Edge of Battle (43 page)

“No!” Jason yelled. “Turn them off!” But the deputy wasn’t listening. He got on his car’s radio and called for help. “Don’t go in there! Something’s happening…”

“Just shut up and stay put,” the deputy said. He raced across the empty parking lot up to the airport security fence, pulled out a white plastic passcard, and touched it to a magnetic card reader. Just as the gate started to open, an alarm bell rang in Jason’s brain, and he suddenly bolted out of the squad car. “Hey, where in hell do you think you’re goin’?” Jason didn’t reply—he just ran faster.
By then the gate had opened far enough, and the deputy gunned the engine and zoomed inside…

…and no sooner had he advanced a few car lengths when a volley of automatic gunfire erupted, peppering the car and its driver in a deadly barrage of bullets. The smoking, unguided car started moving in a slow left circle, eventually crashing into a parked airplane.

Frozen with confusion and fear, Jason hid behind the terminal building until he was as sure as he could be that he wasn’t being followed, then sneaked through the open gate and up to the shattered squad car. Thankful that no interior lights came on when he opened the passenger side door, he tried unsuccessfully to pull the shotgun out of the dashboard mount, then went around to the driver’s side. The body of the dead deputy slid onto the ground when he opened the door—ironically, that made it easier to pull the Glock semiautomatic pistol from the deputy’s holster on his right hip. He remembered to take the magazine from the officer’s utility belt before sneaking toward the burning cargo plane.

Zakharov was stunned into speechlessness. What in hell happened here? He couldn’t even imagine that his own men could turn against him and try to hijack these stolen nuclear warheads, but that was the only logical explanation.

The driver had immediately raced away from the stricken plane, and now they were in a different hiding spot, between two hangars on the southwest side of the airport grounds. He had his Dragunov sniper rifle at the ready across his chest on its sling; his pistol was in his right hand and the last antitank missile launcher was slung over his shoulder; the commando had an assault rifle ready.

“Who is out there, sir?” the commando asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Zakharov growled.

“Sir! I would never betray you!”

“No one else knew of our plans!”

“I would die before even thinking about turning on you, Colonel!”

He thought about killing the guy just to be certain, but he needed him to help him escape. “All right, Lieutenant, all right. There is only one entrance and exit to this place, and that is bound to be guarded. But there has got to be another emergency exit on the north side of the airport. We will find it and get out that way.”

“Yes, sir.” He put the van in gear, pulled away from the hangars, and drove north between the rows of airplane hangars. When they ran out of paved parking area, they went across the dry grass. Using their parking lights, they found the airport security fence.

“I will drive,” Zakharov said. “Use your flashlight and find the gate.” The commando got out, pistol in one hand, flashlight in the other. The commando wisely covered most of the lens with his hand in order to shed as little light as necessary. Moments later they came across a dirt road, and moments after that they found the gate, with a rusty chain loosely holding it closed. The commando fetched a pair of bolt cutters from the van, placed the jaws on the chain…

…and suddenly flew over sideways violently as a bullet pierced the left side of his skull, killing him instantly. Zakharov took time to let out a weak gasp of shock before reaching for the shifter…

“Freeze, Colonel. Hands where I can see them.” The voice…had a Spanish accent, not a Russian one! He slowly lifted his hands and turned. He couldn’t see the face of the man in the open driver’s side window, but he could smell the cordite coming from the muzzle of the sound-suppressed pistol he aimed at him. “Both hands, out the window. Reach for the handle outside the vehicle and let yourself out.”

Zakharov complied. “Who are you?”

“A loyal employee of a friend of yours, Colonel,” the man said. Zakharov heard the van’s cargo doors open, and excited voices in Spanish reported that there were two warheads inside. “Congrat
ulations, Colonel. There have been many security breaches at the Pantex Plant over the past fifty years, but I believe you are the first to actually steal a weapon from there, let alone two. The Comandante will be very pleased.”

“The Coman—” And then Zakharov understood everything. “You mean, this is…this is the work of
Felix Díaz?
”

“He surmised your objective and your plans and set up this ambush for you,” the man said. “Now we will take the warheads. Your body will be found here, along with the body of a local sheriff’s deputy—I would not be surprised if they deduce that it was a collaboration between you and yet another corrupt cop. Meanwhile the warheads will be on their way to Mexico.” Zakharov heard the rustle of leather as the man raised his pistol up to head level. “The legend of Yegor Zakharov will end right…”

Suddenly several shots rang out, and Díaz’s henchman fell over backward. Zakharov dropped to the ground and pulled his pistol. He saw a muzzle flash ahead of him on the other side of the fence, fired at it, then dodged around the front of the van to the passenger side. He opened the door and reached between the front seats, looking for his sniper rifle but only finally finding the last antitank missile launcher. He grabbed it and turned…

…and ran headlong into a fist aimed squarely at his one remaining eye. “Not so fast, Colonel,” he heard a familiar voice say. His pistol was pulled out of his hand.

