When Mayhem Cries

  A Gift For You:

  “War brought me in. Will love push me out?.”

  It’s like breathing. I don’t even need to try.

  I was born to be a Navy Seal.

  I knew it was my calling and wasted no time in joining up.

  My training. My missions. My team.

  I love every bit of it.

  But I never knew I would ever want this...

  A calm, quiet day. Away from it all, including my brothers.

  Just to be with her. Bree.

  The thought of her name makes my knees weak.

  How could someone have so much power over me?

  The navy didn’t prepare me for this.

  And I never thought making a choice could be so hard.

  What do you do when love is standing between you and the country you vowed to protect?

  War brought me in. Will love push me out?

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  When Mayhem Cries

  Alex Howell

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. On the Trail but Off the Reservation

  2. The Lonely Outpost

  3. Breaking through the Pain of the Past

  4. Recovering the Initiative

  5. Clara Walker’s Day Off

  6. Getting Ready for Business

  7. Sorting Through the Chaos

  8. Heading Home

  9. The Long Arm of Amigos dos Amigos

  10. The Morning Pep Talk

  11. Luca Looking for His Last Payday

  12. Is it All Just a Coincidence?

  13. The Meeting of the Minds

  14. Finding Leads and Taking Names

  15. Learning to Hurry Up and Wait

  16. On the Inside

  17. At the Festival

  18. Desperate Times and Desperate Measures

  19. Who Pulled the Fire Alarm?

  20. Back to the Old Drawing Board

  21. Love Speaks Louder than Words

  22. Feeling the Verne

  Epilogue

  Read the Next Book of the Series:

  1. Prologue Crisis Meltdown

  Read the Next Book of the Series:

  Don’t Forget About Your Gift

  Prologue

  Smoke Signals

  M ason Walker was busy hacking his way through the wilderness of a Brazilian jungle when Raina Martin questioned him, “Hey Mason, didn’t Luke say that these narcos are living among the native tribes of the region.”

  The “narcos” that Raina was referring to were the infamous Brazilian narcotics traffickers known as “Amigos dos Amigos”. The group is composed primarily of Portuguese speaking Brazilians but the name is Spanish for “Friends of Friends”.

  But in reality, these clowns were really friends to no one. Their main MO consisted of drug running, extortion, racketeering, and human trafficking—and not necessarily in that order. Wherever Amigos dos Amigos went they left shattered communities in their wake, and now they seemed poised to expand out into the previously untouched Amazonian wilderness itself.

  Some of the reaches of the Amazon are so remote that there are tribal groups of people who are said to have never come into contact with the outside world. These tribes have lived along the Amazon for centuries surviving on a simple hunter gatherer existence. Life was hard but it was at least their own.

  In the past their biggest threat had been from loggers cutting down their ancestral rain forests, but now they faced a whole new menace in the form of organized crime; ready and willing to spread its insidious tentacles even into the depths of the pristine jungles of the Amazon. The indigenous peoples who had lived in harmony with nature were now themselves being uprooted, cut down, and despoiled. Their men being compelled to strap bags of cocaine to their backs as human mules of the drug cartels and their women induced to sell their bodies.

  Recalling fully the briefing that Luke Simon, their mission leader had given them, Mason grunted, “Yeah—Amigos dos Amigos. The Amazon is like the final frontier for these bozos. And these perps seem hellbent on going where no other low life has gone before—introducing drug addiction and prostitution to the rain forest. Some all-around real classy guys.”

  Raina Martin nodded while simultaneously swatting away a mosquito, “Uh-huh. I’ve got a feeling that there is probably some pretty major interplay between the native chiefs and these narcos as well—in fact I believe that some of the chiefs might be narcos. ”

  Mason was a bit taken aback by this one. A few natives getting conned into drugs or sucked into sex trafficking by these monsters was one thing, but could the chiefs really be in cahoots with dealers? The thought made Mason wonder out loud, “Really? Do you think so?”

  Raina hacking her way through a branch with a machete nodded, “Yeah, I really do.” Tossing a hewn limb out of her way she then stumbled into a clearing, and remarked, “There have been recent reports of outsiders traveling back and forth between the villages and on top of that local chiefs have had a sudden influx of resources that they never had before.”

  It was just then that Raina’s eye caught something that seemed to be reflecting the light of the sun on the ground. It looked like a small mirror, or piece of metal, but she wasn’t sure. She picked it up and turning it over in her hand she realized, “What? It’s some kind of tablet.”

  As she examined the device, she was surprised to find that it was turned on. Placing the screen under the shade of a nearby tree she muttered, “Huh—it’s solar powered.”

  She then proceeded to scroll through some pictures saved on the device and gasped, “There are pics of natives—tribal members on this tablet!” Mason turning toward her asked, “What do you mean?”

  Raina then handed him the tablet and told him, “Take a look for yourself.”

  Taking the tablet in his hands Mason scrolled through the pictures, and was amazed. It was indeed full of scenes of tribal life in the Amazons as if it was owned by one of the tribal groups themselves. He saw photos of natives going up the river on canoes, of sitting around their campfire and of people just being silly—basically taking selfies all throughout the untamed wilderness of the Amazon.

