The Enemy Within

THE ENEMY WITHIN ___________________________________________________________________________________________ –––––––– A JACK WHITFIELD THRILLER –––––––– Book 2 –––––––– JOHN W. MEFFORD Table of Contents Title Page ALSO BY JOHN W. MEFFORD 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 John W. Mefford Bibliography ALSO BY JOHN W. MEFFORD The Jack Whitfield Thrillers BARRACUDA (Book 1) THE ENEMY WITHIN (Book 2) THE HANGED MAN (Book 3) –––––––– The Alex Troutt Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection) AT BAY (Book 1) AT LARGE (Book 2) AT ONCE (Book 3) AT DAWN (Book 4) AT DUSK (Book 5) AT LAST (Book 6) AT STAKE (Book 7) AT ANY COST (Book 8) BACK AT YOU (Book 9) AT EVERY TURN (Book 10) AT DEATH’S DOOR (Book 11) AT FULL TILT (Book 12) –––––––– The Ivy Nash Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection) IN DEFIANCE (Book 1) IN PURSUIT (Book 2) IN DOUBT (Book 3) BREAK IN (Book 4) IN CONTROL (Book 5) IN THE END (Book 6) –––––––– The Ozzie Novak Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection) ON EDGE (Book 1) GAME ON (Book 2) ON THE ROCKS (Book 3) SHAME ON YOU (Book 4) ON FIRE (Book 5) ON THE RUN (Book 6) –––––––– The Ball & Chain Thrillers MERCY (Book 1) FEAR (Book 2) BURY (Book 3) LURE (Book 4) PREY (Book 5) VANISH (Book 6) ESCAPE (Book 7) TRAP (Book 8) –––––––– The Booker Thrillers BOOKER – Streets of Mayhem (Book 1) BOOKER – Tap That (Book 2) BOOKER – Hate City (Book 3) BOOKER – Blood Ring (Book 4) BOOKER – No Más (Book 5) BOOKER – Dead Heat (Book 6) –––––––– The Greed Thrillers FATAL GREED (Book 1) LETHAL GREED (Book 2) WICKED GREED (Book 3) GREED MANIFESTO (Book 4) Want one of my books for FREE? Sign up for my VIP mailing list and receive a complimentary copy of STREETS OF MAYHEM, the action-packed first novel of the Booker Thrillers. Just click here: https://www.johnwmefford.com/join-vip-list.html “Eagles don’t flock, you have to find them one at a time.” ~ Ross Perot, founder of EDS, philanthropist, veterans advocate –––––––– “When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you.” ~ Winston Churchill, former prime minister of the United Kingdom 1 Vila do Conde, Portugal The woman counted the money for the third time, then slipped the bills into a manilla envelope. After licking the envelope shut, she secured the metal clasp and slid it into a side pocket of her backpack. She unzipped the main compartment, her eyes focused on the blinking red timer. Just over twelve minutes and counting. She needed only eleven. Rising from the lone chair at the worn card table, she walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. As she drank the last remnants, she caught her own reflection in the microwave’s cracked window. She almost didn’t recognize herself. The ballcap fit tightly over her bun of black, glossy hair. Basic stud earrings, only essential makeup, and a powder-blue jogging suit rounded out her nondescript attire. Not her normal look, but this was not a normal day. After hoisting her backpack over her shoulder, she pulled a disinfectant wipe from a package in the front pocket and wiped down the last few items she’d touched, including the doorknob. Donning sunglasses, she descended three flights of stairs and made for her intended destination. It was another glorious day in sun-drenched Vila do Conde, an ancient coastal town in northern Portugal situated along the mighty Atlantic Ocean. Like many tourists, the woman had seen many of the historical sites, but she had no interest in cultural enrichment. As she crossed a cobblestone street, red and yellow streamers fluttered in the wind, decorations leftover from a festival commemorating the patron saint, St. John the Baptist. Virtually every resident and tourist had taken to the streets in celebration. During the event, she’d snapped photographs as proof she’d attended, should she be asked. And she expected she would be. Blending in with other tourists, her path briefly hugged the majestic Praia Azul—Blue Beach. When she stepped off the promenade, she could see the spires of the five-hundred-year-old church seemingly touching the clouds. It served as a compass for her destination. She crossed another street, and a gentleman rode by on his bicycle, ringing his old-fashioned bell. Two bell rings, not one, she noted. She rounded a corner, the color of red now firmly rooted in her plan of action. She paused at a flower cart, panned her eyes left and right, and proceeded down the sidewalk. The flow of foot traffic spilled into O Fabuloso Mercado, The Fabulous Market. Two men with serving trays affixed to straps around their necks were peddling lemonade. One man wore a red T-shirt; the other man, yellow. She moved in their direction. The man in the red T-shirt approached a family of four, who cheerily purchased the drinks. He smiled and stuffed the bills into a pouch hanging at his waist. While gazing at a painting in a nearby tent, the woman discreetly slipped her manila envelope into the man’s pouch just before he pulled the drawstrings to shut it. She did not break stride or look over her shoulder. She knew the lemonade vendor would soon make his way out of the marketplace. Meandering along the bustling street, she paused to study a table of jewelry, then again under a tent of beach paintings. Ninety seconds until go time. She felt confident in her internal clock, something she’d tested more than a dozen times. On the last three runs, she’d been within two seconds of her goal. She waltzed down two more aisles, noting she was in the Chinatown section. She found the last table full of fresh fruit and