Edge of Battle

by Dale Brown

  “Minister?”

  “It is true, Madam President,” Díaz said, “and I accept full responsibility for what has occurred. The downing of that Marine Corps helicopter was an unfortunate error, an accident. In retrospect, the Ministry of Internal Affairs’ helicopters from Mexicali probably would have been sufficient for the job, but it was unsure if they could have arrived on time to catch the gangsters before they escaped, or withstand their attack if they did. I made a decision, and I stand by it.”

  “You were afraid that helicopters just a few miles away wouldn’t have arrived in time,” Rojas pointed out in confusion, “so you requested help from fighter jets based almost five hundred miles away? That doesn’t make sense!”

  “Thank you for taking advantage of twenty-twenty hindsight and criticizing a last-second decision I made to safeguard lives and property, General,” Díaz shot back. “My staff discussed all options for dealing with these criminals and decided to call on the jets from Mexico City. I never thought we would actually use them. But when the helicopters failed to respond in time, we had no choice but to use the first assets available. If I had tanks and armored vehicles, I would have used them too.”

  Maravilloso studied Díaz’s face for a moment, nodded, then glanced at Sotelo and then at Alberto Rojas. “Are you satisfied, General Rojas?” He nodded, glaring at Díaz, who ignored him. “Very well then. I assure you that the Ministry of National Defense will be absolved of any responsibility in this matter. Please stay for a moment, General Rojas. I would like your advice.”

  “Gladly, Madam President.”

  Maravilloso stood behind her desk and affixed an angry gaze at Díaz. “This had better be good, Felix,” she said seriously, “because you have just made up for everything the Americans have done to us over the past several days, and much more. It looks like a retaliation, plain and simple, and now the Ministry of Internal Affairs has taken full responsibility for it. What is the real reason for the overflight? What in hell is going on?”

  “Are you sure you want to know, Carmen?” Díaz asked.

  “What do you mean, Felix?” she demanded. That was the first time, Maravilloso thought, that anything Felix Díaz said ever scared her. She had always assumed that this handsome, wealthy, and very powerful man had his own personal, business, and political agendas, but he had never before given any indication of what they were, or that they might be contrary to hers. For the first time, she felt a shiver of vulnerability in her own office. Even Rojas’s face fell in surprise at Díaz’s simple question. “What is going on here?” Díaz hesitated again. “Tell me, Felix. ¡Ahora!”

  Díaz glanced once at Rojas, silently asking Maravilloso if she was sure she wanted the Minister of Defense to hear what he was about to say; when she remained silent, he said, “We found out that Task Force TALON had found Ernesto Fuerza—‘Comandante Veracruz.’”

  “¡Mi Díos!” Maravilloso gasped. “Fuerza was in the United States?”

  “He was organizing workers up in the Imperial Valley of California—building a resistance force, raising money, recruiting supporters, even gathering weapons,” Díaz said. “TALON was going to capture him at any moment, and I seriously doubt if the Americans would have notified us of the capture for a long time. I made a decision to snatch him before TALON could close in on him, and I dispatched the Sombras…”

  “The Sombras…inside the United States…?” Rojas gasped.

  “The Sombras have operated many times inside the United States on officially sanctioned clandestine missions, Alberto—you know it as well as I,” Díaz said. To Maravilloso, he continued: “When I found out that TALON was involved, and they had called in U.S. Marines from El Centro Naval Air Facility to assist, I called in the jets.”

  “You requested our fighter jets to attack U.S. military aircraft to rescue a drug smuggler? Why?”

  “I was hoping the jets would create enough confusion and allow helicopters to come in and snatch Fuerza,” Díaz said. “Fuerza himself destroyed two helicopters, but that only succeeded in bringing more and better-armed helicopters—they weren’t going to be chased away. I ordered the pilots to attack.”

  “This is incredible!” Maravilloso retorted. “This is a disaster!” She sank into her chair behind her desk as if all of her muscles had gone weak at once. “My God, Felix, what have you done?” she muttered, shaking her head. “At the very least, that’s an international incident of the most serious order—at worst, it is an act of war. And Conrad says that Yegor Zakharov was somehow involved, and that Zakharov has one of Task Force TALON’s robots and its commander captive.”

  “I know nothing of any of this,” Díaz snapped. “It sounds to me as if Conrad is threatening to enflame American and world public opinion against us by yet again mentioning Zakharov’s involvement. This is nothing but a fairy tale. I have Fuerza—that’s all.”

  Maravilloso remained silent…but only for a moment before finally asking, “So, is he…?”

  “Vivo,” Díaz said proudly. “He is in a safe house in Hermosillo getting medical treatment, and then I will bring him here to meet with you.”

  “Is he…is he badly hurt?”

  “It appears TALON and the Border Patrol tried to torture him to reveal information,” Díaz said. “He is injured, but he will make a full recovery.”

