Chapter 1

Jack Weaver stood naked on the terrace staring
out into the glorious Colombian sunset. He tossed
his Gerber Trident combat knife from hand to hand.
He had been in tight spots before but the situation
he found himself in now left him with one hell of a
decision to make.
“Raul?” A sultry voice came from the bedroom
behind him.
Jack responded to his undercover name. “Si?”
“What are you doing, lover? Come back to bed.”
She whined in Spanish and patted the silken sheets
on the monstrous king size bed. “We have hours yet
before the dinner party.”
Jack walked back into the bedroom continuing to
toss the wicked looking blade as he glanced at the
luscious dark haired beauty stretched catlike on the
satin maroon comforter. She was the most beautiful
woman Carlos had sent him to date. They had just
completed a kick ass round of hot sex and he
wished he could go one more round, but he
wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
He could leave now and wreck six months of excellent undercover work trying to bring down the largest and most dangerous drug cartel in Colombia, or he could stay and ignore a planned assassination attempt on the life of the new President-Elect on Inauguration Day.
He placed the knife on a walnut dresser, which
matched the four-poster bed. The beauty of the hand
carved richness of the wood and intricacy of the
design was not lost on him. He appreciated fine
things, including the woman watching him now.
Jack approached the bed, much like a panther
approaching its prey. He crawled onto the bed
beside her and patted her beautifully rounded
derrière. God, she was gorgeous.
“You have to go Angelina. I need to get ready for
the party and I can’t do that with you lying there
looking good enough to eat.”
She stretched and reached for him. “Just one more
kiss, Raul. Then I’ll be a good girl and go.” Jack
leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. She wrapped
her arms around his neck and pressed her soft
breasts against his rock hard chest. “That’s more
like it,” she purred.
Jack, known only as Raul Ramirez to Angelina,
broke off the kiss and unwound her arms from his
neck. “You really do need to go. If all goes well
tonight, I will send for you and we will pick up
where we left off. I’m going to take a shower and I
want you gone when I get back.” Jack stood
abruptly and crossed the thick Persian carpet to the
bathroom. He felt her eyes watch him as he went,
but he heard her slither off the bed. He left the
bathroom door open so he could hear her when she
left.
When he heard the door to his suite close, he
turned on the shower. Steam began to rise as the hot
water streamed onto the shiny black tile. This is a
hell of a mess, Jack thought, soaping his nearly
perfect body. His long black hair streamed past his
shoulders as the shampoo was rinsed away. The
muscles he scrubbed were well defined and solid,
signs of a disciplined mind. His role as the chief of
security for one of the most powerful drug cartels in
Colombia gave him many privileges, some of which
he would miss if he chose to go, but instinctively,
he knew what he had to do. He stepped out of the
shower and wrapped a fluffy black towel around his
waist. He stared into the mirror.
The reflection revealed a tall man finely
proportioned and well toned. He slicked back his
wavy hair into a ponytail and tied it with a leather
thong. He took a moment to study his reflection. It
was a face he’d begun to accept as his own with
premature creases lining his thirty-two year old
forehead. The high cheekbones, the slightly pointed
nose, and the square jaw belonged to him, but the
black goatee and the jagged scar that ran from his
right temple to the bottom of his ear did not.
Brilliant green eyes filled with worry stared back
at Jack from the mirror. Those eyes reminded him
of the ocean in Fort Lauderdale, where he grew up.
These eyes, like the rest of him, lied. Their color
today wasn’t even close to the natural chocolate
brown he’d been born with, courtesy of his Cuban
mother. Jack placed both hands palms down on the
smooth marble surface. Why did these things
always happen to him?
Jack Weaver, a.k.a., Raul Ramirez had been in a
lot of uncomfortable places, and done a lot of
uncomfortable things. First a Navy SEAL and then
working for the CIA, Jack saw more than any man
should see, but no matter where he was, from an
Iraqi desert to a drug lord’s palace on a Colombian
mountain top, Jack got the job done. Currently, a
CIA operative working on special assignment for
the DCI Crime and Narcotics Center, Jack was
gathering evidence in order to shut down one of the
most active drug cartels in Northern Colombia.
Posing as Cortez’s chief of security, Jack knew all
there was to know about the operation and had
enough criminal evidence to lock Cortez up for
many lifetimes. He only wished he had more time.
