The Yucatan Connection

by Chuck Kimball

Overview

While on a previous assignment, Lyle Mercer was unable to stop the flourishing drug trade originating in Pakistan. During this monumental endeavor he had assassinated suppliers and agents in many parts of the world, in the Bayou in the southern US, in France, and in Egypt. All he had really achieved was the temporary containment of the drug supply. Now the operation was back in force. Once again, a deep black controller working for POTUS (President of the United States) had asked him to risk his life for the homeland. With Brett Thompson, his partner, he is preparing to engage in a perilous undertaking which the two men were not sure they could handle.

From the discovery of drugs and weapons in a cenote (natural water reservoir) in the Mexican State of Yucatan, the stalking and the assassination of the Chief of Detectives in Mexico City, the tortuous detour in Colombia, the pursuit into the bayou to eliminate thugs with crossbows, these two partners find themselves engaged in an incredible chase to eliminate drugs and arms dealers.

This long and often fruitless hunt is targeting one kingpin in particular who is transporting his illegal merchandise by submarine to the United States. The smugglers’ extensive connection to Russia for sophisticated arms, and to the Orient for heroin, added to the genius of the traffickers inventing new methods to keep their profitable entrepreneurship thriving, may be too challenging for these two highly trained deep Black Ops agents.

Mentally tortured by love for a woman has driven one of the partners to a breaking point at times. Will the love for his country and the devotion to his woman be an obstacle to the common cause, the exclusion of drugs and weapons entering the United States?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781524626914
Publisher:	Author Solutions Inc
Publication date:	11/16/2016
Pages:	350
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.94(d)

Read an Excerpt

The Yucatan Connection

A Lyle Mercer Thriller

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By Chuck Kimball

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2016 Chuck Kimball
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5246-2693-8

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CHAPTER 1

WASHINGTON DC Present day

The early morning hours found the temperature and the humidity to be high. It would be a warm balmy day for the residents and bureaucrats of Washington DC. The two guests of the Hilton Inn were just beginning to leave a deep sound sleep to enter a state of awareness. Even though they had been unconscious for less than four hours, these two agents could be alert within seconds. They were almost like robots, highly trained by both the CIA and the special military special forces personnel to respond instantly to any level of threat.

Brett Thompson and Lyle Mercer had been on dangerous clandestine operations for several years in the past and had faced death many times, together and apart. Almost simultaneously they shouted, "Lock and load, time to get up."

Lyle was thinking about all the questions that Brett had asked him, interrogation style, the night before, regarding the romantic side of his life. He jokingly addressed Brett, "Get a quick shower stud, leave little thunder alone and we will have time for some breakfast before the Colonel picks us up. Maybe Willie will provide breakfast this morning." Willie was an agent who had briefed them the day before.

Lyle showered, and as usual, he followed his scrub down with a cold rinse. After toweling his body vigorously, he was now very much alive, full of stamina. Soon, he dressed and said, "Let's go get a roll, fruit, and coffee from the continental breakfast buffet before the Colonel gets here."

Both men were on their second cup of coffee when a tall man, rugged looking, with the collar of his shirt unbuttoned and slightly turned up, walked in. In his fifties, his black hair speckled with white on the temples. He was not overly handsome, but masculine and refined. The stylish and charming man a woman would look at twice. He walked up behind Lyle and Brett, and in a stern voice said, "About time you sleepy heads become part of the living. Finish slurping your coffee. We have to meet Willie in forty-five minutes. The traffic is a bitch out there."

Like so many times over the years, as if rehearsed, the two men replied in a firm voice, "Yes, sir." The ride to the sit-com room went smoothly and at slow speed in the heavy morning traffic of commuters on their way to work. The Chevy Tahoe with its blacked out windows and government plates was equipped with red and blue strobe lights well hidden in the front of the vehicle, inside the radiator grill. These lights were turned on, yielding minimum advantage. The arrival at the Pentagon was uneventful as the marine guards were familiar with the vehicle and its license plate. At the checkpoint, most of the Marines knew the Colonel, this vibrant man who radiated authority. With quick thanks, and a touch of his forefinger to his scalp, a salute, the Colonel and his two special agents were escorted by a guard to a secure and non-monitored meeting place down the bureaucratic halls. The colonel pleasantly warned the guard, "Be glad you are assigned to work here today. It's hot and muggy outside."