  Carmen Maravilloso momentarily forgot about the border incursion and attack, thinking only of meeting Fuerza. “It was even better that TALON and the Border Patrol were involved, since they are the spearhead of this new anti-immigrant pogrom.” She looked at Díaz seriously. “But there is the question of explaining the initial story about the incident, especially to the Council of Government…”

  “Just tell the council exactly what I have already told you, Carmen,” Díaz said. “We can show plenty of pictures of dangerous drug dealers and explain how we are doing everything in our power to stop them, even if it means crossing the border. Let me get together with the Ministry of Information and present you with a plan on how we should deal with the press.”

  Rojas looked at Díaz suspiciously, but nodded. “You may have to submit to questioning by the Supreme Court, perhaps even resign your post,” Rojas said.

  “I will not resign my post, General Rojas,” Díaz said. “I was acting in my capacity as Minister of Internal Affairs and as chief border security and anti-drug officer of the Mexican government. The president expressed her desire to meet with Fuerza, which would have been impossible if he was captured or killed. Need I remind you that the man is wanted in Mexico for drug dealing and gun smuggling as well?”

  “The American government will want to question you,” Rojas said, “and they will not like it if we refuse.”

  “I’ve got plenty of bodies of dead drug smugglers to show the Americans—and if I don’t have enough, I’ll get some more,” Diaz said. “I can handle the Americans. They like Mexicans who are tough on crime and drugs. If necessary, I will apologize profusely and offer my resignation.” He looked at Maravilloso and added, “It will be refused, of course.”

  “Of course it will, Felix,” Maravilloso said. “But what about Fuerza? What should we do with him? After what has just happened, can he help us convince the American Congress to address the immigration problem without causing a deluge of refugees back to Mexico?”

  “He is a complete unknown, Carmen,” Rojas said. “We know of him only by rumor and legend, and most of the legend is not favorable. A drug smuggler turned so-called nationalist and self-proclaimed ‘patriotic freedom-fighter’ is still a drug smuggler. He is damaged goods, Carmen. If he is wanted in Mexico for any crimes, he should stand trial for them. Otherwise, he should be sent to a remote part of the country and placed under close scrutiny, perhaps even house arrest, to be sure he doesn’t make any more of those ridiculous videotapes and stir up the people…”

  “The people listen to him, Alberto,” Maravilloso said. “They like him. He is dashing, energetic, inspirational—”

  “You a
re too obsessed with the media image, Carmen—that may not be the real man at all,” Rojas said. “You are a much more influential person than he. Do not be sucked in by his cult of personality. Send him to a prison in Durango or San Luis Potosí state and make sure he never leaves.” Maravilloso fell silent, trying but failing to come up with a better argument than her most trusted adviser’s.

  “Fuerza’s power lies in his popularity,” Díaz interjected in the silence. “His message has attracted the attention of many progressives around the world.” He noticed Rojas’s warning expression and said: “If the people of the world are attracted to Fuerza, perhaps we should take advantage of that.” He looked at the president of Mexico carefully. “You two, together—you form a very powerful, very direct, and—to use your own emphasis—very photogenic duo.”

  The Minister of National Defense looked at Díaz as if he was going to tell him that he had no right to speak. “The president of Mexico will not appear in the electronic media with this man, this…this criminal!” Rojas retorted.

  “We do not know who he is, Alberto—we know only what the media says about him,” Maravilloso said.

  “That is very often enough—you have said so yourself many times, Carmen,” Rojas pointed out. “The people know what the media tell them, is it not so?”

  “I want to meet him,” Maravilloso insisted. “I want to see if this man can provide the spark to ignite a revolution in border and émigré matters between our country and the United States.”

  “Carmen, I think it would be a grave mistake,” Rojas said. “If you align yourself with such a man, you may never be taken seriously again by any nation. It could ruin relations with the United States for a generation…”

  “Relations have already been ruined, Alberto, but not by me,” Maravilloso said. “I will not allow the immigration debate to be steered by men like Bob O’Rourke. My position as president of Mexico prohibits me from doing much to stir the debate…but this Comandante Veracruz may be able to do what I cannot.”

  She turned to Díaz. “Felix, do not worry: I will keep to your initial story—be sure you do everything you need to do to procure as much evidence as you can to back your story up. Mexico will shield you from prosecution for abuse of power…this time. Next time, inform this office before you pull such stunts again, or I can guarantee you no such protection.” Maravilloso thought Díaz was going to argue with her—she saw a brief flare of defiance and untold strength in his features—but instead he lowered his eyes and nodded. “And I want to meet with this Ernesto Fuerza. Set it up right away. You are dismissed.”

  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 forget 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.”

  THE SITUATION ROOM, THE WHITE HOUSE,

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  THAT 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 accidental 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 th
ose 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.”