The Méjico Connection

By Judy Blevins and Carroll Multz

Well, it's not exactly mind reading but Lilly Gunter has her own set of talents. She is capable of reading lips—in several different languages. Having been recruited by the CIA to assist in uncovering a sinister plot to overthrow the government, she becomes embroiled in more than she bargained for. Mike Bianchi, a deep cover CIA agent, propels Lilly through a maze of murder, corruption, conspiracy and deceit.

A fast-paced story of international intrigue that will take you on a terrifying journey into the depths of subversive activity you never knew existed

• Language: English
• Publisher: BHC Press/Open Window
• Release date: Jul 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386396536

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THE MÉJICO CONNECTION

Copyright © 2018 Judith Blevins & Carroll Multz

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Open Window

an imprint of BHC Press

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018946353

Print edition ISBN: 978-1-947727-68-7

Visit the publisher at:

www.bhcpress.com

Also available in ebook

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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

Every great nation has faced threats from both inside and outside its borders. America is no exception going back to the Civil War when brother fought against brother—each side convinced it was on the right side of destiny. The threats from without are understandable; those from within are not. One nation indivisible has always been thought to be more than a hollow creed.

Your authors have been inspired by the historical account of the city of Troy where the Trojan horse made its’ grand appearance and succeeded in conquering the unconquerable. Our first international thriller, The Méjico Connection, has no hidden agenda and is not based on any opinion or desire to condemn our form of government. On the contrary, we still strongly believe in the elective process and our democratic way of life.

That having been said, sit back and enjoy a tale that was spun out of two writers’ imaginations. It is not based on paranoia but plain and simple rhetorical hyperbole.

Our special thanks to Gary and Shirley Carr, Michael Conklin, Fr. Donald Malin, Margie Vollmer Rabdau, and as always, our publisher, BHC Press, for their editorial and technical assistance.

To the brave men and women

who risk their lives each and every day

to preserve freedom, justice and the American way.

Gratitude is a lost art.

Friendship can turn on a dime.

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When we land we’re met by Juan Gonzalez, one of our CIA agents stationed here in Acapulco. After a brief meet and greet he escorts us to a rental car.

You have reservations at the Marques, he says and hands me the car keys. My car is parked over there. Juan points to the visitors’ parking lot. Follow me and we can have lunch together. That will give me a chance to tell you what we know about your target.

Over lunch at the hotel restaurant Juan brings us up to date. We’ve had your target and his wolf pack under surveillance twenty-four seven for some time now. In fact, one of our top agents, Sofia Quinnan, is embedded in Lobo’s residence working as a maid. She reported that some of Lobo’s employees showed up yesterday with a visitor who appeared to be more like a prisoner. From her description of the man, it could be Wilhelm Gunter.

Did she say what they did with the man?

Yes. She said Lobo has a wine cellar in the residence that she’s forbidden to enter. She’s not sure but she thinks the man is locked up there.

I look over at Cinci. It appears his attention is solely on the combination plate of authentic Mexican food he’s been consuming. However, I know he’s heard and processed every word.

How hard would it be to breach Lobo’s villa? I ask.

That SOB is as paranoid as anyone we’ve ever encountered, Juan replies. I guess in his line of work he has to be. He has a platoon of guards patrolling night and day.

Can the guards be bribed?

Hmm, probably not. Lobo is infamous for his brand of torture and execution.

How about a raid—an all-out frontal assault?

"The local police, of course, would not participate because most of them have been bought off but we have enough agents and assault weapons to do it on our own. Besides, the smaller our unit the better so as not to attract unwanted attention. The Mexican Navy’s special operations force, the Fuerzas Especiales, FES, is on standby in the event they’re needed."

Do you have explosives?

Hell, yes. Been dying to use ‘em, too.

What do you think?

My question is directed at Juan. However, Cinci responds, Sounds like a plan to me. He then crams the remains of a taco into his mouth.

Juan nods and says, I think our team would more than welcome the chance to take the fight to the enemy. What time frame are we looking at?

Has to be tomorrow night, we’re running out of time. Can you drive us past Lobo’s villa so we can get an idea of the layout?

Definitely. We can go as soon as we’re finished here.

Cinci puts down his fork and stands. I’m finished, he says.

Okay then, gad getter, I say. Let’s do it!

The three of us drain our Tecate and leave.

13413

My name is Michael Bianchi. However, family, friends and acquaintances call me Mike. My parents are first generation Americans with both sides having migrated from Italy. My grandparents met after they came to the United States. The Bianchis left Italy before the start of WWII and the Morellas fled shortly after Benito Mussolini allied himself with Adolph Hitler.

