hush meeting for certain VIPs. They are keeping the location a secret.”

Garcia’s BS meter went off right away, and it was loud and clear. “Dad, we don’t want to go someplace we don’t know, to hear people we don’t know tell a story we don’t know. I think you’re making a terrible mistake.”

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Her dad jumped up, ran over to where she sat and hovered right over her. “I knew you’d say that,” he yelled. “I have always done what you wanted to do, but now when I ask you for this one favor, you throw up a bunch of barriers.”

“Think about it, Dad. Who are the people we’re going to see?

Are they safe to be around? Do we risk getting into some sort of trouble?”

“I do know Professor Kelce. He’s a graduate of Harvard and highly respected on the University of Texas campus. This is my chance to be on the cutting edge of something special. And you want to ruin it for me.”

Garcia knew when she had lost. She’d have to go along, which probably would be for the best. She could figure out the program and try to protect her dad from himself, if no one else.

She glanced over at him. He had settled in a chair, head in his hands. “All right, you win. We’ll go and see what happens. Tell me what you know about the program.”

Her dad beamed. “Here’s what I know. The basis of this theory is that the U.S.-led 2003 invasion of Iraq was launched because former dictator Saddam Hussein had a portal to an alien world.” He smiled. “Isn’t that exciting? Don’t you want to be on the ground floor of a cutting-edge program like that?”

She had to admit, at least to herself, she didn’t want anything to do with it. But she heard herself saying, “You’re right, Dad. It’s an exciting theory. When is this presentation?”

“There are people coming all the way from New York City to hear his talk. It depends on when they arrive. I believe it may be this evening.”

Garcia had seen so many of these half-baked theories go astray she had to be suspicious.

Her dad shook from excitement. She wanted to share the problem she would be working on. “Dad, you probably remember yesterday one of my partners was shot. We’re trying to figure out why and who did it.”

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“And you want to let someone getting shot take precedence over what I want.”

Oh, crap, she hated it when he got like this. She could never figure out how her mother had put up with all of his crazy behavior. But she figured she’d better do it too. Keep peace in the family, as her mother had so often said.

“All right. What’s going on with you two?” Her mother walked into the room. Garcia’s mother was an internationally known author on relationships, and perhaps her biggest challenge had to be her husband and daughter. She had obviously been listening to the fight between Garcia and her father. “Can’t you two ever get along?”

“She never wants to help me. If she had become a professor at the university like I wanted, this would never have happened.”

“All right, hush up,” Her mother said. “You’ve been beating on that drum forever, and it’s over. So forget it.” She glanced over at Garcia. “Rene, help me understand the issue.”

Garcia talked her mother through the various issues.

“Well, I can understand what you say,” her mother said.

Her father jumped in. “I knew you’d take her side.”

“Will you relax?” her mother said. “I can never take sides because you two argue on everything.” She turned to Rene. “Why don’t you get more information before you decide? You might find it interesting.”

Her father’s cell phone rang. He looked at it and blurted out, “It’s him. Now we’ll know.”

Garcia chuckled to herself. It had been only six months since she and her mom had purchased her dad a cell phone for a present, and he seemed to like having it. Garcia wasn’t sure he would but glad he had.

Her dad moved away and made a big point of whispering.

This was his special secret, and he wanted everyone to know he would only be sharing it with them.

When he finished on the phone, he put it back into his pocket 66

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and turned to her. “We must be ready in two hours. They will come and pick us up and take us to the presentation.”

Garcia got nervous all over again. She had seen so much of this super spy stuff, and she hated it. But she felt boxed in.

Her mother glanced over at her, eyes pleading. “Why don’t you see what this program is all about? Then you’ll know better what to do.”

She turned to her husband. “You need to be more sensitive to what Rene has to say. Maybe she has a point, and you should listen.”

She walked over and took her husband by the arm. “I can understand your excitement. Professor Kelce is a famous man, and I’m glad he has invited you.”

Her husband beamed. He had won.

Her mother raised a finger and pointed it at him. “But you need to call me and let me know where you are and what’s going on. I want to know where both of you are and what you are doing.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

She shook her finger at him with greater emphasis. “Don’t go risking our daughter with some goofy stuff. If you don’t call and keep me up to date, don’t bother to come back home. Ever.”

Her father cringed back. “Yes, dear. I understand. Thank you.”

Her mother’s comment made Garcia feel better. She turned to her dad. “Okay, I’ll be ready. What time exactly are they coming, and what should I wear?’

“They will pick us up at our front door in two hours. They didn’t say anything about whether or not we should wait outside.

I think you can wear what you have on.”

As he hurried out of the study, he called back. “Don’t be late.

I’ll meet you at the front door in one hour and forty-five minutes.”

She glanced up at him. What had she gotten herself into? As she walked out of the room, she got to thinking, better take a jacket and a change of clothes. Who knew what might happen?

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*** Zack looked around at the team gathered in front of him. “All right, we’ve got a big project ahead and not much time to do it in.”

He paced a couple of steps. “I feel confident we’ve got the right people. Now we need to sort out a winning strategy. I’ve asked Agent Harper to start us off.”

Agent Harper began. “First, let me say the FBI has set up an around-the -clock guard on T.J.s room. We’ve coordinated with the D.C. police and will share the workload with them. He must be covered at all times. There is no question about it.”

Zack gave him a thumbs-up. “I was hoping you’d be able to set up a guard for him. We have no idea if the shooter will try again.”

Harper looked down at his notes. “Now, onto a review of the names the general gave us. We looked at the four who did not live in New York City. Robert Ellington lives in Montana and works for a small tourist agency. We could find no ties to any Mafia elements.”

Zack looked at him. “You sure? Nothing at all?”

Harper nodded. “We checked it out carefully, Zack. When Ellington returned from Afghanistan, he got into a few scrapes.

Probably settling in. Then he took up again with his high school girlfriend. Got married, had a couple of kids, and both have good steady jobs. We’ll keep an eye on him, but he’s not at the top of my list.”

“Makes sense. Who’s next?”

“Let’s look at Burger. Burger lives in New Jersey and works at a casino. I think he used some of his contacts from Afghanistan to get the job. I could find no evidence he’s actively working for any of the Mafia families. Not to say he isn’t, but I don’t think he’s our man. Still, we’ll keep an eye on him as this develops.”

Zack nodded. “Keep going.”

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“The next two look to be good candidates and will bear watching. Lancelot and Harding. Both of them live in Manhattan in expensive condos Loewe was talking about, way too expensive for an Army retiree.”

Zack chuckled. “As they say in the trade, seems to be a clue.”

“Good point,” Harper replied. “They each have front jobs working for a Mafia-controlled trucking company in advertising.”

“Do they appear to be qualified?” Zack asked.

Harper shook his head. “Not even college grads. I’m not sure which is at the head of my list, but in my really short review, either one is possible. I’ve got a crew of agents going over their records as we talk to get more details.”

Zack’s gaze flipped over to Scott.

“Well, unlike my FBI friend,” Scott began, “I don’t have a crew of agents to go over my two candidates, Henry and Bentley.

Bruiser and I read over the files of the two men.”

“I knew Henry’s brother,” Bruiser said, “and he is a real scumbag. Father died in jail, and mother was a druggie. Never got out of high school and loves to abuse women.”

Zack pointed at him. “Holy crap, that sounds like a clue also.”

“Neither of those two, Henry or Bentley, appear to be top candidates. Not very smart. If I had to go with one over the other, I’d start with Henry. He’s working at a trucking outfit as a mechanic, although he doesn’t seem to have much training.”

“Kind of a gift?” Zack asked.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. The other, Bentley, is working as a cook at a restaurant. I figured if he was involved with the Mafia, he would be in a different job. But we’ll check to see if the restaurant is Mafia controlled.”

“What do you think?” Scott asked. “I’d go with Harper’s two picks, and in the meantime, maybe we can take a deeper dive into the two you just mentioned.”

“Sounds good,” Zack replied, then he glanced over at Harper.

“How do you think we should proceed?”

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“Well,” Harper said, “to be honest, I’m a little concerned if we do it the legal FBI way, these guys are going to lawyer up right away, and we won’t get anywhere.”

“I agree,” Zack said. “We don’t have time to go the legal way.

If these guys have been involved in Afghanistan, they probably are used to the legal way and know how they can duck it.” He turned to Bruiser. “What do you think?”

“Get me an address, then Pam and I can disappear into our gangster mode like we did in Montreal. I don’t like it anymore, but we probably need to use it to move things forward.”

Zack gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

“We have to make sure we get each of them alone,” Bruiser said. “What I’d like to do is check out the normal patterns for each of these two guys so we know where and when to strike.”

“How long do you think you’d need?” Zack asked.

“Few hours,” Bruiser replied. “Be best if our time with each guy was uninterrupted. Maybe we could figure a way to pick them up and take them some place.”

“How about if we use the general’s name,” Zack suggested.

“Tell them something serious has come up, and he wants to meet with them.”

“That’s it,” Harper replied. “We’d need his okay and have to give him some deniability.”

“Makes sense,” Scott said. “If it came up, he could say he’d heard on the grapevine as a result of T.J.’s shooting questions were being asked. Didn’t know more than that.”

“I’ll check with him,” Zack said. “We have the phone numbers.

Which one should we start with?”

“Let me go over the files again and check with the guys who have been looking at them,” Harper replied. “I feel like I need more info before I make a decision. It would be great to hit on the first one. If we miss on the first one, it may tip the second.”

“Okay, why don’t you do that and make a decision? I’ll contact Ray and see what he has to say. Let’s meet back here in two hours.

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Everyone nodded and left the room.

Zack picked up the phone and called General Loewe. When he answered, Zack shared where they were and what they had uncovered.

“How are you going to do it?” Loewe asked.

“That’s why I’m calling. We want to make sure they’re alone and won’t have anyone popping in during the interrogation.”

Zack took a deep breath. “We were hoping you’d let us say we had talked to General Loewe about our friend T.J. and you had given us a list of names who were the counterparts of Six Alpha.

We wanted to speak to each of them and see what they knew about how things had been run.”

He stopped there and waited. Let people think about a proposal and what it meant to them.

Loewe was silent. Zack kept his fingers crossed.

After what seemed like hours, but was actually only minutes, Loewe said, “Sure, go ahead. Tell them you talked to me, and I wanted you to be aware of the other section leaders. I gave out the names with the proviso the investigation should not take much of their time.”

Zack exhaled. “You gave out the names in good faith, wanting to help T.J. sort out a problem. That’s all I think you need to say if asked.”

“Okay,” Loewe replied. “It sounds to me as if you have a solid plan. Good luck. If you need anything else from me, let me know.”

“Thanks again. We’ll keep you up to speed as our investigation moves forward. Here’s hoping we can fix this for T.J.” “Good luck. I’ll be waiting to hear.”

“Sounds good.”

71

9 Austin, Texas, Noon Two hours had passed since the argument with her father.

Garcia knew what they were doing didn’t make any sense, but nevertheless, she found herself standing next to her dad in front of their house, not sure what would happen next.

Her mother had pulled her aside as they were leaving. “This is a big deal for your father, perhaps the biggest of his life. And he needs something like this. He’s had lots of disappointments. Try to understand and help him.”

She gave Garcia a peck on the cheek. “Please.”

Garcia squeezed her mother’s hand. “Okay.”

Her mother squeezed her hand back. “Thank you. I look forward to hearing how you are both doing.”

She kept reminding herself of her mother’s words as she looked down the street. Soon her gaze caught two long dark limousines appearing around the corner.

They pulled up and stopped in front of them. What the heck was going on? Who are these guys?

A bulky man in a black suit with a black tie and white shirt stepped out of the front seat of the first limousine. In his right hand, he held two black cloths. He walked over to them, handed each one a cloth, and motioned for them to put them over their eyes.

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Garcia was annoyed. “What do you mean, put on a blindfold?

I’m not going to do that. This is supposed to be a simple class on history, not some spy thriller.”

Her dad leaned over to her and pointed into the back seat.

The door was slightly ajar, and she saw Professor Kelce with a mask over his eyes sitting in the back seat. “Just do it, please.

Don’t make a scene.”

Garcia almost turned around and marched right back to their house. She didn’t want to do this. Her instincts screamed at her not to go, but she glanced up at her father, signaling for her to put the mask on and get in.

What was she supposed to do at this point? She thought back to what her mother had said. Go with it, but be careful and keep her in the loop. She decided to see what would happen. Wearing the stupid cloth, she got in the car as the big man directed.

As the car pulled away from the curb, she leaned forward toward the front seat and called, “Where are we going?”

No answer from the two hunks sitting in the front. “Hey,” she called again, “I’m talking to you. Just a plain question. Can’t be too complicated.”

She could hear the crinkle of the front seat cushion as he turned around. “Please be quiet. I won’t ask again.”

With that, she heard what sounded like the squeak of a window glass between the front and back seat closing—a privacy screen.

Garcia turned toward where Kelce was sitting. “What’s going on? Why do we have to wear blindfolds?”

He stuttered a little. “I don’t know. I’m sure it will be fine.”

Her dad yelled at her. “See what you’ve done? You’ve made them angry.”

Garcia figured more questions would only make matters worse. They were committed, and she had to follow through.

You’ve done it this time, Garcia, so be careful.

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*** Based upon Harper’s recommendation, Zack called Harvey Lancelot. Lancelot answered on the first ring. “Yeah, what do you want?’

Zack introduced himself. “I’m calling on behalf of General Loewe. You knew him from your time in Afghanistan.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“We told him T.J. Wilson, who had flown for Loewe in Afghanistan, had been shot. Wilson was eating lunch with a friend when a killer came up, asked him a couple of questions, then shot him. Said something about a Six Alpha being murdered.”

“What?” Lancelot called. “Who the hell is this?”

Zack repeated his introduction and said that he was a friend of Wilson’s. “The general wanted to let you know what had happened. We are concerned maybe it could happen to someone else. You could be at risk since you were involved in the River Dance program.”

“Shit. I knew Wilson. Okay, guy. Why was he shot?”

“We’d like to give you more details in person. Don’t want to see anyone else hurt like our friend.”

“Ah, fuck, I guess it sounds kinda interesting, but why should I meet with you? I’m a busy guy. Important people are busy people.”

“The general didn’t want anyone else shot. Comparing notes might help prevent it from happening again.”

“Guess I could spare an hour. When do you want to do it?”

“Like right away, before anyone else gets hurt. You, for example.”

“I want to bring a friend along.”

Zack had prepared for that. “Do you think that’s wise? We’d like to talk frankly about what happened. I’m not sure we want people we don’t know to listen. Don’t worry. We work for General Loewe, and he trusts us. You should also.”

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“How long will this take? I’m a busy guy and don’t want to waste time.”

“Not long. Maybe two hours at the outside.”

“All right, pick me up this afternoon at two o’clock outside my house. Do you know where I live?”

“Yes, we do.” Zack found himself listening to a dial tone.

75

10 Austin, Texas, 1:30 p.m.

As the car sped along the highway, Garcia counted minutes to estimate mileage. Sadly, she didn’t know this area very well, so she couldn’t track any special milestones or important turns.

Forty-seven minutes later, they made a sharp turn to the right and began driving down a bumpy road. She got bounced back and forth between Kelce and her dad, which meant they had left the main highway and were now on a dirt road, probably heading to where they were going to meet.

But she thought this was supposed to be a workshop, which meant lots of people and a reasonably spacious convention center. This didn’t feel like a big center at all. Something was out of whack, and she didn’t like it.

After about twelve minutes more, they turned to the right again and slowed down. Another turn, then they stopped. Garcia leaned forward, trying to get a feeling for what was happening.

The front door opened, then the back door. A voice she knew belonged to the big ox in the front seat said, “All right, get out of the car.”

Garcia reached up to her head. “Can we take these blindfolds off now? Damn things are getting hot.”

“No,” the ox called, “I’ll tell you when you can take the mask off. Leave them on till I say, ‘Off.’” She’d had about enough. “This stinks. We’re supposed to be at some big-deal conference. Here we get treated like little kids.

I’m taking this mask off.”

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As she reached up, she felt strong arms pull her and pin her arms next to her body. The voice whispered in her ear. “Leave the masks. Don’t make me tell you again. Next time it will hurt.

Hurt bad.”

The strength of his hold convinced her. “All right. I’ve got it.

Let go.”

The arms released her. “Now turn to the left and start walking.”

As they walked, she heard what sounded like another motor.

Actually, it sounded like an airplane. Could it be? Were they going somewhere by airplane? This didn’t make sense.

The big guy called for them to stop. “You’ll be stepping up five steps, then stepping through an open door onto an airplane.

Be sure you bend over when you reach the door. You don’t want to bang your head.”

He laughed, then whispered to her. “You’re such a pain in the rear, I can’t say I care. The boss says be nice, so I’ll be nice. But don’t push me.”

She felt for the steps with her foot and grabbed a hand railing.

Next, she stepped up the five steps and ducked as she walked onto the plane. She could tell they had gone inside as the air conditioner felt good, providing relief from the hot September air in Texas.

She walked down the narrow corridor of the plane until the big man behind her called, “Stop. Move over to the second seat and sit. Once you’re seated, you may take off the mask.”

Garcia did as directed, and with a sigh of relief, she reached back and pulled off the cloth mask.

She glanced around. They were sitting on a plane, not too large, maybe a thirty to forty seater. She called, “What’s going on?

Where are we headed? Why a plane?”

No one answered her. No one said a word.

The plane looked about half full, maybe twenty others, all men, sitting, talking to one another. She wasn’t sure why, but it 77

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looked like a confab of a bunch of Mafia leaders—mostly fat men in black suits, smoking cigars. She had to wave away the thick smoke.

As her gaze took in the plane, she was ready to scream at her dad. Then a picture of her mother popped into her mind. Crap, what to do? Maybe wait a little longer. But it didn’t look good.

Glancing toward the front again, she saw two men holding machine guns, one of them talking to the pilot. Guns. Now it definitely didn’t look good for the home team.

She was so taken by the guns she sat still and stared. Then, she heard the familiar voice, now behind her say, “Fasten your seatbelt. We certainly don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Laughter.

She was seated right behind her dad and Professor Kelce, who looked so much like Ichabod Crane, it almost made her laugh.

The big guy pointed at Kelce, who sat in the aisle seat. “You. Follow me.”

Garcia wondered if that meant he was destined for the firing squad. Then she smiled to herself, probably one of her few smiles.

He was supposed to be the star of the show. How could he get wiped out? At least before his program. That thought gave her pause. Would she ever see Texas again?

Kelce stood and followed the man to the front of the plane, where he was seated next to someone Garcia thought she recognized but couldn’t place.

Soon a female voice called, “Please double-check to make sure your seatbelt is securely fashioned.”

As they waited, two men came through the front door of the plane and walked down the center aisle. When they were three rows in front of them, the first man ducked into his seat.

The big man behind him turned around and smiled at one of the others in the front row. When he smiled, he revealed a large gold tooth in the front of his mouth.

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Then it hit her. Didn’t Zack say the guy who shot T.J. has a gold tooth? He definitely did say it looked like the guy was a contract killer for the Mafia.

No, it couldn’t be the same guy. But how many people wear a gold tooth? Okay, Mom, what now? *** Bruiser and Scott sat in the front seat of her car and waited.

In a moment, a short, fat man in a double-breasted suit and straw hat opened the front door of the expensive-looking condo and waddled down the sidewalk toward them.

Bruiser watched him. “I think he’s our target. Believe he needs to work a little on his conditioning.”

Scott laughed. “If I were casting Mafia characters for a movie, Lancelot would be the first I’d hire. He’s it.”

Bruiser kept watching the man. “We need to make sure this is Lancelot. If it were me, I’d send someone else out. We need to double-check his ID to make sure it’s him before we make any moves.”

“Good point,” Scott said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“That’s the trouble with cops. You need to spend more time with these slimeballs to understand how sickening and sly they really are.”

Bruiser jumped out of the car and hurried over to Lancelot.

“Mr. Lancelot, thank you for coming. We are looking forward to talking with you.”

“I almost didn’t,” he huffed, wiping his face with a silk handkerchief. “I’m a busy man.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll be meeting with General Loewe in a few minutes and will make sure it’s worth your while. First, may I see some ID?” Lancelot pulled out his billfold and showed Bruiser a photo ID. 79

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It took about ten minutes for them to reach the building Zack had rented. It was down on the waterfront, which would prevent any interruptions.

Bruiser had gambled Lancelot wouldn’t be sharp enough to refuse to go inside a building like this one. “I’m not sure I like meeting in a place like this.”

“The general wanted to make sure no one will happen upon us. Also, we don’t want word of this meeting to get out.”

Scott pulled around to the rear of the building and shut off the engine. Bruiser stepped out and opened the door for Lancelot.

When they reached the inside, Bruiser led Lancelot into a side room. He slapped the fat man, knocking him down.

Lancelot looked up at Bruiser, rubbing the side of his face.

“What the hell are you doing? I’ll have your balls pulled out and thrown down the sewer.”

Bruiser smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Lancelot tried to get up. “Get me up and do it now before I call and have my killer friends come over here.”

Bruiser nodded to Scott to start the camera, then picked him up by his shirt. Lancelot bent over with a wheezing breath.

Bruiser glared at him. “Now shut the fuck up and listen to me before I really start to hurt you. If you’re not careful, you’ll never walk out of this room alive.”

Lancelot kept wheezing but didn’t say anything.

Bruiser summarized what had happened to T.J. When he finished, he said, “Did you know T.J. Wilson?”

“No. Never did.”

Bruiser kept glaring at him. “Lying to me won’t help you and will just make this last longer and be more painful. Now, did you know T.J. Wilson?”

Lancelot watched Bruiser for a moment, then managed to squeak out, “Yeah, guess I did.”

“Did you know a man named Six Alpha?”

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“No.” Bruiser reached over and threatened to slap him again.

Lancelot yelled and started to cry. “No, no, don’t slap me again. Yes, I knew him.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.”

Bruiser glared at him again. “Quit lying to me.”

“He was murdered.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.”

Do you want me to hit you again? If so, keep lying.”

“No. Don’t hit me again. I don’t know what happened to him.

He just disappeared one night.”

“Why?” “He pissed off one of the drug lords. That’s something you don’t do if you want to keep living.”

“What happened to all the resin he had?”

A sudden jerk, almost a smile, then a murmured, “I don’t know.”

Bruiser pulled him up again. “Don’t lie to me, particularly on important questions. Now, what happened to all the resin Six Alpha had?”

“It was divided up between the rest of us.”

“Where is it now?”

“Been sold on the street.”

“How does the pipeline work?”

“I don’t know.”

Bruiser raised his hand and was about to hit him.

Lancelot raised his hands. “I don’t know. Really I don’t. Please don’t hit me again.”

“I’m going to ask you once more. If you say you don’t know, I won’t hit you again.”

Lancelot relaxed his shoulders.

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“I’ll kill you because I think I’ve got all I’m gonna get. Now, how does the pipeline work?”

“Stop. Please. I’m not in distribution anymore. I work in another area. I was brought here for my connections with the drug lords in Afghanistan. Now that our military has left, I’ve been moved.”

“Now I’m beginning to believe you. But if you ruin that belief, I will kill you. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” “All right. Now you sit on that chair over there. I’m leaving the door locked. If you start to yell or try to get away, I will come back. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” Bruiser walked over to the door and pulled it open.

Scott followed him. He pulled the door shut, then locked it.

She looked up at him. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“I’m not proud of what I did.”

82

11 Somewhere in the air. 3:00 p.m.

The plane took off shortly after the group had gotten settled.

Garcia still had no idea where they were headed or how long it might take.

She reached for her phone. Maybe using Google Maps would show where they were. But as soon as she took the phone out, the big guy behind her grabbed it.

“Hey, that’s my phone,” she exclaimed.

He laughed. “No kidding. I know exactly what it is. That’s why I took it. You are not supposed to be in contact with anyone on this trip, and no need for you to track our course.”

She looked at him, shaking her head.

“As they say, ‘Just lean back and enjoy the ride.’”

“I need my phone. It’s got all my appointments, contacts, everything.”

“I understand,” he said. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give it back when we’re done. So just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax? I have no idea where I am or what’s going on.”

He laughed. “You need to have some trust in your heart.”

She looked back at him. “Why is it difficult for me to trust you? And here I was thinking of ordering you a present from Amazon. Now I can’t.”

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A slight smile crossed his face. “I suspect you have many trust issues. Just relax. Above all, shut up. I’ve had about enough of all your yapping.”

She figured she’d rung all she could out of him and began to study her nearby seat mates. None of the others looked like people she would select as friends.

Why? She thought. Some guys with tattoos and muscles most likely had spent time in jail. Some soft. Probably higher up in the food chain. Didn’t see anyone she thought might wear a white hat.

She concluded she was in the company of a bunch of hoods.

Some of the higher-ups were probably guys to watch out for. She didn’t want them turned loose on her, so she figured she’d better take it easy. Now, how could she get ahold of Zack? She’d have to think about that.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes and continued to count the minutes. It would be important to be able to tell Zack and Harper how far they had gone.

Just stay alert. Look for opportunities. For what? Heck, for anything.

She listened to the roar of the engines. She usually liked to fly—but not like this. *** The rest of Zack Kelly’s team sat in the next room, watching a video of Bruiser and Scott. On the screen now was a frozen picture of Lancelot sitting and staring at the ceiling.

Zack stood as Bruiser and Scott entered the room. “I think we got what we need to move forward.”

Bruiser looked down at the floor. “I gotta tell you, I don’t ever want to do that again. I’m out of the business now, and the only

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reason I did it was to save T.J.’s life. But never again. Never for any reason.”

Scott reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for helping us. I will never ask you to do anything like that again.”

Zack walked over and shook his hand. “Thank you for me and T.J. Now, what do we do with that tape?”

Harper started to pace. “I’m beginning to think we need to interview all six suspects. Understand the impact this had on each person. This is good, very good, but I’m not sure it’s enough to get T.J. out of the hot box with the damn shooter and his boss.”

“I agree with Harper,” Zack said. “We need to talk to each of them. The person I’m really wondering about is Harding.

Expensive condo in Manhattan with all the trimmings. Where does all the money come from?”

Harper nodded. “I’d like to take Harding myself. Maybe use the somewhat legal approach. Tell him what happened. He may tell all he knows because it’s in his best interests.”

“He probably hasn’t had a chance to talk with Lancelot, but as soon as he does, he’d be tipped off,” Zack said. “And if he’s part of the plan, he will probably freeze up.”

“Should we try and beat it out of him?” Fairchild asked. “I used to do some beating on people in my prior job, but I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

Harper shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’d like to get my guys to talk to those we don’t see as too involved. See if we happen to drop into something. I’ll take Harding myself. Zack, you may want to come along. We’ll talk, just talk.”

Zack thought for a moment. “What happened to T.J. may loosen their tongues when they realize they could get roughed up. Based on what we heard from Lancelot, T.J. had nothing to do with the killing of Six Alpha and the theft of the resin.”

“We should be able to finish all the interviews within the next twenty-four hours,” Harper said. “At that point, we may 85

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have enough to go and see Angelo. Have him call off the shooter, assuming he’s the one pulling the strings. Which I think he is.”

“I agree,” Zack said. “Sounds like a good plan to me. Let’s get it started.”

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12 Arrival, but where? 6:00 p.m.

The plane began its descent and finally landed after a flight of what Garcia figured to be about one hour and fifty minutes.

In a few minutes, the plane pulled up to the gate. Now she had to figure out what place was a little under two hours’ flying time from Austin.

She took her turn waiting to get to the front of the plane. As she stepped through the plane door, it felt like she had walked into a sauna. It was hot, humid, no breeze. She wiped her brow.

No breeze at all.

Looking around, Garcia wondered where they were. Two armored personnel carriers were parked on the tarmac near the terminal.

She glanced back and saw the big guy standing right behind her, probably to keep an eye on her. She’d better behave, at least for a while. “Those vehicles remind me of the armored personnel carriers from my Army days policing in Afghanistan. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my APC.” He looked at her, a puzzled look on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I was the lead security for a convoy in Afghanistan when we were hit with a roadside bomb. Would have blown me all to hell if I wasn’t protected by my APC. Spent two weeks in an Army hospital in Afghanistan before they evacuated me to Walter Reed. Almost didn’t get to stay in the Army.”

