Posts Tagged ‘Chapter 3’

Chapter 3

South of America’s border. Los Zetas, the most powerful drug cartel in Latin America, has joined up with Hezbollah and the Al Quds force from Iran to create a deadly alliance to transport both drugs and illegals into the United States.

According to Americas Report, a publication put out by the Center for Security Policy, the two organizations are now engaged in a myriad of illegal activities together. These activities include the drug trade, money laundering, and human trafficking. In addition, Hezbollah has been allowed to open up cultural centers and camps in many Latin American cities, which are being used as training centers for sleeper cells in the United States.

Former Assistant Secretary of State for Western Hemisphere Affairs, Roger Noriega believes an attack on the U.S. by Hezbollah is possible. He recently testified before Congress about such operations in Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina, and how this alliance is gaining ground in Central America and Mexico. Much of what Noriega outlined in various reports on this subject forms the underlying basis of the plot lines for Two Days in Caracas.

THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER THREE:

Bledsoe looked at me as if he didn’t quite believe I was being forthcoming with him.

“Does the Agency know how Ahmed arrived in the States in the first place?”

“Carlton said he flew to Mexico City from Damascus on a Lebanese passport. Once he got to Mexico, he disappeared. But since Hezbollah has ties with the Zeta drug cartel, our analysts believe the cartel helped him make his way up to Nuevo Laredo, over the U.S. border, and then on to Dallas. They’re still pulling the data threads on that connection though.”

Bledsoe said, “I know the cartel must be involved in this, and I’ll tell you why.”

He opened the red folder and removed a single sheet of paper. “About a year ago, after I made several unsuccessful attempts to obtain any intel on the drug cartels operating here, I finally recruited an asset inside the Zeta ring. His name is Hernando, and, although he’s a very low-level employee, he’s a solid source of information.

“Right now, all he does is take care of administrative details and run errands. I’ve been very cautious about using him because I want his bosses to trust him completely. That way he can work his way up the ranks and be privy to the kind of information we can use to bring down the cartel’s entire network. I’ve been carefully grooming him for over a year now. It’s been a slow process, but I’m certain we’re going to get some results soon.”

“I haven’t forgotten your cautious nature, Toby.”

He stared at me for several seconds, probably trying to decide if my remark was meant as a compliment or a criticism.

I tried to look non-committal.

He went on. “For the past six months, the cartel’s been ferrying drugs into the States using couriers who pose as tourists from San José. Since my asset arranges visas and airline tickets for them, I asked him to photocopy the passports of the mules they were using to move their product north. Here’s the list I made after he gave me the passport copies.”

He handed me the sheet of paper he’d been holding in his hand.

As I scanned the contents, he asked, “Anything jump out at you?”

Advertisements

Chapter 3

In this excerpt from Chapter 3, the main character in One Night in Tehran, Titus Ray, sounds as if he might be a bit vain about his looks. That’s only because he is.

The CIA tries to recruit people who are outstanding in every way, except for their physical characteristics. A person shouldn’t be too short or too tall–that would make them more noticeable, especially in an overseas environment, where they are already apt to be remembered because they are foreigners.

Neither should a recruit be too beautiful or too ugly, because that too would make them stand out in a crowd. The goal of a CIA recruiter is to find men and women who, while being trustworthy, intelligent and physically strong, look very ordinary and forgettable.

Titus Ray qualified because he had a face that “blended.”

THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER THREE:

When I thought about who might be assigned to my debriefing team, I decided it was time to shave off my beard. I also decided, after studying my face in the bathroom mirror, that Terry Howard was wrong; I didn’t look that bad. Granted, I wasn’t George Clooney handsome, but who was?

Years ago, someone had told me I was a pretty good-looking guy. Since then, no one had told me otherwise.

My trainers at The Farm had described my face as one that “blended.” They considered that a good thing. Put me in a restaurant, a bus station, a mosque, and I blended right in. I didn’t draw attention.

Only, as it turned out in Tehran, one time I did.

After taking a quick shower, I put on the clothing supplied for me by Support Services—a pair of dark slacks and a blue oxford shirt. My debriefers would be in very formal business attire, but I knew if I looked halfway decent and appeared to be in my right mind, that’s all they expected of me. Unlike Bud Thorsen—who had a nervous breakdown after a two-year stint in Yemen and had arrived at his debriefing sessions in his pajamas—I did not want a transfer to a desk job.

At least, I didn’t think so.