We are a close-knit family and every Sunday after Mass we gather at my grandparents’ home for a family dinner. Most of the men on both sides of the family served in the armed forces and as we sit around the dinner table we listen intently as they relive their battles—battles that ranged from WWII to the present. When Pearl Harbor was attacked in forty-one, both of my grandfathers were in their early twenties. They enlisted to help defend their adopted country. As a boy I relished the stories and longed for the day I could tell some of my own.

***

As the years passed, I outgrew my lust for hand-to-hand combat but still wanted to serve my country. During my college years I became intrigued with the idea of becoming an FBI agent. The week I graduated I submitted my application and after background checks and other preliminaries, I was successful in my bid to become an agent.

I spent twenty weeks at Quantico where I received extensive and rigorous training after which I accompanied seasoned agents into the field on hum-drum assignments. Although I was gradually assigned more important missions, I still found them less than challenging. This was my life for three years and with no upward movement, I decided to seek a more rewarding form of employment. In my search for other options the international role of the CIA appealed to me so I applied. Being a language major in college and a former FBI agent were definite advantages. I was a shoo-in. That was ten years ago.

***

Today when I enter CIA headquarters at Langley, Director James Neilson, spots me and motions me into his office.

Grab a seat, Mike, he says repositioning the stack of papers on his desk. "The techies that man the station in London picked up some chatter a few months ago from a British MI6 team."

Techies is our nickname for the computer specialists assigned to the Foreign Intelligence Service who gather, process and analyze sensitive information from around the world. MI6 is the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). In 2004 an Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Agency was created and operates under the Director of National Intelligence, DNI. However, the CIA, on behalf of the DNI, collects, analyzes, evaluates and disseminates foreign intelligence and engages in covert actions both at home and abroad.

Yes, I heard that, I respond. Has there been more—?

Yes, substantially more. The code has been broken and we’ve just determined that there’s a plot in the works to destabilize the U.S. economy, and in the process, overthrow the government.

I lean forward on full alert as the director continues, The chatter discloses that several nations hostile to the U.S., including Russia, are banning together to invest trillions of dollars in the stock market. The chatter also reveals that after a few months, these nations intend to simultaneously sell off their stock. Theoretically their massive withdrawals will cause panic on Wall Street and throw the stock market into a decline creating a global economic disaster similar to the crash of ’29. The U.S., of course, would be in a state of utter disarray, under mob rule and ripe for an outright takeover from foreign powers.

I nod. Neilson continues, Through listening to the chatter, we also learned that while America is in panic, shambles and mob rule, invasions are going to be launched from within to take down both our federal and state governments. We don’t know much about how the invasions are going to unfold. We’re still working on that. We speculate that the entire elaborate scheme is designed to overthrow the U.S. government and establish anarchy. Neilson leans back in his executive chair and gives me the look.

Oh, oh, here it comes.

Mike, we’ve got to find out where the funding is coming from to destabilize the stock market and who and how they’re recruiting for the invasions. It’s critical to our national security.

Other than all-out war, this is one of our worst nightmares. Have the President, Homeland Security and the other governmental agencies been informed? I ask.

Yes. I spoke to the President not long before you arrived. He gave us full reign to investigate as we see fit but to keep him informed of each situation as it develops.

Although I know by the way the conversation is going what’s in store for me, I ask anyway, What’s my assignment?

Neilson smiles. I would have bet on your reaction, that is if anyone would have been stupid enough to take my bet.

Now, I smile. The director knows me pretty well. I’m no James Bond but I do relish getting into the fray.

Neilson holds up a file and says, Your initial assignment is to find out who is funding the stock market manipulation and how the invasions are being assembled. The who, when, where and how! The techies were able to uncover a German who could be involved. His name is Wilhelm Gunter and at this juncture, we believe he’s a major player in the coup. He has a billion dollar empire in Acapulco. Your German, Russian, Spanish and possibly French will come in handy on this assignment. Neilson hands me the file and points to the door. "All the information we have to date is in this file. We’ve coded the operation The Méjico Connection. Good luck, Mike."

***

Back in my apartment I study the file. It includes a complete set of documents establishing my new identity. My cover is that of a highly successful business man who travels back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico keeping an eye on my investments in both countries. Accounts in my name containing sizable amounts of money have been established in Gunter’s banks throughout Mexico. I’m now known as Michael Ferrari.

***

On my first visit to Acapulco, with the help of the field agents who have been monitoring Gunter, a chance meeting between Gunter and me is hatched. I’m strategically placed in one of Gunter’s favorite restaurants and while Gunter is dining, I deliberately bump a waiter causing him to spill a tray of food on Gunter’s table. Gunter jumps up, immediately enraged. He curses, shouts and shakes a threatening fist at the waiter.

I intervene. "I’m so sorry, Señor. This was entirely my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going and bumped into the waiter."

Before Gunter can say anything I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to him, Please let me pay for any expense you might incur as a result of my clumsiness.

Gunter, still brushing food from his clothing, seems