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He nodded. “Wow, tough story. Maybe you should have been a college prof like your dad. Then we could be listening to you.”

“That’s what he tells me every day,” Garcia said, laughing.

“And when I say every day, I mean every day. Besides, look on the bright side. You still get to listen to me.”

He smiled. A small smile. Maybe his first one. “Besides, you and your dad are a valuable package hanging with the other prof.”

“Well,” she said, “that’s good to know. Now if I’m so valuable, how about you give my phone back to me?”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, but don’t take advantage of it.” He quit smiling. “And I mean it. I don’t want you making any phone calls unless I know who you’re calling.”

“Why is that?” Garcia asked. “I should be able to call my mom and let her know what we’re up to. That is, as soon as I know.”

The big guy reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone.

He held it. “You need to know this is a private conference. We don’t want a bunch of people horning in on what we’re doing.”

“I only want to call my mom so she won’t worry.”

“Okay, but that’s all. My boss can change his attitude pretty fast, you know, like the winds. Believe me, you don’t want him mad at you.”

She smiled back. “I’ll make sure to remember what you say.”

He held the door for her, and she climbed inside the APC, happy to enjoy the feel of air conditioning.

She noticed the seat covers were a snappy green like the accompanying decor around the vehicle. These vehicles were definitely not any run-of-the-mill APCs. Now why was all this necessary? She figured probably security. But why security?

She leaned back and whispered to her dad, “What do you know? Pretty fancy.”

She was glad her dad sat right behind her and Kelce on the seat next to him. Easier to keep track of him like her mom had asked.

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As soon as the three of them were settled in the vehicle, it took off and sped through city streets. A city of some kind. Not open country.

She looked around and saw all the signs were in Spanish— actually a Spanish she wasn’t quite familiar with, probably a different dialect. Where the hell were they?

Then it dawned on her. They must be in Mexico. The time for the flight, the signs, everything screamed at her, welcome to Mexico.

But how? No passport, no visas, no papers, no nothing. Had to be the arrival by air. No government body knew they were there. They must be among crooks and in Mexico. But why? Why were they brought to Mexico?

A few minutes later, they arrived at a steel gate. The driver opened the window and spoke to a man in a guard house. They gate swung open to reveal a three-story mansion with several wings along with a number of garages. Whoever this guy was, he was wealthy and had a huge place.

When the APC stopped, the big man opened the door and stepped out. He was met by two more men who were packing weapons around their waists and a slender, attractive blackhaired young woman.

“Please step out of vehicle,” the woman said in broken English.Garcia climbed out and stood next to the woman. She extended her hand and said, “‘Welcome Veracruz, Ms. Garcia.

My name Maria. We glad you’re here. Look forward to what you have to tell.”

Garcia had to focus on understanding what she was saying.

“Thank you, ah Maria, is it? This is a beautiful home.”

She motioned with her hand toward a doorway. “Yes, my name Maria. Please come. You hungry after long flight. We have prepared food, then Duce anxious to begin the conference.”

The Duce, Garcia thought, isn’t that the name of a Mafia leader? Somehow she had stumbled into a Mafia-sponsored 89

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program. How did these things happen to her? Oh, yeah, her father.

She needed to call Zack and let him know what had happened.

She had to be careful. Really careful. Would only get one chance.

Okay, Garcia, she thought, don’t mess this up.

As she stood there, she thought about the bathroom. He couldn’t follow her in there. Would her cell work down here? She hoped so.

She saw her dad standing right behind her talking with Kelce.

At least the three of them were all here and seemingly in one piece. What would she face next?

Maria, maybe Garcia could pump her for information. She turned. “Maria, did you say we’re in Veracruz, Mexico? What’s it like?”

The woman smiled. “Oh, beautiful. Major port city and government for the surrounding area. Along the coast of Mexico in center of state, maybe ninety kilometers from state capital, Xalapa.”

Garcia figured she needed to milk the woman for all the information she could. “Xalapa, that’s a city?”

“Si, a beautiful city. In the mountains. Hot here on coast, but the mountains beautiful. Cool and comfortable.”

Mountains, Garcia thought. Maybe she could escape to the mountains.

“Veracruz biggest city in the state of Veracruz,” Maria continued. “Developed during Spanish time. Veracruz Mexico’s oldest, largest, and how you say it, historically most significant port.”

“Hey, your English is very good. Is it true that Mexico has trouble with drugs?” Garcia asked.

Maria seemed to withdraw for a moment, then she nodded.

“Si, the Mexican government fighting drug traffickers since 2006.

Drug cartels fight each other for territory. Many people dies. A terrible time.”

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“What can you do?” Garcia asked.

“Our president keep fight going started by President Calderon against drug violence. Excitement at arrest of boss of one of Mexico’s most powerful drug ah, groups.”

“Wonderful,” Garcia said.

“Yes,” Maria replied. “Mexican drug cartels big dollars drug sales in the U.S.” She whispered. “Don’t like the drug business, but part of who we are.”

“Really?” Garcia asked.

Maria whispered. “U.S. fail to stop drugs and overdoses. Hurt our work.”

“I know,” Garcia said. “We are not doing very well, and I know that hurts your program.”

Maria nodded. “Si. Drug leaders arrested and cartels disrupted, but murders up, the price of drugs in the U.S. down, and the amount of overdoses in the U.S. up. A mess.”

“We’re our own worst enemy,” Garcia said. “If people want to understand why organized crime groups continue to flourish in Mexico, they need to think about corrupt politicians protecting and profiting from drug trafficking.”

“Si,” Maria added. “Recent seizure cocaine from fishing boats manned by Russian crewmen. Mexican drug smugglers working with the Russian mafia.”

“Not the Russians,” Garcia added. “That’s all we need.”

Maria frowned. “Si. U.S. believes drug cartels in Mexico most ruthless.”

“What else?” Garcia asked.

She looked like she was ready to cry. “I hear over half drugs made in South America go to U.S. over Mexico border.”

“So what you say is that Drug Enforcement Administration needs to worry more about what’s coming out of Mexico as opposed to Afghanistan.”

Maria nodded. “Thank you listening. You nice.”

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“Now I need to make a call to my mother to tell her we are all right. Can I go in the bathroom so I won’t be disturbed?”

She pointed down a hallway. “Si. On right. You won’t be bothered in there.”

Garcia walked down the hallway, looking for a possible escape route. She had a feeling they might need one. Never trust the Mafia. *** Zack finished setting up headquarters at the rented building.

He wanted to stay close to Lancelot and make sure he was okay, plus he couldn’t let anyone else know where he had stashed the guy.

Fairchild had extensive EMT training from her FBI days, so she patched Lancelot up and sat with him in case he had more problems.

She stepped back into their conference room and glanced over at Zack. “The slob is a real baby. Probably loves hurting someone else, but not himself. Pisses me off.”

Zack nodded. “Guy is a real creep, but I think he gave us what we needed. I want to make sure he’s okay before I dump him back at his house.”

“Can we just dump him?”

“Don’t see why not,” Zack said. “He’s not going to be in a big hurry to tell his boss he spilled the beans. Plus, his boss needs to know what really happened to the guy who died and the drugs.”

Harper stepped over toward Zack. “I’ll touch base with agents in Montana to interview Ellington in more depth and see if he can add anything to what we already know. It sounds as if he is doing okay with the tourism job and spending time with his family.”

He paused for a moment. “Burger sounds like he could be a good prospect. The record shows he got the casino job through 92

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contacts he’d made in Afghanistan but didn’t stay in the Mafia net after that.”

Zack thought about what Harper had said. “Won’t hurt to check. If he’s out of the family, he might be more forthcoming. Of course, we have no idea how well he knew T.J.” “I’ll send out a couple of agents to talk with him,” Harper said.

Zack’s phone rang. He looked down at the contact and saw Garcia’s name.

He pushed the input and said, “Hey, where are you?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s me. Rene. Dad and I are in Mexico with Professor Kelce. It’s amazing how much he looks like Ichabod Crane. We’re attending a conference in Veracruz. Professor Kelce is making a presentation soon hosted by the Duce. I didn’t want you to worry. I’ll make sure Dad calls you, too.

Zack realized something serious was going on. “How long will you be there?”

“I’m not sure. One big guy here with the host has a bright shiny tooth in the front of his mouth. Well, look, I need to go, but I didn’t want you to worry. Bye. Love you.”

With that, Zack heard a dial tone. He put the phone down.

“Holy crap, Garcia’s in Mexico. She pretended I was her mom.

She must not be free to talk.”

Harper looked at him in disbelief. “In Mexico at some conference? How the hell does she do that? Things seem to always happen to her.”

Zack shook his head. “I have no idea. But we need to figure out a way to check it out. I suspect she could be in trouble since she couldn’t talk. We need to tread lightly.”

“Okay,” Harper replied. “Let’s think. First, I need to run down her phone to see exactly where she is. Then maybe I could contact one of the federal agents. Did she say where in Mexico?”

Zack nodded. “Veracruz.”

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“Wait. Let me touch base with Agent Montgomery in Texas.

He’s our senior agent and deals with the federal police in Mexico.

He might be able to give us a lead. I don’t know how many of the agents in Mexico we can trust. They’ve had a lot of problems with corruption.”

Zack thought for a moment. “She’s in Veracruz; I don’t even know for sure where in Veracruz. I just know we have to be careful.”

Harper thought for a moment. “Let me think about it. We’ll need some local help. I think Montgomery is our best bet.”

“Got to be careful. If Angelo or his shooter is there and finds out who she really is, I think we could lose her. She did say a guy with a bright, shiny tooth. You don’t suppose?”

They both looked at each other. “Gold Tooth? Oh, no. Okay, let me think a little more and make some calls.”

“Meanwhile, I think I should still touch base with Harding.

He probably isn’t aware of what happened to Lancelot. If we call him and say we’re checking because of what happened to T.J., he might give us some worthwhile stuff.”

Harper agreed and brought in Harding’s record so they could review it.

Zack walked over and filled his coffee cup again. Thinking.

Worrying. Have to be careful. Garcia could be in trouble. If that is Gold Tooth, how did it happen? We can’t slip up.

Zack took a sip of coffee and began to think. First, he’d call Harding, then check on T.J., and then figure out what to do about Garcia.

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13 Veracruz, Mexico, 6:00 p.m.

Garcia finished her meal of tacos and a couple of juices when she saw the big ox enter the room. She was glad she had gotten through to Zack. If Angelo found out who she was, oh man, it could be bad—not only for her, but for her dad.

He motioned for them to get ready to go. Garcia glanced at her dad. “Tacos good?”

He patted his lips with a napkin. “Outstanding. And you didn’t want to come. See, you’ve got to follow my lead.”

She leaned over and whispered to him. “Don’t forget to call Mom. You’ll get in trouble if you don’t.” She smiled. “I’ll tell.”

He smiled back. “Thanks for reminding me. I hope I can get through tonight.”

“Let me know if you have any problems.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

If she could tone him down a little, maybe they could actually have a good time together. Maybe.

The big guy came up to their group. She glanced up at him.

“Hey, what’s your name? I keep thinking of you as the ‘the big guy.’ Have you got a name? I mean, if it’s top secret, I can keep a secret.”

“Arnold. You can call me Arnold.”

She smiled. “Arnold. I keep thinking of you as Jersey Joe.” He raised his hand to stop her. “Arnold. Just plain Arnold.”

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He must be sensitive about his name. “Okay, Arnold it is.

Thank you.”

“Time to get to work,” Arnold said. “People are waiting for your group to make a presentation. Let’s get going.”

Actually, Garcia knew he meant Professor Kelce and not her, but it was still nice to be included. She figured Kelce was key to keeping her father and herself alive.

“Come on, Dad, Arnold said it’s time to go. Let’s go.”

As they left the dining room, Garcia walked over to Maria.

“Thanks for being such a wonderful hostess. Those tacos were so good. I appreciated the update you gave me on Veracruz.”

Maria smiled up at her. “Thank you much.”

Garcia figured she didn’t get many thanks from this crew and could be a valuable friend to get to know and have in her corner.

Glancing around, Garcia kept an eye out for an escape route.

Her problem was her dad. She couldn’t run with him. She couldn’t refuse to go, so she seemed stuck.

She had to keep thinking about escape. How could she convince her dad of the danger she thought they were in? Right now, she could think of no way.

The three of them followed Arnold down a short hallway and into a large conference room, probably the size of two basketball courts. A stage covered the area in the front, probably a quarter of the floor space.

Small two-person tables were spread around the front area, maybe fifteen feet back from the stage. Behind the tables were a number of chairs arranged in a semi-circle. It seemed to be a pretty comfortable setting.

A few of the men on the plane were seated at the two-person tables, but most were sitting in individual chairs, smoking cigars.

If Garcia remembered correctly, there were more men on the plane. As she looked, it appeared maybe only two-thirds were here. What had happened to the rest of them?

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Arnold pulled Kelce by the arm and directed him to the stage, where he sat in a chair next to a man Maria had called the Duce. When Kelce reached the stage, the Duce stood and shook his hand, then moved forward to the microphone.

The guy at the podium, the one Maria had called the Duce, did look familiar to Garcia, but she couldn’t remember where she had seen him before. The Duce cleared his throat, smiled, and said, “Thank you all for coming. This conference will begin a whole new era for all of us.”

Garcia wanted to grumble, like she had a choice.

He turned to Professor Kelce. Garcia always chuckled to herself whenever she thought of her nickname for him. He sure did look like pictures Garcia had seen of Ichabod Crane in books. She needed to be careful to make sure she always called him Professor Kelce.

The Duce cleared his throat. “Professor Jeremy Kelce is here today to share with us some startling information which I hope you find as interesting as I did.”

Kelce stood and waved. Everyone applauded. Garcia glanced over at four of the tables and saw they were filled with young people. Most of the young people had computers in front of them, and most with what looked like textbooks spread around their table.

Garcia would bet these were students here to learn and maybe to help whatever this Duce was trying to do.

The Duce cleared his throat. “The professor is a graduate of Harvard University and holds a Ph.D. in Archaeology. He currently teaches at the University of Texas and is recognized as an international expert in his field.”

Garcia wasn’t sure the last statement was true, but she wasn’t going to jump up and say so. Now was the time to keep her mouth shut.

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She kept watching the speaker, who had not introduced himself. But it was clear everyone knew who he was, and he was the guy in charge—the big gun.

The speaker motioned for Kelce to step up to the podium.

Then he walked the couple of feet over and sat in one of the chairs. He turned his attention toward Kelce.

Kelce unwound his six-foot, five-inch frame from the chair, and, pushing back his long gray ponytail, walked up to the microphone. He adjusted his bow tie, probably to make sure it was straight, then pushed up the mic to accommodate his height.

Garcia noted the Duce’s security guard had moved up the three stairs to the stage and stood ready, his eyes continuing to sweep the audience. He obviously was a bodyguard who didn’t mess around.

Kelce turned to the man who had introduced him. “Thank you for the kind introduction and also for inviting me to speak here. I agree what I have to say is startling, and I hope your guests will find my comments interesting.”

He turned back to the audience and began. “Many people do not realize Saddam Hussein, the ex-president of Iraq, was convinced he was a son of Nebuchadnezzar.”

That comment caught Garcia off guard. She recognized the name but couldn’t place Nebuchadnezzar.

Kelce came to her rescue and probably helped a number of others in the audience. None of them looked like they had spent much time in Sunday school or church. “Nebuchadnezzar was the Babylonian ruler who reigned over much of the civilized world from 604 to 562 BCE.” He paused for a moment. “For those of you who are not familiar with those abbreviations, let me provide you with a definition. Most of you are aware of the abbreviation AD—which refers to Anno Domini—in the year of our lord, commonly referring to Jesus Christ.”

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Garcia watched some of the younger people typing on their computers.

“CE refers to Common Era, or Current Era, and removes the religious aspects of the date AD,” Kelce said.

He looked around, then continued. “BC is commonly held as the definition for Before Christ. BCE refers to Before the Common Era or Before the Current Era.” Garcia thought she followed him.

“Thus, for example, 9700 BCE would be the same as 9700 BC removing the religious aspects of BC — Before Christ,” Kelce said. “This may confuse you for a moment, but you need to understand these notes to stay with me and be able to follow the timelines.”

That’s right, Garcia thought. It came back to her. At least a little of it.

“Now, back to Nebuchadnezzar. He was notorious for decimating the Jewish presence in the land of Israel, exiling the vast majority to Babylon, and destroying the first Holy Temple.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from many in the audience.

Garcia was also taken aback by his comments, although she was pretty sure none of these guys cared much about religion.

She took a minute to look around. Keep an eye on the Duce, she thought, and his bodyguard. She didn’t want to do anything to appear suspicious.

“Hussein did all he could to recognize the long-dead king,” Kelce continued. “He inscribed his name on many of the bricks in Babylon with his picture along with one of Nebuchadnezzar. One frequent inscription reads: This was built by Saddam Hussein, son of Nebuchadnezzar, to glorify Iraq.”

There was another long intake of breath in the audience and some applause. Garcia kept wondering where he was going with this?

Kelce looked around before continuing. “These bricks became sought after as collector’s items after the downfall of Hussein.”

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Smiling, Kelce continued, “He also installed a huge portrait of himself and Nebuchadnezzar at the entrance to the ruins, as well as shoring up Processional Way, a large boulevard of ancient stones, and the Lion of Babylon, a black rock sculpture about 2,600 years old.”

Garcia thought she had most of the material fairly straight.

“Many of you must be wondering what this background has to do with anything.”

Many heads nodded, as did Garcia.

“Well, when the First Gulf War ended, Saddam wanted to build a modern palace over old ruins in the pyramidal style of a Sumerian ziggurat. He named it Saddam Hill.”

Kelce paused for a moment and took a sip of water. “In 2003, he was ready to begin the construction of a cable car line over Babylon when the U.S. invasion of Iraq began.”

Kelce looked out over the group as if he was about to tell them Santa Claus was real. “Most of you have read that one of the main reasons for President Bush’s invasion of Iraq in 2003 was Saddam Hussein’s alleged ‘weapons of mass destruction.’ But those weapons were never actually found.”

Garcia began to wonder about Kelce. Nothing he had to say was startling.

“Okay, here is the point of my discussion,” Kelce continued.

“It’s important for you to realize many people absolutely believe what I’m about to say. So why would President Bush and his British counterpart, Tony Blair, risk their political careers and legacy on such an unreliable pretext?”

Good question, Garcia thought.

“Well, the U.S.-led 2003 invasion of Iraq was launched because they believed the former dictator Saddam Hussein had a portal to an alien world.”

There was a clamor of voices, all the audience talking at once.

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conference room without others listening in. We will now take a break, and I have food ready for you. We’ll reconvene in an hour.”

As everyone left the room, Garcia noted the Duce motioned his bodyguard over to where he sat. He whispered into his ear.

The guard raised his eyebrows.

He looked back at the Duce as if for confirmation.

The Duce nodded, and the bodyguard headed out of the room with whatever he was supposed to do.

As Garcia left the room, she couldn’t help wondering what the Duce was up to. *** After reviewing the Harding file with Harper, Zack punched in Harding’s number on his cell.

After three rings, he heard, “Yeah.”

Zack had to smile. Don’t these guys ever use any pleasantries?

“Good evening, Mister Harding. My name is Zack Kelly. I’m an Army colonel who works in the Pentagon.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“My friend T.J. Wilson and I were eating at a restaurant yesterday when some big guy came in, accused T.J. of killing a clown named Six Alpha and stealing a large amount of opium.”

“I don’t know nothing ’bout that.”

“T.J. told this guy the same thing. The guy didn’t believe T.J. and shot him in the head. He’s in the hospital, and we don’t know yet if he will live or die.”

“So ... ?”

“I talked to General Loewe, who was T.J.’s boss until he moved to the Ranger battalion with me, and Loewe mentioned you were also one of the supervisors like Six Alpha.”

“Yeah. What if I was?”

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“It may be this guy would come after you too, so we thought we’d better warn you. Had you heard about what happened to T.J.?”

“No. I knew T.J. slightly, but then he left to go to some field unit.”

“That was with me. He flew in support of my Ranger unit for about six months. Good man, good pilot.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to know if you could help us at all. It might help you so you’ll be prepared if the guy comes after you.”

Laughter. “He wouldn’t dare come after me.”

“Maybe you could meet for just a few minutes to see if you can give us anything which might help prevent the guy from killing more of the vets from Afghanistan.”

“Tell you what. T.J. was an okay guy. I don’t have time to go running around, but why don’t you make a list of questions and call me back in an hour? I’ll answer them on the phone.”

Zack found himself listening to a dial tone. He turned to Harper. “Actually, that wasn’t too bad. Let’s brainstorm questions, then I’ll call him. We may get something.” *** Exactly one hour later, Zack called Harding again. Harding picked up on the first ring. “Yeah.”

“Zack Kelly with some questions. Did you know T.J. very well?”

“No. We didn’t have much overlap.”

“Did you know this Six Alpha?”

“Yeah. A punk and kind of a prick. Didn’t like him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Guy thought he was hot shit and no one else was as good as him.”

“Did you know he had been killed?”

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“Yeah. I’d heard.”

“Did you know what happened?”

“No. I thought he died in a chopper crash.”

“Another guy we talked to said he had been shot.”

“Don’t know about that. Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Shooter accused T.J. of stealing millions in opium and selling it himself.”

“Don’t want to talk about that.”

“Would that be possible?”

“Don’t want to talk about that.”

“Could something like that happen?”

Harding paused for a moment. “You’re on dangerous ground now. And I repeat, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Is your concern a lack of controls on the resin since it is easy to transport and store?”

“Listen, I’ve gone as far I can. You’re answering your own questions.”

With that, Zack heard a dial tone. He glanced over at Harper.

“Guess the controls were pretty loose and may even be looser now. Someone is probably taking advantage of it.”

Zack thought for a moment. “Once we sort out what happened to T.J. and prevent it from happening again, we need to provide all of this info to the Drug Enforcement folks.”

“Okay. Let’s get everyone together and see what the next step is. I think it’s time to bring in the admiral.”

“I agree,” Zack said. “Let me give him a call and see what I can arrange.”

“Okay, let me know.”

Harper gave Zack a tip of the hat and headed out the door.

103

14 Veracruz, Mexico, 7:00 p.m.

When they moved out of the auditorium, Garcia was still hungry, so she headed to the cafeteria for a sandwich, then picked out some fruit. She offered to make a sandwich for her dad, but he seemed so excited he was in a different world and didn’t want to take time to eat.

His eyes were wide, and he had trouble sitting still. “See what we would have missed if we had followed your advice. Aren’t you glad you’re here?”

She was about to unload on her father and tell him hell no, she wasn’t glad to be here, but figured it was too late for any of that.

Her father had joined the group of men circling Kelce, and all seemed to be in some sort of hero worship, listening to every word which dropped from his mouth. Well, that was okay; it would keep her dad occupied so he couldn’t get in any trouble.

Oh, how she wished her mom was here. Maybe she could talk some sense into him during their phone calls.

She looked over the other men. No wonder they were all fat; they ate like pigs. Talked with their mouth full. Half of them had cigars in their hand. Crap, what a group.

She sat to eat her sandwich and drink her juice. What about the younger group she’d seen in the auditorium? It might be worth talking with them.

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Looking over at the group, some of the younger students caught her attention. Most of them circled a woman. She looked to be a little older than the others and did much of the talking.

Who is she? How could Garcia get to know her?

It felt to her like every time she looked around, Arnold watched her. Creepy. Then, he started calling everyone and motioning with his hands toward the auditorium.

She gulped down the rest of her sandwich, took another swig of juice, then followed the group as they began to head back into the auditorium again.

She watched everyone move back into their seats, glad she and her dad had a table to put their stuff on and take notes if it became necessary. Garcia would have to remember to bring her briefcase in case she wanted to take notes or use her computer.

So far, she hadn’t figured out how to get on the internet.

When they were all seated, the Duce stood again at the podium.

“I’m sure many of you are taken aback by what the professor has told us. Is it possible? I don’t know, but something we must consider and, yes, profit from. That’s the key. We need to be progressive as things are changing, and we need to change with them.”

Kelce had captured Garcia’s attention with his comments, but she knew from her experience in the Pentagon and at the White House what he had said seemed impossible. There were too many checks and balances in the system, but he did have her attention. Could this somehow have happened?

The Duce turned back toward Kelce. “Professor, will you please continue?”

Kelce walked up to the mic, making all the adjustments he had done before his first talk, his movements reminding her more and more of Ichabod Crane. She had to be careful she didn’t start calling him by the wrong name.

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He cleared his throat, then said, “There are a number of selfstyled experts who believe the United States and its allies invaded the country to take control of Hussein’s access to alien weapons through the stargate.”

Who are these experts? Garcia thought. She made a note to check on the names of these people. In the meantime, she kept listening to what Kelce had to say.

He leaned forward and grabbed the podium. “They believed extraterrestrials from an undiscovered tenth planet in the solar system have long been interfering in human politics.”

More murmuring from the audience.

He glanced around, then continued. “That’s why the Bush Administration went into Iraq, to stop Hussein from revealing this information and also to get control of it themselves.”

One of the men, who had been shaking his head, stood and called, “What you say is impossible.”

The Duce stood and turned toward the man. “Let us allow the professor to finish his presentation without insults or saying things you may not know for sure.”

He nodded toward one of the guards, who immediately hurried over to the man who had made the comment and escorted him out of the hall.

Garcia watched this out of the corner of her eye and thought, oh-oh, better not piss the Duce off—no shots at Kelce.

The Duce turned toward Kelce. “Professor, please continue. I don’t believe you’ll be interrupted again.”

Garcia knew for darn sure he wouldn’t be and worried about what it would mean for her and her father if she wasn’t careful.

Kelce looked back toward the audience and nodded. “Thank you. Now, to continue. These experts said the portal is located under one of Iraq’s ancient temples.”

Wow, Garcia thought. Is he now grasping at straws? She had to figure out what these portals were and what in the world was a stargate? Time to do some research and check these guys out.

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Kelce came to her rescue. “For those of you who are not familiar with the terms portals and stargates, they are the mechanisms by which human beings may instantaneously travel distances from the Earth once he or she knows where these portals or stargates are located.”

Garcia swallowed hard to keep from laughing out loud. Is this guy crazy, or is he on to something? She didn’t know, but he had her interest.

Kelce glanced around, then continued. “Portals occur naturally while stargates are artificially constructed.”

Now he had her confused. She made a note. When she got back to Washington, she’d have to check this out and see if anyone else had heard of this information.

“Stargates are a fascinating overlap of science fiction and reality, and there are some who claim that we have access to portals here on Earth. Some locations are thought to be compass points on a map designed by sacred geometry and possess the ability to transport us to parallel universes.”

He stopped for a moment to see the audience’s reaction, then continued. “Among the earthly stargate sites, the best known are the Stonehenge formation and the Bermuda Triangle.”

Garcia suspected many of the others were confused, but they weren’t going to say anything after the Duce had thrown the first guy out. Where are they? How would our forces find them?

Kelce continued. “More than one million Iraqis were killed as a result of the invasion and the subsequent occupation of their county. Iraq descended into sectarian strife after the American occupiers dismantled Hussein’s government and military apparatus.”

Kelce paused for a moment to let what he had said sink in.

“Was Operation Iraqi Freedom the culmination of the search for the stargate? Did the U.S. and its allies find and remove the stargate? It is unknown. And it is highly unlikely that we will ever 107

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be able to confirm the existence of a stargate when the cover-up is on such an interplanetary scale.”

He looked down at the students in the front row. “Each of you will have to form your own opinions. I doubt something like this is possible, but on the other hand, over the next few days, we will be talking about lost civilizations.”

That comment caught their attention, and they began poking one another.

“I happen to believe,” Kelce continued, “much of what we will discuss is not only possible but probable. You need to form your own opinions. I wish you the best.” He moved over to his chair and sat.

The Duce stepped up to the podium. “Please take a break, and we will continue in two hours.”