As the three men entered the sparingly furnished room, they immediately spotted Willie's briefcase on the table. Willie had thoughtfully ordered a pot of coffee, four cups, and two appetizing plates of sliced fruit and tempting pastries, some filled with thick vanilla cream. Staring at the delectable display of goodies, Brett expressed his appreciation, and popped off, "Willie you are the man."

As soon as Willie entered the room, he briefly greeted everyone and gave the signal, "Fill your coffee cups, we have a lot to cover. New Intel came in from the NSA wiretaps during the night. I need to fill you in, have the Colonel get you equipped, and send you on your way to Mexico as soon as possible." Willie gave off an appearance of one who had not slept much, he looked pale, and his eyes were sunken, yet his voice was clear and the tone was firm. Through his rigidity and seriousness, one could see Willie was highly conscientious and enjoyed what he did.

"First, the Fox is having the drug cartel meeting in Cancun, not in Acapulco." Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out a sheet of paper, studied it for a few seconds, and continued, "The NSA, as I told you before, has been recording all the cell phones and landlines used by the Mexican Drug Tsar, Detective Juan Manuel Ruis Fernando. The good news has that Fernando mentioned the name of the Fox during a telephone conversation last night. Although known to our agents, the Fox's name had always been absent from phone conversations in the past. He had remained anonymous, and this opacity had kept him off the screen. I know the Colonel, and also the two of you, have been wanting to hear this news. You are not going to believe this; his real name is Andre Renard. He was a gendarme in France for over a decade and was in charge of a unit of drug investigators, of all things. One day, without any reason, he resigned from his position. I have the FBI and our individual contact within the CIA working with French Intelligence as we speak, they are trying to get all the information and background we can on this scoundrel called the Fox."

"What the hell is he doing in Mexico?" Lyle asked, surprised.

"From the information we received this morning, he has called a special meeting for the primary movers and shakers of drugs and arms entering the USA. Let me give you the names of the bastards that are expected to attend this mini-convention." Looking at his sheet, pretending he was reading, Willie gave the names from off the top of his head as his memory was excellent. "Present at the at the gathering there will be a former Mossad agent named Yitro. We have Juan Diego Razo, head of the Templars, a powerful drug cartel in Mexico. A third individual will attend the meeting, the famous arms dealer Sergei, from Russia. Sergei had never been known to deal in drugs, only in arms. Also listed, a first rate asshole named Nikolay, from Russia. And finally the Fox's henchman and top Lieutenant, Pierre Langlois who is already there. The NSA overheard that the Fox said something about taping and recording someone, but nothing concrete came out of this statement. The agency mentioned a man called the Chechen, and also a new representative from China who should be at the meeting, but no name is available." Then insistently looking out over the top of his reading glasses, Willie continued, "Gentlemen this information and opportunity are a godsend. The good Lord works in mysterious ways at times." Then he made the sign of the cross with his right hand and smiled.

Lacking in reverence due to the questionable sincerity, three voices in unison uttered, "Praise the Lord."

The Colonel looked at both his men as if he was awaiting their approval and said, "Willie, I can have my two best men here, outfitted and on their way to Mexico by eighteen-hundred hours. What else do you have for us besides the NSA report?"