“Richter!” Zakharov retorted. “Give me my gun back and help me get this vehicle away from here, or we are both dead!”

“I’m not helping you do
shit,
Colonel!” Jason said through clenched teeth, muting his voice. “Tell your men to drop their weapons or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

“They are not my men, you idiot!” Zakharov said. “Would my men blow up our only escape? They are Felix Díaz’s men!”

“Felix Díaz…the Minister of Internal Affairs of Mexico?”

“His men followed me here to steal these weapons.”

“You lying sack of shit…!”

“Call me names if you want to, Richter, but I am getting out of
here!” The big Russian, sensing rather than seeing where Richter was, swung both arms as if he were chopping a tree, and his fists landed squarely in Jason’s gut. He stepped over the American Army officer and ran toward the runway.

Jason had to struggle for several long seconds before he could catch a full breath. Just as he was able to get up on one knee, he felt a man running past him, shouting something in Spanish. A burst of automatic gunfire opened up, aimed in the direction of where Zakharov had run off to. Jason raised the dead deputy’s Glock, aiming just past where he saw the muzzle flash, and fired. The Spanish gunman screamed in pain and fell.

“Zakharov,
stop!
” Jason yelled, and he took off after the Russian. He hadn’t run more than a few yards when he heard gunshots behind him and felt bullets whizzing past his head and snapping at his heels, so he ran faster and began dodging back and forth. He heard more voices in Spanish behind him—they were coming for him, and they were getting closer. Other Spanish voices seemed to be yelling in celebration…

…and he realized they were celebrating because they were about to get away with the warheads. Two nuclear warheads…in the hands of a crazed politician like Felix Díaz?

Just before he reached the edge of the runway, he heard a voice with a Russian accent yell, “Get down, Richter!” In the darkness he saw a man appear on the opposite edge of the runway, a weapon raised, aimed at him. He screamed something, then dove for the ground. Just as he hit the ground, a blinding flash of light erupted right over his head. A split-second later, there was an immense explosion. A balloon of fire roiled over him, briefly illuminating the entire airport grounds and the high plains of the panhandle of Texas for miles around.

“May I suggest, Major,” he heard Zakharov yell from the relatively dark side of the runway, “that you get your stupid ass up and run as far away from here as you can? There was at least thirty kilos of plutonium in those warheads.”

Jason turned. Zakharov had fired that antitank missile at the
van and destroyed it, and the warheads along with it. Nuclear debris was going to be scattered around this area for miles…and he was right in the middle of it.

All thoughts of capturing Yegor Zakharov disappeared as Jason Richter got up and started to run. The fence on the eastern side of the airport property was no barrier at all—he had enough adrenaline coursing through his veins to practically clear the ten-foot fence without touching it. He didn’t stop running until he had crossed three roads and came upon a farmhouse. He had just enough energy left in him to pound on the front door with his fist, then tell the person who came to the door that they had to leave immediately, before collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

H
ENDERSON
, N
EVADA
A
FEW MORNINGS LATER

“Welcome back. I’m Bob O’Rourke, back behind the platinum microphone, here in the
Bottom Line
studios in east Sin City in the greatest state in the great United States of America, Nevada,” he began. “It has been one harrowing encounter after another since I was last on the air, not to mention all of the calamities that have occurred in that same time span, and I’ll bring all my loyal listeners up to speed:

“First of all, let me talk about the incident here at the studio a couple days ago. It is true: during the melee that ensued after I tried to go from my truck to the studio, caused solely by the illegal trespassing rioters and their irresponsible organizers, I pulled out my legal, licensed concealed weapon and fired it straight up into the air. No one was hurt by my action, a fact I am extremely proud of. I must tell you that my concealed weapons permit instructors tell us in the strictest terms
never
to fire a warning shot: they say never pull your weapon unless you intend to use it, but if you do pull it, use it, or you may lose it. I violated that instruction. This time, the shots scared the rioters enough to allow me to get away, and even encouraged the dangerous crowd to disperse, so more violence and injury was thankfully averted.

“It is also true that I was dog-piled, handcuffed, had a couple fingers broken, arrested, and held in custody by the Clark County Sheriff’s Department for most of that day. But as you can tell, I am today a free man. The District Attorney has said he is not sure if he intends to charge me with a misdemeanor for carrying a concealed weapon in a ‘cocked and locked’ condition, which is not permitted in Clark County. I cannot comment on that. The only thing I will say is I’m glad no one was hurt by my actions, I am thankful for the assistance and bravery of the Clark County Sheriff’s deputies who were on duty that morning, despite what they’ve done to my hand, and I will vigorously defend my rights under the Second Amendment to the Constitution and Nevada law if the District Attorney insists on pressing charges.