108

15 Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington D.C., 6:30 p.m.

Jasmine Wilson sat in the chair next to T.J.’s bed, humming a soft tune to herself. Every once in a while, she reached over and touched his arm. He remained unresponsive, but she knew patients could often feel more and hear more than others might think.

She wanted to be here for him when he awoke. She’d had patients who had stayed asleep for two or three days after surgery before waking. She was convinced this was the body’s way of protecting the patient.

T.J. was such a great guy, and she loved him. How did they start moving on such separate paths? Probably the old two-career bit. She loved being a pediatrician in small-town Virginia.

He, on the other hand, was an incredible pilot and refused to give up flying with the Army. Those two separate paths seemed so stupid now. When he recovered, she would figure out how they could get together and stay together.

The kids needed a full-time dad. They missed him, and she knew he missed them. She hated to even think about it, but she would pick them up and move them to D.C. if that’s what it took.

Casey was in college now, and Jackson would soon be in college, so place meant less now than it had a couple of years ago when they were both in high school.

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Amazing how fast things changed when someone almost died. Showed what was really important, what really counted.

She decided to take a break and walk outside to stretch her legs As she reached for her coat, a big guy with a long raincoat walked into the room. He smiled at her, not a friendly smile, but actually a smile that scared her.

He blocked her path to the door. “I’d like to take you for a ride.”

“What are you talking about?” Jasmine asked. “I’m here with my husband and don’t want to go anywhere. He’ll need me as soon as he wakes up.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t a request. For your own good, I suggest you come with me and not make any noise.”

“No, thank you. I’m staying here with my husband. He needs me.”

“I will only tell you this once more. My boss would like to meet with you. Now you can come with me voluntarily, or there’ll be a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“My partner is down the hall in the visitor’s lounge. I noticed there are three good-looking young people sitting there together, talking. Two are dark-skinned, and one is a young white woman.

If I don’t come out of this room in five minutes with you, he will shoot and kill all three of them.”

He picked up the coat she had set on a chair and handed it to her. “Now, neither of us wants that to happen, but I can guarantee it will if you don’t follow my instructions.”

She looked at him, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t.”

“I have to tell you I would, and he would. Because if we don’t, our boss would have us killed. I’ll have to say I don’t like to hurt people, but I don’t want to get hurt either.”

She started to put on her coat, trying to sort out what to do.

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The man reached over to take her arm. “To show how serious we are, if you look to the left on the way out, you’ll see the FBI agent I had to kill so I could get in here and talk to you. Now, what will it be? My partner will be getting itchy in another moment or two.”

Fear pulled at her. This guy must be one of the people who shot T.J. What in the world had he gotten himself into?

She put her arm into her coat. “Can I say goodbye to my husband?”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t trust you, and we must leave and do it now.”

He took her arm and led her out into the hallway.

She glanced down, and as he had said, the FBI agent was propped up against the wall, not moving. How could he kill the agent in cold blood? No way would he hesitate to kill her children and Laura. Oh, how she hoped they would understand.

The man pulled on her arm, and off they walked down the hall. She was glad they didn’t run into any of the nurses because he probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot any of them.

At the end of the hallway, she spotted a door with an exit sign over it. The man reached down and pushed the door open, putting his other arm on her back and guiding her through it.

She started walking down the stairs. When they came to a landing, he kept pushing, so she started down another flight.

They reached the ground floor. He stopped, opened the exit door, and pushed her out so she stumbled but at least didn’t fall.

Her last thought was of her kids. Now she had to figure out what she was going to do. ***

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It had been a little after six-thirty on a warm, sunny September afternoon when Laura walked into the surgical recovery waiting room. She spotted Jackson and Casey, waved, and walked over to talk with them.

“Hey, you two, how you doing?”

Casey waved back at her. “Kinda bored, to be honest. Sitting around a hospital waiting for my dad to wake up is kind of a drag. I want him to wake up so badly, and we just have to wait and wait.”

Laura had finished her soccer practice, so she decided to stop by the hospital and see how T.J. was doing. Laura took off her jacket, then glanced over at the door.

A heavy-set man in a hat pulled low over his forehead and a trench coat with a collar pulled up around his neck came in the door and stood over in the corner.

He didn’t seem to belong. The hat and trench coat on a warm afternoon were out of place.

He didn’t move his right hand from his pocket even when his phone rang, and he answered it.

She couldn’t hear what he had to say, but when he was done, he put the phone back into his pocket, then stepped out into the hallway.

Laura was still trying to figure out what he wanted when she heard shouting from down the hallway.

“Help,” a woman yelled. “The FBI agent has been shot. Help!

Call the police.”

Laura looked out into the hallway, then back at Casey. “What’s going on? Has this happened before?”

Casey shook her head. “No idea. Let’s go down the hall and check. Jackson, you wait here. We’ll be right back.”

Laura shook her head. “I think we’d better call 911.”

Casey nodded.

112

16 The White House, Washington D.C. 7:00 p.m.

Zack checked his watch, then glanced around the admiral’s conference room table to make sure everyone had arrived.

Admiral Steele sat in his spot at the head of the table. Next to him on the right was Agent Harper. Scott and Bruiser sat across from them. He wished he could locate Garcia. How he hoped she was all right.

He opened the session by providing the admiral background data on what they had found about the Mafia and Operation River Dance.

He summarized the unusual phone call from Garcia. “Sir, to be honest, I don’t know exactly where she is or if she’s in trouble.

All I know is she told us she was in Veracruz, Mexico.”

Zack paused for a moment. “She did mention a man with a shiny tooth. We don’t know if that could be Gold Tooth or not.

I realized she had to be in some sort of difficulty since she was pretending to be calling her mother.”

Steele seemed jarred by the information. “She said she was calling her mother? And she mentioned a man with a shiny tooth.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you check with her mother to see if she had called?”

“No, sir, I didn’t want to upset her.”

Zack tried to lend some backstory about Garcia for Steele.

“Sir, I had a call earlier from her saying she and her dad were 113

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meeting with a professor friend, and her dad may want her to attend a conference. I had no idea this meeting might be in Mexico, and I suspect she didn’t either.”

Zack paused for a moment. “This is a real problem. Agent Harper is coordinating with the Mexican officials to see what he can find out.”

Zack decided not to share with the admiral the information Garcia had given him on Kelce’s interest in aliens.

Steele shook his head. “Something sounds way off about Garcia. Let me know as soon as you find out anything else.”

“Will do, sir.”

Zack glossed over a little of the punishment Bruiser handed out to Lancelot but did provide the essence of what the Mafia guy had said.

“From what I have gathered from these interviews, sir, T.J. was a respected member of the team. Six Alpha, on the other hand, was not liked at all. According to a number of our sources, he was too infatuated with himself.”

Zack glanced at Harper. “Why don’t you go over what you’ve gleaned from your agents?”

“Sir,” Harper began, “there were six teams reporting to General Loewe. Six Alpha headed up one of them. Lancelot headed up a second team. Lancelot and Harding remain persons of interest.”

Steele watched Harper, then said, “What do you think should be the next step?”

“You probably remember Sonny Angelo from Zack’s prior interaction with him. From what I’ve been able to uncover, this Gold Tooth is a Russian contract killer who works for Angelo.

We believe his real name is Sergey Artemis. Everything I’ve found out about him is he’s bad news.”

Steele nodded.

“I don’t believe we will be able to call Artemis off unless Angelo does it. We need to contact Angelo and tell him what 114

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we’ve found out about this Six Alpha. All of us believe time is critical.”

“Is Angelo in town?’ Steele asked. “Can you get to him?”

“Zack has met him in the past,” Harper said. “I suggest Zack call him, tell him what we’ve found, and see if we can set up a meeting. This will help us figure out if Garcia could be in contact with Gold Tooth.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Steele replied. “Let me know what you find out. What do we know about T.J.?”

Harper leaned forward. “I think we mentioned to you earlier the surgery on him went well. We continue to have a round-theclock guard on his room.”

Steele nodded. “Okay. Let me know if anything changes.”

The door opened, and Admiral Steele’s administrative assistant hurried in. “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve just received a call from the hospital. Apparently, someone killed the guard on T.J.’s room and kidnapped his wife.”

Zack jumped up. “Oh, no, we need to get over there.”

He motioned for Harper to follow him. On the way out the door, he remembered Laura had planned to visit with the two Wilson kids. Oh, crap.

Steele called to Zack as he ran out the door. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do, sir.” *** On the way down the hall, Harper called for a car to pick them up at the East Gate of the White House.

Harper shook his head. “Maybe we should have moved him out of the hospital. I never thought they’d kill our agent. I feel like shit that it happened. I knew him. Great guy.”

Zack pulled the door open and ran outside, heading for the gate. He saw the car sitting there with a red light flashing.

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“Have they shut down the hospital?” Zack asked.

Harper nodded. “I called right away. But I bet the bastards got away already.”

“Oh man, Laura was there visiting the two kids. I understand they were in the visitor’s lounge. I hope they’re all safe.”

Harper pointed at his phone. “I got a text the three kids are safe.”

“Thank God.” As soon as they jumped in the back seat, the car pulled out, siren screaming. It took them about eighteen minutes to get to Walter Reed, even with the siren.

The car pulled up in front of the hospital. Two guards stood at the door with machine guns strapped over their shoulders.

“I suspect we’re too late to rescue Jasmine,” Zack said.

Harper nodded again. “Professionals must have pulled this off. I suspect they’re long gone.”

Harper flashed his ID, and the two raced through the front door. Zack took the stairs up to the third floor, two at a time. He ran down the hall toward T.J.’s room. Two officers blocked his path. Harper flashed his ID, and they hurried past the guards.

Zack saw Laura standing next to Casey and Jackson. When she saw him, she ran toward him. He swept her up in his arms.

“Oh, thank heavens you’re safe.”

She told him what had happened through her tears. “Before all hell broke loose, a large man in a trench coat, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, entered the surgical waiting room.”

“Did you wonder about him?” Zack asked.

“Absolutely. He didn’t fit in at all. One look at him told me he didn’t belong. Tall, heavy-set, he stood over by the door, not doing anything. Just standing there. Didn’t make any sense.

Made me nervous.”

She blew her nose. “After a short time, probably no more than ten minutes, I heard a ding, and he seemed to check a text on his 116

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phone. As soon as he’d received the text, he stepped outside and began to walk down the hall.”

Zack pulled her a little tighter and could feel her body shaking. “What happened next? Wait a minute. Am I going too fast? I know you must be in shock, upset.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replied. “You have to check stuff out. See if you can tell where they took Jasmine.”

He leaned into her, a big smile on his face. “You are really something.”

She smiled back. “Must have been three, maybe four minutes, I heard a person yelling for help, saying someone had been shot.

A moment later, a security guard ran into the waiting room.”

He asked if we were all right.

By then, I knew something bad had happened. I called back, “Yes, we are all safe here.”

She took a deep breath. “They blocked both doors and told us to get on the floor. Advised us there had been an incident.”

“Is Jasmine all right?” Laura asked, seeming to hold her breath.

“Don’t know. I understand she’s been kidnapped.”

Laura looked at the floor. “Do you think she went with those guys to protect us?”

Zack nodded. “I suspect the guy who came into T.J.’s room told her he would kill all of you if she hadn’t gone with him.”

“Oh, Dad, when is this going to end? I’m scared. Jasmine is so sweet. Will she be okay? She has to be.”

Zack shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.I hope so.”

He turned to go into the other room. “I need to see what Agent Harper has uncovered and will be back in a few minutes.

Maybe you can stay here and try to help Casey and her brother.”

“Good point. Will do.”

He turned and hurried down the hallway. Turning, he yelled, “I’ll be back.”

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Laura turned back to where Casey and Jackson had been.

They needed her. It would be a tough time for them until their mother is back with them.

118

17 Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington D.C. 7:15 p.m.

The search of the hospital lasted about thirty minutes. Once the all-clear had sounded, Harper got together with the agentin-charge, and the two set up a meeting in one of the conference rooms.

Harper looked around at the group. “Provide me a summary.”

Agent Sody was in charge at the hospital. “There were two men involved. From what we can tell, one went directly to Wilson’s room. When he reached the room, our agent must have challenged the killer.”

Harper made a note. “Okay. What next?”

“The killer had a silenced weapon and shot the agent on duty in the stomach, knocking him out, then set him up in the chair.”

“Did the shot kill him?” Zack asked.

“Probably not, but we believe he must have bled to death while in the chair. He was bent over, so none of the hospital personnel thought to check on him.”

Harper clutched his hands into fists. “Oh, man, and I knew him. A great guy. How long was the killer in the room?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Sody replied. “Our best guess is they were very smart. One went directly into Wilson’s hospital room, and they must have realized Wilson’s kids were in the surgical waiting room. Don’t know about Laura Kelly, but I’m sure there were two Wilson kids.”

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Zack shuddered to think what might have happened if Jasmine hadn’t gone with the killer. He mentally kicked himself for allowing Laura to visit here, but he had no idea of the danger, though he probably should have.

Zack raised his hand. “Laura told me she spotted the one guy when he came into the waiting room. He wore a trench coat buttoned all the way up to his neck. Hat down over his face.”

Zack thought for a moment. “The guy couldn’t have been there more than ten minutes. I suspect the killer told Jasmine about the other guy, and she knew what would happen if she didn’t comply.”

“Makes sense,” Harper replied. “A couple of real bastards.”

“I can’t imagine what must have been going through her mind,” Zack said. “We’ve got to find her.”

“Did anyone see anything after the killer took Mrs. Wilson?”

Harper asked.

Sody shook his head. “We’re checking the garage to see if we could find their receipt for parking. They must have found a side door, as I suspect they wouldn’t have been able to go out through the main entrance with the wife in their clutches.”

“Talk about a set of brass balls,” Harper said. “These guys probably didn’t have much time to recon, and they still pulled it off smoothly.”

“Wait a minute,” Zack said. “How did they know the right room number and the layout of the surgical waiting room?”

“We’re checking information now to see if anyone asked about Wilson,” Cody said. “I suspect they may have called and gotten his room number.”

“I hate to think about this one,” Zack said, “but how did they know about T.J.’s kids?”

Harper shook his head. “They must have been following her.

Do we have any idea of where they might have gone?”

“I still think this is Angelo’s operation,” Zack said. “Gold Tooth started this whole thing.”

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“I’ll talk with Angelo,” Zack said. “We have the information, which I’m hoping will have him call off the killers.”

Harper thought for a moment. “I’ll put a rush on to find where Garcia made the call from. I’m more worried than ever about her if this Gold Tooth is with her.”

“She said she was in Veracruz, Mexico,” Zack said.

Harper nodded. “I’ve set up a classified call with the senior agent in San Antonio to see what he recommends. He’s probably the best one to help us. Knows the Mexican area and gangs as well as anyone.”

He glanced at Zack. “Why don’t you hold off on your call until we coordinate with the agent in San Antonio?”

Zack looked at his watch. “Sounds good. Let’s get together in an hour at the White House. After our call, we need to brief Admiral Steele so he can keep the president in the loop.”

They all hurried off with their assignments. *** Jasmine was sweating inside the bag the trench coat guy had pulled over her head. She could feel the sway of the car as they drove.

She wasn’t sure where they were going or what they had planned for her, but she believed her kids and Laura were all safe.

She wasn’t sure about T.J. She had to wonder how T.J. had gotten into all of this. It must have started in Afghanistan. She heard them talking about Afghanistan and getting a load of stuff; she suspected the stuff referred to drugs. Damn drugs.

She decided to try and find out what she could. “Where are we going?”

A deep voice from the front seat answered, “You’ll find out when we get there and not before.”

“What’s happening to my husband and my kids?”

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“Lady, I have no idea. I suspect if they pay attention and don’t pull any crap on us, they should be fine. The same goes for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

“Your husband has something that belongs to my boss, and he wants it back.”

“What is it?”

Silence.

“Look, I’d like to know why you’re doing this and what you’re going to do with me?”

“Okay, let me answer part of your question. Our boss wants to meet you. I suspect if you do what he asks, you’ll be fine. He’s actually a very reasonable man if you do what he asks.”

“How long will it be before I meet with him?”

“That’s up to him. Now please stop asking questions I can’t answer.”

She felt the car stop, and the man in the front seat opened a window. A voice said, “What do you want?”

“We’re here to get a plane. I understand one has been reserved for us.”

A plane, she thought. Where are we going? No sense asking the guy in the front seat. He won’t answer any of her questions.

The voice outside the car said, “Okay, over there.”

The car moved forward and, after a short distance, stopped.

The man got out, and her car door opened. “All right. Time to get out of the car.”

She stepped out and was led around the car. She could hear the noise of a small fixed-wing plane. T.J. had taken her on so many flights she knew the sounds of most of the smaller planes and helicopters.

“You’ll need to step up six stairs right in front of you. When you get to the top, bend over and step through a door.”

She was definitely getting on a plane. But where would she be going? Would she ever see her family again? T.J.?

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She thought to herself. Probably the best thing she could do was to pay attention and do what they said. In the meantime, she needed to plan for her escape. Focus. Remember where you are—everything you can.

Once she got on the plane, the man directed her to a chair.

“Please take a seat and tighten your seat belt. We’ll be taking off in a few minutes.”

“Can you tell me where I’m going?”

“The boss will tell you everything you need to know as soon as we get to our destination. Now keep being a good person and be quiet. I can’t tell you any more than I already have. You’re only going to piss me off if you keep asking me questions. And that doesn’t do either of us any good.”

She sat back and tried to think. What should she do? Casey and Jackson, they’d be scared to death. And Laura. She knew Zack would do his best to take care of them. Okay, it’s up to you.

Be alert. Think.

The motor on the plane started, and soon they were taxiing forward. She wondered how long the flight would be, but suspected they wouldn’t tell her, and she figured there was no sense making them angry.

123

18 Veracruz, Mexico, 10:00 p.m.

Garcia walked back into the conference room and plopped down in her chair. She was getting fed up with sitting here, but until she found a way to get with her father and talk about how long they were going to stay, she didn’t have much choice.

The Duce was back at the podium, but the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. What had happened to him?

The Duce raised his hands for silence, although he didn’t have to do much. She suspected everyone would pay attention.

“Before I welcome Professor Kelce back to the microphone, I would like to give some notes of introduction.”

Garcia leaned forward. She suspected whatever this guy had to say was important.

The Duce cleared his throat. “You have heard some startling information about the Gulf War and our real purpose for going into Iraq. Whether or not you believe the discussion is not important.”

Garcia bit her cheek. Then why the heck did he give Kelce time to blow out all of that smoke?

The Duce continued. “As many of you know, Afghanistan is a pivot point for the growth of the poppy, which is the base material for heroin and cocaine. It is a production point for Europe, but much of the drugs shipped into the United States comes through our border with Mexico.”

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Garcia listened and now realized why the Duce was so interested in this area. He must have a tap into the material coming out of Afghanistan and now wanted in on the material shipped to the United States.

The Duce looked around at the audience. All were paying attention. “In addition to the drug trade, I believe there is a great deal of money to be made from finding and selling historical artifacts such as those that belonged to Saddam Hussein and many of the ones we will find here.”

Wow, Garcia thought, this guy is doing some planning.

Bright guy.

“Veracruz was a key site in the ancient history of Mexico,” he continued. “I believe we may be able to find many relics from that era and do a service to this country.”

He glanced around to let what he had said sink in. “You will notice some of my guests have decided they did not want to participate in our program and have left.”

Garcia felt the noose tightening.

“I must swear all of you to secrecy if you are to continue. If you are not interested, let me know now. Otherwise, once we move forward, we will all be in on this together. I cannot allow information on our plans to seep out.”

Garcia now knew what had happened to those who were no longer in the room as well as what would happen to anyone who didn’t want to continue to participate.

She glanced around the room. Only about a third of the folks who had been here initially were still here. Also, she knew she and her dad had better be involved in the program. If not, they would be dumped in some lake.

“Is there anyone who does not want to be involved? Please let me know now, and you will be able to leave.”

He looked around the room to see all were still seated, and no one had raised a hand.

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Garcia wasn’t surprised. She was pretty sure he would not have allowed any of them to leave.

The Duce nodded and looked at his watch. “I notice the time is getting late, and I want you all to be fully awake when Professor Kelce moves forward with our program. I’ll be looking for your input tomorrow on how we can divide up our efforts.”

There was a bunch of yawning and stretching as people began to move at their tables.

“So I think it’s best if we break for now. I have arranged rooms for each of you. Breakfast will be at eight o’clock, and we will gather again at nine o’clock. For any of you who may have concerns, please let me know now, and we can decide what to do.”

He looked around the room. “Once we begin tomorrow, it will be too late for any of you to pull out. Okay, you’re all dismissed. I have arranged for food and drink before you go to bed.”

Garcia heard a shuffling of feet as everyone stood.

She stood and moved over to try and catch up with her dad, but he was already talking to Kelce and beginning to move toward the door. *** Zack and Harper sat around the table with the secure line phone in the middle.

Harper leaned back, then turned to Zack. “I know law enforcement in Mexico is divided between federal, state, and local entities. Mexico maintains two primary Federal Police agencies: the National Guard and an investigative force called the Policía Federal Ministerial.”

Zack thought about Harper’s comments. “I’m kinda worried about taking anyone into our confidence with all I’ve heard about corruption.”

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“It is a problem,” Harper replied. “I believe this has led the government to place greater emphasis on the National Guard.”

He paused for a moment. “Of course, many citizens don’t care for the militarization of police forces, and this has also led to a number of protests.”

Zack chuckled. “Oh, man, no free lunch on this one. As President Lincoln once said, ‘Can’t keep all the people happy all of the time.’”

“Each of the country’s thirty-one states maintains both preventive and judicial police called the State Judicial Police.”

“Garcia told me they were in the state of Veracruz.”

“Those guys are under the direction of the state’s governor.

The distinction between crimes investigated by State and Federal Judicial Police is not always clear.”

“How about drugs?” Zack asked.

“As far as I know, drug crimes are the responsibility of the federal police. This is probably where we should start.”

“Complex structure.”

“Right,” Harper replied. “That’s why I want to bring our senior agents in Texas and maybe Arizona into the act. I’ve worked with the senior agent in San Antonio in the past. We should start with him.”

“Okay,” Zack replied, “Let’s get going. As soon as we finish, I’d like to brief the boss, but you might want to touch base with the FBI Director first.”

“Agreed. Now let me place the call. I told him we had a hot one and needed some help, so he’s staying by his security phone.”

The phone rang twice, then they heard, “Randolph.”

“Hey, George, Frank Harper here. Appreciate you staying late. With me is Colonel Zack Kelly, who works for the president’s national security advisor. We are secure.”

Zack and Randolph greeted each other.

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Randolph had a deep baritone voice. “I’ve heard you have something that goes back to River Dance in Afghanistan. What a piece of shit that program was.”

Zack had to chuckle. “You got that right. The more I hear, the worse it gets. Let me share what has happened so far.”

Zack summarized the shooting of T.J., the six coordinators for River Dance, and the killing of Six Alpha. He also mentioned the phone call by Colonel Garcia. “There is something going on with her, and I’m sure she’s trapped in some way.”

“Wow, you do have some hot potatoes,” Randolph exclaimed.

“No kidding,” Zack said. “We need a point of contact in Veracruz, as I believe that’s where Angelo and his group may be.”

Randolph thought for a moment. “I believe our best bet is to touch base with Agent Ruiz Lopez. I’ve worked with him in the past, and he’s a great guy and a straight arrow. Completely trustworthy.”

“Okay,” Harper said. “Call me back when you are able to contact him.”

“Will do.” Randolph disconnected.

128

19 Veracruz, Mexico, September 7th, 7:30 a.m.

Garcia looked over at her dad, who was in deep conversation with Kelce. She was exhausted even though she had been stuck in her room all night. She had tried to pick the lock on her door without any success, but figured she might be able to get it tonight by holding onto the handle.

Her new buddy, the big guy named Arnold, saw to it she stayed in her room. Still not trusting her, he had also taken her phone.

She walked over to her dad and tapped him on the shoulder, motioning for him to move over to the corner and talk with her.

When they were alone, she asked, “What do you think?

Should we leave?”

His eyes widened, and he almost yelled. “Are you serious?”

She put a finger to her lips. “We need to be quiet. At least until we decide what we want to do.”

“I have decided. This is the most important historical find of the century, and you expect me to leave?”

Garcia figured as much. Her father had no feeling for the motives of the Duce and his ability to end people’s lives. “Did you call Mom last night? Tell her what we plan to do?”

He nodded. “She’s not happy about it, but understands if we think this is best, then it’s okay with her.”

“Did you tell her how I felt? That I think we should leave?”

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He shook his head. “I was hoping you’d change your mind.

Rene, this is important to me. A very special time. Professor Kelce is a giant national figure and will probably get bigger in the future. I need this.”

With that, he turned and walked off, then looked back.

“Please do this for your mother and me.”

She put her hands up in the air. Now he’s got Mother in the formula. Garcia knew she had lost. “Okay. Okay. Let’s stay a while longer and see what Kelce has to say. Let’s go.”

As she moved toward the auditorium, she knew she had to get Zack in the loop. Couldn’t forget about her job. But how?

Together they walked into the auditorium and returned to their table. Garcia was glad she had thought to bring her computer just in case. Maybe she could email Zack. Did they have internet, and could she use it without getting in trouble?

Probably not.

What to do? Staying here and learning all of their secrets was a recipe for getting murdered. On the other hand, she had to brief Zack on what she had learned.

The Duce stepped back up to the microphone. “Welcome back, everyone. I hope you all slept well. Now I’d like to reintroduce Professor Kelce to discuss what he knows about this area and how we might take advantage of it.” He motioned toward Kelce.

“Professor.”

Kelce stepped up to the microphone and adjusted it for his height. He glanced around, obviously enjoying the spotlight and the introduction.

“Good morning. Today we will begin our discussion of the history of this area and why it is so important to our future plans.”

Garcia figured it would be critical if she could learn their plans without getting caught. She thought about what had happened to T.J. and knew she had to be careful.

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talking to her table mate, She seemed to be really into what Kelce was saying.

Kelce looked down at his notes, then continued. “What you heard earlier about UFOs is something many of my friends are convinced we should consider. I’m not sure I believe any of those stories, but I wanted to mention them because there are a number of UFO studies being followed here in Mexico as we speak.”

His point stopped Garcia. She had heard the conspiracy theories about UFOs and was glad Kelce didn’t seem to want to hook his train to those ideas. She wondered where he was going now.

He looked at his notes for a moment, then glanced up. “I’d like to address the issue of most importance to us. Many believe, and I happen to be one of them, the current discussion of the appearance of our civilization around 3000 BCE is not the first we should consider.”

Garcia heard an intake of breath around the room. He had their attention.

“Rather, we should consider that era as the reemergence of civilization after many thousands of years. I’d like for you to consider with me the possibility of lost or forgotten civilizations going back many thousands of years.”

His comments caused some whispering from the group, which led to a dirty look from the Duce to be silent.

As Garcia glanced around at the group, she saw members of the younger group paying rapt attention. Again, Garcia wondered who they were and when they had been brought in.

Kelce shuffled his notes again and took a sip of coffee.

“Later discoveries in many places, particularly southeastern Turkey around Gobekli Tepe, I believe, must lead us to a better understanding of early civilizations — to changes in our basic understanding about a human civilization of twelve thousand years ago and even longer.”

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The young woman at the table Garcia had noticed before stood and raised her hand. “What is it about Gobekli Tepe you think is so important? That’s not in our area.”

“That’s true, Ms. McConnell. This area I believe will lead us to rethink many of our ideas. Just hang with me for a while, and I think you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

She smiled. “Certainly, Professor Kelce. I’ve hung with you at prior classes and never been disappointed.” She sat down.

“Thank you for your words of encouragement. I hope to be able to live up to them.”

He turned on a view graph titled Wisconsin Glaciation. “The last ice age in our area is called the Wisconsin glaciation. The name is not important, but the time period and impact on North America is. This period generally dates back 115,000 years, but the critical time period for us is about 15,000 years BCE.” He held up his hand. “Remember, in our first discussion, we talked about BCE. This means before the Common Era and is used by scientists to move away from the religious focus of BC and AD.” He paused for another moment. “These dates are important because the ice began to melt by 13,000 years BCE and by 8,000 BCE had withdrawn completely from the land.”