He might be missing the one piece that would lock
the case up tight and prevent some slick lawyer
from flushing a year’s worth of work down the
toilet.
Jack was used to tough decisions. He made them
every day. Why then was this one so hard? He knew
why. Normally he only had one mission. That made
the decision easy to make. This time he had two
options, both of which were equally important. He
was going to be forced to choose. Jack paused midstep on his way back into the bedroom. Or would
he?
Jack went to his laptop on the nightstand. Because
he was head of security, it only took a few key
strokes to disable the cell phone monitoring device
at the mansion. Pulling his overnight bag from
beneath the bed, he took his cell phone out of a side
pocket in the bag, the untraceable one he only used
for true emergencies. He punched in a number and
waited for her to pick it up.
“Hello? Jack?”
“Yeah Lucy, it’s me. Listen, I don’t have much
time to talk but I need you to do something for me. I
mailed some discs containing vital information to
my P.O. Box in D.C. I need you to go pick them up
and copy them. Put one set in a very safe place. I
will call you in a day or two and tell you what to do
with the other set. You got that?”
“Yes, I’ve got it, but what’s going on Jack, you
sound really troubled. I can hear it in your voice”
“That’s because I am.” Jack began to take clothes
out of his dresser and toss them on the bed. He
pulled out two pair of jeans, some green and brown
camouflage pants and four t-shirts. He stuffed them
into the overnight bag. “Lucy, I uncovered some
really bad shit down here. I can’t talk about it on an
unsecured line. I also have to ask you for your
complete confidence. Don’t tell anyone I’ve called
you or that I said there was trouble with the
assignment. I will hook up with you later because I
am coming back to the States tonight. Just do what I
told you with those discs. It’s very important. I’ve
got a feeling all hell is going to break loose where I
am now.” He sat down on the soft comforter.
“Okay, Jack. I’ll copy the discs and keep them
safe. You just take care of yourself. I love you. Call
me when you get back.”
“I will, Lucy. Thanks for everything. Talk to you
later.” Jack hung up. He reached over to the laptop
and with a few more keystrokes reactivated the
satellite monitoring device. Becoming chief of
security for a drug lord was not without sacrifice
but Jack was the best and sacrifice was no stranger
to him. The kills he’d performed for this scum bag
would keep most people up at night but not Jack. In
life there was law and there was justice. Doing what
he could to prevent drugs being sold in his home
country was his primary mission and bringing down
the largest cartel in Colombia would put a serious
dent in the trade. It probably wouldn’t stop it but
Cortez supplied thousands of dealers and Jack could
save thousands of lives. He just hoped what was on
those discs would get the job done.
He glanced over at the overnight bag. Leaning
over it, he sighed deeply. He would miss the luxury,
and he would miss the women. Jack groaned. Oh
God, how he would miss the women. How many
jobs do you get that come with free sex just by
asking? Being Chief of Security came with more
danger than Jack liked to think about, but the perks
sure made it worth it. He smiled as he thought about
Angelina’s hot body. Yes, definitely worth it, but
Jack was nothing if not committed to his job and his
country. With the information he possessed, it was
likely he would be arrested if he did not act upon it.
He had a great deal of data to de-code and analyze
in a short window of time. The inauguration was in
January and it was already November. To save the
President-Elects life he must go home now. He just
hoped Lucy would do as he’d asked and copy the
information on the cartel that he was sending to her.
If he could complete his assignment here and save
the future President’s life, he would consider that a
job well done.
Jack looked into the half packed bag and took
inventory. He laid the knife he retrieved from the
dresser gently on the burgundy comforter and
picked up the small digital camera and two discs
that were lying next to the bag. He unzipped the
hidden liner at the bottom of the bag and slipped his
treasures inside. If Carlos Cortez’s men discovered
these discs he was a dead man.
Jack shook his head. It didn’t matter now any
way. After he’d discovered the secret files that
described the sketchy details of what a man calling
himself the Emperor planned to do to President-
Elect Michael Hardy, Jack could not trust this
information to anyone until he got to Washington.
He would just turn in what he had on the cartel and
pray it would be enough.