“But now let’s talk about the real issue of the day—the real meaning of the sudden upsurge in violence against America by the illegal immigrant community:

“The violence and chaos in the illegal immigrant population and border security realm is growing by the day. Two days ago, as you well know by now, nine Americans and three Mexicans were killed, thirty were injured, and the American embassy in Mexico City was severely damaged by an explosives-laden bus. The bus had been carrying members of the Federal District Police, who were there to escort the U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Leon Poindexter, to a meeting with Mexican president Carmen Maravilloso and Minister of Foreign Affairs Hector Sotelo in the Presidential Palace.

“This proves without a doubt, my friends, one of two things: either the Mexican government is directly responsible for these attacks, or the Mexican government is unable or unwilling to stop these murderous attacks, which are probably being carried out by followers of the terrorist Comandante Veracruz. It is imperative that the U.S. embassy and all U.S. consulate offices in Mexico be closed immediately and our representatives returned to Washington before there are any more terrorist activities targeting Americans. I encourage all Americans living and working in Mexico to get out as soon as you can as well.

“The morning’s news alerts have been focusing on another horrific crime that occurred in southern California earlier that morning, this time perpetrated by none other than the Mexican Army—yes, you heard me, the
Mexican Army,
” O’Rourke went on. “Two infantry squads, about fifty men, of Mexican Army regulars and paramilitary border security soldiers attacked an encampment of the American Watchdog Project, which was set up several miles east of the U.S. military border security base near Boulevard, California, called Rampart One. Five men were killed, including one medical doctor from the California Army National Guard. No, I take that back. Five American citizens were
slaughtered
by the Mexican Army, shot at close range with automatic weapons.

“As I’ve reported many times on this broadcast, the White House has sharply reduced the number of National Guard troops in this area recently in a vain attempt to lessen tensions between the United States and Mexico. The American Watchdog Project, who as you know lost their leader Herman Geitz recently to an unknown assassin while your humble correspondent was on patrol with his team, had set up a camp between Rampart One and the western edge of the Calexico border fence to watch out for illegal immigrants crossing the border here to make up for the loss of National Guard troops deployed there.

“It is true that the Watchdogs had taken a number of illegals into custody, including a pregnant woman. The Mexican government says the attack was in response to this illegal arrest; they say that they had eyewitness evidence that the Mexicans in captivity were being tortured and sexually abused, and they point to the recent disputed incident with the National Guard troops as further evidence of increased violence against migrants. The Mexican government says it did not order the Mexican troops to initiate the attack, but the local commander took it on his own authority to organize and conduct the raid.

“But in all the squawking from the Mexican government and the Hispanic human rights groups about the Watchdogs, com
plaining that the United States is unlawfully committing acts of atrocity against Mexicans, here’s something you haven’t heard on the news yet about this incident. I spoke with the Imperial County sheriff this morning, and he confirms that the American Watchdog Project members had intercepted a group of illegals crossing the border a few miles west of the Calexico fence. When I asked why
they
had intercepted the group instead of calling in the National Guard or Border Patrol, as they always do, the sheriff explained that the pregnant woman they had found was in the later stages of labor and was ready to deliver a child. The sheriff’s department had been notified, and a doctor, Army National Guard Captain William Abrams, had been summoned to the scene by the Watchdogs to help deliver the infant. In fact, I have in my possession the recordings from the Imperial County 911 Emergency Call Center and the recordings from the police radio transmissions, giving precise descriptions of the woman and her medical condition, her identity, and the identities of several of the men traveling with her, and I’ll play those recordings for you at the top of the hour, so stayed tuned.

“Bottom line, my friends: the Watchdogs were trying to help this woman, not hurt her. The woman was assisted across the border obviously so she could have her baby born on U.S. soil, which is a very common practice as illegals attempt to circumvent the law and take advantage of our Constitution. But the Mexican Army staged a so-called ‘rescue mission’ and ended up killing five Americans in cold blood. The woman and her child are missing; there has been no word from the Mexican Army or the Mexican government except to condemn the Watchdogs for their actions.

“This falls precisely in line with the highly suspect episode recently where a California National Guard soldier stands accused of raping a female illegal immigrant. Even though the woman’s story about how she came to be in that area and if she was traveling alone or with others has been totally inconsistent and unsupported by any evidence, it is the American government that is being vilified around the world, even before any facts are in. It is
frighteningly obvious to me, my friends, that the Mexican government is fabricating these lies in order to incite the Hispanic community to violence against America on both sides of the border, turn world opinion in its favor, and provoke outright war with the United States.

