Brown, Dale - Independent 02 (25 page)

 
          
“Drugs
that
reach
the shores
are
a law-enforcement issue. The
military or the Hammerheads don’t belong in the cities or on the streets, and
I’m not recommending here that we conduct military anti-drug sweeps of
Miami
, or
New York
, or
Bogota
, or even
Medellin
. They don’t work anyway. We’re concerned
with one thing:
keeping the unidentified
and uninvited ships and planes out of our territorial skies and waters.
”

 
          
“So
we spend billions on tilt-rotors and drones and oil platforms and radars for
the southeast,” Crandall spoke up. “The smugglers change tactics. They’ll step
up containerized shipping, bring the stuff in across the Mexican boarder and
through
Europe
or
Canada
. Your project will be obsolete before it’s
activated.”

           
“No, sir. We’ve seen the smugglers
try containerized shipping and overland routes through
Mexico
, and even the United Parcel Service, but
they
always
go back to aircraft and
vessel smuggling overwater. Why? Because it’s the fastest, safest, easiest way.
If they put their shipment in containers they lose control of it for days,
sometimes weeks, and every hour the drugs are out of their control is another
chance for someone to slip up or an informant to squeal or for Customs to move
in and seize it. If it goes overland through
Mexico
the borders can be patrolled better and
sealed off faster, and the shipments have to be smaller to avoid detection.

 
          
“Air
and sea smuggling, whether leap-froggmg through the Bahamas or direct flights
from South America to Florida, will be the method of choice for sixty to
seventy percent of smugglers, and a heavy percentage of those will be brought
into the United States through the southeast—half, or twenty billion dollars
worth per year, will come through Florida itself. We can tackle the other
smuggling routes later on. I propose that we shut off the
main
source of illegal narcotics
now.
”

 
          
Downtown
Miami

 
          
Ten Hours Later

 
          
“Hardcastle’s
a loose cannon,” Customs Service Commissioner Joseph Crandall was saying to
Secretary Coultrane. “We can come up with someone,
something
better.” Coultrane didn’t disagree.

 
          
Vice
President Martindale listened. He was waiting for Defense Secretary Thomas
Preston to comment, holding back on his own thoughts until the veteran, highly
respected statesman and close friend of the President spoke up.

 
          
Preston
was not a career military man—few
secretaries of defense were. He had spent years in the Navy, including two as a
liaison officer to the White House representing the Commander of the Pacific
Fleet during
Vietnam
. In those years as a mid-rank but well- respected aide and
administrator,
Preston
began the long series of contacts,
introductions, assignments that even now, was serving him well after twenty
years out of uniform. He had been noted for wearing his Navy uniform clean of
ribbons and accouterments. He had cut his teeth in the trenches of
Congressional warfare instead of the muddy foxholes of southeast Asia, and
unlike many who returned from the wars, internal and external, he had emerged
stronger, fiercer, wiser. He knew he had been groomed for this position and
maybe something beyond . . .

 
          
“Admiral
Hardcastle’s proposal, backed by Admiral Cronin, is extraordinary,
far-reaching, forward-looking.”

           
“Do I hear a ‘but’ coming?”
Martindale asked.

 
          
“Not
necessarily. I recommend taking it right up to the President. If the President
goes for it he should be prepared for some battles, including in Congress. Cost
estimates, for example, can be underestimated . . .”

 
          
“Four
billion dollars,” Coultrane muttered. “That’s equal to the entire Coast Guard
budget. That’s twice the Customs Service’s budget. And all to set up an
interdiction network in just the southeast.”

 
          
Crandall
muttered, “Let him have the V-22s and the drones—I wasn’t that impressed with
them anyway. But let him try to take my Black Hawks and Citations and we’re
gonna tangle.”

 
          
Martindale
wasn’t listening to Crandall. He was studying
Preston
.

 
          
“What
about a boss for this Border Security Force,” the VicePresident asked
Preston
. “Drug czar Samuel Massey? General
Elliott?”

 
          
“I
doubt Elhott would take it,”
Preston
said. “He’s on temporary assignment. Air Force is his love and career.” He
paused a moment. “In a way it’s a no-win position.” He picked up Hardcastle’s
thick proposal booklet, where it was open to a color laser drawing of an armed
V-22 Sea Lion aircraft, its pylons bristling with missiles, its nose-mounted
infrared scanner resembling a hungry wasp’s head. “Whoever it might be will
take all of the responsibility and flak and little of the credit, if there’s
any credit to be taken. He’ll be a shuttle between yourself, the President, and
the commander of the operational forces—these Hammerheads.”

 
          
Martindale
nodded. “Then the commander of the operational forces becomes the main
consideration.”
Preston
nodded. “Who? Hardcastle?”

 
          
“He’s
your friend, right?”
Preston
asked Martindale without looking at him.

 
          
“We’ve
known each other for a long time, yes,” the Vice President said a bit testily.
“But that won’t affect my recommendation. You know it won’t.”

 
          
Preston
nodded. “Of course.”

