Edge of Battle (15 page)

“I wasn’t notified that my office was going to head the investigation, so I…”

“I’m not positive, Annette, but I don’t think this is your jurisdiction.”

“
Not my jurisdiction?
That’s crazy! I’m the U.S. Attorney for southern California! If it’s not me, who’s going to do it?”

“The Department of Homeland Security,” Kelsey said. “If they need any forensic help from the FBI or warrant authority from the U.S. Attorneys’ Office, they’ll ask; otherwise they handle it themselves.”

“But what if there are criminal charges…?”

“Those will be referred to your office if the suspects are not subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice,” Kelsey said. “Otherwise the Army handles it.” She looked at Cass carefully, then added, “The State Department says it received no request from the Mexican consulate or embassy for any consulate officials or staffers to accompany you to this base, Miss Cass.”

“I have the authority to bring along anyone I choose, including members of any foreign consulate in my district,” Cass argued, “and consular officers have the right to make requests to travel as observers and go anywhere they like in the United States, especially on official business involving their citizens.”

“I think the State Department and Attorney General may disagree with you, Miss Cass—that’s not my department,” Kelsey said. “But your conduct during this entire escapade of yours is
starting to look more and more suspicious. A no-notice arrival with armed U.S. marshals and a Mexican consular official in tow? What were you trying to do, Miss Cass—shut down an entire Army base before anyone could stop you?”

“This is not an Army base, DeLaine—this is an illegal Army
prison,
” Cass retorted, going over to help Lombard as he crawled painfully out of his cage, “locking up innocent civilians without due process and terrorizing people on both sides of the border with birds-of-prey airships and armored robots!”

“This base belongs to the Army National Guard and the Department of Homeland Security…”

“…and it’s in
my
federal district, and it has civilians in federal custody, which brings it under
my
jurisdiction,” Cass interjected just as angrily. “All federal law enforcement matters in the southern district of California come under
my
review, and capturing and detaining suspected illegal immigrants is a law enforcement issue. And if there are Mexican nationals being detained here, consular officials have every right to meet with and speak to their fellow citizens, ascertain their medical, physical, legal, and political status, and ensure that all of their rights as Mexican citizens and American detainees are being preserved.”

Kelsey fell silent—it was difficult, if not impossible, to argue with her reasoning. It was obvious that Cass thought she had gained at least an ideological advantage here, even though she was the one leaving. “We’re not done here, Major Richter,” she said. The two marshals, their arms and shoulders heavily bandaged, were escorted to waiting military ambulances while Cass’s dark blue government Suburbans were brought for her. “You can’t trample on the Constitution in my district like you did in San Francisco and Washington and get away with it. I’m going to see to it that you and your jack-booted storm troopers are removed from here, pronto.”

“Sheesh, who peed in her cornflakes this morning?” Jason remarked as Cass and the other federal officials departed down the dusty access road.

“Jason, this thing is just getting started, and already we’ve got Americans battling each other,” Kelsey said. “A little more restraint might be in order here.”

“I hear you, Kelsey,” Jason said, “but I’ve got my orders too, and they come right from the White House. The argument over who has jurisdiction is way above my pay grade. I was ordered to build reconnaissance and operations firebases, keep the border region under surveillance, and detain anyone illegally crossing the border, in support of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. I’m not saying people like Cass are right or wrong, or what
we’re
doing is right or wrong—but I’ve got a job to do and superior officers to report to, and they do not include U.S. Attorney Annette Cass, the U.S. Marshals Service, or anyone from the Mexican consulate.”

“Well, we’re all on the same side here—you might consider thinking twice before siccing your robots on fellow Americans, especially federal agents.”