  For a group of natives who shunned technology and all the trappings of the outside world, it was rather stunning to think that some of them were now running around with solar powered tablets. The question was—who gave it to them?

  Mathew Benton who had been keeping a close watch on their rear as they progressed through the wilderness, just then stepped toward Mason as he inquired, “Whatcha got there, brother?”

  Benton peered over Mason’s shoulder and looked for himself, “Well—will wonders never cease. Selfies in the amazon?”

  Mason nodded, “Yeah—Raina thinks that maybe the drug lords are bestowing gifts upon the natives.”

  Benton shrugged, “Could be—but not necessarily. I’ve heard stories of Christian missionaries giving tablets to remote tribal groups. Usually in an effort to spread the gospel.”

  Mason questioned, “Oh yeah?”

  Benton nodded, “Yeah—usually there’s a Bible app downloaded on it.”

  Raina joined the conversation, “A Bible app?”

  Mason who wasn’t really a religious man himself, chuckled, “Got to reach the masses somehow right?”

  Mason then quickly searched through the tablet’s apps but not coming up with anything Bible or even remotely Christian oriented, he declared, “Um—nope. No bible app on this thing. This isn’t from any missionaries.”

  The next few photos they observed then confirmed this as they saw a picture of a man who was definitely not a native grinning back at them amongst the tribal members. Wearing the paramilitary fatig
ues that constituted the uniform of Amigos dos Amigos, there was no denying where this tablet had come from.

  Benton looking out at the horizon, realized the sun was soon going to be bearing down on them and that they needed to make some serious progress before the morning gave way to afternoon. He advised the group as much, “At any rate folks—we got to get moving.”

  They both then began trekking through the uneven terrain of what constituted a Brazilian wilderness trail. Just then Raina spotted something on the horizon, a bluish mist. No. Actually it was a hazy kind of smoke billowing from the edge of the trees. A kind of smoke that could only be produced from a batch of toxic chemical excess from an active drug lab. A drug lab right in the middle of the Amazon.

  Mason already knew as much, as Raina shouted, “Over there! These guys have a full-blown meth lab brewing!”

  Benton questioned, “A meth lab?”

  Mathew Benton then added his own opinion to the mix, “Or maybe a proving ground for heroin and crack cocaine.”

  Mason cynically chuckled, “Yeah—well, whatever it is… It’s certainly not the normal kind of smoke signals that I would expect around these parts that’s for sure!”

  Staring at the smoke stacks in the distance, Raina seconded, “You got that right.”

  Mason then went off to the right of the clearing and probing with his machete managed to find a thinly covered opening. Hacking away a few branches the two then beheld a roughly laid—but still quite visible, and heavily trod trail in front of them. As Mathew Benton stepped toward them, Raina squinting her eyes at the muddy trail declared, “Alright folks—welcome to the Amazonian illicit narcotics highway.”

  1

  On the Trail but Off the Reservation

  W ith his handgun raised just in case they encounter any trouble; Mathew Benton kept a wary eye out for anyone who might be following them. Raina and Mason then took the lead, as they barreled down a drug trafficker hewn trail through the amazon rainforest. Raina looked back to Mathew Benton and remarked, “You watching my back—back there?”

  At which Benton laughed, “Yeah—I’m trying my best.”

  Mason driving ahead as he sliced off another low-lying branch with the blade of his machete laughed, “You kidding! The Ghost is an expert! He learned to walk backwards before he ever learned to walk forward!”

  Benton smiled at the mention of the nickname that was long ago awarded to him by his brothers in the SEALS. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago, back then he felt nothing short of invincible. The years had since worn through his once impervious veneer and he wasn’t quite as cocky as he was in the past—he knew that he could bleed just like anyone else.

  Yeah, he was a ghost alright, but he wasn’t invisible, and he knew full well that if the drug dealers were to suddenly get the drop on them from behind, he would be the first to be riddled with bullets. Mathew usually gave himself at least marginal protection from such threats by way of some Kevlar, but heavy bullet proof vests were just not practical in the sweltering heat of the rain forest.

  In the thick of this tropical jungle the only thing that kept them connected to the outside world was their steady comm link with Kyle Garrison and the other Onyx team members that were waiting at their makeshift base of operations in the nearby town of Manaus.

  And as Mason Walker hacked is way further along the trail in the darkness of the rain forest canopy, he had never been quite so grateful to hear Kyle’s squeaky and insecure voice chime in, “Hey guys—are you making any progress?”

  The remark itself of course earned him a full litany of sarcasm from the team, as Mason howled, “Progress! We’re knee deep in the Amazon what do you think kid?” Kyle made it sound like they were just walking through a nature trail at a state park.

  Undeterred however, Kyle shot back just as sarcastically, “What do I think? Well—I don’t know Mason, maybe somewhere sipping a martini in celebration of the drug kingpins you should have already rounded up?”

  Prompting Raina to respond in her earpiece, “Funny Kyle—real funny”.

  Mathew Benton then joined the fray, “Hey Kyle, if you think it’s so easy what we do—then why don’t you come down here with us?”

