|
Yahuti
Category:
Action/Thriller
Type: Fiction
Douglas Mallory was an American Special Forces and Intelligence Officer during the Vietnam Era. He was betrayed into the hands of a non-nationa; organization which had surprising plans for the world. Makkory's identity was completely destroyed, as was his entire history; his death faked in the Alps.Mallory was coerced into supporting this organization as an operative for 30 years. He finally decided to disappear from his tormentors - regardless of the price - and regain his freedom. The first book ("Yahuti") published as a memoir describes Mallory's experiences till his secisiion to set himself free. It explains how he goes that, with whose help, and his steps taken in preparation for retribution.
This sequal continues the memoir from that point. Mallory is now Michael Howell, and is soon to become another entity. He will expose monumental criminal international criminal acts occuring daily outside of any jurisdiction. He uncovers an astounding global 'Shadow Group' whose purposes is to steal resources, funds, power and will from all the world's nations for use for its own purposes.
- More -
Excerpt
Washington, D.C.
Later The Same Day
Sleet pinged against the restaurant windows. It had snowed earlier. Together, these two weather annoyances could create enough discomfort and depression to last a man for weeks. But, add to them the steam expulsions from street and sidewalk animating the ghostly figures of pedestrians and the noise and general sloppiness created by frenzied rush hour traffic in the slush and Washington D.C. became the perfect place for political critters to play the charade of government. Not so for relatively normal human beings. They sought psychological shelter from that environment in bars, local restaurants or home, and did all they might to avoid greater than normal Capitol psychosis.
Exactly one hour after the killings in Pennsylvania a lone man fidgeting in a private cubicle at a world famous steak house in Washington, D.C. pushed away his untouched meal and glared morosely through the large plate glass windows into the outside chaos. What might normally have been his appetite was being rapidly replaced by an annoying upset stomach. He nervously glanced at his watch and started to a car horn outside. As the Rolex indicated 6:30 PM precisely, the man punched several numbers into the keyboard of an international wireless telephone.
“New York?”
“Here.”
“London?”
“Here.”
“Amsterdam?”
“Here”.
“St. Petersburg?”
“Here.”
“Hong Kong?”
“Here.”
“Hanoi?”
“Here.”
A triple encrypted international conference call had been established between these parties via a privately owned small low-earth orbiting satellite. “Colleagues.” The caller began, slowly for effect. “I regret to report that there has been no communications with our archeological team.” He could almost taste his colleagues’ chagrin as each processed his comments. “The artifact we seek obviously cannot be recovered cooperatively.” The earpiece remained silent. The caller could feel palpable fear rushing through the circuit. “I therefore recommend that we each independently dispatch scientific teams to effect recovery.”
Silence indicated unanimous agreement. The caller also stipulated that from this time until recovery was accomplished there would only be face-to-face communications between them, or ‘Through employment of disposable couriers.’ Again there was silent unanimity. “The next time we communicate, colleagues, let us pray that one of us has uplifting news for the others. Good Day.” He closed the phone’s lid and called for his check.
The ‘Committee’s first attempt to ‘recover’ Douglas Mallory since his ‘disappearance’ several years ago had ended in abject failure. My God! The caller thought. So well planned. Four years of planning and preparation and Mallory cut out two of the very best clean-up professionals in the world. It was certain now that Mallory was aware that the Committee was actively pursuing him. A shudder shot between the man’s shoulders as he stepped out a rear entrance to his waiting car, involuntarily casting furtive glances into the darkness as the car door closed behind him. Now it really begins. He thought.
He was certain that Mallory was responsible for the earlier simultaneous disappearance of Crean and Kreschenko. Now, he thought Mallory will assume the initiative. No one in his organization knew or could even guess what Mallory knew about them, but the thought of what that might mean and the actions that could be expected from Mallory intensified his volatile stomach. He wondered briefly how long it would take before he and his colleagues became fearful of going home at night or out during daytime.
|
