Copyright © 2021 by Hep Aldridge
Published by BUOY MEDIA LLC
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Cover design by Juan Villar Padron,
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Special thanks to my editor Janell Parque
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Prologue
It was seven a.m. London time when Marco’s phone rang. He had just finished his morning workout as he answered. The voice on the other end spoke for three minutes, and then the line went dead. He had listened without comment to his instructions. They were clear. Marco never questioned the Cardinal’s orders. During his years of service, he had seen what happened to those who questioned the Vatican’s darker side—wrath he did not wish to incur. Two hours later, his plane was leaving Heathrow, headed for Rome. Later that evening, he and his four new companions were on a private jet headed for South America.
It had been a long flight with little sleep as the five men huddled and talked in low voices through the night. They arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador, went through customs, collected their bags, and left the airport. They checked into their hotel, a modestly upscale property. As had been promised, two large packages were waiting for them at the desk, having been shipped earlier from Quito. The suite accommodated Marco and his number two; the other three had adjoining rooms.
Once situated, they met in the suite and began unpacking the boxes. Each man had an HK P30 handgun and ammunition. The table was rapidly filling as the boxes were emptied. There were disassembled long guns, HK 417 A2’s, and one HK MSG90 A2 sniper rifle. Conversation was nonexistent as each team member picked up weapons, checked their action, and loaded them. Shoulder holsters and other tactical gear had also been provided.
Once the men were armed and the other weapons had been assembled and loaded, they were placed in duffel bags and set aside. The table was cleared as they pulled up chairs and sat down. Marco spoke as he opened a file folder and revealed a picture of Colten Burnett attached to a sheet of paper. Historical and background information covered the page.
“This is the leader of the group that calls itself Risky Business, Ltd., Colten Burnett,” he said as he passed it around. “He is an academic adventurer with some past specialized military training. Nothing recent, but there are rumors that he and his team are a resourceful group with interest in lost treasure and ancient civilizations.” As he spoke, he handed out printed pages with pictures of Dimitri, Joe, Doc Greene, and O’Reilly.
“We have limited information on the others, except for O’Reilly, who we know at one time was a CIA operative—an analyst—but little else. The others come from various backgrounds. The Russian is the only other member who has had military experience. Remember their faces; we need to learn all we can about them.” The others nodded and sat silently, passing around and reviewing the dossiers.
After a few minutes, one of the men spoke up, “And once we find them, then what?”
“It’s quite simple, really. We find out what they know, and then terminate them,” he said. “If possible, we make it look like an accident; if not, then they will just cease to exist. Our orders are clear.” The group around the table nodded in understanding; nothing more needed to be said. These men were highly trained professionals, and this was not their first assignment, but as had been stressed, one of their most important.
Chapter One
You know that saying, “The best-laid plans…” well, believe it. I should have been in Ecuador four weeks ago. But here I sit in a courtroom in Orlando, Florida, listening to two idiots from the state arguing that I have violated numerous laws and regulations pertaining to my discovery of a Spanish Galleon shipwreck off Florida’s Space Coast. Not my discovery, my company, Risky Business, Ltd.’s discovery of the wreck.
Things were going arguably well at the recovery site until one week before my Ecuador team’s planned departure for South America. That’s when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Let me explain. After the discovery of the shipwreck, we began an “official” legal salvage and recovery operation. We had already amassed sizeable assets from our previous “questionable” covert recovery activities at the site; luckily, no one knew about them. We hadn’t had too many hiccups, as I said; things were going well. That’s when Doc got the anonymous tip. He called me at home right away.
“Colt, we may have a problem. I just got a call letting me know that an official request has been received by the 7th Coast Guard District, directing them to provide an escort for some state officials out to our recovery site in three days.”
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t know what it’s about, but I don’t think they are going to be delivering a fruit basket from the Welcome Wagon.”
“Crap—get on the horn and let Gus know. I’ll get word to the rest of the team.”
“Roger that.”
As Doc contacted the Falcon, my mind was swirling with possibilities. We were prepared for a legal battle, but the Coast Guard—that was a wrinkle we hadn’t anticipated. Why were they getting involved, and what role would they be playing in this thing? I contacted Fitz, filled him in, and asked for any help or guidance he could provide. He didn’t like the Guard’s involvement either and said the only thing he could figure