Garcia was still a little confused about where he was headed.

She glanced over and noticed her dad was mesmerized. Crap, she’d probably never get him out of here.

She listened to his next point with interest. “The Wisconsin Glacial Episode, also called the Wisconsin glaciation, was the most recent of the North American ice sheet shields which covered the higher latitudes of central and eastern North America.”

A woman on the other side of the room asked, “Why is it called the Wisconsin Glacial Episode?”

“Good question,” Kelce said. “It’s a way of dividing up these periods, which will become important later in our discussions.

The Wisconsin glaciation extended from approximately 75,000 to 132

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11,000 years ago. This glaciation radically altered the geography in several parts of North America.”

Kelce stopped and looked out. “Let’s take a break. We have coffee in the lounge. I will be covering a great deal of history, and I hope you all will be able to stay with me. Please be back in ten minutes.”

Garcia appreciated the break as she needed more coffee and a chance to stretch. When she reached the coffee pot, she spotted the woman who had asked the question.

“I’m glad to see more women in the group,” Garcia said. “My name is Rene Garcia.”

“Sharon McConnell.”

“Are you a scientist?” Garcia asked.

“A wannabe scientist,” McConnell said with a chuckle. “I’m a student here at the University of Veracruz.”

“How did you hear about this?”

She glanced around, thought for a moment, then whispered, “My mother knows the Duce. How about you?”

“My father is a friend of the presenter.”

McConnell looked around. “Oh. I’d like to talk with you later.

But for now, we’d better get back.”

Garcia followed her back into the classroom. She should be a good source to help Garcia figure out what’s going on here.

Kelce stood at the podium. “Please take your seats. It’s time to begin. Human migration was likely influenced by this last glacial period. During much of the Wisconsin glaciation era, the formation of a land bridge across the Bering Strait is believed to have allowed human occupation of this area.”

One of the big guys in the back stood. “Hey, Prof, why should I give a shit?”

Kelce smiled, probably knowing the Duce would not be happy with this guy. “During this period, when you add in volcanos, tidal waves, and floods, there was a huge number of animals as 133

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well as humans destroyed. Scientists like to say many of these animals became extinct.”

It appeared to Garcia the fat guy wasn’t ready to give up. He glared at Kelce. “So?” “We will see in later discussions how this mass extinction would impact the human race and cause major changes in populations. This would then lead to the formation of new groups of people and their relics. Scientists have found many of these relics will be valuable to future generations.”

The fat guy raised his hand again. “I can’t believe all of this stuff.”

Kelce avoided the man’s eyes, then continued. “The precise date for the peopling of the Americas is a long-standing open question, and while advances in archaeology and DNA analysis have progressively shed more light on the subject, significant questions remain unresolved.”

The Duce stood and turned around. “I hope all of you are paying attention because this is important.” He turned back and sat.

Kelce nodded, then continued. “Evidence of other cultures has accumulated and pushed back the possible date for the first peopling of the Americas. Scientists generally believe humans reached North America at some point between 15,000 and 20,000 years ago.”

Garcia glanced over at the Duce and saw him nodding to one of the guards. Oh-oh, buddy, watch out.

“When many of us think of Mexico, we think of the Aztecs and the Mayan populations. But what of earlier civilizations?

Scientists have searched for lost civilizations like Atlantis and Mu, which many claim never existed.”

He paused for emphasis. “However, many of these civilizations may have existed and been destroyed by all of these natural disasters which happened in those earlier periods.”

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All of a sudden, Garcia got it. She had heard of Atlantis thanks to her history class professor. But, most scientists didn’t believe it ever existed.

She thought some more. Maybe if it did exist, what happened to it, and more importantly, what happened to all of its relics?

She couldn’t believe how valuable they would be.

“I want to end this session by briefly discussing the Olmecs,” Kelce said. “Many of you probably haven’t heard of this civilization.”

Garcia looked around to see nodding heads.

Garcia followed his gaze and noted about a third of the audience was fast asleep. But Sharon was wide awake and taking in every point he made.

“The Olmecs were the earliest known major Mesoamerican civilization, which was the complex of indigenous cultures developed in parts of Mexico prior to the arrival of the Spanish.

The Olmecs occupied the tropical lowlands of the modern-day Mexican states of Veracruz and Tabasco.”

It hit Garcia. That’s why they were here.

“The Olmec civilization is considered by historians to be ‘pristine,’” Kelce said. “This means it developed on its own, without the benefit of immigration or cultural exchange with other established society.”

“How many of these cultures were in existence?” one of the men asked.

“Generally, only six pristine cultures are thought to have existed: those of ancient India, Egypt, China, Sumeria, and Peru, in addition to the Olmec. As early as 1500 BCE, pre-Olmec relics were being created at San Lorenzo, which would develop into the Olmec relics we seek to find.”

“Where were they located?” A man asked.

“Two major Olmec cities are known to researchers: San Lorenzo and La Venta. These, of course, are not the names the Olmec knew them by. Those names have been lost in time.”

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Kelce paused, then continued. “San Lorenzo thrived from approximately 1200-900 B.C. It was the greatest city in Mesoamerica at the time. Many important works of art have been found in and around San Lorenzo.”

The Duce stood and moved up to the stage. “Okay, I believe this will be enough for this morning. We’ll reconvene again at one o’clock.

With a shuffling of feet, the room cleared. Garcia noted the numbers were much smaller than had begun earlier. Also, many of the audience members were younger than the original attendees.

She realized these were the people the Duce thought could help him. Some of the fat, old-school guys had probably been weeded out and most likely killed. Good reason to be very careful with everything she did or said.

She stood and worked her way out to the break room, trying to decide her next step.

136

20 The White House, Washington, D.C. 8:00 a.m.

Zack and Harper waited with much anticipation for a return call from Agent Randolph. Zack needed to get moving to help Garcia and to find Jasmine but felt he didn’t know exactly how to proceed. He had checked with the security at Walter Reed Medical Center and found out nothing, compounding his frustration.

The secure phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Kelly.”

“Good morning, Colonel Kelly. This is Agent Randolph in the San Antonio Field Office. I’ve brought in Agent Ruiz Lopez on the phone. As I mentioned earlier, there have been a number of efforts to enhance the Mexican Police. The final product is the 2014 creation of the Federal Police Gendarmerie Division, with about 5,000 police agents.”

Another voice broke into the discussion. “Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Ruiz Lopez, and I’m a senior agent with the Gendarmerie Division.”

“I’ve worked with Ruiz in the past,” Randolph said, “and found him to be thorough and, to us, more importantly, most helpful. I believe you can trust him and will be pleased with Ruiz.”

“Before we go any farther,” Ruiz said, “let me provide you a little background. Our focus is on public security in areas with heavy criminal activities as well as providing border security.”

He paused for a moment. “We are also expected to assist state, city, and municipal police forces when the need arises. We are one of the seven constituent divisions of the Federal Police 137

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and report directly to the commissioner, as well as the newest to be raised.”

“Thanks for your summary,” Harper interjected. “I’m with the FBI office in Washington and in charge of computer security.

The problem Zack Kelly has is not exactly computer security, but we’ve worked together in the past.”

“Good morning, Colonel Kelly,” Ruiz said.

“Zack,” Harper continued, “why don’t you brief Agents Randolph and Lopez to help them understand the issue and our concerns with timeliness?”

“Let me interject,” Lopez said, “I’m very comfortable with English, so you don’t have to worry. If I don’t understand, I will stop you. This sounds important, and I want to make sure I understand exactly the scope of the problem.”

Zack began. “Thank you, Agent Lopez, that will help us a lot.”

He provided background on T.J., his shooting, Operation River Dance in Afghanistan, and the kidnapping of Jasmine. He also briefly mentioned Garcia as he remained uneasy about possibly putting her at risk.

When he finished, there was silence for a moment. Then Lopez asked, “Am I to understand you believe what happened in Afghanistan with this River Dance program may be continuing here in Mexico? In Veracruz?”

“We’re groping a little,” Harper admitted. “The issue began with River Dance because that seemed to be the reason this Gold Tooth shot Wilson. Or at least what the shooter said. The shooter, and we believe his boss, who is obviously Mafia, believe T.J. killed a man he worked with and has stolen a quantity of drugs.”

“I’m a little confused,” Lopez replied. “Unfortunately, Mexico has become the highway for drugs from Central and South America into the United States. Sadly we can’t stop it, but as you must realize, part of the problem is because you can’t shut off the thirst for drugs in the U.S., and we are simply providing the inventory to fill that thirst.”

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“We completely understand your point,” Harper said.

“Unfortunately, we have done a lousy job of shutting down the distribution system in the U.S.” Lopez jumped in again. “Why, then, do you see this new need? There already is a battle we’ve been raging with the drug suppliers here, and I might say we’re losing. So, why are you that concerned about a new supplier?”

“You make an excellent point,” Zack said. “There has to be another reason. We think a Mafia chief is involved. If I’m right, he is one of the big five in New York, and to be honest, I’ve been wondering exactly your point. I believe there is something else.”

“I’d like to add another couple of points, things which have made it harder for us to do our jobs,” Lopez said. “You may not realize that the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration quietly ousted its former top official in Mexico last year over improper contact with lawyers for narco-traffickers.”

“Didn’t know that,” Harper said. “And I probably should have.”

“Unfortunately, this has caused deteriorating cooperation between our two countries and a record flow of cocaine, heroin, and fentanyl across the border.”

“Oh, crap,” Zack exclaimed, “I didn’t realize that.”

“It gets worse,” Lopez said. “His socializing with Miami drug lawyers was picked up by the Associated Press. He was on the job for only fourteen months, supervising dozens of agents across Mexico, Central America, and Canada, and apparently approved drug-fighting funds for inappropriate purposes. So, I continue to hear how bad we are, but unfortunately, this goes both ways. Just so we understand each other.”

“We both have skeletons but need to work together,” Harper said. “There are some additional things I think you should understand.”

“What might they be?” Lopez asked.

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“We think the Mafia chief has invited a professor to make a presentation to a group he has assembled there.”

“What is the professor’s specialty?” Lopez asked.

“Jeremy Kelce has a Ph.D. in Archaeology from Harvard University,” Zack said. “One of the people I work with, her father is a professor at the University of Texas and a friend of this Kelce.

She told me on the phone Kelce is to make a presentation to the group on something about forgotten civilizations.”

“Well, now, that’s interesting,” Lopez said. “There has been growing interest in a number of studies about forgotten civilizations and studies which seem to involve the possibility of UFOs.” Zack couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Our partner’s father is into this UFO bit. I hate to even ask this, but is there anything to it?”

Lopez had to laugh. “You must understand, I don’t believe any of the woo-woo stuff about UFOs, but many people do.”

“It would seem to me,” Randolph said, “we can’t rule anything out. If a Mafia chief has gathered a large group to discuss ancient civilizations and maybe UFOs, he must believe there is something there he could profit from.”

“Let me check into what you have to say,” Lopez said. “Let’s gather again this afternoon once I have more background. Would two o’clock Eastern Time work for you?”

“Could we make it at three o’clock?” Zack replied. “We want to visit the man who was shot. I must emphasize again the pressure I feel to respond as the wife of one of my closest friends has been kidnapped, and one of our key staff people may be in danger. We believe she is somewhere in the Veracruz area.”

“I will make discreet inquiries to one of the state agents in Veracruz I completely trust,” Lopez replied. “If these characters came in by private plane, that limits where they arrived and perhaps where they may be staying.”

“Thank you,” Zack replied. “We await your call.”

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After they disconnected, Zack glanced over at Harper. “I think we have a great contact. Lopez seems to be really on the ball.” He shook his head. “Why would our government put a loser like that clown down here to run things?”

Harper took a sip of coffee. “Kinda reminds you of the River Dance program, doesn’t it? It’s almost like a River Dance Revival.

Let me review a couple of files and get back to you.” *** About an hour later, Zack glanced over at Harper. “I want to check with the hospital. T.J. should be waking up soon. Because of the head injury, the medical plan was to bring him out slowly.

But he should be waking up.”

“I agree,” Harper replied. “I expect he’ll be looking for his wife.”

“To be honest, I have no idea what to tell him,” Zack replied.

“Shock probably won’t help his recovery.”

Zack called the nurse on duty at the ward. “This is Zack Kelly.

I’m calling to inquire how T.J. Wilson is doing.”

“Hello, Colonel Kelly,” the nurse replied. “I was hoping you’d call. The doctor told me he would start the waking-up process.

His children are both here.”

“I don’t know yet about his wife, but I’m on my way and hopefully can think of something. We’ll ask the doctor how to address his wife’s disappearance.”

“Okay,” the nurse replied. “I’ll tell the doctor you’re on your way and will talk to his children. Oh, my, they are both so nice and so worried.”

“I’m leaving now and should be at the hospital in maybe twenty minutes.”

When Zack hung up, Harper said. “I’ll get a car for us.”

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Zack nodded, and they hurried out of the office. He turned to the secretary. “It appears T.J. is waking up. I’d like to get there and talk to the kids before I see T.J. Please let the admiral know.”

She smiled. “Good luck. You’ve got a tough one. I’ll be sure to tell the admiral. When you get there, please call so we can update him. I know he’s very concerned.”

“Will do,” Zack replied.

As they hurried down the hallway, Harper called to Zack. “I think you need to tell him the truth, but how to put it is critical.”

Zack nodded. “Yep.”

142

21 Veracruz, Mexico, 11:00 a.m.

Jasmine began to wake up, unsure where she was. As her mind cleared, it all came tumbling back at her. The man in the trench coat taking her, having to leave T.J. and her children, the car ride, then a plane ride. But where …?

She thought back. After the airplane set down, one of the men forced her to walk outside to a van. Once in the van, someone pulled out a needle and pushed something into her arm. She wanted to resist, to fight him, but it wasn’t in her.

That’s all she remembered until now. She had no idea of her location or how long she’d been asleep. She moved her arms and legs. At least she wasn’t tied up. Both were free.

It took her a moment to sit up. Her head pounded. She tried sitting up once and fell back again. Obviously, she had to do it slower. Take her time.

She focused on her legs first. Moved them. First, in little circles, then up and down. Each time she tried to move her legs, they seemed to move a little farther.

Next, her arms. She raised them over her head, then back down again. After about fifteen minutes of exercise, she began to push herself into a seated position. She lay back down, then pushed herself up to a seated position again. Slowly. Take it slowly.

Whatever they had given her had some residual effect. She didn’t want to fall and break something.

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Finally, she decided to risk it. Using the wall for balance, she tried to stand. Her first two efforts weren’t successful as she fell back to a seated position, but the third time she was able to remain standing.

Keeping her right hand against the wall for balance, she began to walk around the room. It took her about twenty minutes to make it to the door and back. Naturally, they had locked the door, but she had to try.

As she walked, she thought about T.J. What in the world has he gotten himself into? She knew whoever had kidnapped her from the hospital worked for bad people. She had to be careful to not risk them punishing her kids.

Zack would keep Casey and Jackson safe. She could feel it.

She trusted Zack to do all he could for them and would work it out.

As she walked around the room, hand still on the wall, she mentally kicked herself for all of the wasted time she could have spent with T.J. and the kids. Egos were such a pain in the rear.

She knew she would make changes. She didn’t care where T.J.’s career took him; she would go. Doctors could get a job anywhere. She wouldn’t waste any more time.

Her thoughts caused her to refocus on her current situation.

As she began one more circuit around the room, she heard a key in the lock, and the door opened.

She strained to see who had opened the door. What do they want? What did it mean? Focus. Be prepared. *** As the Duce had announced, they gathered once again at one o’clock. Garcia noted the audience happened to be smaller.

Maybe twenty, probably half younger and half older people.

Garcia looked around and spotted Sharon. She sat on the other side of the room with her computer in front of her.

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Wearing a pair of denim jeans and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she had done a twist in her hair, casually pinning it up. Seemed pretty intelligent. Sounded local.

A good contact? Maybe.

Many of the older, cigar-smoking fat guys were gone, replaced by younger, sharper-looking people—even a few women, which made Garcia feel a whole lot better. Maybe she and her dad would live through this if they played their cards right.

The Duce once again provided a short introduction. “Thank you for your attendance. When the professor completes his presentation today, we need to give some thought about how we can move our program forward.”

He turned to Kelce and motioned with his hand. “Professor.”

Kelce stood and adjusted the microphone again. He looked out over the audience and nodded toward the Duce. “Thank you, sir.”

Turning back toward the group, he said, “As I hope you have all begun to understand, the conditions during the ice age we have discussed took an awesome toll on all living creatures, both human and animals.”

He paused for a moment to let this point be absorbed by the audience. “This freeze hit hard and, in some parts of the world, never released its hold. What I believe might have been a land which had enjoyed seven months of summer had been converted in a short time to a land of ice and snow.”

Sharon McConnell stood and raised her hand. “What I don’t understand is the point you are trying to make?”

When she sat down, he replied, “As these glaciers melted, we understand a huge rise in sea level must have occurred, perhaps as much as 350 feet. Islands and land bridges disappeared, and vast distances of low-lying coastline also disappeared.”

Sharon nodded as the professor added, “In both North and South America, human remains and artifacts have been found 145

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which reliably have dated to 12,000 BCE with another group between 19,000 to 23,000 BCE.” Sharon’s eyes glistened. “Could these people and artifacts have come from what professors in our colleges refer to as lost civilizations?”

Kelce smiled. “Now you see what is so important. In Egypt, scholars are beginning to believe a great civilization preceded the floods which overtook Egypt. This may mean the Great Sphinx in Egypt could actually have existed hundreds of years before we originally thought.”

Sharon’s whole face lit up. “An incredible finding.” Her voice dropped. “Of course, if what you say is the case.”

Kelce looked at the woman. Nodded. “Good point. There is evidence of greater moisture which destroyed part of the Sphinx, more than could have been done without great floods.”

Sharon sat down and made a note on her computer.

Kelce continued. “I believe the point for this is more than 12,000 years ago, there may have been people who were actually more sophisticated than we are today. But if we agree this is possible, then where is this civilization, and did it ever really exist?”

Sharon stood again. “But it seems your problem is oceanographers have searched the seas and have never found what you call this lost civilization.”

Kelce smiled again. “The question many of us are asking is how do you lose a continent?” He pointed at her. “What do you think?”

She stood. “I have no idea, but I’m excited to study the issue.”

“I would have agreed before, but now I think we need to look at Antarctica.”

Sharon looked puzzled. “Antarctica?”

Kelce nodded. “This is the least understood continent, and most believe it has been buried under ice for millions of years.

But new discoveries have led us to believe Antarctica had been 146

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free of ice thousands of years ago, at least for a large portion of each year. It appears the continent may even have had a summer.”

Sharon stood there looking at him. “My god, do you believe...?”

Kelce nodded. “I don’t know for sure, but we must consider a strong connection may exist between the collapsing of the ice age and the disappearance of a civilization that has been the stuff of legends for years.”

Sharon almost whispered, “Atlantis?”

Kelce nodded again, “And just think if we accept this premise and can find artifacts from this lost civilization.”

The Duce stood and walked to the podium as Kelce sat. “Thank you, professor. You have helped us understand what could be one of the greatest discoveries of this century. If these civilizations did exist and if we can unravel their locations and figure a way to uncover those artifacts, they will indeed be priceless.”

His comment brought a wealth of discussion.

The Duce raised his hand. “Now you know why I have required a lid on any of these discussions. I will have to say if anyone breaks this code of silence, I will be very unhappy.”

Garcia froze in her chair, processing what she had heard.

Breaking the silence about what they might be trying to do might be a death sentence.

She joined the group who were slowly working their way out of the auditorium. What did it all mean for her and also for her dad? Would they ever be able to leave? She shuddered to think of the alternative.

147

22 Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Washington, D.C., 3:00 p.m.

It took about twenty minutes for Zack and Harper to reach the hospital, even with the siren. Zack wondered what to tell T.J. He had to tell him the truth, but T.J. would be frantic if he found out what had happened to Jasmine.

He turned to Harper. “I’m stuck. Don’t know what to say.”

“I understand. Let’s touch base with the doctor before we see T.J. Maybe he has an idea on how to handle it.”

Zack leaned back in his seat. “That sounds right. Can’t lie, but how do we best let T.J. know?”

When the car arrived at the front door, Zack and Harper jumped out. Zack ran up the stairs and took the inside stairs to the third floor. When they reached T.J.’s room, both Jackson and Casey sat there, seemingly frozen in place.

Zack walked over and gave both of them a hug. “I’m so sorry for all you are facing. To be honest, words fail me.”

Casey looked up at Zack. “Do you know where my mother is? Have you been able to find her? She needs to be here.”

“The answer is we have not yet found your mom,” Zack said.

“Having you two here is going to be a big help to your dad and his healing, but he’s going to be frantic about your mom.”

As they stood talking, two doctors entered. “Good afternoon,” the first doctor said, “I’m Doctor Montgomery, and this is Doctor Perkins.”

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They all shook hands. “We started the awakening process by reducing the amount of drugs going through the IV about four hours ago,” Montgomery said. “Mr. Wilson should begin to be aware of his surroundings any moment now.”

“To be honest with you, Doctor,” Zack said, “I don’t know what to tell T.J. about Jasmine.”

He heard huge gasps from both Casey and Jackson. Zack mentally kicked himself for being so blunt, but he had to sort this out.

“Telling T.J. what happened is going to be a terrific shock to him, and knowing him like I do, he’s going to want to jump out of bed and go find her.”

Montgomery thought for a moment. “I’d probably want to do the same thing.”

“On the other hand,” Zack continued. “We’ve been close friends for a number of years, and he has a right to know. I guess my question is, how dangerous is telling him right now?”

Zack paused for a moment. “I believe the fact Jackson and Casey are here will help. I thought I would try and catch him up on how hard we work to keep them safe and help them deal with all of this mess. It might calm him a little and give him something he needs to do: help his kids.”

About that time, Laura entered the room. Zack reached over and gave her a hug. She nodded to both Jackson and Casey.

“I wanted to be here if I can help,” Laura said. “If I’m in the way, I’ll be happy to leave.”

“No,” Casey exclaimed and moved over next to Laura, putting her arm around Laura’s shoulder. “I want you here, and I think Jackson does too.”

Jackson nodded. “Definitely.”

They heard a groan, and T.J. began to stir in his bed.

Montgomery hurried over to check his vital signs. “He’s beginning to come out of it.”

“How long will it take?” Zack asked.

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“Up to the patient,” Montgomery said. “But in most cases between thirty minutes and an hour, of course, depending on if there is any brain damage. We don’t believe there is. He’s young and in great condition, so I believe he should be able to understand us in the next hour. Not sure about his verbal skills yet.”

Zack turned to Harper. “We need to push back the call with Lopez. I’ve got to follow this through before leaving.”

“I’ll call him,” Harper replied. “Tell him what’s going on and see if I can answer any of his questions. I’ll be back here as soon as I can.”

Zack walked over and sat in one of the chairs, then turned back to Harper. “Okay. Let me know what he has to say. I suspect we’ll be able to make a call in maybe three hours. Can’t cut this short.”

Harper nodded and hurried out of the room.

Orderlies brought in an extra chair. Laura sat next to her dad, and they held hands. Casey and Jackson sat next to each other, holding hands.

“I’ll be nearby and will check in every few minutes,” Montgomery said. “Will let you know when he can talk.” *** Zack sat on one side of the bed, thinking, planning. Gradually he saw movement in the bed. Doctor Montgomery came in and stood on one side of the bed, watching T.J.’s progress. He checked the IV a couple of times, probably adjusting the dosage.

Montgomery motioned for Zack to stand at one end of the bed, Casey on the other side of the bed from where Montgomery stood.

Zack watched T.J.’s face, then his eyes. Soon his eyes fluttered open, and his head moved. He looked straight at Zack, obviously 150

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groping who he was looking at. Then his eyes moved, seeming to realize he knew Zack.

He moved his head to the right and saw Casey. His eyes widened and he tried to move his hand toward her. Casey glanced up at Montgomery who nodded. Casey took his hand and squeezed it.

With tears in her eyes, she squeezed his hand again and said, “Hi, Dad. We missed you.”

Jackson stood and moved next to the doctor. He took T.J.’s other hand and squeezed it. “Hi, Dad.” T.J.’s head pivoted around obviously looking for someone else. He seemed to mouth the word “Jasmine.”

Casey leaned down to whisper, “Mom’s not here right now, Dad.” T.J. squinted and looked at her.

Casey leaned down again. “She had been here with us.

Brought us here, and we are staying in Washington, thanks to your boss, Admiral Steele. We’ve been here for almost three days since you were shot. We’ve all been so worried about you. How are you?”

T.J. mouthed some words none of them could understand, then he tried again. It came out, “M, M, Mo?” Zack leaned forward to say something when Casey said, “She was here with us. Brought us here. Been so worried about you.”

T.J. continued to watch her. Zack did, too.

“Oh, Dad, she got a call; Grandma is sick. They aren’t sure if it’s her heart again. Mom was really conflicted about leaving you, but you know Mom, the doc. Finally, she decided she had to go check on Grandma. Said she’d be back as soon as possible.”

T.J. stared at Casey, seeming to understand what she said, then he appeared to nod.

Casey squeezed his hand again. “Mom put Jackson and me in charge of your recovery until she gets back. So, you’d better get 151

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on the ball and recover quickly, or the two of us are going to be in deep doo-doo with Mom when she walks in the door.”

T.J. looked back toward Zack; then Zack felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Laura standing next to him.

Laura smiled and waved. “Hey, when are you going to get out of that bed? I’ve been having a ball doing things with Casey and Jackson. Casey and I are trying to find a girlfriend for Jackson, but no progress yet.”

Zack thought he spotted a tiny smile on T.J.’s face. He seemed to understand at least a little. “Hey friend, we have all been so worried about you. It’s so good to see you back with us again. I’ve loved getting to know your family.”

T.J. seemed to crack another smile, but Zack couldn’t tell for sure.

Doctor Montgomery leaned forward. “I’m going to have to clear this team of yours out of here for a few minutes so we can figure out what’s going on with our patient. We’ll bring them back in as soon as possible.”

The group worked their way out of the room. Casey took a moment to kiss her dad’s cheek, glancing at Montgomery. “I hope it’s okay to kiss him. Don’t want to spread germs, but I’ve been waiting to do it.”

Montgomery laughed. “That’s fine. Actually, your kiss is probably better medicine for your dad than I have. Daughters are pretty special to their dads. I have three, and I can tell you they are all terrific.”

Casey smiled at Montgomery, tears in her eyes. “He’s a pretty special dad.”

When they got out in the hall, Zack pulled the two girls together. “Thank you. Casey, you were perfect, thank you. And Laura, I loved the way you jumped in.”

Casey nodded. “I’ve been thinking about what would Mom do, and what I said jumped into my mind. It won’t last too long as he’ll be looking for her or at least a phone call. But it’s a start.”

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He pulled them both into hugs. “You guys are brilliant. I could have saved myself a whole lot of worry if I had just talked with the experts. Now, I need to get out of here and see what we can do to sort this mess out.”

Laura reached up and gave her dad a hug. “I think I’ll invite Jackson and Casey out for an early dinner. Got a great place with super pub food. We need a break. Then I’ll bring them back. By then, we should have a better idea of his progress.”

Zack reached down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, sweetie.”

She glanced up at him. “Love you, too.

He needed to find Harper.

They had a ton of work to do and not much time to do it in.

As he headed down the hallway, he looked back and watched Casey and Laura. What a super young woman. So bright, smart, and loving.

He started to run options through his mind. He had to get Jasmine back. And he didn’t have much time to do it in.

153

23 Veracruz, Mexico, 4:00 p.m.

While T.J. returned to the world at the hospital in Washington, Jasmine had her own problems to worry about. She had tried to keep track of time, but they had taken her watch, and she sat in a room with no windows.

She knew it had been at least one day, maybe a day and a half, since she’d been taken. Who was this person? Why had they done it?

