Edge of Battle (35 page)

As Díaz headed to the door, Alberto Rojas held up a hand to stop him. “You did not mention, Minister Díaz, how you discovered Ernesto Fuerza was in the United States, where he was headed, and how you managed to steer three military aircraft so precisely in his vicinity that they could effect a rescue.”

“It is my job to know these things, General,” Díaz replied.

Rojas nodded. “I see. So you knew where Fuerza was all the time, and your
Sombras
could have scooped him up any time you wished, eh? Strange you waited until he was being chased by Task Force TALON before doing so.” Díaz said nothing, but turned and walked away.

After Díaz departed, Rojas said, “You may still have to fire Díaz, Carmen, even if you give him blanket immunity. And for
get this insane idea to meet with Fuerza. He can do nothing but hurt you.”

“You still do not understand, do you, Alberto?” Maravilloso asked. “Are you blind, or have you been in the Federal District too long? Do you not have any notion of what the American people will do once details of this incident are released in the press? There will be a tremendous backlash of anger against all Mexicans that will set relations between our countries and the hopes for a peaceful solution to our immigration issues back a
generation
.”

“I do indeed fear this, Madam,” Rojas said, “but I do not understand how this ‘Comandante Veracruz’ can help. What magic do you expect him to perform for you?”

“I do not know, Alberto—that is why I need to meet with him,” Maravilloso said. “But we need to find some message to tell the world that Mexico is the aggrieved party in this conflict, not the United States. I am hoping Fuerza has this message. If he does, we could possibly come to terms with the Americans and end this feud. If he does not, we will be struggling with the Americans—and perhaps even our own people—for years and years to come.”

“The Council of Government will not support you,” Rojas said.

“You mean,
you
will not support me.”

“Carmen, forget this insane idea,” Rojas pleaded. “I know it is your nature to be unconventional and bold, but I do not believe this is the time.” He paused, then said, “You must issue the statement about Díaz’s involvement immediately to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and have the message sent out to all foreign embassies immediately—starting with the American embassy, of course.”

“Do you think Díaz is telling the truth, Alberto?”

“I do not know, Carmen,” Rojas said. “This I
do
know: we are involved in some sort of game in which we do not know all the rules or the players. We must play along for now because we have no other choice. But we must find a way to take control of this situation, or we will quickly find ourselves rendered…inconsequential.”

T
HE
S
ITUATION
R
OOM
,
THE
W
HITE
H
OUSE
,
W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.
T
HAT SAME TIME

“I’m surprised, Mr. President,” Attorney General George Wentworth said as the President hung up the dead telephone. “I never would have expected her to agree to assist us.”

“But she did—that’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks,” the President said. He turned to the Secretary of State. “Chris, you and George will be leading the investigation team—push this thing for all it’s worth. We need to take advantage of this sudden largesse when we can. Get down to Mexico City right away and interview as many of their military commanders, the Interior Ministry higher-ups—everyone we can get our hands on.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“A flash message coming over the wire services, Mr. President,” the Chief of Staff, reading from his computer monitor, said. “They’re reporting that Bob O’Rourke on his morning radio show called for Americans to take up arms in defense of their neighborhoods and to report all illegal aliens to the government.”

“He did
what?
” the President moaned. “For God’s sake, he’s going to create a damned panic!”

“The word’s gotten out already,” Attorney General George Wentworth said. “We should notify every state and local law enforcement agency in the country to expect trouble. Every Hispanic in the U.S. could become a target.”

“Do it, George,” the President said. To his Chief of Staff, he ordered, “Tom, set up a press conference at noon so I can respond to this. And get O’Rourke on the phone. Tell him to tone down the rhetoric or the FCC will pull the plug on him.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Kinsly said. As Kinsly picked up the phone to call his staff, his computer terminal beeped again. “A flash message from the embassy in Mexico City, Mr. President: President Maravilloso has assumed full responsibility for the acci
dental downing of the American aircraft, and sincerely apologizes to the people and government of the United States.” He turned, a satisfied expression on his face. “There we have it. She’s coming clean.”

“No mention of Zakharov or the captured CID unit, though,” Jefferson pointed out.

