The Mayan Priest Read Online Free Page A

We’re just about to leave Campeche and with two planned fuel stops, I’d estimate that we’ll arrive back at Fort Sam Houston at 21 hundred hours.’
    ‘That’s not the reason behind this call. I have a situation that requires the utmost confidentiality and it will take you a couple of hours out of your way.’
    ‘Name it. I owe you one anyway.’
    ‘You don’t owe me a thing, Georgio, but it appears my daughter has found herself in trouble at Tikal. I need you to get her out’
    ‘Consider it done. For the record, it appears that I’ve hit a little snag that will take me four hours to resolve. Unfortunately I’ll have to log the extra tank of juice and I’ll make sure to include the added delay and changes in the register,’ said Georgio unwaveringly and in good humour as he abruptly ended the call.
    Dale placed his hands behind his head and reclined thoughtfully in his chair. Georgio was a good man. He’d keep the matter quiet and he trusted him to bring his daughter back safely. His rank as general allowed Dale to order any changes to a mission without question, but he was loath to let his men learn that he was wasting government funds for his own benefits. It was imperative that no one discovered his small indiscretion.
    Contemplating his many missions with the small, slightly overweight Greek who loved anything that started or ended in ‘food’, Dale automatically screwed up his foam coffee cup and aimed for the bin near his office door. In the ten years that he had occupied this office, he had never missed the basket, but this afternoon it bounced against the bookcase and landed defiantly a foot away from the intended target. Frowning in concern at his unusual failure, he hoped this was not a sign of things to come.
    Not as worrying as his daughter’s predicament, but nonetheless concerning, was the failed covert operation Georgio had been on in Campeche and in a small town in Guatemala called San Marcos. They had received some intelligence about a drug smuggling ring involving high-ranking officials throughout Mexico and North America.
    The list of suspected operators was as impressive as it was powerful and Dale had hoped to get a foothold into the group and break it wide open. This was not the first time the army had attempted to infiltrate the secret operation, knowledge of the congregation becoming known over fifty years ago. In fact, they had tried on many occasions but each time failed miserably.
    The suspected leader was a man named Arun Keane. What little they knew about him came from a woman they had discovered wandering the streets of San Marcos, Guatemala semi-naked and alone twenty years ago. She had been horribly mutilated. Her fingers were cut off to the knuckles on her left hand, her genitals pierced and sliced so badly that she required reconstructive plastic surgery. There were horizontal cuts to all the major veins in her body. It was as if she had been bled than sewn up only to have it done all over again. From all reports, she should not have survived such a traumatic event.
    She had been immediately placed into an induced coma designed to allow her body the maximum amount of rest and recovery and it had been a few days before Dale was allowed to interview her. He admitted to being nervous and had struggled to control his emotions as he had entered the hospital room.
    Dale studied her face and despite the considerable scarring along the left ear and cheek, she was very attractive. Her long black hair was glossy, her eyes large and expressive and she had an unusual, extremely detailed tattoo of the Mayan Calendar Round between her neck and shoulderblade.
    Throughout most of the interview she had ranted and raved, a deep psychosis causing the loss of most of her memory, but in the occasional moments of clarity, she revealed that she was a true survivor, a trait Dale greatly admired. He had also discovered that her marred exterior was simply a shell for a beautiful personality and Dale