by Dale Brown
“That’s part of the plan, isn’t it, General Wentworth?” Ray Jefferson asked.
“You know very well it isn’t, Jefferson…!”
“I know nothing of the sort, Mr. Wentworth,” Jefferson retorted. “First of all, we can put anything we care to on the border to perform whatever tasks we wish, especially homeland security and border protection. I’m not saying Richter’s or Falcone’s action with your agents was proper, but if the sight of those manned robots and detention facilities forces illegal migrants to sign up for a guest worker program, it’s done its job.”
“So that was our plan, Jefferson—terrorize the Mexicans into not crossing the border? I don’t remember that as part of the game plan, Sergeant Major!”
“Look at the televisions, Mr. Wentworth,” Jefferson said. “We have thirty U.S. soldiers at Rampart One, plus two CID units and two Condor unmanned reconnaissance airships. The Mexican Army has just deployed a similar number of troops in that same area, with armored personnel carriers and patrol helicopters instead of CID units and airships. I don’t think any illegal migrants will be crossing the border at this location for a while, do you?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jefferson!” Wentworth exclaimed. “It’s a madhouse out there! Someone is going to make an awful mistake, and there could be a shooting war breaking out at any moment! Don’t tell me this is acceptable to you, because it certainly is not acceptable to the Justice Department!”
“All right, all right,” the President said, raising a hand. He turned to Brigadier General Lopez. “Okay, General, let’s hear it. What’s going on with you and TALON?”
“Sir, it was my decision to leave TALON completely in the hands of Major Richter,” the one-star Army National Guard flag officer responded. Ricardo Lopez was a bear of a man, six feet two inches in height, broad-chested and imposing, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, square jaw, a perpetual five o’clock shadow, and dark features. “My staff is directing the construction of forward operating bases in California and deploying support personnel, but I’m not up to speed on those Cybernetic Infantry Devices or their capabilities.”
“Didn’t Major Richter brief you on their capabilities, General?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir, he did. But getting briefed on them and knowing enough about them to deploy them effectively are two very different things. Given the short time frame given to have the first base set up, I decided the best way to handle it was to assign Major Richter the task of directing his men and equipment as he saw fit. I approved his rules of engagement orders; he coordinates all his movements with my staff on a regular basis; and he personally delivers a status report four times a day.”
“Do you think turning over control to Richter was a smart idea, General?” Attorney General Wentworth asked.
“Major Richter is a fine officer, and he has an enthusiastic and dedicated staff behind him,” Lopez said. “Richter may be…unconventional, to put it mildly, but he gets the job done. He’s not the problem.”
“Oh?”
“No, sir. The crazy idea here was using those CID robot things in the first place. But I believe I was not given a choice in making that decision.”
“So you’re not taking responsibility for what’s happened out there…?”
“No, Mr. Wentworth, I take full responsibility for whatever happens with Operation Rampart,” Lopez said immediately. “I’m just explaining my decision-making matrix, as I’ve already explained to Sergeant Major Jefferson.”
Wentworth turned to Jefferson. “You never told us that the commander of Rampart objected to using the robots, Jefferson.”
“I noted his objections, Mr. Wentworth,” Jefferson said, “but given the time constraints, TALON’s capabilities, and the problems associated with mobilizing the required number of National Guard forces, I directed General Lopez to utilize TALON to the utmost extent possible anyway. General Lopez assured me he would educate himself and his senior staff on TALON’s capabilities as quickly as possible. That was good enough for me.”
“What’s your plan, General?” the President asked.
“Very simple, sir: augment National Guard troops into regular U.S. Border Patrol operations, just like we do with Customs Service port inspection assistance teams,” Lopez said. “Each Border Patrol sector gets a National Guard infantry or cavalry platoon and a helicopter element for support, along with their equipment, for deployments that last no more than a week. We can augment other forces such as reconnaissance, communications, or intelligence as necessary, but I feel that wouldn’t be necessary—the Border Patrol has all of that already. All our units deploy from Border Patrol offices and travel under the direction of Border Patrol field units—we wouldn’t have to build any bases, jails, detention facilities, or anything else. The Guard gets on-the-job training by the Border Patrol, so we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Plus, since the National Guard works in a support role, there are no Posse Comitatus conflicts.”
“And this was rejected…why, Jefferson?” Wentworth asked incredulously. “Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”
“It wasn’t rejected—in fact, the plan is being put into motion,” National Security Adviser Jefferson replied. “An urgent request has gone out to every state governor and adjutant general requesting support for the plan. We’ve received requests for more information—mostly on who’s going to pay for it—but so far no takers.”
“What do you mean, ‘no takers’?” Kinsly asked. “Why can’t we just order them to give us the forces we need?”
“We need a presidential directive ordering the federalization of the National Guard if we wish to put those forces under our direct control,” Jefferson said. “Otherwise, we can only request support. We have a budget for the construction of four forward bases for Rampart operations; most of that money went to the state of California for their National Guard engineering units to build the bases.”
“How long would it take to implement the program General Lopez has described, Sergeant Major?” Secretary of Homeland Security Lemke asked.