His impromptu plan was to leave tonight after this
swanky party Carlos had cooked up. Word was
there was some hot shot American looking to make
a deal with Cortez; a really big deal. Jack wished he
could stay around and grab that information from
the computer in Carlos’s inner sanctum tomorrow,
but there was no time. He planned on using one of
his many other aliases to get out of the country, and
by this time tomorrow night he would be back in his
own apartment in Washington D.C.
Jack tossed in some underwear and a few
toiletries. He zipped the bag closed and slipped it
beneath the bed. No sense having a maid poking
around in here and raising questions. He knew
Carlos had no plans to travel for the next few
weeks. If she saw his suitcase packed and ready to
go she would alert the rest of the staff and he would
be questioned. He used his foot to kick the bag
further under the bed, definitely not a good idea for
this to be seen.
Jack looked at his Rolex. Ten minutes until show
time. He put on some underwear, his tuxedo pants
and the freshly starched shirt. He reached for the
black bow tie. He struggled with it in the mirror.
Damn it, he hated these things. He always struggled
with getting them straight. After three attempts and
a mouthful of curses, he finally succeeded.
Strapping on the shoulder holster, he inserted his
beloved SIG P-226. Raising his pant leg he picked
up the knife from where it lay on the goose down
comforter and slipped it into its custom made
sheath. Lowering his pant leg he patted the leather
sheath for good luck. That knife and the SIG were
the only partners he’d ever needed or wanted.
Straightening, Jack picked up his jacket from the
chaise lounge. He stood for a moment near the
double French doors, which led out onto the stone
balcony where he’d watched the sunset earlier. It
was the most beautiful view Jack had ever seen. He
looked through the beveled glass onto the
mountains beyond. From just beyond the manicured
gardens he could see the peaks and valleys of the
mountainous terrain. On calm nights you could hear
the calls of the wild life from that balcony. He liked
the solitude of the dark and the sounds of the night.
It settled him. He would miss that.
It was on that very balcony, working on his laptop
in the middle of the night, he found The Emperor
file. In addition to being a highly trained killer, Jack
excelled with technology. He frequently used his
laptop to hack into Carlos’s computer in the inner
sanctum, a name Jack gave to Carlos’s private
office. He discovered the plot quite by accident.
Being the curious sort, he tried to access the file. It
was naturally encrypted with several layers of
protection, but no match for Jack’s extraordinary
skill. He out shined the tech people Carlos had
working for him by a long shot. He quickly worked
his way through, peeling away layer after layer,
until he had access. What he found made his
patriotic blood run cold.
Walking away from the window, he slipped the
jacket on and buttoned it. He sighed again. It fit him
like a glove. Yes, he was going to miss all the welldesigned clothes, gourmet food, and the gorgeous
women, but he had a duty to serve and protect his
country. If he didn’t figure out the identity of this
Emperor character and resolve this plot to kill the
President-Elect, then everything he stood for would
be for nothing. He had not been trained by the best
and become the best at what he did by sitting back
and ignoring trouble. Now that he knew Michael
Hardy was in danger, it was his duty to protect him.
Lucky for Jack, Carlos kept some records of
transactions with The Emperor, but there were
pieces missing. Within a few hours, Jack read
enough about the elaborate plot to kill the President
of the United States on his Inauguration Day, but he
lacked vital information on who was involved and
where the hit would occur. It could be during the
ceremony or one of the many elaborate balls that
followed.
One additional piece of information Jack uncovered shocked him. Another name was listed in the transaction records, Senator Warren Walters. He
had a code name as well, Asno, jackass in Spanish.
Jack had smiled at that. He agreed with Carlos’s
assessment of the Senator. Warren currently served
on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and
was a former SEAL teammate of Jack’s. Jack
snorted, thinking of Warren; yes, he had to agree
with Carlos’s pet name, Asno. Jack wondered why
Warren’s name appeared in the file. Being the
current Vice President elect, he would step in if the
President died. Coincidence? No, Jack didn’t
believe in coincidences.
When Jack finished that night, he had just enough
information to feel confident that the hit was
planned and being carried out. Now, the trick was to
return safely to the states and try to link everything
he found together in order to bring down Carlos
Cortez, his drug cartel, Warren, and the Emperor.
First though, he had to get through tonight. Jack
had spent all day prepping his staff. They were
going to run metal detectors at the door, keep armed
guards patrolling the perimeter closer to the house,
and keep another team of armed guards at the gate.