“We have no evidence that these incidents were connected,” Kinsly said. To the President, he said, “I think we may want to make a statement or gesture to show that we acknowledge Maravilloso’s effort to reveal those involved in this incident, sir. Perhaps removing a few more military units away from the border?”

“I was thinking the same thing, Tom,” the President said. To Ray Jefferson, he ordered, “Tell General Lopez to pull a few Guard units back, stop the deployment of any more Guard units to the border, and accelerate the removal of those antitank weapons.” He shook his head. “Hell, if worse comes to worse, the states might need their Guard units to keep the peace on the streets if citizens start targeting Mexicans.”

“I request permission for Task Force TALON to deploy wherever necessary to follow any leads on the whereabouts of Major Richter and the stolen CID unit,” Jefferson said.

“We don’t want TALON in Mexico before the FBI,” Kinsly said immediately. “Maravilloso gave us excellent access and we shouldn’t screw up this opportunity. Those robots have killed Mexican citizens…”

“One of our men is missing and a CID unit might be in the hands of the world’s most notorious terrorist,” Jefferson said. “We need to move quickly or we’ll lose the trail…”

“Disapproved…for now,” the President said. “I want the staff and the FBI briefed on CID’s capabilities and potential threats to American targets, and the possibility of Zakharov being able to figure out how to utilize that thing. But no TALON units go outside the U.S. for now.”

Jefferson’s eyes blazed, but he held himself in check—barely. “Yes, sir,” he growled, glaring at Kinsly. He knew the Chief of
Staff wasn’t completely to blame: the President looked and sounded exhausted, and he was clinging to any possible relief.

“George, I’d like twice-daily briefings on the investigation into the incident near El Centro,” the President said. “Russ, let Tom know when the memorials will be for the pilots killed out there. I want to be there.” Both advisers, obviously anxious to move on as well, responded immediately and affirmatively. The President shook his head wearily. “I really want things to start returning to normal, folks,” he said. “No more surprises.”

“Sir, any comment on the Homeland Security Advisory threat level?” Jefferson reminded the President.

“Yes—ask them to reconsider leaving it at orange,” the President replied. “I’ll defer to their judgment, but if at all possible, I’d like to keep it where it is right now.”

“In light of the loss of the CID unit, sir, perhaps we should consider…”

“I’d like to keep that quiet for now, Sergeant Major,” the President said. “I realize how powerful those things are, but I don’t think just one poses a serious threat to this country. Work with the FBI to find that thing right away.”

“Sir, I strongly suggest…”

“That’s all for now, Sergeant Major,” the President insisted. “If you have any more concrete evidence that Zakharov has the robot and that it poses a significant threat, advise me immediately. Otherwise, I want the border situation to calm the hell down before anyone else gets killed—‘accidentally’ or otherwise.” He stood, and everyone else got to their feet. “Thanks, everyone,” he said brusquely as he strode out of the Situation Room, followed closely by the Chief of Staff. The rest of the National Security Staff departed right behind them.

Alone in the Situation Room, Ray Jefferson sat and thought about the meeting for a few minutes, then picked up a secure phone and dialed a number. “Yes, Sergeant Major?” Brigadier General Lopez responded a few moments later.

“Any news on your end since the incident in El Centro this morning, sir?”

“No, Sergeant Major, everything is quiet for the time being. My units have made a few dozen illegal immigrant intercepts over the past forty-eight hours, down slightly from normal. No trouble. We have a few volunteer border watch groups out east of Rampart One on private land, maybe three camps with a couple dozen folks, mostly elderly local ranchers. We’re keeping an eye on them.”

“The president of Mexico has assumed responsibility for the El Centro attack, sir,” Jefferson said. “She claims she authorized the aircraft to fly across the border but denies giving any orders for the jets to attack American aircraft.”

“You buy that, Sergeant Major?”

“No, sir, but the President does, and he wants to drop Maravilloso a kudo. He wants to remove the TOW missiles from the border immediately, stop all further Guard deployments, and pull some Guard units off the border.”

“No problem. The guys don’t like being out there, I can tell you.”

“Sir?”