“The governor of California tells us that he is in favor of the proposal but he wants to feel the pulse of the legislature and the people before he commits the California Guard,” Jefferson replied. “Initial polling results suggest that most Californians wouldn’t want their National Guard involved, that it’s a job for the FBI and Homeland Security, not the military.”
“That’s not surprising,” Kinsly interjected. “California is almost thirty percent Hispanic, and they aren’t minorities in all of the counties in southern California.”
“Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas haven’t responded officially, but the governors are generally in favor of the program as well, with reservations,” Lopez said. “They are all in favor of Rampart if it means bringing their Guardsmen home from overseas duty.”
“The Pentagon won’t like that notion,” Lemke pointed out. “We’re stretched to the breaking point already—removing the Guard from overseas deployments will hurt.”
“So if the request is denied, our only option is to federalize those forces,” Jefferson went on. “General Lopez has current data on each unit’s readiness and deployability—some units could be ready in days, while others might take weeks. Integrating the forces with Border Patrol sectors would take a few weeks at best, mostly to cut orders, reroute units scheduled for overseas deployment, arrange transportation and lodging, and set up a training program.”
“The bottom line, sir: we can do it, without the help of Richter and his robots,” General Lopez said, giving Jefferson an exasperated glare. “They should be pulled out of there right away and Rampart turned over to the Border Patrol for operational control. The reconnaissance stuff is great: we are getting good support from those big sensor airships, but the robots are overkill…uh, excuse the pun, sir.”
“Looks like we may have pushed Rampart into existence too quickly, eh, Sergeant Major?” the President asked. “Maybe Richter wasn’t up to it.”
“Rampart has detained hundreds of illegal migrants in just a few days’ time, Mr. President,” Jefferson pointed out. “Last night’s incident was unfortunate, but an aberration—and it happened on the U.S. side of the border, with persons who refused to comply with the CID unit’s orders. Persons who are confronted by the CID units and don’t resist are treated the same as any other detainee apprehended by the Border Patrol. They are…”
“Oh, God,” Chief of Staff Thomas Kinsly interjected. The President followed his surprised look at one of the TV monitors—which showed the Minister of Internal Affairs, Felix Díaz, speaking in front of TV cameras. Kinsly turned up the volume, and they heard Díaz say, in excellent English, “…an absolute outrage. Mexico and the United States have enjoyed an unarmed and peaceful border for over eighty years, and both nations have shown the utmost respect for each other’s sovereignty, for the rule of law, and for the rights of all free men. Now look at this: a military base, less than three kilometers from the border, where Mexican citizens, among others, including women and children, are being held without being charged with a crime, in completely inhuman and degrading conditions.
“Last night, the inevitable happened: one Mexican national was killed, and two others seriously injured, by a U.S. military manned robot called a Cybernetic Infantry Device along the border region,” Díaz went on, referring to a notecard to pronounce the name of the offending weapon correctly. The cable TV news network promptly showed a picture of a CID unit, complete with twenty-millimeter cannons blazing, taken during the Consortium’s attacks in Washington, D.C. “The whereabouts of the dead and wounded are unknown. This is no less than a horrific and brutal crime, and I hold President Samuel Conrad as commander in chief of the American armed forces completely responsible.”
While Díaz was talking, a light had been flashing on the phone on the President’s desk; after some minutes, Kinsly finally answered it. “What is it, Gladys, the President is…” He paused, and the others saw his face sink. “Stand by.” He put the call on hold. “Mr. President, it’s President Maravilloso,” Kinsly said. “She’s on the phone.”
The President paused for a few moments, then sighed resignedly and motioned for the phone. “Put her on, Gladys,” he said into the receiver. A few moments later: “Madam President, this is Samuel Conrad.”
“Mr. President, thank you for speaking with me,” Maravilloso said, her voice edgy, not friendly at all. “As I’m sure you and your advisers there in the Oval Office are aware, I would like to speak to you about the situation on the border. I assume you are watching the news coverage of the disorganized and highly illegal activities here.”
“I am being kept fully informed of the facts of recent activities in that area, Madam President, yes. What can I do for you?”
“I will make my wishes plain for you, Mr. President—I request that you release all of those Mexican detainees from your prison camp immediately into my custody,” Maravilloso said sharply. “They will all be confined and supervised by the Mexican federal police—if they are guilty of a crime, I assure you they will not go unpunished.”
“Madame President, I cannot do that. I…”
“You mean you will not do it.”
“Those detainees have been observed crossing the U.S. border at other than a legal border crossing point,” the President said evenly. “That is a crime in the United States, and so they have been arrested and are being detained until…”
“Mr. President, you must understand, this cannot be allowed to stand,” Maravilloso retorted. “That facility you built as part of Operation Rampart, the one called Rampart One, is nothing more than a chain-link concentration camp for innocent Mexican citizens. What’s even more egregious, even more horrifying, is how those citizens are being treated by American military forces! We have received reports of torture, cruelty, and total disregard for basic human rights, let alone rights guaranteed to all under the American constitution. This must stop immediately, Mr. President!”