Something big was going down in Carlos’s study
tonight and afterward there was to be a celebration.
Jack hated these “celebrations” because it usually
meant a long night and he had a flight to catch.
A sharp knock on the door snapped Jack to
attention. Old military habits died hard. “Carlos is
ready for you, Raul.”
Jack replied in flawless Spanish. “Be right down,
Miguel.” Jack took a last look in the mirror, wishing
he could shake the sense of foreboding that plagued
him since he’d uncovered the file. Maybe it was the
information he had on this Emperor, and the fact
that it bugged him not knowing what role Carlos
himself was playing in this little dance with the
devil. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, but
something wasn’t right. He just felt it.
Softly closing the door to his room, Jack
proceeded down the elaborately decorated hallway
to the back elevator. He still marveled at the
artwork that lined the walls. Carlos had a fondness
for American painters, particularly Jackson Pollock.
A few paintings by Pollock hung on the walls along
with some other famous American artists. Jack
couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Looked
like spilled paint on canvas to him, but what did he
know?
He silently made his way down the carpeted
hallway. He waited patiently for the elevator that
would take him down to the first floor and directly
into Carlos’s personal office; a totally secure room
and the only place in the compound not covered
with security cameras. There could be no visual or
auditory record of what went down in the inner
sanctum. Jack had seen money exchanged in that
office that would make Warren Buffet wince.
The elevator doors slid silently open and Jack
stepped into the study. He entered the room from
the back and began his scan. His training taught him
to complete this task in seconds. He saw Carlos
seated at his desk leaning back, smiling and relaxed.
The man accross the desk turned to face Jack. His
eyes widened in shock. Nothing could have
prepared him for this.
“Hello, Jack,” the man said, in English.
Jack saw Carlos’ head whip around at the use of
his given name. “No, you must be mistaken,”
Carlos, said to the man, his eyes suddenly wary.
“This is Raul Ramirez, my number one man. He is
the one I’ve been telling you about.”
The man in the wing back chair stood and reached
his hand into his jacket. “No, Carlos, he’s MY
number one man. This is Jack Weaver; he works for
me in the CIA.”
It all happened so fast. Anger flooded Carlos’s
expression as he began to reach under the desk. Jack
knew what was under that desk and without
thinking he reacted. He whipped his SIG out of his
shoulder holster and fired. Carlos’s head snapped
back and then fell forward, brain matter spattering
all over the expensive mahogany desk and the
window behind it. A soft thud sounded as the gun
Carlos grabbed from under the desk hit the thick
carpet.
The man across from the desk turned gun in hand.
“Nice shot, Jack. You’ve taken care of one problem,
but I’m afraid you’ve created another.” The man
rose and started to reach into his jacket. In a split
second Jack fired again. The bullet caught the man
square in the chest and exploded out his back. The
force of the shot tumbled him backward over the
chair.
Jack had to act fast. Within seconds his men
would be through that door. They didn’t have keys
and were told only to break the door down if they
heard something unusual. Gun shots, would be
unusual.
Jack ran to the fallen man and grabbed his gun.
He aimed at Carlos’s messy brain and fired again.
Placing the gun back in the man’s hand he stood for
a few seconds. Think Jack, think. Acting quickly,
Jack reached into the leather sheath at his ankle and
withdrew his knife. He already heard the banging
on the study door. He only had a few seconds.
Somehow he had to make his men think he’d been
attacked. Rushing back around the desk he turned
Carlos’ body to face the direction of the man on the
chair. Coming back around the desk he knew what
had to come next. Gritting his teeth against the pain,
Jack plunged the six-inch knife into his thigh just
above his knee, skillfully avoiding the artery. He
swallowed the cry that threatened to escape and
nearly fainted from the searing pain. Bile rose into
his throat and he let it come. He vomited all over
the expensive carpet. That should make it more
believable, he thought grimly.
Falling to his knees, he had barely seconds to look
into the man’s cold dead eyes before the study door
crashed open and Carlos’s entourage of security
burst into the room. Jack stared at the man who had
taught him everything he knew, the honorable, Kent
Larson, Deputy Director of the CIA.

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Impressum

Texte: Printed in the United States of America ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real person, places, or events is coincidental. This title is available in both e-book and paperback from Hearts on Fire Books. Ó
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.07.2009

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