“No official reports from any units out there, Sergeant Major, just the buzz I’m picking up—it may sound like typical soldier bellyaching, but I’m picking up a definite read on these guys out there, and it’s not favorable,” Lopez said uneasily. “They’re staying pretty busy despite the tension and the presence of troops on both sides. Weather conditions are uncomfortable, very much like Iraq…”

“I would’ve thought the southwestern Guard guys are used to working in the heat.”

“Again, Sergeant Major, I categorize a lot of this as typical soldier moaning and groaning,” Lopez said, “but there is an undercurrent of uneasiness. Hours and hours sweating away in the heat or freezing at night, and all they come up with is a handful of thirsty, starving, desperate Mexicans who just want to go to work. The units that find dead migrants are especially hard-hit—dying of thirst is a tough way to go, and a lot of the guys aren’t accustomed to seeing death like that. They’ve found…I believe over
sixty-five dead migrants during their patrols, including children. It hits them hard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s tough on them, that’s all,” Lopez said. Jefferson detected a hint of frustration in the general’s voice, as if he expected a bit more empathy from the National Security Adviser and was disappointed he didn’t get it. “Which units do you want gone, specifically, Sergeant Major?” he asked perturbedly.

“Choose TOW missile units, units in high-visibility locations with lots of press around, and units that have been in the field the longest, in that order, sir,” Jefferson said. “I want it to look like a reduction but I don’t want it to be an open invitation for smugglers to resume travel through those areas. Limit the reductions to around ten percent until we get further guidance. I’ll send a written copy of the order to your headquarters.”

“Okay, Sergeant Major.”

“Thank you, sir. Jefferson out.” His next phone call was to Ariadna Vega and FBI Director Kelsey DeLaine, teleconferenced in together. “Have you been briefed, Miss Director?” he asked.

“Dr. Vega briefed me moments ago,” Kelsey replied, “and the Attorney General just called and scheduled a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“What’s the word, Sergeant Major?” Ariadna asked impatiently. “Are we going into Mexico with the FBI, or is TALON going in by itself? We’re standing by.”

“Neither, Doctor,” Jefferson replied.

“
What?
And let Zakharov get away? Are they
crazy?
”

“The President wants you to stand down until we see what shakes out in Mexico.”

“We’re not even going to ask Mexico to apprehend whoever was in those helicopters so we can question them?” DeLaine asked.

“Your job is to make contact with the Mexican government and demand anything and everything you can think of to do this investigation, Miss Director,” Jefferson said. He paused for a mo
ment; then: “ I’ll brief the Attorney General and get some warrants issued, but I want to operate under the assumption that the FBI will learn information as to the major’s or Zakharov’s whereabouts, but the Mexican government will balk rather than give us carte blanche to go in and get them. Ariadna, I want a plan drawn up to go into Mexico to get the major, the CID unit, and Zakharov, and I want you guys standing by.”

“You got it, Sergeant Major.”

“Work closely with Director DeLaine and get ready to act on whatever intelligence information you receive,” Jefferson said. “I want a plan from you to covertly send TALON to Mexico if we don’t get cooperation, but TALON stays out of the country until I give the word. Miss Director, who is your contact person for TALON now?”

“I’m assigning my deputy assistant director for counterterrorism, Bruno Watts, to head up TALON,” Kelsey replied. “Bruno’s an ex–Navy SEAL, and he’s been pestering me for more info on TALON and to let him go back out into the field, so I just dumped all the TALON files on his desk and now he’s as happy as a pig in shit. His staff has been drawing up some plans if we need to go in on short notice to hunt for Zakharov, and I’ll shoot them over to you after I’ve gotten the briefing. What assets can we count on?”

“For now, anything in the Mexican MOU that we don’t need permission to bring into the country.”

“That’s not much, Sergeant Major,” DeLaine said. “Standard law enforcement equipment, vehicles, and aircraft—no weapons, no armored vehicles, no attack or covert ops aircraft, no unmanned aircraft, no surveillance equipment beyond ordinary cameras and voice recorders. Anything beyond that requires permission, and that takes time and a lot more political juice than I will ever possess.”