"On the side of the table, here, I have four encrypted cell phones. One for each of you, and one for a man named Oshart Tedrick Pennington. Several years ago the NSA arrested this individual for repeatedly hacking into their computers. What is interesting, this same agency wanted to locate him for years without success. Finally, one of the hackers arrested sold Pennington out in exchange for a light sentence. Since Oshart had not released or sold any information about the NSA to anyone, the agency offered to give him a pardon if he would go to work for a secret group within the NSA. Oshart is the geek of the geeks. He works the keyboard so fast, he seems to have eight arms and reminds of an octopus moving its eight sucker-bearing arms all over. His handle on the web was Octopus, and later it was shortened to Octo. He is so good that no one would have arrested him if one of the other geeks in his group had not sold him out for immunity. There were three of them, and they had contests on who could break through the firewalls, into secure government websites. Coming back to the phones, they will give you access to Octo. If you need information of any kind like getting ahold of the Colonel or me, feel free to use the phone. No one, and I mean no one, has access to these phones." Willie leaned forward and handed a phone to each of the three men.

It was Lyle who, concerned, spoke next, "Willie, I just finished an assignment where members from the NSA and CIA monitored me. I was captured and tortured, and almost killed because of corrupt government employees. What assurance do I have, other than your word, that someone will not be monitoring us while using that phone?"

Without hesitation, Willie responded, "Nothing is one hundred percent guaranteed, but death and taxes. All calls made on these phones are utilizing the same satellite used by both POTUS and the military chief of staff. That is the best anyone can do." In a commanding voice, it was the Colonel who spoke next, "Be assured Willie, both my men will activate the phones only in an emergency or to obtain indispensable information to carry out their assignment."

Looking first at the Colonel, then down at his notes, Willie replied, "Colonel I have set up a special liaison with the military chief of staff, a man named Colonel John Roberts. Anything you need in the way of aircraft, arms, or sea craft, he will, within reason, provide it or get it done for you. Only two people know of his assignment, code Divine Intervention, besides me. POTUS and the four-star General Roberts who is the Chief of Staff."

With a smile of relief, Colonel Jackson stated his input, "Colonel Roberts is a great man who served under me in several special forces assignments, one of the best of the best. I don't understand why he is on duty at the Pentagon. He was wounded while working with Seal Team Six in Pakistan. That is all I can tell you."

Willie was hoping there would be no more questions. He had one more statement to make, "One more thing about Operation Devine Intervention, what occurs down there in Mexico, I do not wish to know about it. That applies to me, but also to others at the top. Please use your best judgment as you have demonstrated in the past. Make the USA and people here safer with less access to drugs. Please, read between the lines." Willie closed his briefcase, looked at each man, nodded his approval in a paternal manner, and said. Both Lyle and Brett got up and walked around the room toward Willie. Anyone could tell there were trust and respect between the men. Lyle reached out Willie's right hand and said, "You are an unusual government bureaucrat, I know I speak for Brett, we are glad to be working with you, sir."

"Double yes for me also," Brett said as he extended his hand.

Before replying, Willie brought his right hand over his mouth and silently studied the two men. His face puckered up, and he said, "From what I have heard about you two from POTUS and the Colonel, your allegiance is the best reward a man can receive." Willie then took each man's hand in a firm grip and shook it forcefully. "Gentlemen, please take a seat, POTUS has made arrangements with his Chef to prepare and serve you prime rib for lunch, and he is offering you a bottle of his best wine, a Cabernet Sauvignon, Caymus Vineyards 1974 from the Napa Valley. Be safe and return to us." Then Willie briskly picked up his briefcase and left.

CHAPTER 2

Colonel Jackson went over logistics with the men for close to two hours before they heard a light knock on the door. Two waiters dressed in suits pushed a cart on wheels, bringing plates, glasses, and linen into the room. Without a word, the waiters agilely spread a starched white tablecloth over the old hickory table, laid the plates and wrapped utensils on the white table cloth. In the middle of this semi-elegant display was a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and in a bucket of ice was a bottle of Riesling. The lunch was ready. The first waiter who had entered the room turned to the Colonel and said, "If you need anything else we will be just outside the door."