  Kyle, then responded with his voice cracking, “What? With all those vines? I’m allergic to poison ivy!”

  Mason couldn’t help but laugh, “Poison ivy! Really!”

  Kyle wishing to change the subject in order to hide his own awkward embarrassment then informed the group, “Anyway! I just wanted to let you guys know that you are getting really close to the group’s hideout.”

  Mason then questioned, “Really? What makes you say that?”

  To which Kyle replied, “The heat signature trail tells us that they have a production plant really close to your coordinates.”

  Raina chuckled, “Yeah, I think we saw that in the form of all those smoke clouds that were drifting upon the horizon.”

  Prompting Kyle to inquire, “Smoke clouds? Really?”

  Raina nodded, “Yeah—it’s all up and down the horizon.”

  Kyle then offered, “Really, you would think that these guys would be a little bit more careful than that.”

  Mason then scoffed, “Well no one ever said that we were working with professionals here.”

  Benton then asked, “Well—just who are we dealing with.”

  Mason clearing the path a little further then entertained, “We don’t really know. It could be the Columbians; it could be the Peruvians.” Raina then supplied the obvious, “Columbians? But we’re in Brazil.”

  Mason laughed, “It doesn’t matter these things cross stateliness and their hideouts change with the wind.”

  After this bit of chatter the group grew silent as they traversed about another several yards.

  Mason suddenly sniffing the air remarked, “Wait a minute… That’s it alright… I smell microcrystalline phosphate. We’re getting close.”

  To which Raina laughed, “Oh my God Mason, are you telling me that you are literally so close that you can smell it ?”

  Mason shrugged, “Yeah—I guess so. I’ve broken up enough drug houses in my day. I know what the stuff smells like.”

  Raina was amazed, “You’ve got a nose like a bloodhound mason.”

  Mason remarked, “Yeah maybe after this I’ll take a job in the K-9 unit.”

  Raina asked, “As an officer?”

  Mason laughed dryly, “Or maybe as a dog.”

  Kyle then suddenly came to life in all of their earpieces telling them, “Yeah, according to the heat signatures I’m seeing, he’s absolutely right you will be right upon their compound any minute now.”

  Kyle then paused before quickly adding, “And I would strongly advise putting on your masks.”

  Kyle’s mention of masks wasn’t in regard to masks of concealment he was referring to oxygen masks. Raina looking at the ugly half breather in her possession asked, “Is it really that bad? Are these masks really necessary?”

  Benton answered for her, “Yeah—if their brewing all I think their brewing, you are not going to want that mask to drop for even a second.”

  Putting the mouthpiece on, Raina remarked, “Well—if the fumes are really that bad, how do the drug dealers stand it?”

  Mason laughed, as he put on his own mouthpiece, “Stand it? There mostly immune to it!”

  Benton then offered, “Yeah, and even if they aren’t completely immune by now, I bet they don’t even mind the contact high.”

  Mason replied, “Right. But I don’t feel like seeing a dance troupe of purple elephants floating in front of my eyes any time soon!”

  This was of course in reference to the hallucinogenic effects that the drugs were supposed to provoke in those who consumed them. Mason himself had never done much in the way of drugs except for a little pot he smoked in high school, but he had busted up enough drug rings in his day to know the heavy toll that hard drugs took on societies all over the globe.

  As Mason mulled these things ov
er Kyle piped in, “Hey guys, and speaking of bad trips. How was that last vacation you and Raina took?”

  Mason snapped, “Kyle! What the hell is this? Why are you all up in our personal business all of a sudden?”

  To which Kyle meekly but with a slight undercurrent of anger responded, “Well, while you two love birds were out frolicking on the beach, I had my hands full getting this next mission ready.”

  Raina seeking to calm the agitated computer nerd down, spoke up, “Kyle, it’s really nothing to get upset about…”

  The conversation was suddenly interrupted however when Mason announced, “Hey! Everybody listen up! We’re at the end of the trail!”

  The group then stopped as they heard an unmistakable voice cry out, “Hey! Amigo’s!”

  The voice was so strange and so surprising in the middle of this wilderness that it caused almost all of them to jump—all that is except Mason, who calmly turned and zeroed in on the sound, muttering, “Who the hell is that…”

  Thinking their cover had been blown they all stood like statues in the middle of the trail as they heard once again the same voice call out to them, “Hey! Amigos!”

  This was then followed by some sort of chirping, bird type sound, and sure enough Mason looked over to a branch right above hm to see a giant tropical parrot of some sort staring out at him as it again repeated, “Hey! Amigos dos Amigos!”

  Raina laughed softly at the realization that they were being tormented by a mere bird, but Mason was too agitated to find humor in any of it as he cursed, “Damn it!”

  Benton then echoed his frustration, “Man…these damn birds must have picked that shit up off of the many traffickers roaming around through here.” Benton then glancing down at his drawn weapon remarked, “That parakeet is lucky it didn’t get shot! That almost had me for a second!”

  As they stared at the bird, Benton added, “I was almost certain that we had company, or that we were starting to suffer from auditory hallucinations from all of that smoke that the narcs were producing.”