She heard a rattling in the door, and it opened. A tall man wearing a mask stood there. “Please come with me.”

“What do you want? Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me?”

“Please come with me, and all of your questions will be answered.”

She stood and began to move slowly, trying to keep her balance. She followed him out the door, looking for somewhere she could run. She knew it was useless, but still, she needed to try. Try anything.

He led her down a hallway. The walls were decorated with a variety of paintings. Lovely paintings. She had seen enough in the art world, so she knew expensive paintings when she saw them.

A Persian rug runner covered the tile in the center of the hallway. The rug looked to be expensive, maybe even Turkish.

The man stopped in front of a door, knocked.

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She heard a voice call, “Come in.”

This was it. She had to be alert. This was her chance to figure out how to get out of this place.

When she walked into the room, she found a well decorated den. A large wooden desk stood directly ahead of her, with a man sitting at it. Bookcases lined the walls behind him. A leather couch stood on one side of the room, and three chairs were placed around a conference table on the other.

The man motioned for her to take a chair. He was a formidable-looking, broad-shouldered, heavy-featured man with thinning hair. Thick eyebrows over icy blue eyes gave him an air of authority.

The masked person who had brought her into the room closed the door and stood in front of it, waiting.

“Mrs. Wilson,” the man said. “Please be seated. I mean you no harm. I only have a few questions. If you answer my questions honestly and fairly, I don’t believe any harm will come to you.”

“What about the FBI agent your people killed? Did you not mean any harm to him?”

“That shouldn’t have happened. We simply wanted to talk to your husband. If we couldn’t talk to him, we wanted to talk with you. The agent tried to stop my men, and he paid a price for doing it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Your husband worked for the Army back in Afghanistan. He helped organize an effort to destroy millions of acres of poppies which are used to make cocaine.”

Jasmine thought for a moment. She knew she had to be careful with everything she said. “I understood he was flying one of the coordinators for the program.”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere. Did you hear your husband talk about this program? Perhaps he saw an opportunity to make money, lots of money. Perhaps to help pay for the education of your children.”

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“No, sir. Between us, we make enough money to care for our children. I wanted nothing to do with illegal drugs, and I believe he didn’t either. I’m a doctor, and I’ve seen the price people can pay for using drugs.”

“I understand, but you need to realize someone stole millions of dollars from me. I want what belongs to me back. I will cause you no harm if you help me.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I can do. I don’t have any drug materials, and I don’t believe my husband does either.”

“How do you know your husband isn’t involved? You haven’t been living with him for many years. Maybe he did steal it. Maybe he helped steal it and didn’t tell you?”

“I don’t believe that’s possible. I know my husband.”

“I’d like to believe you, Mrs. Wilson, but we all have our price.”

“Sir, we are now talking in circles. You don’t believe me, and I can’t prove my point. If you let me go, I’ll talk with him. You must realize we have a son and a daughter who are worth more to me than life.”

“Yes, I know. I told my men to spare those lives if you came willingly. I’m not one to take innocent life.”

She leaned forward. “Let me go back and talk with my husband.” She held her breath. “I would wager my life and the life of my children that he did not take anything which belonged to you.”

Watching him for any reaction, she said, “If he did, I will find out and tell you. I ask you not to hurt my two children, but I will come back here if I find out I’m wrong about my husband.”

“How can I trust you?” He asked.

“You obviously have a terrific reach. I know you do, and I will tell you the truth. I am absolutely sure my husband is innocent of what you suggest. If he has changed, I will try and change his mind. I will not run from you. I don’t want to spend my life running, nor does my husband.”

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“You are an interesting woman, Mrs. Wilson. Let me think about what you have said, and we will talk more. If you follow my rules, I will let you go and eat with the rest of the people. But of course, if you don’t do what you’re supposed to, then I will have to rethink what to do with you.”

He motioned toward the man at the door, who came over to the desk. She stood and walked out with him. Nothing more needed to be said.

As she walked back the hallway toward her room, she tried to figure out what to do. She needed to get out of there and back to her children. They’d be scared to death. *** As soon as Zack reached his office at the White House, he grabbed a coffee and then placed a call to Agents Randolph and Lopez.

Zack apologized for missing the earlier call. “I was at the hospital watching my friend come out of his coma. Looks like he’s going to be okay. His two kids are with him, and he thinks his wife is helping her mother. He doesn’t know she’s been kidnapped, but it’s critical we find her.”

“Glad to hear he’s out of the coma,” Randolph said, “and I sure hope we can come up with his wife. Where exactly do you think she is?”

“Not too sure,” Zack replied. “We believe our fellow staffer is somewhere in Veracruz with a Mafia bigwig. We have every reason to believe he’s the guy who ordered T.J. shot and probably kidnapped Jasmine.”

“Let me jump in here,” Lopez said, “and I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Okay,” Zack said. “I guess I don’t have any choice. Fire away.”

Lopez chuckled and said. “The entire police force in the port city of Veracruz was dissolved a few years ago. Over the past 157

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couple of years, the local police have seen 117 acts of violence, including 16 politicians murdered, about one-fifth of the total killings nationwide.”

“What?” Harper exclaimed.

“Drugs,” Lopez replied. “The decision to dissolve the force is part of an effort to root out police corruption and start from zero in the state’s largest city.”

“Crap,” Zack said. “What can we do to move this forward?”

“Well, the good news is you’ve got me and some of my men detailed to your group. We’ll do our very best.”

“What happened during the period you mentioned?” Harper asked.

“Eight hundred police officers and 300 administrative employees were laid off. They can reapply for jobs in a state police force but must meet the stricter standards of the agency.”

“What’s going on now?” Harper asked.

“Armed marines barricaded police headquarters Wednesday, and navy helicopters were flying above the city where 35 bodies were dumped in September. It was one of the worst gang attacks of Mexico’s drug war.”

“Well,” Harper exclaimed. “I can see why our Mafia guy may have chosen that area. We believe he was involved in the Afghanistan drug scene and is probably trying to get involved in Mexico.”

“We will do our best to help you,” Lopez said.

“How do you want to get started?”

Zack thought for a moment. “The only thing we know for sure is they flew into Veracruz then moved somewhere for a conference.”

“Si, someplace to start. Veracruz International is the biggest airport located in Veracruz. It handles national and international air traffic.”

“Where is it?” Zack asked.

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“The airport is located at the outskirts of the city of Veracruz in a place known as ‘Las Bajadas,’” Lopez said. “It’s been recently renovated and expanded in order to meet the growing demand, so now the airport can handle the operations of larger aircraft, such as the Boeing 757.”

Zack glanced at Harper. “What do you think?”

“Sure as hell can’t do anything sitting here,” Harper said. “I’d recommend we leave now and fly down to Veracruz. See what we can find out. Agent Lopez, can you meet us at the airport?”

“I can check discreetly with the airport,” Lopez replied.

“When did you say they arrived?”

“I’m sure it had to be by private aircraft, so there may be no record. I believe it was three days ago.”

It startled Zack to realize so much time had passed with Garcia stuck in Veracruz.

“When do you think you’ll arrive?”

“As soon as possible,” Zack replied. “We’ll call with flight information.”

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24 Veracruz, Mexico, 7:30 p.m.

When Garcia walked into the room, Professor Kelce was standing at the podium, the Duce nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s get started again,” Kelce said. “The Duce told me he had a meeting to conduct and would be in later.”

He paused to look at his notes. “At the end of our last class, we briefly mentioned Atlantis. Let me summarize what we know so far because we may begin searching again for the remnants of these lost civilizations.”

Garcia heard her dad move and turned to watch him. She could tell he was excited. His eyes gleamed, and he smiled when he glanced over at her. He whispered. “See, I told you this would get very exciting.”

Garcia whispered in his ear, “How’s Mom? She knows we’re here, right?”

Her father stared straight ahead. “I don’t feel I need to get her permission to attend a professional meeting.”

“You haven’t called her?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“That means she doesn’t know what has happened to us. She’s going to be scared silly. Damnit, Dad, that’s not right.”

He looked down. “No, it isn’t. I’ll call her when I get out of this meeting.”

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Garcia was so pissed, she didn’t dare say anything, so she looked away.

Kelce began again, “The issue we need to first address is Atlantis. Is it real, or is it fiction? The basic source for Atlantis is a story written by the Greek philosopher Plato in the fourth century.”

He looked down at his notes again for a moment. “It all comes down to a leap of faith — was Plato making it up? Secondarily, Plato’s source, a man called Solon, several centuries earlier had not made up the story he heard from the high priests several centuries before.”

Garcia thought, who is this Solon guy?

Kelce came to her rescue. “Solon is a real historical character who lived from 640 BCE to 560 BCE. Famous as a statesman, Solon’s efforts paved the way for democratic reform. He was known as one of the ‘seven wise men’ of Greece.”

“Most scientists would agree he could take extensive and correct notes from priests in his travels. It does seem likely the Egyptian priests did have records dating back thousands of years.”

Garcia turned toward her dad and whispered, “What do you think? Is this a fictional story, or could it be real?”

Her dad leaned closer to her. “Professor Kelce believes it to be real, and so do I. Very real.” He motioned to her. “Quiet, he’s going to continue.”

“Plato describes Atlantis as protected by the god Poseidon, who made his son Atlas, king of the island and the ocean which surrounded it.”

Kelce stopped for a moment, then continued. “As the Atlanteans grew more powerful, their ethics declined. Later, by way of divine punishment, the island was beset by earthquakes and floods and finally sank into a muddy sea.”

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He looked down at his notes again, then read, “In summary, you ask how does Plato know this? He says he heard the story of Atlantis from his grandfather, who had heard it from the Athenian statesman Solon — 300 years before Plato’s time — who had learned it from an Egyptian priest, who said it had happened.”

Sharon stood and raised her hand. “This sounds an awful lot like a big bunch of ‘he said, she said.’”

Kelce held up his hand. “Wait, let me finish. What information do we have in more recent days, you ask? In 1627, the English philosopher and scientist Francis Bacon published a novel, The New Atlantis, depicting, like Plato before him, a politically and scientifically advanced society on a previously unknown oceanic island.”

He paused to give the audience time to take in what he had said. “In 1882, former U.S. Congressman Ignatius L. Donnelly published Atlantis: The Antediluvian World, which touched off a frenzy of studies attempting to locate and learn from a historical Atlantis.”

Garcia looked over at Sharon, who glanced back at her. She shrugged and mouthed, “Who knows?”

Kelce held up his hand. “One last point. From time to time, archaeologists and historians locate evidence—a swampy prehistoric city in coastal Spain; a suspicious undersea rock formation in the Bahamas—which might be a source of the Atlantis story.”

He paced across the stage for a moment, then continued.

“The reason we have spent so much time on Atlantis is we believe it’s possible the island could have been located in the Atlantic.”

Sharon stood and called out, “Why is the location so important?”

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Kelce. “Therefore, we will begin planning a search for Atlantis with the goal of finding incredible relics from the island. Thank you. We’ll adjourn for now.”

Garcia’s eyes widened, and she glanced over at her dad, who was standing and applauding. Could this really be happening? *** As Harper and Zack were getting ready to make plane reservations, Harper received another call from Agent Randolph asking them to fly to Randolph’s San Antonio office. Then the three could fly into Veracruz together.

“Why is that?” Harper asked.

“If you come here first, I can go with you. We can use our plane so we don’t have to fly on a commercial jet. Both Lopez and I believe extreme secrecy would be best. We need to stay undercover. I’m sure the arrival of a group of FBI agents will cause a stir in our target population if we’re not careful.”

Harper and Zack talked it over and agreed. Admiral Steele’s secretary got them a flight at ten o’clock. The time caused a race to the airport, but both of them felt they needed to get there as soon as possible.

Before he left, Zack sat down with Fairchild over a cup of coffee. “You know all I know, so you should be able to keep the boss up to speed.”

“No problem,” Fairchild replied. “I’m really worried about Jasmine. We’ve heard nothing from her.”

“I tried calling the number I have for Angelo a couple of times,” Zack said. “But I didn’t get a response other than a voice mail. So we don’t know for sure if he is home or perhaps, as we thought, in Veracruz. Or the other possibility is he is just ignoring me.”

“I’ll bet it’s because he’s in Mexico,” Fairchild said.

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“I have to agree with you, and I’m afraid Jasmine might be with him. If anything happens to her, I’ll never . . . .”

“I know,” Fairchild replied. “I feel the same way. But who could anticipate an FBI agent guard would be killed?”

“Well, this obviously is a high-stakes game to whoever’s in charge,” Zack said.

“Remember.” Fairchild replied, “We don’t know who sent whom. I wished we knew more, but we don’t.”

“That’s true,” Zack had to admit. “Job one in Veracruz is to find Garcia and make sure she’s all right, then find Jasmine, if she is there, and get her back to see T.J. as soon as possible.”

Fairchild took a sip of her now-cold coffee. “I suspect once you unearth those two, you’ll find whoever is in charge. That’s assuming one person is behind all of this, and I think that’s the case.”

Zack nodded. “We need to tread very carefully. As far as we know, Garcia and her dad are fine and simply guests. The only thing we’ve received is the call from Garcia with the guy with shiny teeth. But since she couldn’t call in the open, she must be in a precarious situation and trying to cover her tracks.”

“I’m thinking I’ll plant myself at T.J.’s hospital room to keep an eye on everything,” Fairchild said. “I don’t think I’m physically needed here, but the boss can get me over here on short notice.”

Zack thought about her comments for a moment, then nodded. “Good point. An extra pair of eyes has got to be good.”

Fairchild looked at Zack. “Do you have any strong feelings about where Jasmine might be?”

“I’m hopeful, with Lopez’s help, we can unearth something concrete on her.”

Fairchild nodded. “I agree. Well, good luck.”

“We should be in Veracruz sometime early tomorrow. Then when we’re all together, we can begin to chart the next steps.”

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Fairchild stood. “Sounds like the making of a plan. Good luck. Be safe.”Zack nodded. “I’m going to try like hell to be safe and get everyone home safely.”

They shook hands and Zack grabbed his travel pack. He headed for the door.

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25 Veracruz, Mexico, 8:00 p.m.

Garcia found herself dragging mentally as well as physically when she walked out of the conference room. She had been listening to Professor Kelce off and on for the past twelve hours.

No doubt he had fascinating material to discuss, but she still found herself completely worn down.

Her dad didn’t help any. He was so mesmerized by everything Kelce had to say he seemed like he was under some kind of spell.

She had heard of Atlantis somewhere, but only as a fictional island written about by Plato.

In his talk, Kelce had brought it home to her, and in a very realistic way, finding Atlantic seemed a possibility. What did she think about all he had said? Did she believe it? Was it realistic?

More importantly, what did it mean for her and her dad and her mother?

She figured they were there to put together a plan to find out more, but she had no idea what it meant to her. Also, she needed to get out of there since she found herself overdue back to the office. Perhaps she could figure out another way to contact Zack.

Could she risk another call?

She hoped her call gave Zack enough so he’d understand where she was, and also, that she couldn’t say much about it.

Usually late at night, she never ate anything. But tonight was different. She had been busy all day and didn’t take much time to eat.

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The Duce’s staff had put together quite a spread, and she prepared to take full advantage of it. She looked around for Maria but instead saw someone behind the line she didn’t recognize, which disappointed her.

The food smelled delightful, and her mouth watered looking at the tacos and enchiladas. She helped herself to one taco and one enchilada, then filled her plate with some rice and beans and walked over to the grouping of tables to sit.

At one table, she noticed a woman sitting by herself, who seemed to be in some sort to trance—not paying any attention to what else seemed to be going on in the room.

The only other place with anyone sitting there was where her father sat, and she’d had enough of him for one day. His heroworshiping of Kelce got on her nerves even though she felt better about him than before.

She walked over to the table, glanced at the woman. “Hi, mind if I join you?”

The woman didn’t acknowledge Garcia but continued to look at some imaginary spot on the wall.

As Garcia sat, she cleared her throat and said in a louder voice, “Do you mind if I join you?”

Her comment seemed to jar the woman, and she glanced over at Garcia. “No, I guess sitting there would be okay.”

She looked away and continued to stare off into space.

Garcia determined she would find out a little about the woman. This was the first woman around her age who had arrived. Finally, someone to talk with.

“How long have you been here?” Garcia asked.

No answer.

“Would you rather I not talk to you?”

The woman looked at her, a faraway look in her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think you should.”

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Her answer puzzled Garcia. “What do you mean you don’t think I should?”

“I’m not supposed to talk with anyone, and I don’t want to get either of us in trouble.”

Garcia was puzzled about her answer. She knew things were unusual around here, but this seemed crazy. “What do you mean you don’t want to get either of us in trouble? Why would you get in trouble?”

The woman shook her shoulders. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Garcia tried a different idea. “My name is Rene. What’s yours?”

The woman stared at Garcia for a moment, then looked around. She whispered, “Jasmine.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. I haven’t seen you before. Are you new here?”

Jasmine glanced around, then whispered, “I don’t know. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here or if I should talk. I don’t want to have to go back.”

Garcia figured Jasmine was some sort of prisoner if this place was run by the Mafia. “Okay, let’s just keep it light. We won’t talk about the place or people or anything like that. I’m from Washington, D.C. Where do you live?”

She looked around again. “I live in Virginia.”

“Do you have a family?” Garcia asked.

“A son and a daughter.”

Garcia felt someone looking at them and glanced around. She noticed Arnold seemed interested in them. “I’ve had a couple of close calls but never got married.”

That caused the woman to laugh. “Kids are great, but my husband and I live apart.”

“I guess there’s a lot of separations going on,” Garcia said.

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She felt before she saw Arnold lumber over. He took Jasmine by the arm. “You have to come with me.”

“Wait a minute,” Garcia said. “We don’t mean to cause any problems. Just talking.”

Arnold ignored her. “You need to leave now.”

He pulled Jasmine up by her arm, causing her drink to spill.

“Now.” Jasmine nodded and glanced over a Garcia, a sad look in her eyes. Then she stepped over to follow the man, leaving her food half-eaten.

Garcia continued to eat, troubled by what had happened. She looked around to see if there was anyone else to join, but the little cafe stayed almost empty. Too bad her dad had left. She had wanted to pick his brain on what he had heard. Well, she could talk to him first thing in the morning.

In a few minutes, Arnold came back and stood next to here.

“I don’t want you to sit with or talk to that woman again.”

Garcia stared at him, a puzzled look in her eye. “Why? I wanted someone to talk with while I ate. Not much fun to eat alone.”

He leaned over and whispered. “You maybe remember you got in trouble when you talked too much. You’re doing better.

Don’t make the mistake of going back the other way.”

“Why?” He stared at her. “You’re doing it again. Just leave it alone.”

He stomped out, leaving Garcia watching him, not sure what had just happened, but she realized something about the woman wasn’t right. Probably best to just drop it. She felt badly if she had caused pain to the woman. ***

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Zack followed Harper off the airplane at the San Antonio airport. They walked through the gate, then down the hall to the escalator and down to the first floor. Both traveled with only carry-on bags, so they walked directly outside into the San Antonio heat and humidity. September evening. Still hot.

Harper spotted Randolph at the curb waiting by a car. He waved and walked over. Zack and Randolph shook hands, then Harper and Zack jumped into the back seat.

The driver pulled out into the busy lane in front of the airport.

Fortunately not too many cars traveled this late.

“The office is just minutes from the airport,” Randolph said.

“Makes it handy. We spend a lot of time on planes.”

“Agent Lopez has just arrived, and he’s getting organized,” Randolph said. “You’ll meet him as soon as we reach the office.”

When they reached the building, Randolph glanced over at Zack. “Always a good feeling to get out of the humidity and heat.

September is a lot better than July, but it can still be pretty hot.”

Randolph led them to a small room. “This is a secure room, so we can feel comfortable talking. First, can I bring you anything?

Coffee, tea, maybe something to eat?”

A tall, slender, black-haired man stood next to the coffee pot.

“This is Agent Lopez,” Randolph said. “Getting settled in.”

“Good evening,” Zack said. “I appreciate you flying up here on such short notice. We need all the help we can get on this one.”

“My pleasure,” Lopez replied. “I look forward to working with both of you. We have a number of mutual problems to work on.”

Zack looked over at Harper. “I could handle some coffee as I suspect it will be a late night. Maybe a sandwich?”

Randolph picked up the phone and ordered another pot of coffee and a tray of sandwiches.

Harper nodded. “Both of those sound good to me.”

Randolph glanced over at the two other men in the room.

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home office and Colonel Kelly from the president’s National Security Office. Zack, why don’t you summarize for the agents what we know?”

Zack leaned forward. “Sure.” He went over the shooting, the findings on River Dance and how it might apply, then what they knew about Professor Kelce.

“We’re not sure where it all fits in,” Zack said. He summarized the phone call from Garcia and what they believed might be going on in Veracruz.

When he finished, Lopez said, “We may have a lead. We received a report from an undercover agent who could help us. I am hopeful it will check out.”

“That’s great,” Zack said. “Did he mention the subject being discussed — forgotten civilizations?”

Lopez shook his head. “He did mention discussions on UFOs.” Zack nodded. “Garcia told me the speaker would discuss a variety of studies going on in Mexico about UFOs.” Lopez smiled. “I understand. You know this is becoming a big subject in segments of Mexico.”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “I was surprised to get a CIA paper on UFOs. This is getting to be a big deal in the U.S., so Congress has included funds in the budget for DOD to look into UFOs.” “What did the report say?” Lopez asked.

“Apparently, things started in 1947, when a top-secret U.S. military balloon crashed in the desert near Roswell, New Mexico.

The government ducked talking about it, so the conspiracy theories ran wild.”

Zack had to chuckle. “Now, according to the article, UFO enthusiasts are starting to look at 1945 as the beginning of the UFO era.”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Harper said. “What exactly will DOD do?”

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“DOD is supposed to review historical documents related to unidentified aerial phenomena — DOD-speak — dating back to 1945. I guess that’s the year a large, avocado-shaped object struck a communication tower in New Mexico where the first atomic bomb was detonated that July.”

Zack raised a finger to add one more point. “A past Assistant Secretary for Intelligence felt this review should clear up a cloud hanging over the defense department. Who knows where it might lead.”

Harper thought about it for a moment. “My understanding is DOD can explain most of the sightings, but apparently not all.”

Zack thought for a moment. “You know, with all of the drones and other airborne clutter, we really need to get a better handle on the sky. Many of the sightings have been from balloons or surveillance operations by foreign governments.”

Lopez took a sip of his coffee. “We have a number of studies going on about UFOs and other extraterrestrial events in Mexico.”

Zack nodded. “In our last conversation, Garcia was explaining a couple of those to me. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention, but one has to do with other groups in space listening in on us.

This friend of her dad’s, Professor Kelce, is big into UFOs.” “Kelce, I think I’ve heard of him,” Lopez said. “He’s made some presentations in other places around Mexico.”

Zack chuckled. “His issue is whether aliens landed on Earth in 1945 or later. Also, he says scientists have found pictures in early carvings about us perhaps coming from aliens.”

“Coming from aliens?” Randolph asked.

“He has a point,” Lopez replied. “Some of our archeologists have found buried items that seem to show aliens in the picture.”

Zack shuddered. “Aliens. Damn, that’s all I need.”

“Okay,” Lopez replied. “We have a flight to Veracruz in three hours, due to arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I hope you guys can sleep on a plane.”

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Zack laughed. “I was an Army Ranger. I can normally sleep anywhere.”

After the discussions, the group got up and headed to a lounge where they hoped to be able to get a little shut-eye.

Actually, Zack had so many problems on his mind he doubted he could get much sleep.

Well, tomorrow would be another day. And Zack hoped it might provide a few answers. Who knew?

173

26 Veracruz, Mexico, September 8, 7:30 a.m.

Garcia walked into the almost-empty lunchroom early. She was troubled by the events of the night before and hadn’t slept worth two cents. Who was the woman she had sat with, and why had she been pulled away? Had Garcia made a mistake in talking to her? Caused her problems? She hoped not.

If she saw her again, she’d have to apologize. Better not think about that. Focus on today.

She hesitated, then walked over to the line and scooped up a breakfast toco. Maria stood behind the counter.

“Hi,” Garcia said. “Missed you last night. I wanted to tell you the food is excellent.” She laughed as she filled up her coffee cup, “and so is the coffee.”

Maria bowed and smiled. “Why, thank you. I don’t get compliments by most people.”

Garcia put some hot sauce on her taco. “Well, let me make up for that. I’m not much of a cook, so I appreciate good food.”

“Si, bet you have skills even if one of them no cooking.”

Garcia turned toward the tables to sit down, then called back to Maria. “Have a good one.”

As she headed over to the tables, she spotted Sharon McConnell sitting by herself at one of the tables, reading a book.

Garcia walked over and asked, “May I join you?”

McConnell looked up and smiled. “Sure. I was looking for someone to talk with about yesterday.”

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Garcia figured she’d better tread carefully. “How do you know Professor Kelce?”

“I was in some of his classes at the University of Texas. He’s a brilliant man with an incredible ability to delve into new material.

Always searching for something new.”

“Are you also in archeology?”

“Why yes. It’s an area I think is so exciting. I graduated three years ago and started doing research at the University of Veracruz while I worked on my master’s degree. I’m hoping to go on for a Ph.D.” “I hope I’m not being too nosy, but why the University of Veracruz?”

“A lot of people from the States ask me that. I believe we may be on the verge of some exciting new findings, and Mexico will be a hot spot in the next few years.”

“I’ve heard a few things about recent findings in Mexico.”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “That’s why I’m here. There are many fascinating opportunities here, and that’s why my uncle started this project.”

“Oh, who is your uncle?”

She laughed. “The guy everyone is calling the Duce.”

Garcia swallowed hard to not show her surprise.

“Don’t worry; everyone acts like that when I tell them,” Sharon said.

Garcia laughed. “Was I that obvious?”

“Not so much, but I’ve learned to expect and read it. I know he has some shady friends and may even do some shady things himself, but he really is a nice guy.”

“To be honest, I don’t know much about him.” Garcia swallowed hard and thought, other than his father ordered a hit to kill my partner’s father.

“My mom’s sister is his wife. They seem to be happy together, and I don’t question her decisions.”

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“I understand. My brother has been a pain in the rear for years, and my mom says get along. So I do, but I still am not crazy about it.”

Sharon laughed, a lovely tinkling laugh like the sound of bells.

Garcia felt she needed to share a little at least. “My dad is also a professor at the University of Texas. When he received the invitation to come here, he wanted me to come along. See what I thought about all of this.”

“Really, what do you do? Are you a professor too?”

Garcia shook her head. Man, did she ever have to be careful here. “No, I’m in the military and work at the Pentagon, much to my father’s disappointment. He wanted me to go on to graduate work at the university.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

Garcia laughed. “I’m one of the twenty-five thousand people who push papers. I was injured when I was in Afghanistan in a mortar attack and have been on a low-key assignment to see if I can stay in the service.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. I know there are so many people who were injured in that stupid war. I only hope it’s not too bad for you.”

“Thanks. It’s okay.” She took a bite of her taco. “Ah, where do you think this is all headed? Since you have some training in this area, I’d be interested in your thoughts.”

“I told my uncle we have a wonderful opportunity to do some meaningful research. He agreed, and that’s how we got all of this started.”

Garcia was impressed. “Oh, you were the one who helped organize this conference.”

She nodded. “I knew the professor from school and told my uncle this would be a great opportunity. Many of my friends from school are here, and we’re going to break out in teams to look at the possibility of finding a lost civilization.”

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“Do you really think there is one?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you?”

Garcia shrugged. “I think it’s wonderful your uncle agreed to do this. Must be very expensive.”

Sharon smiled, then looked around. “Don’t breathe a word, but I think he’s doing something in the drug area, and this gives him great cover. Now I like you and hope I can trust you.”

About that time, Arnold came up. He reached down to take Garcia’s arm. “I thought I told you to stop bothering people.”

Sharon looked up at him. “Arnold, what the hell is going on with you? Why are you messing with my new friend?’

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. McConnell. We brought this woman on the plane, and I’ve been told to keep an eye on her.”