The three men, a little amazed and flattered by the unexpected attention said thanks. Then Brett looked at Lyle with a puzzled facial expression and made a cynic remark, "Maybe this is the last supper."

Even the Colonel could not hold back laughter. He then quietly said to himself. "I sure hope not."

After the complimentary meal so kindly provided by POTUS, there were still a few concerns to address before the official end of the meeting, among them getting the weapons and other items needed into Cancun, Mexico. Wiping his face off the Colonel spoke first, "I am sending you down on the same small jet flown to pick up Lyle in Redding. You will be leaving today at seventeen hundred hours. The arms you requested as well as the other supplies will be brought in Cancun using diplomatic pouches and luggage. I have made arrangements for you to pick these supplies up at the airport. The CIA and other government employees ignore the contents of the pouches. Each of you will have three new passports, the standard credit cards, and identification to match. Remember you have the one particular card I gave you. Each time you answer the phone use the letters, DI. It stands for your mission code, Divine Intervention. If in trouble, captured, anything, say, "It's hot here." That will indicate you are speaking under duress."

"Sounds like we are going into a den of lions. It will be a pleasure to give out a little retribution down there. I would love to get the Fox in my cross hairs." Lyle had his arms out in front of him, holding an imaginary sniper rifle.

"Has any arrangements been made to medivac us out if one of us is severely wounded."

"You both will have your standard med kits. You can handle minor injuries with the supplies provided. We have a CIA doctor there as a last resort. I prefer you don't need that kind of help. OK, I will pick you up at the Hilton at about fifteen-thirty p.m. or so to give you a ride to the airport."

The Colonel was a real gentleman, firm, never harsh, always kind, "By the way Lyle, you probably need to make a particular call, here is the key to my office. Go down the hall and call that person before you go. It's going to be a week to ten days before you get back. I don't want you running around flapping like a chicken with his head cut off. I need an even-tempered man with a clear mind for this demanding project." The Colonel knew that no matter the difficulties, Lyle was always alert, sharp, and dependable.

"Yes, sir, and Roger that. I am on my way." Lyle's face was beaming, he grabbed the key and left the room immediately, so fast that Brett had no time to spout off something sarcastic.

After returning to the Hilton, they took quick military showers and packed their flight bags. In less than twenty minutes they were on their way downstairs to check out.

Both Brett and Lyle were waiting in the lobby where it was cool. Soon the Colonel pulled up in front of the Hotel in the all black Chevy Tahoe. As they walked toward the vehicle, they could feel the temperature and humidity had increased the last two hours. Both men were looking forward to leaving the DC area.

With Brett in the front seat and Lyle in the back, the Colonel pulled out and sped toward the airport. Inside the car, it was quiet for the first few miles. Colonel Jackson broke the silence, "I received an update from Willie after I dropped you off. Inside the folder, on the back seat, is a picture of Pierre Gustane, occasionally called Pierrot. He is the Fox's top Lieutenant. Attached to the photo is his bio sent by French intelligence. Just like his boss he was a gendarme at one time, and he worked with the Fox on the drug squad. About Nikolay, he was involved with Sergei, and his photo is in the file also. The only photo of the Chechen we could get is one taken when he had long hair and a beard. Study it carefully, and maybe you can pick out enough details to recognize him. By the way, our source did give us his complete name — Aleksey Imam Shamil. His parents gave him the first name of his father and his mother's maiden name. He is as ruthless as the Fox. There is also an updated photo of Juan Diego Razo, the new head of The Templars in Mexico. He is dark skinned like the Mayas of Yucatan. Look closely at the cross attached to the chain around his neck. Study this cross. Then Willie held it up and passed it to Lyle. You will note that the four ends or tips are not square like most Christian crosses. They are curved inward from an expanded outward tip."

Brett said, "Exactly the cross designed by the Templars. It all fits perfectly. I hope this asshole is not as prolific a fighter as the Templars were."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Yucatan Connection by Chuck Kimball. Copyright © 2016 Chuck Kimball. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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