The Money Trail
by
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Shelby squatted with her rear only inches from the damp leaves covering the ground for more than four hours, seldom taking the binoculars from her eyes as she watched the shiny white house that covered half of the small plateau overlooking the village below. Shelby eased one leg straight out while still squatting on the other to ease the stiffness and then repeated the motion with the other leg. Shelby knew if it had been necessary for her not to move it would not have been a problem. She had squatted in this position many times before with instructions not to move a muscle, to become invisible to anything or anyone watching, either man or beast. As a nine-year old she squatted for twelve hours at a time, not moving a muscle, knowing she would be beaten or starved if she did. The leather holster of her M11/9 Cobray that was attached to her hip brushed against leaves lying on the ground. The second gun, a Micro Uzi, was strapped to the middle of her back.
Twenty-seven huts, none made with anything resembling brick, were scattered in the few manmade clearings below. Shelby had not counted them after she made her way through the thick jungle to the spot she was now occupying. There had been no need to; she knew every inch of the ground around this wretched and ugly small place. She had last looked down from this exact spot twenty-two years ago when she was nine years old and running from the terror she had just witnessed in the big house on the plateau. Things had not changed, the village was still nothing but shacks made of sticks and leaves and mud. Looking at one particular house the memories came flooding back of a happy time when she was very young. But what child knows any of the world around her other than her father and mother and the jungle clearing to play in. The darkness and pain had not yet entered her mind, and Shelby allowed a small smile to cross her face as, in her memory, she watched herself running after a monkey and its baby. If anyone had witnessed this scene they would have sworn the small girl was talking to the monkey.
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About the Book
Deep in the Amazon Jungle she waits for the call that will tell her the prey is near. Sitting silently Shelby raises her field glasses and focuses in on the large white house on the bluff overlooking the narrow valley below. A "butcher" lives there and he's not a pig farmer. Sweat slowly trickles down between Shelby's breasts as she reaches around and adjusts the straps holding the M11/9 Cobray automatic securely in the small of her back.
Assistant Director of the F.B.I., Jordan Daniels, leans back in his office chair at F.B.I. headquarters in the United States and listens as the connection from Houston, Texas to the house deep in the Amazon Jungle is made. The phone is answered and in less than ten seconds the voice of the man he wanted to hear comes on. An order from this man had two of Daniels' agents killed in the United States and the time has now come to exact the price one pays for killing an F.B.I. Agent.
The most lethal agent ever trained also hears the connection and then the voice through the small device resting in her left ear canal. Shelby smiles as she puts away her field glasses and removes the straps holding her automatic weapon.
About the Author
This is the author's fourth book since his retirement, and he is still waiting for that dreaded writer's block you hear so much about. He has five other books swirling around in his head that he's trying to find the time to write. A fifth book was completed in conjunction with "The Money Trail" but has not yet been published. A sixth book, "The Time Sealers", will be published in the spring.