“Well, move your eye. She’s my friend, and I don’t want you messing with her.”

“Yes.” He turned and stalked off.

Oh-oh, Garcia thought. What had she gotten herself into?

If Sharon found out who she really was, then what? And now Arnold had another reason to be pissed at her. *** After a nap of about three hours, Zack heard the alarm and struggled to wake up. It took him a few minutes to shake out the fog, then he snapped up and put on his clothes. Gotta get moving.

He struggled into the next room where Randolph had placed the coffee.

Zack poured himself a cup. As he poured, he thought of his dad’. But he needed to drop the back story. He had to focus on the now.

He glanced at Randolph. “Thanks for the coffee. All right, where do we start?”

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Lopez opened his computer. “I had our staff check out real estate sales of buildings over a thousand square feet in the last six months.”

Zack nodded. “Makes sense. What we know sounds like a huge building with a large auditorium. Find any?”

“Si. We found a number of possibilities. I asked them to do a low-key screen by vehicle and check out what makes sense.”

Zack took another sip of coffee. Man, did it ever taste good.

“Uncover any good ones?”

Lopez shook his head. “How you say it, a work in progress?

I’m hopeful by the time we get there, they will have summarized a list for us.”

Harper put his cup down. “Can you fake a reason? I don’t want the Mafia to know what we’re doing.”

Lopez glared at him. “No, I told them we were looking for a bunch of killers and drug dealers.”

Harper raised his hands in defense. “Sorry, it just slipped out.

I’m sure you were covering your tracks.”

Lopez nodded. “Si. We must trust one another, or this won’t work. Once we get there, I figured we could check out the list and see what we find. Veracruz is a large state, but there are probably limited places where something like this can be found.”

Harper walked over and grabbed a second cup of coffee. “Let’s agree to delete my dumb-ass comments and move forward.”

“Si,” Lopez said. “We can use a plane so we don’t tip anyone off and get some surveillance photos on three of the most likely.“ Zack smiled for the first time in a couple of days. “Perfect. I feel like we’re finally moving forward.”

“Si. Shouldn’t take too long before we can sort out the right place or at least a couple of places we can follow up on.”

Zack nodded. “When do we leave?”

“The pilots are getting our plane ready, maintenance checks and all that,” Randolph said. “I’ll check again, but I was told we should be able to leave in about an hour.”

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Zack picked up a roll. “Thank you both for all your help.

Before we leave, I’d like to try Angelo again. The CIA told us one of the drug lords had Six Alpha killed, and one of the other guys said they had split up the resin that T.J. had nothing to do with it.”

Harper nodded. “Maybe get Angelo off our back.”

Zack looked up at the ceiling. “If he believes me. At least we can assure him T.J. had nothing to do with killing Six Alpha.”

Taking a sip of coffee, Zack said, “He needs to realize his fellow Mafia guys stole the money and apparently didn’t bother to share it with him. Let’s hope it works out that way.”

“Okay, time to leave,” Randolph called. “Let’s hit it.”

179

27 Veracruz, Mexico, 8:00 a.m.

Garcia followed Sharon McConnell into the conference room and walked over to where her dad stood talking with Kelce.

McConnell waved Garcia over and whispered to her. “Why don’t you move over here? I’d like for you to meet some of our group as we begin our discussions.”

Garcia smiled. “Great, I’d like that. Let me check in with my dad, and I’ll be there in a moment.”

She took her dad’s arm and pulled him away from Kelce. She waved at Kelce. “Just needed to talk with my dad for a moment.

Won’t take long.”

When they had moved away, she whispered, “Did you get ahold of Mom last night? What did she say?”

“I did call her.”

Garcia stared at him. “Really?”

Her dad nodded, then chuckled. “Really. She was glad I called. She had been worried about us.”

“Sure, it’s been three days with nothing.”

“My fault. She was delighted I called and glad we were doing all right. I told her you had been on my back to call, and from now on, I would call each night.”

His comments made Garcia feel better. “Okay, I’ve met Sharon McConnell. She’s invited me to move over and sit with her.”

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Her dad nodded. “I’m glad you’re finally getting into this.

We’re on the tipping point of history.”

Garcia chuckled. “I don’t know about any tipping point of history, but who knows what might develop?”

Her father moved back next to Kelce, obviously feeling good about being in the loop with him.

Garcia hurried over to sit next to McConnell, delighted Sharon had saved her a seat. Obviously, her dad’s friendship with Kelce had impressed McConnell.

As she sat, she leaned over toward McConnell. “Okay, let’s see what’s next on the agenda.”

The Duce was back in attendance, so he moved up on the stage and walked up to the podium. Looking at Kelce, he asked, “Professor, where did you leave it yesterday, and how do you think we should begin?”

Kelce thought for a moment. “We talked for the first time about the possibility the island of Atlantis was a real place and not some fictional island made up by Plato.”

“Good. Do you really believe it?”

“I don’t think anyone knows for sure. If Atlantis had been located in the Atlantic when it disappeared, which certainly is possible, we must ask what happened to all of the people who lived on the island?”

“Good answer,” the Duce replied. “You’re obviously hedging your bets. I like that.”

“Yes, sir. We must consider all of the knowledge they had, which was extensive, and more importantly, all of the artifacts from this civilization. What happened to all of it?”

Sharon raised her hand. “I believe many of them would have been killed because of the intensity of the storms they encountered. But, it’s also possible some of the population could have escaped to a nearby island if they had enough warning.”

The Duce leaned toward her. “That’s an excellent point, Ms. McConnell. You must have studied under an excellent professor.”

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She laughed and clapped her hands. “I did.”

Kelce smiled back at her. “Can you share how it might have been possible and where the group might have ended up?”

She pondered for a moment to organize her thoughts. “We have read in our books and papers they were excellent seamen, so they could have escaped by boat. But there could be another answer.”

Kelce leaned forward. “What might that be?”

“We’ve been taught Earth is made up of a number of plates which rest on Earth’s mantle. We’ve also been taught that continental drift is real. Some of the plates are called diverging plates, others are converging plates.”

“Early on in Earth’s history,” she continued, “there is a good chance a number of these plates ended up closer together, thus converging plates.”

Kelce smiled. “Yes. Yes. What do you mean by that?”

“The examination of rock evidence has shown similar composition so the possibility exists some of these continents were pressed together. For example, there’s evidence the African plates butted up against the American plate.”

Kelce nodded. “What does it mean?”

Sharon seemed to sparkle as she talked, getting into it and obviously proud to show off to her uncle. “Perhaps some of those people who were able to escape Atlantis were the early settlers of the Olmec civilization.”

“Perfect. You are giving my class for me,” Kelce said. “Who were the Olmecs?”

Garcia looked up at McConnell, thinking, my lord, she is really sharp—a bright young woman.

“We learned in school the Olmecs flourished during the Mesoamerica period here in Mexico, dating roughly from as early as 1500 BCE to about 400 BCE.” “But earlier civilizations could go much farther back,” Kelce said.

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“That’s true,” McConnell replied. “Pre-Olmec cultures could have flourished since about 2500 BCE. By 1600 to 1500 BCE, early Olmec culture had emerged, centered on the site near the coast in southern San Lorenzo east of Veracruz.”

She thought for a moment. “They were the first Mesoamerican civilization, which laid many of the foundations for the civilizations which followed.”

The Duce looked at her with appreciation and fondness.

“Thank you, my dear. Your comments were excellent. Do you think these Olmecs could have come from this lost island?”

She nodded. “No one really knows for sure, but it’s possible, and if so, there would be an incredible array of things they brought with them.”

Garcia figured this was what the Duce wanted to hear.

He looked at his niece. “Is this what you told me you are planning to look for?”

“That’s right.”

“Where?” The Duce asked.

“That’s why we’re here. To plan an approach to what we think may be possible.”

The Duce stepped down from the stage and began to leave, then turned back with a smile. “Well, don’t let me get in your way.” He turned and kept walking.

Sharon leaned down to Garcia. “I think I just earned my degree.”

Garcia smiled backup at her. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

Sharon looked up at Kelce. “Well, we’d better get busy if we’re going to keep him happy.”

Garcia wondered how in the world she had gotten in the middle of all this. She glanced up at Sharon. “Isn’t it going to be an incredible outlay of money to accomplish all you’re talking about?”

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won’t end up causing a huge outlay of funds. We need to get them organized and off to work.”

Sharon glanced down toward Garcia and whispered, “Besides, if my uncle does have the huge drug trade people say he does, what a great way to launder money.”

Garcia couldn’t believe Sharon had made that comment to her, but she had to admit Sharon was right—two big cash flows.

This gets more interesting every minute.

Garcia began to enjoy what she was learning. But, she thought, she could get in the middle of some real trouble.

She knew she would have to be careful. Very careful. *** Zack, Harper, Randolph, and Lopez climbed into a staff car at the office and drove to the business side of the Veracruz airport.

When they arrived at nine o’clock, the pilots were ready, so they climbed into the plane. There were about two dozen seats, but some of them swiveled so they could sit and talk together while on the three-hour flight.

Agent Lopez spread a few sheets of paper on the desk between the four of them. “As I mentioned to you briefly before, the police force in Veracruz was disbanded a few years ago because of corruption.”

“I remember,” Zack said.

“The force was made into a federal force, then fitted into the National Guard. That didn’t sit well with a lot of the population, so the two forces were brought together, and we do the best we can. Sometimes it can be difficult.”

“Okay,” Zack said. “What does all of that mean?”

“I’m sorry to say it can mean we have leaks to the cartels in our offices. We do what we can to work around the problem, but it’s difficult to figure out who is spilling secrets.”

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Zack sat back. “Don’t like what you are saying. We’ll probably be running into the Mafia and maybe even the drug cartels as we work through this problem.”

“I know,” Lopez said. “You three need to keep a low profile.

I will interact with the staff. I know who I can trust and who I can’t. What I’m trying to say is don’t go blabbing information about our operation around. I’ll handle all of the coordination.”

“Makes sense to me,” Zack said. “Okay, where do we start?”

“When we arrive, I want to look at what we have found as possible locations for Angelo’s program. I don’t want his name to come up at all. These sites are nothing but more places we need to check out. No one should know why.”

Harper chuckled. “I honor you, my friend. I can’t imagine trying to work under these circumstances. How do you do it?”

“Not easy all of the time, but I’m always careful.”

“What about security risks to you?” Zack asked.

“It’s there, but I don’t believe any more than what you all face.

I’ve received a note from my staff, whom I trust. They have come up with the potential sites. We’ll scan those, then get on the road and look around. I have a driver I know I can trust.”

“Thanks again for helping us,” Zack said. “I know you’re putting yourself at risk, and I appreciate it.”

Lopez nodded at Zack. “Keep your fingers crossed. I feel confident we’ll find them. Then we decide what we’re going to do about it.”

185

28 Veracruz, Mexico, 11:00 a.m.

Sharon set her group up in the lunch room next to the auditorium. She whispered to Garcia, “I’ve found over time, a group gets a lot more done with easy access to nibbles and coffee as well as other drinks.”

Garcia nodded. “Absolutely.”

She turned to the group. “Okay, where do we start?”

Molly O’Brien raised her hand. Red-headed with freckles, she made an advertisement for an Irish lass.

Sharon pointed at her. “Yes, Molly, what do you think?”

“I recommend we establish our goals to know where we’re headed. Right now, I’m not sure what our goals are.”

Marge Welbaum raised her hand. Sharon nodded at her.

“Seems to me we are trying to figure out if there are forgotten civilizations out there and where they might be.”

Professor Kelce raised his hand. “I believe you’ve hit on it.

That’s the pressing issue for us and where we should be headed.”

Sharon leaned forward. “Seems to me we should focus on Mexico and Central America rather than Egypt and the Far East.

There has been so much work done there and not enough in our own country.”

“Well said,” Kelce commented. “But where in Mexico? It’s a pretty big country.”

Molly raised her hand again. “I believe we should start where we think it started, and that’s with the Olmec Civilization.”

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Kelce nodded. “Okay, but where?”

“How about where they lived — right here in Veracruz?”

Molly replied. “We know from our current research they were focused in three towns: Tres Zapotes, San Lorenzo, and La Venta.”

Garcia sat in the back, impressed with how well they worked together—no yelling over each other, no cutting in on the other guy. In the Pentagon, it seemed everyone was always yelling to be heard.

“Don’t forget we want to begin our search for items from the lost civilizations,” Sharon said. “To me, that’s the most important part.“ “What you’ve said sounds pretty good,” Bob piped up from the back. “But where exactly do we start?”

“Let me stop for a moment,” Sharon said. “We have a new member, Rene Garcia, who is here with her dad, a friend of Professor Kelce. I’m going to ask each member to introduce themselves.”

The young slender red-haired woman waved to Garcia.

“Molly O’Brien. I’m a senior at the University of Veracruz.”

“Marge Welbaum, senior at the University of Veracruz.”

Marge had a captivating laugh and smile.”

“Bob Hooper, junior at the University of Veracruz.”

“John Henderson, junior at the university.” A large man who looked like he might be a football player.

“Ginny Gables. I’m the pup. Freshman at the university.” She giggled in a cute way.

Sharon stood. “All of us are in Archeology and very interested in the history of our country. Actually, the ancient history, something which seems to be overlooked.”

Garcia stood. “Thank you. That helps me a lot. In some ways, I’m here by accident. My dad is a professor at the University of Texas with Professor Kelce. I’m actually in the military and assigned as a paper pusher at the Pentagon.”

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Sharon raised her hand. “Wait a moment. Garcia is being too humble. She was injured in a mortar attack in Afghanistan and is still recovering. She hopes to stay in the military but is not sure.”

Everyone applauded for Garcia, embarrassing her. She pasted on a small smile and sat back down.

“Your comments reminded me we forgot to invite Professor Garcia,” Kelce said. “That was a terrible oversight and needs to be corrected.”

Ginny jumped up. “Let me go see if I can locate him.”

Kelce called, “Thank you,” as she hurried out of the room.

“Now, where do we start?”

“I think we should begin by talking to others who have been doing research in the area,” Marge said. “Determine what successes they are having.”

Garcia figured it was time to throw in her idea. “How about what tools will we need to accomplish our job?”

“Makes a lot of sense,” Sharon said. “We need to know what we’re looking for and what it’s going to take to find it.”

Kelce cleared his throat. “My concern is if some of the others aren’t going back as far as we’d like, then I don’t want us to be limited by time.”

“I think what Marge meant,” Sharon replied. “The oil industry, for example, has made such a mess of the area we want to explore, it would be interesting to see how others have tried to address that issue.”

Marge nodded. “Right. We have mentioned the three principal sites of the Olmec civilization. The first one is Tres Zapotes. History tells us this site flourished during 500 BCE and 100 AD and was Olmec and not Mayan.”

“That’s right,” Sharon replied. “Many people believe the Olmecs should be recognized as the mother culture of Central America rather than the Mayan.”

“Absolutely,” Kelce continued. “One of the most interesting findings there were children’s toys in the form of little wheeled 188

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dogs. History tells us the wheel had not been discovered in Central America until the time of the Spanish Conquest. These toys, at the very least, show the wheel had been known to the Olmecs many hundreds of years before.”

“When we get to San Lorenzo, we should look at the reservoirs,” Henderson said. “They are ingenious and were ahead of their time.”

“Sadly, little is known about the social organization, belief system, and ceremonies of the Olmecs,” Kelce said. “If we could uncover more about those beliefs, it would be worth a lot to help us better understand the Olmecs.”

Garcia enjoyed the discussions. She liked the students and wanted to get to know them better.

She looked up to see Arnold lumbering into the room, a smile on his face. He walked over and grabbed her by the arm.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Garcia cried out. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m in the middle of a conference here.”

Sharon raised her hand to protest. “Don’t do that. I thought I told you to leave her alone.”

He held on to a struggling Garcia. “That was before we found out who she really is.”

“What are you talking about?” Garcia asked.

“It seems your father was talking to the Duce and began bragging about your work for the president’s national security staff, an Admiral Steele.”

Oh, crap, Garcia thought. She should have told him to keep his mouth shut about her job. Too late.

“Come on, Colonel Garcia, the Duce wants to talk with you.

And you know what? I believe I will enjoy hearing the discussion.”

He pulled on her arm, almost taking her off her feet as he tugged her out the door and into the hallway. She looked back to see a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Sharon watching her.

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*** While Sharon’s group discussed the criteria for their upcoming efforts, Zack’s team began their search for Angelo’s headquarters.

Lopez’s office had developed a list of twelve places that had either been rented or purchased in the last six months and met the size requirements they figured Angelo would need.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Zack said. “We’ve got no time to waste. I’ve listed four items I believe should be at the top of the list — size, security, availability, location.”

Agent Lopez, would you rank them based on according to your knowledge of the area? For example, availability of mass transportation for staff, as well as safety and security.”

It took Lopez thirty minutes to narrow the list of facilities that might fill Angelo’s needs. Zack took a look at his list and concurred. “Good. Let’s go out and take a look.”

Lopez nodded. “Okay.”

“You remember I had a run-in with Angelo over my dad. I did get a chance to visit him at his home. Therefore, I think I have an idea of what he’d probably be looking for. What I don’t know is the area here in Veracruz.”

The first three buildings didn’t seem to make any sense for Angelo. However, the fourth looked like it might work, as did the seventh, ninth, and tenth.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Agent Randolph said.

Lopez had procured a small van, and with a map in hand, they started out. The first building was an old church. It certainly had enough square footage, Zack thought and could be a terrific cover, but the layout wasn’t right. It didn’t seem like a place Angelo would go for “He’s going to want a high wall around the facility and a large, strong gate in the front,” Zack said. “Plus, a place for all of his security guys to stand. I also think he would like a driveway 190

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up to the front door to prevent someone throwing a bomb over the gate.”

After the first review, they picked buildings six and nine.

“Let’s go around one more time,” Zack said, “I don’t want to spend a lot of time in the wrong place.”

“Makes sense,” Lopez said.

When they finished with the second review, they still came up with the same two buildings.

Both had a high wall around the entire facility. Building nine was set back farther from the road, but six was more remote.

“I think we’ve got something here,” Lopez said. “Let’s put surveillance on each one and see what we come up with. If it is Angelo’s hideaway, we should be able to find out in the next day or so.”

Zack took a drive around each one to get a feel for each place.

He felt really good about building six. Building nine just didn’t sit right with him.

He was absolutely exhausted but needed to make this work.

As he sat in an old car about a block down the street from building six, the gate opened, and a large black sedan pulled out.

He couldn’t see for sure but felt confident Angelo sat in the back seat.

He kept watching, hoping the car would return, but no luck.

After four hours, he moved over to the other house. Nothing.

Things were quiet. He now knew which building he wanted to start with.

The next day, Zack felt good enough about the building to try and figure out how to get in. “Is there any reason we can use to get inside to look around?”

Lopez shook his head. “Our rules are probably much looser than what you are used to in the States, but not that loose.”

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Zack spotted a delivery van entering the property. The van had to get past a guard by showing him some sort of receipt or ID. Was that something he could do? Probably not.

How to get started? What could they do?

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29 Veracruz, Angelo’s home, 3:00 p.m.

Garcia mentally kicked herself for letting it happen. Angelo was talking with her dad, and he had bragged about his hot-shot daughter. She should have been more careful and asked her dad not to mention her job.

Crap. Too late now. It was done. How to fix it? Angelo would send someone, probably Arnold, after her soon, and she had to be ready.

In a few minutes, she heard the lock turn and the door open.

Oh-oh, she thought, this is it. Are you ready? Hope so.

“All right, on your feet, Garcia,” Arnold said. “Boss wants to see you. This time your little friend isn’t going to be able to bail you out.”

“What does he want?” Garcia asked. “What did I do? I was sitting there, and you came in like the Marines and snatched me up.”

“You’ll find out in a few minutes,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.

I want to watch this. Should be fun.”

Arnold half pushed and half pulled her down the hallway.

She didn’t figure it would do any good to fight. On the other hand, if she could get away from him and hustle the hell out of there, she might be in the clear. She spoke enough Spanish to get by outside. But what about her dad? She couldn’t leave him.

As they walked, she noted he walked a step behind her. She could crush his instep with her heel, then run like hell. But where?

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At the end of the hallway was another hall. If she could get there, then down the other hallway, then maybe. Maybe.

She would fake a short fall and then use the heel of her shoe to dig into the instep of the big guy. It would hurt like hell, but he’s probably used to pain. Don’t think about anything. Just act.

She leaned back and stomped down on the instep of his right foot.

He screamed out, then bent over. She came up into his face with her elbow as hard as she could, and his head snapped back.

She swung out with her left arm into his face and ran like hell. He yelled. “Stop her.”

No way was anyone going to stop her. She was on her way out of this house right now. Turning left in the hallway, she saw a doorway that looked like it might lead outside.

She reached the door and pulled on it. Locked. What did she expect? High security. Off she went toward another door. Got there. This door was unlocked.

She tore it open and stepped through, finding herself in a kitchen. She heard footsteps pounding down the hallway behind her.

“Stop the bitch,” Arnold called. “Don’t let her get away.”

She heard a gunshot, the bullet striking right above her head.

“Stop, or the next shot is lower. Right in the back.”

She stopped.—not a hero. Can’t beat a gun and a good shot.

She turned to see Arnold limping down the hallway, gun in his right hand. “You bitch, you’re going to pay for that.”

She looked up at him. Smiled. “Didn’t realize you were so tall.”

He backhanded her, knocking her off her feet. She looked up at him, rubbing her cheek. Smiled again. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Bullshit, you just wait until the boss gets ahold of you. He’s already pissed. Wait until he hears about this.”

“Hey, when he hears, he may want me to join his security detail. I got the better of you.”

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That got another slap which again knocked her to the floor.

She shook her head. “That wasn’t very nice either.”

“You wait, bitch. You don’t know pain until I finish with you.

Get up. We’ve got an appointment with the boss, and you ain’t gonna like it.”

She stood, and he pushed her out of the kitchen, then down the hallway. Garcia knew she was in for trouble and had to hope she could talk her way out of it.

She kept walking, looking left, then right. Was there any opportunity to duck away from where she was? She didn’t see any place to hide. Keep looking. Don’t give up. Don’t.

Zack, where the hell are you? Are you on the way? Are you gonna help? Hope so. Stall for time. Keep walking. *** Jasmine sat in her room and checked her watch. It had been a long day sitting here. Ever since she had met the other woman and ended up back in her room, they had not let her go out again. She was bored, and she was scared—no idea of what would happen next.

She checked her watch again. Three o’clock, and she was pretty sure it was afternoon and not night. Not having a window meant she had no idea of the actual time. She had tried to keep track of the hours but had fallen asleep and lost count.

Oh no, how was T.J.? He’d wonder where she was and would be scared for her. That’s the last thing he needed—to worry about her. He needed to worry about getting well, getting up and moving around.

She heard a key in the lock, and the door swung open. A man she didn’t know stood there. What did that mean?

“All right,” the man said, “let’s go. The boss wants to see you.”

“What does he want?”

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“I don’t know. All I know is he wanted me to come and get you, and that’s what I plan to do. When you get to his office, he’ll tell you why.”

“Do you have any idea? It would help me prepare to talk to him. I want to make a good impression, so I’ll be able to leave this place.”

“Sorry. You seem like a nice person, and I’d like to help you, but I don’t know. He’ll tell you.”

“All right, let’s go. I wish I could have taken a shower and done my hair. I must look like hell.”

“You look fine. Now let’s go.”

She got up and walked out the door, a little worried about what it meant. She needed to get out of here and back to T.J. and the kids.

She was impressed with the size of the house, although too big for her tastes. Long hallways and plenty of art on the walls.

Nice.

She followed his directions and soon found herself at a door.

He pushed the door open and motioned for her to go inside.

The same big desk, same bookcases, and the same man behind the desk, watching her.

But something had been added. The woman who had tried to talk with her at lunch was sitting on one of the couches. Jasmine noted she had bruises on her face. It looked as if she had been beaten. But if that’s what it took to get out of here, then bring it on.

The man stood and walked around the desk. She looked at him. A very masked face. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to treat you with more hospitality,” he said, “but these are troubled times, and that’s just the way it is.”

“Please let me go back and see my husband. He’s been hurt, and I want to help him get better.”

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The woman on the couch looked at her. “My lord, you’re not T.J.’s wife, are you?”

Jasmine nodded. “I am, and I want to go back and help my husband heal.”

The man looked at her. “I’m afraid not yet.”

Garcia thumped herself on the head. What had she done? *** While Jasmine was worried, the object of her concern was sitting up in bed, his daughter on one side of him and his son on the other.

“What do we know about your mom?” he asked. “Your first story was pretty good, but I knew she wouldn’t wait this long to call. She’s not that way.”

Tara Fairchild stood at the end of the bed. “T.J., I’m so sorry we don’t know more. Zack is doing all he can to find her and bring her back. We’ve tried everything we can think of.”

T.J. nodded. “I know he has, but she’s not here, and that’s what I want. I know she’d be here if she could be.”

“I do, too,” Fairchild replied. “Zack’s last message said they think they have found the house where Jasmine might be held. I hope it won’t be long now.”

“I don’t understand. We know who shot that prick, Six Alpha, and what happened. So why is Angelo still after me?”

“Zack has never been able to talk with him face to face. He’s left messages but hasn’t heard anything back.”

“It just has to work out. Jasmine and I have been missing things for so long, and now is our chance to fix it. And we don’t know where she is.”

Fairchild nodded. “I know, I know. But we’re trying. Zack has a team in Veracruz, and knowing him, he’ll figure it out.”

Casey leaned over and kissed her dad. “It has to be okay, Dad. It has to.”

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30 Veracruz, Mexico, 5:00 p.m.

Zack sat in the van with Harper, Lopez, and Randolph, trying to figure out the next course of action. “We know this is the right place. We’ve seen Angelo, so how are we going to end this thing peacefully?”

“One option is to attack the place under cover of darkness,” Harper said. “The advantage is it’s quick and decisive. With luck, if we have the complete element of surprise, we should be able to rescue the hostages. We think Jasmine is in there, and we’re pretty sure Garcia is also.”

“I don’t think we can guarantee the complete element of surprise,” Lopez said. “We don’t know all of the traps he may have laid for us, and while we know the layout of the place from the real estate agent’s plan, we’re not sure how current it is.”

Zack glanced over at Agent Randolph. “What do you think?”

“I’m uneasy with moving in,” Randolph replied. “I’ve seen too many of these operations where a lot of people get hurt. Since we don’t know the exact location of where this Jasmine and Garcia are, by the time we get to them, they may be hurt. Or dead.”

“That’s true,” Zack started to pace. “I have to agree. That’s the problem with hostage situations.”

“I don’t know this Angelo,” Randolph continued, “but I suspect he’s a damn astute guy and has thought his way through contingencies. Also, I understand there are a number of other people who attended this supposed conference and could be hurt. A frontal attack bothers me.”

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Both Harper and Lopez nodded. “He makes good points,” Harper said.

“It’s too risky,” Zack agreed. “If Garcia and Jasmine are both in there and are hurt by what we do, I’ll never forgive myself.

The only approach which makes sense to me is if I walk up to the gate, unarmed, and ask to see Angelo. I’ve talked with him before, and while he’s a killer, I think we have arguments that will catch his attention. At least, I hope so.”

There was silence for a few minutes as they considered alternatives, then Zack said, “I’ll walk up to the gate and see if I can get in to see him. Let’s talk about what happens when I get in.”

He looked down. “I have to at least try. If I don’t, I won’t ever forgive myself if it all backfires.” *** It took about an hour of discussion before Zack felt ready to move. He had worked through each alternative and what storyline he would use. The best approach was the honest approach. Jasmine was visiting her husband, who had been shot.

Garcia was there because of her dad, not because of T.J. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Harper asked. “Garcia is one hell of a coincidence. Will he believe it?”

Zack shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s the truth. She’s not there because of Jasmine. I don’t see any other way which makes sense to me.”

“I’m with you,” Harper said. “We need to give some thought about the timing of your going up to the door. When do you want to go?”

Zack stood and looked at Harper. “Right now, before I change my mind. Give me twenty minutes to clear my head, and then I’ll go to the door.”