“The American government will thoroughly investigate any and all charges of torture or cruelty to…”
“Then you admit that these cases exist?”
“I admit nothing, Madam President—in fact, I have received no reports of…”
“We have eyewitnesses to such acts, Mr. Conrad—in fact, one of the eyewitnesses was also a victim of such cruelty and illegal treatment, the consul general of the Mexican consulate in San Diego,” Maravilloso interrupted. “He was just recently captured, arrested, and falsely imprisoned in a cage so small that he was forced to stoop on his hands and knees until he was released at the orders of your director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, who was also a witness to this unspeakable action! The consul-general, a well-known, fully credentialed, and well-respected member of the Mexican diplomatic corps—forced to be imprisoned in a cell barely large enough for a dog?”
“The results of our investigation will be released as soon as possible, Madam…”
“That is not acceptable, sir!” Maravilloso cried. “We have reports not just from our people, but from very high-ranking American Justice Department officials, attesting to the accuracy of these charges!”
“Madam President,” Samuel Conrad tried, “I don’t have time to listen to speeches…”
“Mr. President, I respectfully request that you release all Mexican citizens into my custody immediately, or you risk creating an international incident and ruining the peace and trust between our countries,” the Mexican president said angrily. “If you refuse, I will immediately file protests with the Organization of American States, the United Nations, and the World Court, and I will ask American advisers to request that Amnesty International and the American Civil Liberties Union file lawsuits against the United States requesting injunctions to stop this gross violation of human rights.”
Samuel Conrad hesitated—and the reaction to that silence was as if a large cannon had been set off in the Oval Office. “Sir, tell her to mind her own business!” Jefferson said quietly but emphatically. “She knows she has no legal recourse here, or else she would’ve taken action already, not just threatened us like this…”
“It may not get her anywhere legally, but she’ll succeed in getting the entire world’s attention,” Secretary of Homeland Security Lemke said.
“Madam President, the United States asserts its right to secure its borders and enforce its laws,” Conrad said into the phone. “No legal or human rights are being violated: they have full access to legal representation, religious facilities, privacy, food and water, and medical care. They are…”
“Oh no,” Kinsly moaned again. “What in hell is he doing now?”
The President looked—and saw Minister Felix Díaz with a bullhorn to his lips, shaking his fists as he led a chant directed at the detainees at Rampart One! “What is he saying, Thomas?” he asked.
“I’ll get a translator in here…”
“‘¡Usted es héroes mejicanos! ¡Lucha para su libertad!’ ‘You are heroes of Mexico! Fight for your freedom,’” Ray Jefferson said.
“My God, he’s inciting them to riot!” Attorney General Wentworth exclaimed. “Can they hear him?”
“I don’t think so,” Jefferson said, “but they have radios and televisions in that facility—I’m sure he’s being broadcast to them.”
“Well, pull the plug!” Kinsly said. “Shut off those transmissions, or confiscate those radios!”
“It’s too late, Mr. Kinsly,” Jefferson said evenly. To the President, he said, “Sir, it might be too late to stop whatever happens next. We shouldn’t overreact. We can make full repairs to the base, but we’ll need to increase manpower at this and all other bases, especially for security at the detention facility. Our forces there need to be armed and authorized to oppose any action by the Mexican authorities.”
“What are you talking about, Sergeant Major?” the President asked absently. “What do you think is going to hap…?”
“Look!” Kinsly blu
rted. In response to the Mexican minister’s loudspeaker calls, several dozen men and boys had jumped on the chain-link fencing surrounding the detention facility and had begun swinging on it. At first the fence looked plenty sturdy enough, but it did not take long for the swaying to become wider and wider, until it was apparent that the fence was weakening—and the more the fence weakened, the more detainees jumped on it and joined in, causing it to weaken faster.
The camera swung back to Díaz, who was now getting into one of the news helicopters that had landed a short distance away. The helicopter lifted off, and soon his sound-amplified voice could be clearly heard on the broadcast. “He keeps shouting ‘freedom, freedom,’” Jefferson said. His cellular phone vibrated; in a major breach of Oval Office etiquette, Jefferson stepped away from the President and the others after checking the caller ID. “Go ahead…yes, we’re watching it, Major,” he said.
“Order Richter to get those people off that fence!” Lemke shouted.
“But don’t use that damned robot, for God’s sake!” Wentworth added.
Jefferson said nothing but continued to listen. Finally: “I concur, Major,” he said. “Proceed. Keep me advised.”
“Was that Richter?” Lemke asked. Without waiting to hear the answer, he said, “You didn’t order him to get those people off the fence?”
“No, Secretary Lemke,” Jefferson said. “He recommended that we establish a full defensive posture, and I concurred.”
“Defensive? You mean you’re not going to do anything but watch those detainees break out? They’re rioting out there! What do you intend to do about it?”
“Nothing, except guard what we can and minimize the damage,” Jefferson said simply. He answered his cell phone again, listened, then closed it. “Rampart One reports that Díaz’s helicopter is now in U.S. airspace, and is heading straight for the base. He is broadcasting on a PA system on the helicopter and can easily be heard by everyone at Rampart One.”