“Yes, folks, I said ‘war,’ and I am not exaggerating here. Prussian General Carl von Clausewitz said in the early nineteenth century that ‘War is the continuation of policy by other means,’ and that is exactly what is happening here today. The Mexican government knows it has absolutely no hope of influencing Congress, the White House, or the American people that illegal immigration is good and should be encouraged, expanded, or at least tolerated, so they have decided to switch tactics and attempt to force America’s lawmakers and policy makers to drive the debate back to the fore by committing acts of devastation, mayhem, and murder against us. This is nothing short of state-sponsored terrorism, my friends, the scourge we have been fighting since the first U.S. airliner was hijacked in 1961, and last year actually declared war against.

“So if this is war being waged against the United States, where is our defense? Where is the vaunted but horrendously expensive Task Force TALON, the high-tech combined FBI and military unit charged with hunting down terrorists wherever they may be found anywhere in the world? We’ve sent TALON to Brazil, Russia, Great Britain, Egypt, and even right here in America—but where are they now?

“Unsubstantiated reports are that one of TALON’s robots had actually been hijacked and used to terrorize the area around Amarillo, Texas just a couple days ago. The government is not commenting at all, but there was some sort of security breach at Amarillo International Airport and possibly another at a government facility I will not mention here because of national security. But all I see is confusion, a lack of leadership, and chaos happening here, folks. It is all very disturbing—very, very disturbing indeed.”

O’Rourke withdrew a slim folder of e-mails, photocopied forms, and notes. He paused for a moment, as if perhaps reconsidering his next move; then, popping more chocolate-covered espresso beans in his mouth, went on: “Let me give you an example of how really screwed up the government’s immigration and border security programs are, ladies and gentlemen. Yesterday my staff received an anonymous e-mail from an individual that was so outrageous, but so factual-sounding, that we thought we’d investigate. Normally I wouldn’t waste my time or my staff’s with such nonsense, but this anonymous message actually had relevant and believable evidence attached to it. It turns out it was
not
so outrageous, my friends.

“I’m sure you recall the deputy commander of Task Force TALON, Dr. Ariadna Vega, the young woman who helped design and build the incredible manned military robots involved in the hunt for terrorist mastermind Colonel Yegor Zakharov and also involved in setting up the first military security bases along the border. Prompted by this anonymous correspondent, we checked on Dr. Vega’s background, and we have reason to believe that she and her parents are here in the United States illegally. Yes, folks,
illegally
. Dr. Vega’s father attended the University of Southern California on an educational visa, where he obtained a doctorate degree, but he never left the country when his visa expired. Instead, he apparently sent for his family back in Ensenada, Mexico, where they were smuggled across the border sometime in the mid-1980s.

“But that was not the worst part, my friends, not by a long shot. Now although the Vegas were productive and apparently law-abiding visitors to the United States, they were still here illegally. Miss Ariadna Vega attended USC and several other American universities, obtaining her doctorate degree in engineering, like her father. She was then hired by the U.S. Army Research Laboratory as a computer and electrical engineer, eventually joining the Infantry Transformational BattleLab, one of the government’s most highly classified offices, working on very advanced weapons for future infantry combat soldiers.

“But how, you might ask, does an illegal immigrant get a top-secret security clearance and become the number-two person in a major border security unit? The answer: she falsified her documentation, folks. She took great pains to cover her tracks, all the way from junior high school through college and university. Of course, the state of California does not keep very good records of the citizenship status of its students, arguing that it’s a violation of their constitutional rights and California law, so the government investigators charged with checking background information obviously ran into plenty of stone walls and dead ends when they looked into her past. But those were stone walls partially erected by Miss Vega and her family.

“We have obtained copies of Miss Vega’s Mexican and American birth records through third-hand sources, but have not been able to validate either set of documents’ authenticity, so we have no direct evidence as of yet. Of course, the U.S. Army will not turn over any fingerprint records to us so we can verify this information. But a professional’s examination of the footprints on both sets of birth records conclude that they appear to be
identical
. The baby’s footprints of course could be faked. But the compounding of circumstantial evidence tells us here at
The Bottom Line
that Dr. Ariadna Vega, deputy commander of Task Force TALON, is indeed an illegal alien—and, it appears, has violated several federal laws in order to obtain a highly classified government position that is normally not open to foreign nationals because of trust, loyalty, and security concerns.

“Now I’m not saying that Miss Vega is a dangerous spy out to destroy America. There is no question that she is a hero after her actions in hunting down and defeating the Consortium terrorist group that attacked America last year. In my opinion, she doesn’t deserve prison time. The question is, however: does she deserve to still have access to classified government programs and still be in charge of our nation’s border security? I don’t think so. And it begs the wider question: does her immigration and citizenship status have anything to do with TALON’s ineffectiveness in securing
our borders?
The Bottom Line
wants to know, and we
will
find out, I promise you.”

P
ECOS
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RAINING
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ANNON
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B
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HAT SAME TIME