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*** Zack stepped out of the vehicle and walked down the alley in front of Angelo’s building and across the street to the gate.

He stood in front of the gate and rang a bell. Nothing happened. Finally, the guard came out. “What do you want? This is a private home. We don’t want any visitors.”

“I know it’s a private home, and I also know the home belongs to Mr. Angelo. My name is Zack Kelly. I’m from the office of the U.S. national security advisor, and I’d like to talk with Mr Angelo.

Could you please let him know I’m here and would like to see him?”

“Why should I say you want to see him?”

“He had some concerns about the River Dance program in Afghanistan and has been seeking information. Also, I believe a couple of my friends are staying here with him.”

“Okay. Just wait there and don’t move.”

The guard picked up a phone and spoke into it quietly, all the time looking at Zack. Zack kept his fingers crossed that this approach would work. If it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

The guard put the phone down and walked back to the gate.

He opened the gate and looked at Zack. He pointed toward Zack’s right. “All right, move over there. I need to pat you down.”

Zack breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had gotten past the first step. This alternative could be dangerous as no one could anticipate what Angelo would or could do. But he was fresh out of other ideas and needed to move this forward.

After the guard did a thorough pat down, he opened the gate.

Another guard stood in the way and gave Zack another pat down.

He nodded, then turned and motioned for Zack to follow him.

The guard led him down a long hallway, a tiled floor but with an expensive-looking Persian carpet runner down the middle. A 200

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big house, they walked about thirty yards and stopped in front of a wood door.

The guard knocked. Nothing happened. The guard knocked again. This time a voice from the inside called, “Come in.”

The guard pushed the door open and motioned for Zack to enter. Zack recognized Angelo right away behind a large desk.

Bookcases backed up his desk.

Zack stepped inside and the guard closed the door. Angelo sat there silent, probably apprising Zack.

He stood and walked around the desk and up to Zack. “Well, Zack Kelly, what brings you to Veracruz and my humble home? I suspect it must be important, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Zack looked at Angelo for a moment. He really hadn’t changed much in the last few years since they had met in New York. Maybe a few more lines on his face, but the same bushy hair, combed down, and the same intensity in his eyes.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Zack said.

Angelo nodded. “I believe I do. Why don’t we sit at my conference table where we can talk about important issues like businessmen who know each other? Would you like a drink?”

“That would be very nice. If you remember, I’m a coffee guy.”

“Yes, I remember.” He motioned Zack over to a chair, then pushed a button on his desk. The door opened. “We need coffee and maybe a pastry or two. He glanced at Zack. “Seems to me you did have a sweet tooth.”

Zack nodded as they walked over to sit at the table.

“I trust you’re enjoying this beautiful area,” Angelo said.

“Veracruz is very pleasant in the early fall. Pretty hot during the summer.”

A knock at the door preceded a slender black-haired woman who brought in a tray with two cups, a pot of coffee, and a plate of rolls.

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The woman poured two cups of coffee and passed the plate around, handing each of them napkins. Then she walked out and pulled the door closed quietly behind her.

Angelo took a sip of coffee and looked over at Zack. “Now, how may I help you?”

“My friend and I were having lunch at one of our favorite restaurants in Crystal City when a man came up to our table.

He accused my friend of killing a man during the River Dance operation in Afghanistan and stealing quite a bit of the resin used to make drugs.”

Zack paused for emphasis. “The man was mistaken about what my friend had done, and I believe I can prove it.”

Zack stopped and took a sip of coffee, then continued. “From what I’ve uncovered in my review, the CIA believes this man who went by the name Six Alpha was killed by drug lords because he tried to take more than his share of the profits.”

Zack stopped. Angelo said nothing so he continued. “With the help of General Loewe, whom I had met while in Afghanistan, I uncovered the names of the other men who were in the same position as Six Alpha.”

Another sip of coffee. “When we interviewed one of the men, a man named Lancelot, and I might add he was under some duress, told us the profits from the load of resin was divided between the other five men who were left after Six Alpha was killed by the drug lords.”

Zack paused. Angelo remained silent. “My friend, who had flown for me in Afghanistan and now in Washington, was severely injured by this shooter at the restaurant and is in the hospital. His wife was with him in the hospital and, I understand, had to leave. I’d like to see her back with her husband and hope that may be possible.”

Angelo raised his hand after Zack’s last comment. “I think that’s enough for now. Perhaps it’s time we had a little dinner. Are you hungry, Colonel Kelly?”

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Zack figured Angelo’s offer might be a good sign, so he agreed. “While we wait,” Angelo said, “which I might add should be a fairly short time, I’d like to show you around a little. Show you our auditorium, where we have been holding a conference for the past three days.”

“I’d like that,” Zack said. He decided not to say anything about Garcia yet. It would probably be best if her name and status came up in regular conversation. He didn’t know what was going on with Garcia, but he certainly was concerned. Concerned hell, he was scared for her.

They walked out of the den and passed a small conference room where a number of people were meeting. He didn’t know what Garcia’s dad looked like but would have bet a thousand big ones he was sitting halfway around the table with another man slightly older than the majority of young people at the table.

Angelo stood in the doorway for a moment and pointed. “The gentleman on the right is Professor Kelce from the University of Texas. He’s an expert in Archeology and has been leading a workshop on what he calls ‘forgotten civilizations.’”

“Sounds like it would be a very interesting workshop,” Zack said. “I’ve always wished I had more time to get into some of those conversations.”

“I understand what you say. My niece is the one who helped me set up this conference.” Angelo led him down the hall to the auditorium.

Zack looked around. “The place looks terrific for a conference.

Do you sponsor many conferences here?”

Angelo shook his head. “No, this was the first one. Many of these forgotten civilizations the professor talks about were located here in Mexico, and I thought it would be important to do it here.”

“Makes sense,” Zack replied.

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“It turns out my niece was a student of Professor Kelce’s and took several courses from him. She is now working on a graduate degree at the University of Veracruz.”

“Is it a good school?” Zack asked. “The only reason I ask is I haven’t heard of it, but it sounds like it could be important if many of these forgotten civilizations are located here in Mexico.”

Angelo nodded. “She brought some of her fellow students here to work with her on trying to recover some of the relics from these civilizations.”

“Aren’t these relics potentially worth a lot of money?” Zack asked.

Angelo nodded. “Absolutely.”

Zack now knew what Angelo might be up to. What a great opportunity to launder money — make it in drugs, then spend it on artifacts.

They walked back up to Angelo’s office, where a complete spread was arrayed on his conference table. Steaks, baked potatoes, salad, and Zack figured there would be some delicious desserts to follow.

“Even though I have spent a lot of time in Mexico, I still love a good steak dinner with all the trimmings. Hope that’s okay with you?”

“Terrific. Can never go wrong with a great steak.”

Zack debated fishing around about Garcia—time to quit putzing around. He wasn’t sure how that would fly, but opening the conversation might not hurt.

“This may be a coincidence,” Zack said. “but a friend of mine, Rene Garcia’s father, knows Professor Kelce. Her dad wanted to come to the conference and asked her to come along.

If I remember right, he was upset Rene went into the Army. He wanted her to become a professor at the University of Texas, too.”

Angelo did not react. Zack figured he might go a little further.

“She happened to be on leave in Austin with her family and told me she might attend something with her dad. I’m not sure if she 204

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meant this conference or not. She wasn’t crazy about the idea, but her dad really wanted her to, so she said she’d go for a while.

I haven’t heard from her. I think it was here in Veracruz.”

Angelo still didn’t comment. Zack figured it was time to quit, so he cut a piece of steak and ate it. While he chewed, he looked around the room. “Do you expect to spend a lot of time in Mexico? I remember you had a beautiful home on Long Island.”

“Like everyone else, my future plans are always a work in progress,” Angelo said. “I have no plans for leaving Long Island, but one never knows. In my business, change can come very rapidly.”

“I understand. In the military, we always seem to be on the move. My time at the Pentagon in D.C. has been the longest time I’ve ever lived anywhere. Most of my tours were short, one year or less.”

In a few minutes, Angelo stood and walked over to the door.

“I’d like to walk back and look at the auditorium again. Maybe you have suggestions on how it could be more efficient.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

“I’ll have coffee served there. I know you enjoy your coffee.”

“Guess I am pretty obvious about my love of coffee,” Zack replied.

“I have learned over time to be somewhat opaque on what I like. I have found that has helped me with all of my responsibilities.”

“Good point,” Zack replied. “I’ve found as a battalion commander I needed to keep many things to myself. People were always trying to pick my brain. Get information from me.”

“Now you know how I feel. You can’t imagine the number of people—friends and foes—who try picking me for information.

I have found it’s best if I let information out when I’m ready and not before.”

They walked over to the auditorium and sat at one of the tables. As they drank their coffee, Zack said, “You know, when I 205

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attended the Army War College, the staff provided us a problemsolving process.”

“Oh?” Angelo inquired.

“What you do is make sure you understand the problem, develop alternatives, gather information and make any necessary assumptions. Then you can develop pros and cons and come to a thoughtful decision. It normally takes a while, but it does work.

At least it works for me.”

“You understand my problem,” Angelo said. “I have a number of things I need to do, but I must develop alternates and weigh each one. In my case, decisions can have crucial outcomes if I’m not careful. So I hope you understand me taking time to develop alternatives.”

Zack took a sip of coffee, then looked up at the stage for a moment. “The one thing I’ve always been concerned with in my problem-solving process is the actions of others while I’m thinking. I would hope you also take those possibilities into consideration. The future may not resemble the present.”

“I understand,” Angelo said. “And I hope you would understand my concerns.”

“Oh, but I do,” Zack said. “You are a thoughtful person, one who takes many things into consideration, as you must. But others may not be like me and want to jump ahead with the possibilities of risking poorer outcomes.”

Angelo smiled. “I think we understand each other, Colonel Kelly. Now I would ask that you leave this delightful discussion so I can weigh the possible outcomes of my decisions.”

Zack couldn’t believe he was having this thoughtful discussion with one of the toughest hoods in the country. He only hoped he could rescue Jasmine and Garcia out of his clutches without having to risk an attack.

When he returned to Angelo’s office, Zack picked up his hat and shook hands with Angelo. “I hope you will weigh all of the things we discussed.”

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“I most certainly will,” Angelo said. “And I certainly hope you will also.”

“Count on it,” Zack replied as he headed down the hallway followed by one of Angelo’s guards. The guard carried a machine gun which heightened the danger of any mistake Zack might make.

The guard pushed by Zack, then reached over to unlock the door. He motioned for Zack to leave.

Zack watched carefully everything the guard did and all of the possible communications the guard could have with the security office. As far as Zack could tell, this seemed to be the only entrance, which couldn’t be right. Probably one in the back by the kitchen. He needed to check further before they took any action.

Walking past the gate and the wall, he immediately felt relief.

All the time he was with Angelo, in spite of his courtesy, Zack knew full well this was a killer who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet into Zack if he felt it might be necessary.

As Zack walked across the street, he looked up and down the road, sorting out any weaknesses in the defense in case the team felt it was necessary to prepare an attack plan.

Angelo had not reacted to any of Zack’s comments about Jasmine and Garcia, but Zack knew full well both of them were inside. He didn’t know how and what shape they were in.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he would need to act. The key question was how long they could wait and what would be the best chance to launch a successful attack. The pressure weighed on him as he walked.

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31 Veracruz, Outside Angelo’s house, 7:45 p.m.

As Zack stepped off the curb, a car started and drove over to pick him up. The team didn’t want to give Angelo’s guards any idea of how close they might be.

The car turned left at the next intersection, two blocks down the street to make sure they weren’t followed, then turned left into an alley and pulled up behind the headquarters Lopez had organized.

Zack stepped out of the car and walked inside, all the time figuring out what to say. What were they going to do? He had no idea, but he needed to come up with something.

Harper eyed Zack. “Looks like you survived. Have we located the right place? Are Angelo and our people all in there?”

Zack nodded. “I’m sure they are, but Angelo played it pretty close to the vest. I told him about what we’ve done to prove T.J. wasn’t involved in any plot to kill Six Alpha and steal resin. I emphasized Garcia wasn’t an agent of ours but simply with her professor dad purely by coincidence.”

“Did he buy it?” Harper asked. “Give you any idea if he would willingly release them?”

“Yes and no,” Zack replied. “I believe he knows T.J. is innocent of what he thought, but he didn’t say anything about why he had kidnapped Jasmine or what he was planning to do with her.”

Zack paused for a moment before he made his next point.

“Nor did he give any hint of what was going on with Garcia.

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Having said that, I don’t have a good handle on what actions he will take and, more importantly, what actions we should take.”

Harper thought for a moment and looked up at the ceiling.

Then he said, “I still think it’s a mistake if we rush into some sort of action.” He stopped for a moment. “But I’m not sure how long we can wait. I guess we still have no idea how they’re being treated.”

Zack shook his head. “I’d be really surprised if they are treated badly. But my one concern is if Garcia is pushed, she could push back and create more of a problem.”

One of the staff came in and glanced at Zack. “Sir, Agent Fairchild is on the phone. The admiral should be coming on shortly.”

Harper and Zack hurried into the other room to the speaker system. “Fairchild, are you there?” Zack asked.

“You bet. The admiral will be on in a moment.”

Then Zack heard, “Admiral Steele here. How are you doing?”

“Sir, Zack Kelly. With me is Agent Harper, Agent Randolph from the San Antonio FBI office, and Agent Lopez. Lopez is from the Federal Police here in Veracruz. I’ve just spent about two hours with Angelo.”

Zack could hear the surprise in Steele’s voice. “Wonderful.

How did it go?”

“Sir, to be honest I’m not sure. He was pleasant, but not forthcoming on what was happening in his house.”

“What do you mean?” Steele asked.

“I told him all the evidence we have gathered on T.J.’s innocence, but he made no comment. He did hear what I had to say and is not dumb. I have no idea what our next step should be.”

Zack thought for a moment. “We really have no legal authority to rush the place and even if we did, I’d be concerned about his reaction. We’d have to do it perfectly or risk danger to both Jasmine and Garcia.”

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Silence. Zack could tell Steele needed time to think. He always took time to consider all alternatives without hurrying things when there was no need.

“All right, here’s what I think,” Steele said. “I agree we don’t have any reason or authority to rush the place. If it turns into a bloodbath without us having a decent reason for our actions, we’d have egg on our face and worse yet would risk our friends and all feel terrible.”

“Sir, I’m in complete agreement,” Zack said. “I think we wait and see what Angelo does. He’s a man of action. I might add thoughtful action, so I believe we should wait. I’m hoping he will send Jasmine and Garcia out to us without any action on our part.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“How long do you think we should wait?” Zack asked, then he added. “Certainly, until this time tomorrow. Let’s plan to meet again at five o’clock tomorrow afternoon and see where we are. By that time, we should have a better idea. Of course, if something else happens before then, I’ll contact you immediately.”

“Okay, Zack,” Steele said. “Call me tomorrow at five o’clock if nothing has changed and let’s talk again. I feel something will break before then. It has to. They can’t wait all day, and we can’t either. Something has to give.”

“Sounds good, sir. Until tomorrow if not before. Sir, can you put Fairchild back on?”

In a moment, Zack heard, “Hi, Zack. Fairchild here.”

“How’s T.J. doing?”

“Health-wise, he’s doing great. But of course, he’s worried sick about Jasmine, and I can only hope it doesn’t mess up his recovery.”

“Oh, man, I do too. Probably best not to give him any updates other than we are doing all we can.”

“Okay. Makes sense. Call if you get anything,” Fairchild said.

“Anything at all. We are leaning forward.”

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“Will do.” Zack disconnected and glanced over at Harper.

“What do you think?”

“To be honest I’m not crazy about waiting, but I can’t come up with a better idea. I suggest we just take some time, rest, and think. Probably best not to react when we’re all exhausted.”

Zack stood and walked over toward his room, then turned back toward Harper. “If you come up with a great plan, come in and get me. I’m not even sure if I can sleep, but I hope so. I have a feeling we’ll need to be at the top of our game tomorrow.”

Harper nodded. “I doubt I have the school solution hiding in my brain, but I’ll keep looking for it.” *** At five o’clock Zack’s eyes flew open. He lay still for a moment, getting himself oriented. His mind put things back into perspective. Garcia and Jasmine were still being held by Angelo.

Had Zack convinced him with his arguments that T.J. was not the guy he wanted?

Another thought hit him. Maybe Angelo wanted to go after Lancelot and Henry, his own people. But why hadn’t he figured it out before? If they had lied to him, they would be in deep trouble. Maybe Zack should emphasize the point more in future discussions— if there were future discussions.

Zack managed to push himself up and take a quick shower.

He needed help to wake up. It had been a long week, and Zack felt it. But surely not as bad a week as Garcia and Jasmine’s, so he needed to be alert.

He staggered out into the kitchen. Harper stood there with Lopez, staring, drinking coffee. Zack moved over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, then sat down at the table. Ran his fingers through his hair. Have to wake up. Start thinking.

Make some sense.

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He looked around. “You guys look like I feel. I tried to give things a fresh look this morning and came up with the same thoughts we had last night. I don’t see going in after them yet.

Seems to me another approach would be a raid with Mexican police, maybe acting on a tip about drugs.”

“Good point,” Harper said. “The best I could come up with was going in to rescue hostages. I’m sure they’re with him, but where? Has Angelo managed to move them to another place?”

“Damn, good thought. I was a change behind you. I thought that might be an approach, but I didn’t think about him moving the hostages. We’ve been watching the house, but there could be other doors we missed.”

“The more I think about it, the less I like it,” Harper said. “I think a frontal attack can only be a last move after we’ve tried everything else.”

At six-fifteen, the phone rang. Zack answered it.

“This is Angelo calling. You’ve convinced me the woman, Jasmine, is not a problem. I hope I have your word if I let her go unharmed, you’re not going to try a lot of legal action against me.”

Zack felt he could say anything, lie or whatever, to get her out, but he couldn’t guarantee governmental action. “If you release her, I will do all I can to prevent any action against you for taking her. I’m sure you realize that may not apply to the shooter who almost killed T.J.” “That makes sense, and I understand your thoughts on the shooting. But, I believe we have an understanding between two persons who, within reason, trust one another. Pull any crap on me, and all of it vanishes. And vanishes forever.”

“Absolutely,” Zack said. “When can we pick her up?”

“She’s out in front of the house waiting for you.”

“Thank you. What about Rene Garcia?”

“Another case we need to discuss some more.” He disconnected.

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Zack raced outside and jumped into the car. The driver took him down the hill to Angelo’s gate. True to his word, there stood Jasmine in front of the gate. He was so relieved to see her.

Zack jumped out of the car and ran across the street. He gathered her up in a hug. “Are you all right?” He whispered.

“Hurt? Do you need anything right away?”

She shook her head. “Just get me a phone so I can talk with T.J.” “You bet. Right away.”

They drove back to their headquarters. Zack turned her over to EMTs for a quick check.

When she was finished, he asked, “Can we get you something to eat?”

She shook her head. “Stomach’s in turmoil.”

Zack picked up his cell and called Fairchild. “Are you still at the hospital?”

“Yes.” “Is T.J. awake? How is he?”

“Seems much better. Still looking for Jasmine.”

“Well, here she is. Put him on.”

He heard Fairchild’s scream of delight. Zack handed the phone to Jasmine, a big smile on his face.

Her eyes lit up, and she said, “Yes, it’s me. I love you.”

Zack escorted her into the other room for more privacy.

He returned and looked at Harper, “Now, what about Garcia?”

“Call Angelo and set up something. Maybe a meeting.”

“Okay. Makes sense.”

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32 Veracruz, Mexico, September 9, 7:00 a.m.

As Jasmine talked to T.J., Zack, Harper, Lopez, and Randolph discussed Angelo’s phone call and his comments about Garcia.

What did it mean?

Zack paced around the room, organizing his thoughts. “It doesn’t sound good. I think if he planned to release Garcia, he would have done it with Jasmine or at least let us know when we could pick her up.”

“I agree,” Harper said. “I have the uneasy feeling he wants more before he’ll release her. Then we have to consider what’s going on with her dad.”

“Sounds that way,” Zack replied. “Maybe he doesn’t believe that she came down here with her dad and wasn’t a setup to spy on him.”

Harper took a moment to think about what had happened.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, my bottom line is he’s got to release Garcia. No give or take on my feelings there. The other thing he has is the issue of shooting T.J. I’m sure he ordered it, and I’m sure Gold Tooth did it. Do we have any wiggle room on prosecuting him for that?”

“Don’t think so,” Harper said. “Gold Tooth almost killed T.J., so the law will require he be brought to justice and Angelo as well if we can link him to the shooter. I’m certainly going to try and develop the link because I believe it’s there.”

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Randolph took a sip of coffee, then said, “I think we’re only shooting blanks until we actually talk to Angelo and see what he has to say.”

“I agree,” Zack said. “Let me call him and see if I can set up a time to talk with him. Keep your fingers crossed.”

Zack picked up the phone and dialed Angelo’s number. He heard a female voice. “Mr. Angelo’s office.”

“This is Zack Kelly. I’d like to set up an appointment to talk with Mr. Angelo, and I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”

“He told me to expect your call,” she replied. “He will be happy to see you at four o’clock this afternoon. Does that work for you?”

“I’ll be there,” Zack replied.

He hung up. “All right. We have a time for our meeting; now we need an agenda. Time to do some brainstorming; then we need to talk with Admiral Steele.” *** At four o’clock, Zack stood at the gate to Angelo’s house, ready for the pat down. After the guard gave him the once over, he was ushered into the house, then another guard came down the hall and motioned for Zack to follow him.

The guard knocked on the door, and Zack heard the deep voice say, “Come in.” The guard pushed the door open, and Zack moved inside, where Angelo motioned him to a chair at the conference table.

When they were seated, Zack said, “Thank you so much for releasing Jasmine. T.J. is doing much better, and I’m sure talking with her made him even better. As you might imagine, until he heard from her, he was scared to death about what might happen to her.”

Angelo nodded but didn’t say anything.

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“I guess the next order of business is to talk about Rene Garcia and her father. As far as I know, they both were here to visit the conference you hosted. I don’t know if it is still going on or not.”

Zack leaned forward to show his concern. “Let me repeat, for emphasis. Garcia was on vacation and called me to say her dad wanted her to attend a conference with his friend Professor Kelce. As far as she understood initially, a big part of the topic was UFOs, and it would be held in Austin where they lived.”

Angelo nodded, so Zack continued. “Garcia’s father insisted she attend because he thought with her working at the Pentagon, she might be able to contribute something. She called to let me know her plans as she was on leave and due back in two days.”

Angelo stood and walked around the table, still silent.

“Let me repeat as this is important. You may not be aware Garcia’s father was very upset when she went into the Army rather than following in his footsteps at the University of Texas.

He saw this conference as a big deal because of his friendship with Professor Kelce, who I understand was to be the keynote speaker.”

Angelo nodded. “It seems Professor Kelce and Professor Garcia are friends and fellow professors.”

“I believe that is correct. In the middle of all that, T.J. was shot, and I had no idea if he would live. She said she’d come back to Washington to help me, although her father was adamant he wanted her to go with him.”

“Why did she not go back to Washington?” Angelo asked.

“Because she was trying to placate her father. He leaned on her. This was one time he needed her help, and she wasn’t going to give it. Obviously trying to make her feel guilty. They do have a very strained relationship.”

“That’s a great story, Colonel Kelly, but I don’t believe you. I believe Colonel Garcia arrived here to prove I was complicit in the shooting.”

“That’s not true.”

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As he began to talk, Zack heard a click, and then a door opened behind him. He turned to see a large man with broad shoulders standing behind him. The man had a smirk on his face. Zack knew immediately this had to be Gold Tooth. He remembered the face and the eyes, the piercing eyes.

Things changed in a second. Zack knew he might not get out of there alive. Gold Tooth might shoot him as he talked.

He decided he had to fake not knowing who this was. “Who are you?” Zack asked. “And why are you here in the middle of my talking to Mr. Angelo?”

The man glared at Zack. “I’m here because Mr. Angelo invited me.”

“Please continue with your story, Zack. I want to hear it, and I want my friend to hear it also.”

Zack turned and looked Angelo in the eye. “Maybe I should have brought someone with me. I thought this was just a discussion between two pseudo- friends, but maybe not.”

“Continue, Zack,” Angelo said. “We want to hear what you have to say. Remember, I have released Jasmine as you requested.”

“Yes, you have, and I thank you again for it.” He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. “As I was saying, at that point, Garcia and I had no idea you were the sponsor of the conference, and that’s the truth. I have no reason to lie to you.”

He stopped again. Angelo said nothing, so he continued.

“From what I understand, when Garcia was picked up, she thought the conference would be right there in Austin and was amazed when she and her father had to get on a plane.”

He stopped again, feeling stupid, but wasn’t sure how to proceed. “I was tied up trying to figure out this River Dance crap. I had no idea what was going on here and had to focus on proving T.J. wasn’t involved in any shootings or division of profits. I’m sure the only reason Rene was here was to placate her dad. Nothing to do with me or her job.”

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Angelo turned to look at the other man, then kept walking around the table. “I don’t believe you, Colonel Kelly. I must protect my interests.”

“I don’t understand. What are your interests here, and why does Rene Garcia give you concerns?”

“I have learned over time the best way to deal with problems is to eliminate them as I go. I don’t believe it when you say this Garcia wasn’t here to prove something about me.”

“What do you think Colonel Garcia was trying to prove? I have not spoken to her since she told me she would attend this conference with her father for a day. That’s it.”

Zack paused. He needed to change the direction of the discussion. “Somehow, you believe she was my agent. But that simply is not correct at all. I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me. I thought we had laid an element of trust between us, between you and me.”

Zack heard a laugh from behind him and knew he was on very shaky ground. He could be dead in a moment, but he had to go on. So he whirled. “Why are you laughing? I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Mr. Angelo.”

Angelo motioned with his hand for Gold Tooth to be quiet.

“My father once told me he didn’t trust anyone but his own mother, and he’d never turn his back on her.”

Zack knew he had to change the thrust of this conversation.

He was losing. “What about Rene’s father? Will he be able to return to the United States once the conference is over?”

“Yes. Now I think we have done all the talking we can. You need to leave and let me think.”

Zack knew he had lost this round. He opened the door and walked outside. The guard waited in the hallway to escort him to the gate. Soon he found himself standing outside the compound, an absolute feeling of loss and defeat enveloping him. He thought he could talk Angelo into releasing Garcia and he had failed— miserably.

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33 Veracruz, Mexico, 7:00 p.m.

Zack and the team met for three hours after his talk with Angelo. “There is no question in my mind,” Zack said, “Angelo does not intend to release Garcia. I think he punctuated his decision by bringing Gold Tooth into our discussions.”

“What?” Harper exclaimed. “That damn Gold Tooth was in the room when you two were talking?”

Zack nodded. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to pull out a gun and finish me off right then and there. I think Angelo plans to kill her.”

“Well, the hell with that!” Harper exclaimed. “We’re going in after her. We can’t leave her there with that monster Gold Tooth.

If Angelo turns him loose, oh, I don’t want to even think about it.”

“You are absolutely right,” Zack said. “We need a plan to go in, and we need it now. Right now.”

Zack began his pacing and thinking. “Wait a minute. Jasmine might know a lot about the house and probably many of the staff.”

Harper snapped his fingers. “You’re right.”

“She can help us create a layout of everything she remembers about the interior of Angelo’s headquarters. She knows the halls and the lunchroom. I’ve also seen the auditorium and some of the rooms, so I can help with the model.”

Lopez nodded. “Let me get one of our artists to help us create a model of the house as you two remember it. We’ll do it to scale 219

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as much as possible. It needs to be exact, including distances and measurements.”

Zack felt good about building a model, something he had done with the Rangers. “Maybe Jasmine knows the names of some of the staff. They might help us with the timing and location of guard patrols.”

Harper nodded. “The changing of the guards and the kitchen staff is critical. When we show Jasmine the plan, she can help us understand what door seemed to go to the outside and the best way to move around inside.”

“All right,” Harper said, “we’ve got a start. Let’s get moving.” *** Jasmine remembered Maria and knew she liked Garcia.

