"The Mexican Money Massage"

by Jerry Werner

Copyright ©2002
ISBN: 0-87714-701-9 eBook edition
ISBN: 0-87714-798-1 PB edition

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

THE AUTHOR

Jerry Werner is a pen name of Gerhard W. Kautz, who is the president of an international marketing consulting company that works with USA and Canadian companies to obtain international business. Over the past twenty years he has done business in over forty countries. Working with foreign companies has provided him with the knowledge and experience to write several 'how to' books on international marketing. His extensive international travel and experience has also provided background information and settings for his suspense and intrigue novels. Published works include the following books:

Exporting by Self-Counsel Press, 1994.
Developing International Markets by The Oasis Press of Grants Pass, Oregon, 1998.
Exporting to Canada by Self-Counsel Press, 2001
The Saudi Technology Transfer by Denlinger's Publishers, 2002

THE BOOK

Money laundering is the third largest business in the world, and drug smuggling is the major reason for it. In this 84,000 word novel, Charley Edwards, an American international marketing specialist, gets involved with both as he sells Canadian sonar equipment to the Mexican navy.

Woven into the story is information on money laundering, drug smuggling, international business transactions, the Mexican military, and corruption.

This is the second of a series of suspense and intrigue novels with international business settings. The first book had Edwards working with aggressive Arabs in Saudi Arabia and Oman, who steal his technology for use in an Islamic nuclear weapons program. Future books will have Edwards fighting illegal immigration by pirates in Asia, and Russian based international extortion in Cuba.

Sample of Work (The opening of the novel)

They strode into a large office area containing three desks occupied by naval enlisted men. The men stopped what they were doing and stared at the two intruders. Behind a fourth desk sat a pretty young woman, also in a blue-gray naval uniform. She too watched intently as the two men crossed the room toward her. Near one of the desks a senior Non Commissioned Officer was giving instructions to three guards, each armed with a sidearm and a rifle. The NCO paused to nod acknowledgment to Vega. Vega nodded back as he continued over to the uniformed female.

"Is he in?" He asked her in Spanish.

"Si." She smiled to him.

Without reply, Vega turned toward a closed door. He gave it a few quick raps, opened it and almost pushed Edwards in ahead of him. Edwards walked through the door apprehensively, expecting it to be a secretary's outer office, but was shocked to see the only occupant of the room was an officer sitting behind a desk. He wore the broad band and single stripe insignia of a naval rear admiral, or what the Mexicans call a contraalmirante. The overweight, dark skinned admiral was talking on the telephone, and paid no notice to his two unannounced visitors.

Edwards was even more shocked when Vega motioned for him to sit on a chair beside the admiral, behind his desk. He cautiously took the seat, and glanced around the office. There were the usual gaudy military plaques on the wall, some representing US navy ships. There were two very amateur looking oil paintings, probably done by the admiral's wife, or daughter, or maybe his mistress. Immediately behind the admiral was a framed diploma from the US Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. He could not see what it was for from his angle.

Vega pulled a chair up in front of the admiral and started to play with some ornamental bullets on the desk. He dropped one noisily on the floor and Edwards mentally cringed. Throughout all of this the officer carried on his telephone conversation as if nothing was happening.

After what appeared to Edwards to be hours, the telephone call wrapped up. The admiral came out from behind his desk with a broad smile. He greeted Vega with a flurry of Spanish, and the big abrazos hug commonly used in Mexico. Edwards thought the hug was a little humorous because of the size of the two men.

"So you brought me another one," the officer said in Spanish glancing at Edwards.

"Yes. Let's hope this one works out better than the last one," Vega replied, also in Spanish.

Edwards suddenly realized that they assumed he did not speak Spanish. He had learned it during his navy days when he was on assignment to the US Embassy in Spain. But at times he found it quite useful not to let others know he understood what they were saying. He was about to say something in Spanish but decided against it. It might prove useful if they did not know he was fluent in the language.

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