“I know no one will believe me, Kel,” Jason said earnestly, “but I thought you were all Consortium, I swear to God. She came here unannounced with guys in bulletproof vests and submachine guns, and minutes later two helicopters swoop in. I thought we were goners.” Kelsey could tell that Richter was being absolutely serious—she never questioned his feelings. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought she saw a little unexpected paleness in his face, and he swallowed nervously. “I never realized how vulnerable we are out here, Kel. They walked onto this base with guns and badges and no one even radioed us to tell us they were here. Maybe I panicked a little. Even when I saw their IDs, I felt…defensive, like I didn’t do enough to watch my own back. I guess I got…”

“Scared? Hey, Jason, you have no idea how many times I was scared, working on the Task Force TALON, working in the FBI. You lose tactical control, even for a moment, and all you want to do is react, do
something,
until you
get
it back.” She felt a sudden wave of concern wash over her consciousness, and without think
ing she took his hand—and found it cold and clammy. “It’s okay, Jason,” she said gently. “It’s over.”

“TALON wasn’t made to guard a base or stay in one place—we’re hunters, not rent-a-cops,” Jason said bitterly. “As long as TALON is here, we’re sitting ducks for the Consortium. TALON was successful against the Consortium because we were aggressive and offensive—we took the fight to
them
. Here, they don’t have to hunt us—they know exactly where we are, and they can take all the time they want planning an attack.”

Richter’s hands were subconsciously clenched into fists, and his voice was shaking with anger. “This will
not
happen again, Kelsey—I swear it,” Jason went on adamantly. “I don’t care who it is—federal agents, illegals, or terrorists—I
will not
allow this task force to work with its hands tied behind its back,
anywhere,
but
especially
on American soil.”

“Ease up, Major,” Kelsey said, her voice firm. “This is not a personal crusade, and Task Force TALON is not alone out here. You’re part of a team—start
working
like it.”

“That’s what I’m doing here, Miss Director…”

“By having Falcone inside a CID unit grab two U.S. marshals and use them to club down
another
federal agent?” She didn’t like Jason suddenly turning sarcastically formal on her, but he had it coming—he was still acting like Task Force TALON was his own private personal boys’ club. She pointed to the ruined TEMPER units, surrounded now by National Guard soldiers starting to repair the damage. “What are you going to have your CIDs tear down next, Jason—the Border Patrol regional headquarters, after you get shut down? The federal courthouse, after they arrest Falcone for assaulting a federal officer? Are you going to take on the entire Justice Department because you want to run this assignment
your
way?”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips; Richter stopped but only half-turned toward her. “You haven’t changed much since we began the task force, Richter—you haven’t learned a thing. You’re little more than a spoiled laboratory nerd out here playing army
with your fancy high-tech toys. It’s getting tiresome. Sure, you had some victories—but that’s only when you worked with others like the FBI and the rest of the U.S. military. But now the stakes are higher—there are lives at stake here, not just terrorists but peaceful, unarmed, regular people. Maybe this job isn’t for you.”

“Bull, Kelsey. This
is
my job. TALON can do anything we’re assigned…”

“Sure it can—but maybe
you
can’t lead it,” Kelsey said. “Maybe you ought to turn this assignment over to someone else and go back to your lab where you belong. In fact, I think I might recommend that to the AG. After this morning’s incident, I think he’ll do it to avoid a mutiny in his own department—at the very least, he’ll have to do it to avoid an international incident and official government protest. Until the White House decides what to do with you, Major, I suggest you adopt an
extremely
low profile—for the sake of this operation as well as your own career.”

“Kelsey, I may just be a nerd engineer with no field experience,” Jason said, “but I was chosen to lead this task force, and my task force was deployed to this location, so I’m going to do the job I was assigned the best way I know how. The President or Ray Jefferson can shit-can me any time they feel like it, for whatever reason—or for
no
reason. Until then, I’m going to operate my men and equipment
my
way, following whatever guidance or directives I’m given. I’m going to…”

He was interrupted by a beep from his command radio: “TALON One, TALON Two,” Ariadna radioed. “Condor has detected several large vehicles heading our way from the south across the border, about six kilometers out.”

At the same time, Ben Gray radioed, “TALON One, we have a possible situation out here at the south perimeter.”

“On my way,” Jason responded. Both he and Kelsey hurried off.