When Lopez was able to find Maria and talk with her, she turned out to be a big help. She had no love for Angelo or any of his people. She was scared to death of Gold Tooth.

Maria knew room locations because she had delivered Garcia’s food once Angelo had stopped her from going to the lunchroom. Maria also knew where Garcia’s father slept so they could build his rescue into the plan.

When Zack talked with her, Maria felt the best time to attack would be early morning, probably around four o’clock—an hour before the kitchen staff arrived and early enough so most of the rest would still be sleeping.

“Where do you think we should enter?” Zack asked Maria.

“Si, I think best plan would be to enter through back gate,” Maria said. “Use a bolt cutter on the door lock without much problem. It’s not strong.”

Maria wasn’t sure if there were designated time checks for the guards, but Zack figured it would probably be on the hour. If they came in at 0405 hours, they should have enough time before the next security check to get the job done.

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“If we plan to enter through the back gate, silence the guard, then jimmy the lock on the kitchen door if needed, we should be in the kitchen,” Zack said. “From there, I’ll take one group to Garcia’s room, then one team under Harper could go to her father’s room.”

“Okay,” Harper said. “But I think we need to have something to silence her dad and anyone else in the way if they protest.”

“Absolutely,” Zack replied. “The third team under Lopez will anchor the hallway in case anyone should come out of a room.”

Lopez nodded. “Sounds good.”

“If things go as we expect, which unfortunately they never do, we should be out by 0430 hours,” Zack said. “But we must be out before the kitchen staff arrives and the next guard change happens.”

Agent Lopez was able to obtain twelve sets of night vision goggles as well as flashlights the team could use in the dark. He brought in twelve M9 9 mm pistols, and twelve Heckler & Koch 9 mm MP5 submachine guns outfitted with sound suppressors.

Zack looked at the array of weapons with appreciation. “I love the MP5 for close-in fighting. I hope I won’t need to use it, but if I do, it will be fine.”

Lopez also obtained a garbage truck they could use for reconnaissance. He found a driver who did not look suspicious.

The driver took them around to the back of the house and down an asphalt alley on a recon mission.

Zack spotted the eight-foot-tall wall, and he noted the gate for trash pickup and resupply in the back by a door. Bingo. Their plan was coming together.

When they returned to discuss the operation in their headquarters, Agent Randolph agreed to be waiting with the two vehicles for their getaway as well as another team to be held in reserve.

Zack glanced at Randolph. “If we run into trouble, your team has to be ready to back us up.”

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“No problem,” Randolph replied. “We need to set our radios so they are operational on the same frequencies.”

“I’ll have one of my commo men with me in case there are any problems,” Lopez said. “He can check everything out before we start.” Then Lopez smiled. “Of course, he will double-check, then triple-check.”

Zack looked around the room. “I think this is the best we can do with limited time to prepare. Any more thoughts?”

Heads nodded, so Zack knew this was it. He called Admiral Steele at 2000 hours to brief him on the plan.

Zack almost didn’t tell the admiral so he would have deniability, but he felt he couldn’t keep it from him. Zack hoped to spot Gold Tooth. He had never been a sniper or been assigned to kill someone, but he felt if anyone deserved to die, it would be Gold Tooth.

When he finished briefing the admiral, Zack held his breath.

He didn’t know what he would do if the admiral said no.

Steele simply said, “Bring her back to us. Good luck.” Then he hung up. *** Zack tossed and turned like he always did before every operation the Rangers undertook. This one had special meaning for him as this was rescuing his best friend, Garcia.

Was this a mistake? Would Angelo change his mind? Zack didn’t think he would. Angelo was responsible for the hit on T.J. and they all knew Gold Tooth worked for him. Could they prove it? Probably not.

The hours dragged by. He looked at his watch. One o’clock, two o’clock, he couldn’t wait. He got up and dressed in his battle gear—waterproof pants with extra pockets for knives, spare radio, and a first aid kit.

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To further prepare, he had ordered an MP5 from Lopez and had spent an hour on a range last night getting the feeling for it.

He had then spent the night cleaning it, checking it, making sure everything was in working order. He did the same thing with his favorite pistol. He couldn’t afford any jams in the weapons.

Lopez had provided a special knife in case there was a problem with a guard up close. Zack had practiced pulling the knife out and using the strokes he might need. Brass knuckles, a club. Did he have everything he needed? Best he could tell.

At two-thirty, he walked into the other room. As he expected, there stood Harper, Lopez, Randolph, and four of Lopez’s Special Forces team. Lopez had told Zack he would trust these men with his life. Zack knew they might have to.

Lopez suggested they put the sound suppressors on the machine guns and pistols, and Zack agreed. They took the operation step-by-step, walked it through again twice.

They checked radios once more with the ear plugs to mute the sound, using code words to make sure they knew who was talking. Fortunately, Lopez’s troops had trained with American Rangers, and they spoke almost perfect English and understood every move they planned to make.

Zack stayed uneasy about one step in the operation. He looked at Harper. “Do you think Maria can be trusted?”

“Yes,” Harper replied. “After talking to her yesterday afternoon, I feel she is trustworthy. She had really enjoyed getting to know Garcia and wanted to help.” He chuckled. “Plus, she hates Gold Tooth. Guess he’s a real bastard.”

Now the question would be if she might panic in the middle of the operation. Zack wasn’t sure, but they were using her to get them in quietly and lead them to Garcia and her father. One other thing he worried about was if Angelo had expected this and moved Garcia.

Zack tried to anticipate everything. Angelo was an enemy worthy of serious consideration. A brilliant man who would stop 223

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at nothing to get his way. Had he planted a bomb to go off in the event someone tried to sneak in? He had to be constantly concerned about enemies trying to overthrow him.

Zack had thought the operation through step by step like he always did and talked it through with Harper. “The breakpoint has to be Garcia’s father,” Zack said. “Will he come willingly?

Maybe panic? Have a heart attack?”

“Good questions,” Harper said.

“I know CPR,” Zack said, “and Lopez has brought a machine to get his heart beating again if he panics and has a heart attack.

We have a blanket to wrap him in and two of Lopez’s men are big and strong enough to carry the old man.”

Harper smiled. “If all else fails, we have a needle to knock him out.”

“I’ve got extra clothes for Garcia,” Zack said. “We have no idea how she’s been treated. If she’s been allowed to keep her clothes? Been abused? Terrible thoughts.”

Finally, Zack sat at the table with the others, thinking. For now, everyone had their own thoughts. Trying to make sure they had everything they were expected to have, professionals, not needing someone to check on them, but it was yet his duty as a leader to double-check. Double-check, then triple-check.

Zack glanced at Lopez. “Do we have drivers for the vehicles, and have you checked to make sure all of the vehicles are in working order?”

“Absolutely,” Lopez replied. “We can’t afford for them to stall as we are trying to make our escape. I’ve got a backup team for you, and if you run into trouble, a plan to break you out and get you the hell out of there. Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

It was all there, Zack thought. Every step in the operations plan. What had he forgotten? He didn’t have the normal close air support—jets keyed to map coordinates in case they got into trouble. Artillery ready to come to the rescue if they got pinned 224

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down. Lopez did have two helicopter gunships, linked to Zack’s commo in case they needed gunship support.

“Okay,” Zack said to Harper. “Let’s go over the operation one more time. It’s simple and short.”

Harper nodded. “Talk me through it one more time.”

“Maria will open the back door. We’ll leave one man to cover the door to make sure a guard doesn’t appear. Maria is to lead us through the kitchen and into the hallway. She will point out Garcia’s room for my team, then lead you and two other men to Garcia’s father’s room. One backup man to help if her father causes problems.”

They had timed it out. Twenty-four minutes in and out.

Twenty-four of the most important minutes of his life. Garcia was his best friend. Couldn’t leave her. Couldn’t fail her. Had to accomplish this mission and get it done. Admiral Steele’s guidance was simple. Get her out and bring her home. That’s exactly what he planned to do.

Here it was—finally 0315 hours. In a way, he had been dreading the exact moment, yet he welcomed it. Like every operation, the hardest part was the planning. Check and recheck.

Then it was a matter of walking through it—the longest, and maybe the shortest twenty-four minutes of his life.

He knew the other members of their crew were ready. They all knew the cost of failure and couldn’t let it happen. This was Garcia, and they were going to get her out and bring her to safety, and they were going to do it right now.

Zack walked outside. A warm evening. Gentle breeze.

Probably an ocean breeze. Maybe before they left to go back home, they could enjoy the ocean. No time to think about that now. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

He walked back along the line of the vehicles. Checking, rechecking. Everyone was there. They were all ready. Now it was time to go. Time to hit the line of departure and move out. He 225

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patted each driver on the arm as he walked up the line and got in his lead vehicle.

He nodded to the driver, who knew what that meant: push down on the accelerator and move out. His vehicle moved forward. I’m coming, Garcia. Hang on, I’m coming.

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34 Veracruz, Mexico, September 10, 0405 hours The jeep, followed by the two trucks, pulled up and stopped a block away from Target Zero at 0350 hours. Each team jumped out, ready to implement their part of the plan. Zack had picked a route up the alley to minimize any possible chance of Angelo and his crew discovering their plan.

As planned, it took nine minutes to reach the back door, so at exactly 0403 hours, Zack stood at the door, ready to open it.

He heard a click and pulled. The door opened slowly and quietly, with minimal noise from the hinges.

Inside, Maria stood there, a small smile on her face. Zack turned sideways to slip by her, as did the other team members.

When the last member entered, Maria allowed the door to slip quietly closed.

One team member stood in front of the door, knowing another team member would stand on the other side of the door, in the shadows, so as not to be easily seen.

Zack followed Maria through the kitchen and into the hallway. A hallway he had seen three times, but definitely not with this degree of stress running through his body. He didn’t think about it because he had other more important things to think about. Garcia.

Maria led Zack to one of the doors off the hallway and unlocked Garcia’s door. He grabbed the bag with the extra clothes, hopefully properly sized, from one of the men. Motioning for the 227

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man to stand back by the door, he entered the room and turned on his night flashlight.

He heard a yawn and saw movement in the bed. A head of black hair came up, and he saw the most beautiful face in the world. Garcia.

He held his finger up to his lips. She picked up on the clue immediately. Zack handed her the bag of clothes, then turned to face the door. Some people say women are slow to dress. In thirty seconds, a fully clothed Garcia stood next to him. He gave her a quick hug. Longer hugs could wait until later.

He motioned for her to follow him. She quietly followed.

They were back out in the hallway three minutes after he had entered.

“My father?” Garcia whispered.

“Harper’s getting him,” Zack replied.

Garcia nodded.

Four minutes later, Harper came back but no sight of Garcia’s father. “Where is her dad?” He whispered to Harper.

“Apparently, he has been moved, and Maria is not sure where.

She is looking for him.”

Zack knew every moment was precious. The plan had been set for twenty-four minutes at the most, and they were already at twenty-one minutes.

Zack motioned to Harper. “You take Garcia out. I’ll join the search for her father.”

Harper nodded and motioned for Garcia to follow him. She shook her head.

“Go, please,” Zack said. “Maria is leading the search for your dad, and I’m going back to help. Go, please, I can’t worry about you and your dad at the same time.”

She looked at him, and he saw her world-famous hard-nosed look, but then she relented and went with Harper.

Zack turned and ran back along the hallway, looking each way to try and figure out where everyone was. He spotted Lopez 228

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outside a door. Glancing at his watch, he saw they’d been inside twenty-seven minutes. Too long. They needed to leave.

Maria shook her head and ran to the next door. She opened it with her master key and looked inside. She stepped out into the hallway and motioned Lopez to come inside.

Zack hurried to the door and looked inside. He saw an elderly man sitting on the side of the bed, shaking his head, obviously confused. One of Lopez’s men tried to put a shirt on the man, and he refused.

“Use the needle,” Zack whispered. “We need to get the hell out of here. Already been inside too long. The cooks will be here in another four minutes, and things will begin to crank up. The guards will be looking for coffee. We’ve got to be gone. Now.” Lopez covered Garcia’s father’s mouth and inserted the needle. There was a murmur from her dad, and then he flopped back onto the bed. Lopez motioned to one of his bigger men, who reached over and picked him up. Lopez threw a blanket over him, and they headed for the door.

Zack froze when he heard Maria’s voice. She spoke to someone in Spanish, which he couldn’t understand. Then she poked her head in the door. “The senior cook is here. He’s headed down the hall but will be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Let’s go,” Zack said. “Maria, show us the fastest way to get out.”

Maria led them down the hallway and turned a corner. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Zack looked to see one of the guards blocking her path.

Something flashed, and a shadow came out of the corner, kicking the guard’s knee so he started to fall, then giving him a karate chop, which knocked him out. Zack had to smile.

“You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun,” Garcia whispered. “Are you going to just stand there and look at me or toss me a pistol? Let’s get out of here.”

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Zack nodded and pulled his pistol out of the holster and tossed it to Garcia. God, it was great to have her back with him again.

They double-timed it down the hall and turned a corner to head into the kitchen. Then toward the back door. Another guard was drinking coffee and looked up. “What are…?”

He never finished as Garcia gave him a karate chop to the Adam’s apple, and he fell to the floor holding his throat. They rushed into the kitchen. Zack turned to see another guard behind him.

The guard raised his rifle but never got it up to fire as Zack knifed him in the stomach. He fell to the floor, grabbing for the knife, but Zack pulled it back.

Zack stepped outside to see a crew member of Lopez’s team lifting Garcia’s dad into the back of the van.

A large man stepped outside on his left. “Stop, or I’ll shoot,” he called. The gold tooth sparkled in the lights from the van when he yelled.

Zack raised his machine gun. Gold Tooth heard the click of the weapon, but before he could turn and fire, Zack let loose with a burst from the gun that seemed to cut Gold Tooth in half.

Zack paused for a moment to stand over the inert body of Gold Tooth. “Remember T.J.,” he whispered.

He spotted another shadow to his left. Turned. Angelo looked at him. Zack raised his weapon, nodded, then put it back down.

Turned again and ran, then jumped into the back with Garcia and her dad.

Garcia turned to Zack and smiled. “You realize you’re making me skip breakfast, and I love their tacos.”

Zack laughed. “Get over it.”

The motor roared as they pulled out, and the driver floored it down the alley.

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*** When Admiral Steele heard they had been able to rescue Garcia and her dad and also had obtained the release of Jasmine Wilson, he arranged for a plane to bring all of them home.

“I’m concerned about getting to the airport without running into problems,” Zack said. “I don’t trust Angelo any farther than I can throw him. I’m sure he’s stung by what we did, and it won’t take him long to organize a response. I can’t relax until we’re out of here.”

Agent Lopez provided the answer. At 1300 hours that afternoon, the group sat in armored personnel carriers awaiting the plane.

A moment later, Zack spotted a military transport plane coming in from the north to the Veracruz airport. Zack reached over and shook hands with Agent Lopez. “Thanks so much for all you’ve done. We wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Lopez replied. “The best thanks you can give me is to let people know we have a capable force here trying to do an honest job. Please encourage your government to get on the drug problem. If the U.S. doesn’t focus on it, we are helpless here.”

“I understand,” Zack replied, “and will do everything I can.”

He shook hands again, then headed for the plane with Harper, Garcia, her father, who was still frustrated, and Agent Randolph.

Zack also planned to take Maria on the flight. She would have been in grave danger if he didn’t take her with them.

He had talked to her and found she worried not only about herself but also her mother and two children. So with the help of Agent Lopez, she had sent a vehicle to pick them all up and bring them to the airport.

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He had asked Agent Fairchild to meet with the immigration staff and see what she could do. With Admiral Steele’s backing, she was able to arrange for clearance to bring the four to the United States.

Garcia and Maria had a wonderful reunion when they met at the airport, and Garcia realized what Maria had done.

After they had boarded, the pilot came back from the cockpit. “Once we’re in the air, we’ll be able to hook you in with Admiral Steele back at the White House. He’s looking forward to an update on your adventures here in Veracruz. I understand they were quite an undertaking.”

Zack nodded back. “You might say that. To be honest, it was one hell of a time, one I hope to never have to relive.”

“Well, let me head up front and get us on our way.”

Zack heard the roar of the engines, a familiar sound he’d heard many times before in Iraq and Afghanistan, but he was particularly delighted in feeling the plane move forward and away from all the dangers in Veracruz.

He had no idea how Angelo would respond, particularly after Zack had killed Gold Tooth yet spared Angelo himself, but right now, he didn’t care. He figured he would tell no one, except Admiral Steele, about Angelo. `He hooked his seat belt. Took a quick look back and waved at Garcia. She had never looked better to him. Then he leaned back and let the plane carry them away from Veracruz and toward home.

Zack sat still, trying to get his mind around what he wanted to say in a briefing. He pulled out a notebook and looked over the summary he had scratched out for the admiral. He glanced over at Harper and shared what he was doing. “I thought I’d go over the events as I remember them. Feel free to add as we go.”

The co-pilot walked back to Zack’s seat. “Sir, we’re in the air and on our way.” He leaned over to whisper to Zack. “Agent 232

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Fairchild is on the radio for you. Says Admiral Steele would like to talk. You can take it up front.”

Zack waved to Garcia and headed for the cockpit. When he reached the cockpit, Zack heard Fairchild say, “Here’s the admiral.”

Admiral Steele came on the line. “I don’t want to hit you right now. Know you’re exhausted. I’d like you guys to put together a briefing for the president, and I’ll set it up.”

“Will do, sir.”

“He’s going to want the briefing as soon as possible. I don’t know yet whether the news media covered the operation. Is Garcia there?”

“Here, sir,” she called, “and yes, I’m safe thanks to Zack and Harper, plus a terrific team. It got pretty close for a while, but I knew the guys would get me out.”

Steele laughed. “Well, welcome back. A whole bunch of us were worried about you. Is your dad with you?”

“He is, sir, but I’m not sure how he feels about it. He was in the middle of what he really wanted to do and frustrated it blew up in his face.”

“I understand,” Admiral Steele said. “Hopefully, he can tune back into the project with the professor he worked with. I guess we don’t have any idea on his status?”

“Not yet, sir,” Zack said. “But the last time I talked with Angelo, he told me he would have no trouble releasing Garcia’s dad. It was Garcia he thought we had sent to spy on him.”

Steele thought for a moment, then said, “Because of possible international complications, the president will want to include State, CIA, Defense, Drug Enforcement, FBI, and Border Enforcement. Also, I’d like Garcia and T.J. to be there.”

Zack thought for a moment, then suggested he add Agent Lopez. “He was critical to our plan and is a terrific agent. I know there are a lot of complications adding him, but I think it’s 233

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important to get our hands around the drug issue. We are killing law enforcement in Mexico.”

Steele stayed silent for a moment. “Let me think about what you say. I’m sure many layers in Mexico might need to be involved.”

“We need to make sure the president knows we had to kill Gold Tooth in the firefight to get Garcia out safely.”

“Yes,” Steele replied. “I don’t mourn this Gold Tooth, but the president needs to know there was a fatality in the operation.”

Zack thought through the operation. “It actually went smoothly.”

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35 The White House, September 15, 0945 a.m.

Zack had hoped Agent Lopez would be invited to the briefing and was glad the three of them stood ready to brief at 0945 hours.

Lopez’s immediate superior had joined them.

Zack would go first, Harper second to address the FBI involvement, then he planned to acknowledge Lopez for his work during the attack. Steele had scheduled an hour as he wanted to leave time for questions.

Promptly at ten o’clock, President Bradford entered the room followed by his chief of staff, Philip Winard. The guard called attention, and once the president was at his chair, he said, “Okay, enough of the BS stuff, please be seated.”

The chief of staff looked at Zack and started to smile. “Okay, Kelly, let’s hear what you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

“Yes, sir, it turned out to be pretty complicated. The entire operation began with a quiet lunch at Mom’s, one of my favorite restaurants from my Pentagon days. Lunch was interrupted by a Russian contract killer, Sergey Artemis, who goes by the name Gold Tooth due to the large gold tooth he likes to wear on operations.”

Zack paused and looked around. “We understand, although I’m not sure we can prove it, he works for a Mafia kingpin in New York, Sonny Angelo. It turns out my partner at lunch, Major Wilson, flew missions for the drug enforcement people during Operation River Dance in Afghanistan, our efforts to stop the 235

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Afghan farmers from growing poppies which are the base for cocaine.”

The chief leaned back in his chair. “What a piece of crap that operation was.” He glanced over at the drug enforcement staff member, who nodded.

“Gold Tooth accused Major Wilson of killing one of the members of the staff and stealing all of the resin which goes into the cocaine. He shot Wilson in the head. It could have killed him, but the bullet grazed his head.”

“How is he?” the president asked.

Zack motioned for T.J. to stand. “Fortunately, he’s with us today.” This led to a round of applause for T.J., who then sat.

Zack smiled, then continued. “We researched this Operation River Dance, which I might add the drug enforcement staff and the CIA were very helpful to us. We found out the staff member in question, Six Alpha, was killed by one of the Afghan drug lords and the resin split between them.”

The chief raised his hand. “Why did you follow up on the program?”

“We knew the shooter would continue to go after T.J. unless we could show someone else had been involved. In addition, T.J.’s wife was kidnapped by the Mafia and flown to Mexico.”

The president’s eyes widened. “What? Somehow I missed that.”

Zack nodded. “Kidnapped right out of the hospital and a senior FBI agent guarding her room shot and killed. They threatened to kill his two kids if Jasmine didn’t go with the killer.”

“Same guy?” The chief asked.

“I’m not sure. We think another hood. I’d like to ask Garcia to brief on how she ended up in Mexico.”

Zack stepped back, and Garcia moved to the podium. She had to adjust the microphone.

“I’ll summarize. My father is an archeology professor at the University of Texas. One of his fellow professors is Jeremy Kelce, 236

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a Harvard-educated professor, who is leading the research into what they call forgotten civilizations in Mexico.”

“You mean like Atlantis?” the president asked.

“Yes, sir. My father was invited to attend a conference where Kelce would be speaking. Neither of us realized Angelo was sponsoring the conference or that it would be in Mexico.

The chief leaned back in his chair. “Why is that?”

“They apparently wanted the conference to be completely secret. My father can be a challenge for me, so I agreed to go with him. We were basically kidnapped, put on a plane, and ended up in Veracruz, Mexico.”

“I don’t know if anyone else is, but I’m lost,” the chief said.

“Sir, let me try again,” Garcia said. “I believe Angelo wanted to know about River Dance because he wants to be in charge of a River Dance Revival in Mexico. He knows drug exports from Afghanistan are still huge, and he wants to capture the market.

Then I believe he plans to use the sale of items from those lost generations to launder his drug money.”

The chief glanced at the FBI director, Lavera Sullivan, who said, “She is absolutely right. We’d heard rumors to that effect, but they were only rumors. Ingenious. Being undercover, she was a short step ahead of us.”

The chief continued to look at Sullivan. “Now what?”

“I’ve been briefed by Agent Harper, who was in the middle of all this, and I believe we have stumbled into a real find. We should be able to track it and bust it up when we can prove everything.”

Zack stood up and replaced Garcia at the microphone. “I would like to express my appreciation to Agent Lopez, a senior agent with the Mexican Federal Police. I believe with our two countries working together, we can track this and stop it before it gets going.”

“We are monitoring it all right now,” Sullivan added.

“One last thing,” Zack said.

The chief laughed. “I’m not sure I can absorb much more.”

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“I believe this is good news. Angelo agreed to release T.J.’s wife but refused to release Garcia, which left us no alternative but to go in after her. We conducted a rescue mission three days ago and were able to free Garcia and her father. Unfortunately, Gold Tooth tried to stop us and was killed in a firefight.”

Admiral Steele stood. “And if I might add good riddance.”

“I have to agree with my boss,” Zack said. “Gold Tooth was a contract killer and able to skip out on a number of court cases because of threats to witnesses.”

Zack turned to face Agent Lopez. “Mr. President, Agent Lopez was indispensable in our operation to rescue Garcia and her father. He provided weapons and helped develop a schematic of the building for us to use during the operation. Agent Lopez and his team are well organized and trained and a credit to their service.”

Zack held up his arm to acknowledge Lopez to applause.

“What I’d like to do now, sir, is to summarize key points from all this.”

“Yes,” the chief replied. “Please do.”

“First, the police forces in Mexico are breaking under the weight of the drug program. The ball is in our court on this one.

Demand for drugs in the U.S. continues to increase. It flows freely from Afghanistan and South and Central America to various countries, including Mexico, and unless we can curtail usage, the system could break.”

The chief glared at the drug enforcement chief. “Is that correct?”

“Sadly, it is, sir.”

“Okay, I want you in my office to talk about what we can do to limit this. Zack, what else?”

“The second important area we stumbled on while we were there concerns the subject of the conference, forgotten civilizations.” Zack swallowed hard. “The Mafia chief had invited 238

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Professor Kelce to talk about this issue. One element, of course, is Atlantis, but there are many others.”

“I think it’s a real issue; one someone needs to address. I suggest we bring in Professor Kelce for a briefing. I know Colonel Garcia’s dad could help him.”

The president and the chief looked at one another. “Well, maybe,” the president said.

His comment was enough to make Garcia happy. She knew it would make her father happy, and to be honest, who knew?

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Books by Don Helin Fiction Devil’s Den Secret Assault Long Walk Home Angel’s Revenge Roof of the World Missing Twins Nonfiction Voices From the Pandemic From Army Regulations to Novels

During his time in the military, DON HELIN served at several stateside posts as well as overseas in Vietnam and Germany. He is the author of seven thrillers that draw from his military experience, including three tours in the Pentagon. He writes for TheBurg, a community magazine based in Harrisburg.

Don is the editor of the anthology, Voices From The Pandemic, and author of his personal memoir, From Army Regulations to Novels: A Writer’s Journey. Both are multi-international awardwinning books.

His novel, Secret Assault, was selected as the Best Suspense/ Thriller at the 2015 Next Generation Indie Book Awards.

His novel, Roof of the World, was a finalist in the 2020 Next Generation Indie Book Award and Twins is an International Book Award Finalist and received awards at the New York, Beach, and San Francisco Book Festivals.

For more information visit www.DonHelin.com.

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From a failed drug program in Afghanistan to the lost civilization of Atlantis, Colonel Zack Kelly is pulled into an insidious, wide-ranging scheme to revive the program. With dangerous secrets lurking behind every lead, Zack has to determine how the possibility of space aliens and Mayan artifacts relate to the Afghanistan River Dance program.

Zack isn’t alone in the search, the result being one partner on his staff is shot and lays near death, the other kidnapped to Mexico. Zack must uncover the truth before a mafia boss kills one or both of his partners.

“Buried Relics is an archetypal model for the twenty-first-century thriller. Genre vet Don Helin has struck a perfect balance between societal issues, duplicitous politics, and slam-bang action. His stalwart hero Zach Kelly helps plant his latest in the same hallowed ground as Brad Taylor, Brad Thor, and Mark Greaney. Terrific in all respects.”

—Jon Land, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

BURIED RELICS

“An intriguing blend of military thriller and fringe archeology, Buried Relics begins and ends with a bang. Geopolitical thriller fans, this is your jam (and Colonel Zack Kelly is your man!)”

—J.L. Delozier, award-winning author of The Photo Thief

BURIED RELICS

“Fast moving and cunningly wrought. A thrilling tale weaving U.S. national security, a Mafia kingpin, the ancient civilization of Atlantis, and a failed operation in Afghanistan into a taut plot sure to please.”

—David McCaleb, national bestselling author of Vestmen’s Gale

Don Helin

During his time in the military, Don Helin served at several stateside posts as well as overseas in Vietnam and Germany.

He is the author of seven award-winning thrillers that draw from his military experience, including three tours in the Pentagon. He also writes for TheBurg, a community magazine based in Harrisburg. For more information visit www.DonHelin.com.

Don Helin

“Zack Kelly is back in his wildest adventure yet! Don Helin combines devious plot twists with a deft hand at character development for this awesome new thriller. Highly recommended!”

—Jonathan Maberry, NY Times bestselling author of Cave 13 and The Sleepers War