 
          
Martindale
looked at
Preston
. The Vice President shook his head. “You’re
talking ancient history, Mr. Secretary.”

 
          
“Congress
has a long memory, Mr. Vice President, when it’s convenient.”

 
          
Admiral
Cronin met Hardcastle, Geffar, Inspector Long, and Commander Becker in the
lobby of the
Hyatt
Brickell
Plaza
, the hotel right across
Second Street
from the downtown
Federal
Building
and the Customs Service’s canal-side headquarters.
Already on hand with Cronin were General Elliott and Major McLanahan.

           
“The Vice President’s just finishing
dinner,” Cronin said. “He should be ready for us in a few minutes.”

 
          
Long
was staring at Elliott and McLanahan. Finally he leaned forward toward
McLanahan and said in a low voice, “Okay. Who are you guys? Spies? Super
heroes?”

 
          
McLanahan
said nothing.

 
          
“The
Vice President was talking to you like you walk on water or something. What’d
you guys do?”

 
          
“We
flew planes, we fly planes. Air Force jet jockeys.”

 
          
“We’re
also advisors to Admiral Hardcastle,” Elliott added. “Leave it at that.” Long
did.

 
          
Hardcastle
lit his cigar. “So what’s on the agenda tonight, sir?” he asked Cronin. “Good
news or bad?”

 
          
“I’ve
no idea. But I thought your presentations and organization were top-drawer.”

 
          
GefiFar
spoke up: “You were going for the shock value, and maybe it backfired. You blew
the doors off with that demonstration, but I don’t think they like getting
their doors blown off.”

 
          
“It
was meant to shock,” Hardcastle said. “We’ve got a shocking problem
here.”        '

 
          
“But
is putting a missile into some guy’s tailpipe the answer?” Long put in. “I’ve
been flying for Customs for twelve years. Twelve goddamned years. I’ve got over
seven thousand hours in nine different aircraft. We fly seven days a week, we
make over four hundred busts a year. We work hard.
Real
hard. Now, it’s all going for shit. Now it’s not good enough.
Yesterday, we were the front line, doing the job. Now, you’re trying to tell
us, tell the Vice-President, that the answer is a whole new outfit that kills
suspects.”

 
          
“Good
point, Agent Long,” a voice behind them said. Vice President Martindale was a
few paces away from the cluster of sofas where they were waiting. “Don’t stop,”
he said. An aide brought over a wing-backed leather armchair and the Vice
President sat between GefiFar and Becker.

 
          
“Well,
I’ve gotten feedback from half the President’s Cabinet and a few unsolicited
comments from some members of Congress who didn’t even know what was going on.
So, continue. Agent Long has a good point. We have a pretty good program going
with the Customs Service in charge of drug interdiction. They make busts and
they don’t shoot down smugglers—”

 
          
“I
am
not
proposing a wholesale
slaughter of civilians,” Hardcastle shot back. “I’m trying to design a way to
secure this country’s borders from intruders. The
main
feature of the program is detection, establishing navigational
corridors and restricted-use regions and a system of response, surveillance and
interceptor aircraft to patrol the borders and find those who are violating the
law. Attacking those intruders who ignore the laws and don’t follow the
established procedures is the last resort. We don’t go into every intercept
with fingers on the trigger.

 
          
“The
suspect is guilty as soon as he crosses the line into restricted airspace,”
Hardcastle pressed on. “The operation begins at that instant, but we don’t go
in with Sea Stinger missiles in the air. We track the suspect after he deviates
from his flight plan or crosses into restricted airspace. We try to make
contact with him, get him to follow our aircraft or get back within the
designated airspace or routing. If he ignores our directions, we complete the
intercept. We order him to follow. We direct him to land. If he
still
fails to respond, he is resisting
arrest and
must be stopped.
”

 
          
“Suspects
aren’t routinely shot for trespassing or for resisting arrest,” GefiFar said.
“At least, not by law-enforcement agencies—”

 
          
“This
is
not
a law-enforcement action, damn
it. It’s a national- security issue—”

 
          
GefiFar
shook her head. “Admiral, we’re both frustrated about the drug smuggling
situation. We see scum float by us every day. We know that for every one we
catch, five, six, seven slip by. But at least I realize that the answer is
not
to go extra-legal. This
is
a law- enforcement action, Admiral.

 
          
“Sure,
I’m frustrated, but the difference is, I’m willing to go an extra step to do
something about it. Let’s deal with the problem. Let’s design a system that
catches more of those seven or eight smugglers that get by. If it means that we
put missiles and guns on Sea Lion aircraft,
then
so be it.
”

 
          
The
Vice President said, “I’ve seen a very impressive display of state-of-the-art
hardware, true, but what has impressed me more is the devotion you all have to
your jobs. But the disease seems to have spread faster than our capacity or
willingness to deal with it. The government has a choice. We can rearm Customs
and the Coast Guard, expanding their roles in interdiction at the expense of
their primary missions, or we can create a new organization that deals
specifically with drug interdiction and interdiction only.