They found Gray standing on the roof of a Humvee, scanning the area to the south with binoculars. “Three armored personnel carriers, about five klicks south of us, spread out about two klicks along the border,” he reported when Richter and DeLaine ran up.
“The one closest to us looks like an old World War Two half-track; the others are M-113s, with 12.7 mm machine guns mounted on the gunner’s turrets. I see flags of Mexico on their radio antennae.”

“Do they look like the real thing?” Jason asked.

Both Gray and DeLaine looked at Richter curiously—obviously neither of them had considered that they might
not
be official Mexican government vehicles. Gray scanned them again. “They look real enough to me,” he said, his voice definitely a bit more strained. “They look…hold on…they’re dismounting troops. I count…ten soldiers coming out of each vehicle carrying heavy packs and rifles.”

“We’re outgunned,” Jason said. “All we have is small arms and the CID units against three APCs and a platoon of infantry. It’s no better than even right now, and if we lost the CID unit, we’d be toast in minutes. Ben, better organize your security forces and stand by for action.” Gray blanched slightly and hurried off.

“‘Lost the CID units’? What are you talking about, Jason?” Kelsey asked as Gray sprinted past her. “You think the Mexican army means to
attack
us?”

“I’m not assuming they’re Mexicans,” Jason said, “or if they are, they’re not part of the Mexican army.”

“Who do you think they…?” Kelsey stopped—she finally figured out who Jason was worried about. “You think they might be
Consortium?
”

“Yegor Viktorvich Zakharov was a pro in recruiting local military personnel and getting his hands on all sorts of military hardware, all over the world,” Jason said worriedly. “That slimebag recruited dozens of American military men and stole hundreds of millions of dollars of weaponry, including helicopters, armored vehicles, and even a multiple rocket launcher, to assault Washington, D.C., and the White House. The bastard even stole Secret Service uniforms and equipment and got his hands on the President of the United States himself during his attack on Washington. If he could do that, he can certainly get control of Mexican
military hardware and personnel.” He clicked the mike button on his command transceiver. “Ari…”

“I’ve got a call in to Jefferson at the White House, J,” Ariadna said. “They told me to stand by. I’m sending Condor imagery to TALON headquarters at Cannon to see if we can identify any of those soldiers.”

“What do they think they’re going to do?” Kelsey asked. “Are they going to assault the base?”

“It’s a possibility,” Jason said. “If it’s the Consortium, and their attack is successful, they could throw the entire continent of North America into a terrorism panic.” He changed channels on his command transceiver. “CID One.”

“I’m receiving the downlink from the Condor,” Falcone responded. “I’m in the aircraft maintenance hangar. What’s the plan?”

“Stay out of sight until we see what they’re going to do,” Jason said.

“Wilco.”

“Break. CID Two.”

“I’ve got them on my datalink too, sir,” Sergeant First Class Harry Dodd, U.S. Army, piloting the second Cybernetic Infantry Device, responded. “I’m eight point seven miles east of Rampart One. I can be there in thirteen minutes.”

“Negative. Hold your position for now. You’re guarding our east flank. Sound off if you see anything going on.”

“Roger.”

“This might just be a show of force, or some kind of probe,” Kelsey said. “They
must
know about our CID units…” But she fell silent—she knew she could not afford to assume anything right now.

“Jason, we’re picking up air targets—slow-moving, probably helicopters,” Ariadna said. “Closest one is about six miles out.”

“Where from?”

“All sides—six from north of the border, two from the south,” the civilian Army engineer said.

This was quickly getting way out of hand, Jason thought, trying to choke down a growing bolus of panic rising in his chest. “Any air traffic control codes?”

“Stand by…” It was the longest wait Jason could recall in a long time. “Negative, Jason, negative on the air traffic codes,” Ari finally reported breathlessly. “I’ll try to coordinate their tracks with the Domestic Air Interdiction Coordination Center at March Air Force Base to find out where they’re from.” There was another interminable wait; then: “Jason, the DAICC duty officer just blew me off. He said, and I quote, ‘Tell Richter that his friends at the Border Patrol said unable at this time: don’t call us, we’ll call you.’”