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Prologue

“It was my pleasure to join you on the expedition.” Tour guide Antonio Francisco Fernandez, aka Agent AFFCROC, settled back into his chair and watched Professor Michael Delier type away at his laptop. He wondered where the older man found the energy to work after spending the last few days trekking through the Mayan Jungle.

Hitting the keyboard’s ‘enter’ button with exaggerated flair, Delier adjusted his glasses, snapped his laptop shut, and turned to face Antonio.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the professor said. “The university and the medical profession are in your government’s debt.”

Antonio smiled. “Your findings will benefit all of us. There is not a single person who hasn’t been touched by breast cancer in one way or the other. I hope your research proves to be the cure.”

“It will,” Delier said, rubbing his forehead and looking his age for the first time in a month. “I’ve been working on this for the past twenty years. There was a missing component, something I was not seeing. Now it is so clear. I can’t wait to show this to Tiffany.”

“Who’s Tiffany?”

Delier’s eyes took on a far away expression. “Tiffany walked into my life three years ago. A fresh and eager botanist with a crisp new PHD in her hands, she came to the university to apply for the assistant’s opening in my department. I was so impressed that I hired her right on the spot.”

“She must be special,” Antonio remarked.

The professor nodded vigorously. “She is. She’s brilliant. Even before she came to the lab, she’d read every article I’d ever published and knew my work almost as well as I. Having lost her mother to the disease, she too is anxious for a cure, or at least a method to slow the cancer’s advancement.”

Antonio nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“Yes,” Delier said. “And because of your generosity, we have in our hands the plant that makes it all possible.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“You, my friend,” the professor continued, “took time from your schedule and acted as my guide at your own expense.”

“I had some down time. The jungle is a welcome diversion from my daily routine.” Antonio shifted in his seat, wondering what the professor would say if he knew Antonio’s true daily routine. “Don’t kid yourself, professor. I enjoyed the excursion.”

“No matter what you say, I appreciate it beyond your wildest dreams. Words cannot express the gratitude I feel.”

“No fue nada. Don’t mention it. I’ll get us another round of drinks.” Antonio stood and walked to the bar.

He wished the professor wouldn’t feel so much gratitude. His motives weren’t pure and altruistic, and the professor had provided assistance in his own, equally important, way. If it weren’t for the cover the professor had unknowingly provided, Antonio never would’ve been able to pry a young girl out of the cartel's grasp. She’d now be somebody’s sex toy—he knew that with absolute certainty.

Glancing back at Delier, sitting at the table and looking into his backpack for the tenth time in an hour, Antonio marveled at the joy the older man’s face portrayed. Delier was so proud, so relieved to have the plant in his possession, that he looked like a little kid on Christmas morning waiting to rip into his presents.

Antonio couldn’t help but tease him. He called across the room, “Don’t worry, professor. Roots don’t change into feet and wander off.”

Smiling sheepishly, the seasoned academic raised his glass in a toast. “Young man—”

The doors to the cantina flew open.

“Get down!” Antonio hollered across the crowded bar.

Three men with rifles blaring barged in, shooting at random. People dove under the tables while bullets whizzed over their heads.

The shooting stopped. Antonio surveyed the room. No one was hit.

The group of tourists between him and the shooters prevented him from pulling out his own weapon. He couldn’t take the chance of successfully shooting one or two of the malditos if it could allow the third asshole to kill innocent bystanders in the process.

He ground his teeth and summoned all his control in waiting them out.

There was movement to his right.

“My plants!” the professor cried, reaching up on the table for his backpack.

“No,” Antonio hissed.

But it was too late. Delier had already drawn the attention of one of the shooters. The maldito aimed and fired. The professor’s body jerked violently, and then went limp.

“Esto es una venganza! Retribution! Mind your own damn business!” the shooter spat at the crowd.

The other two bastards grabbed whatever they could reach, including the professor’s precious plants, and strode out the doors.

If it wasn’t for the patrons in his line of fire, Antonio could’ve shot the sons of bitches dead before they left. Now it was too late.

He rushed to the professor’s side, no longer caring who was in the way. Rolling him over on his back, he stared down at the man who had entrusted Antonio with his safety.

“Dios Mio! Don’t move.” He applied pressure to the wound and attempted to slow the gushing of blood. “Call the doctor.”

The professor indicated for him to come close. Clenching his fingers around Antonio’s shirtsleeves, he breathed his last words.

“Take… Tiffany… Promise…”

There was no time to promise. The professor’s eyes glazed over and his arm dropped to the side of his body. He was dead.