Fisk pointed to the TV. “If you’ll notice, those signs are written in English. Those people are asking for our help. If we just sit here and let nature take its course, we’ll have the same protests outside this building in a couple of months.”
Merrick nodded. “Okay. I have a call scheduled with President Salcido this afternoon. He’s going to want to know if we’re endorsing him.”
“Yeah,” Fisk said, “I’ve thought about that.”
“And?”
“And tell him I want to meet with each candidate individually before we make our decision.” Fisk looked at Dexter. “Then let the Rodriguez people know I want a personal meeting with their candidate. And make sure that gets leaked to the press.”
“Okay, Sam,” Dexter said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Fisk grabbed his passport from Dexter’s desk and put it in his inside jacket pocket, then looked at Merrick. “I’ll take care of my end, just make sure Nick takes care of things on the border. Otherwise this thing will blow up in our faces.” Fisk raised an eyebrow. “Literally.”
Merrick handed Fisk the thick manila file. “Some easy reading for your trip down.”
Fisk frowned. “I asked for his profile, not his life story.”
Merrick put his hands in his pocket. “Listen, Sam. I just spoke with Ken and the United Palestinian Force has just threatened to sever an oil pipeline in western Syria. It seems they’re upset about the way we’ve been treating them.”
“What does Walt think?”
“I’m not taking a damn poll, Sam,” Merrick snapped. “I’m just telling you the head of the Central Intelligence Agency thinks we should put these guys on our radar and raise the threat warning.”
Fisk thought about his plan. Everything he did was predicated on stopping the UPF’s dirty bomb from reaching US soil. He felt like he had just rolled a pair of dice and desperately needed a seven to stay alive. Maybe he’d become too cynical. Maybe he’d become too jaded. Either way, he was pulling Merrick’s presidency into turmoil if his plan failed.
Fisk sighed. “Tell you what. If I’m wrong about this, I’ll resign immediately. I’ll take full responsibility for these foreign policy blunders and explain how I made huge mistakes based on my experience with Middle Eastern terrorists and their past behavior.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes. “I’m not looking for a scapegoat. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you. I just want to do the right thing.”
Fisk patted his friend on the arm as he headed out the door. “Do me a favor. Tell Nick I highly recommend finding that bomb.”
* * *
Francisco Rodriguez walked across the desert terrain next to the leader of the Zutons, Santiago Valdez. They strolled casually with their sunglasses and their sandals and twenty armed soldiers making sure their meeting was secure.
Rodriguez had his hands behind his back and spoke with reverence to the cartel leader.
“You seem preoccupied, Santiago,” Rodriguez said. “What is troubling you?”
Valdez nodded. “You are very perceptive. I have a very large package which needs to be delivered by tonight. It is more than my people can handle.”
“Is there something I can do to help?”
Valdez appeared to appreciate the gesture. “That is okay. I will find a way.”
“Have you contacted Garza?”
Valdez stopped and turned to face Rodriguez. “I am curious. Do you make a percentage from Antonio’s service?”
Rodriguez jerked his head back. “Are you joking?”
“This is no joke,” Valdez said, glancing back where their Humvees were parked in the middle of the desert. He waved his arm at the expanse of open land. “We control many miles, but the most crucial territory along the border, you have selected that land to be controlled by Garza. How else can I take that decision?”
“Antonio Garza is the conduit to the United States. He can move product freely from one country to the next. How can I impede that corridor? It would only hurt your business.”
“Maybe,” Valdez said, regaining his stride and moving forward again. “But he also works with our enemies and that concerns me.”
“How so?”
Valdez walked a circuitous path around low-lying shrub while Rodriguez followed closely, wondering why the man was acting this way.
“I must be careful what I say around certain people,” Valdez said, then continued his stride without further comment.
“Do you not trust Garza?” Rodriguez asked, sincerely.
Valdez shrugged. “He has done nothing to warrant my suspicions. It is simply my nature to probe.”
Rodriguez didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. He needed to regain the leader’s focus.
“Have you heard about the American Secretary of State coming to the debate tonight?” Rodriguez asked.
“Yes,” Valdez said. “I understand you will have a personal meeting with the man.”
Rodriguez’s chest swelled with pride. It was a great honor to be singled out by the Secretary of State. “Yes, we will be meeting after the debate. I suppose the Americans have been reading the latest polls and realize I will be the next President. They want to create a dialogue so they can maintain good communications during my presidency.”
“I see,” Valdez said. “Do not lose your way once you become President Rodriguez. The Zutons are still in control. Adding President to your name does not change that fact.”
Rodriguez walked ahead of the cartel leader, then stopped abruptly, facing Valdez who didn’t seem pleased to suspend his pace. “Why do you speak to me like this?”
Valdez glanced over his shoulder at the squad of soldiers who were paying close attention to his body language and finding it necessary to remove their assault rifles from their shoulders.
Rodriguez had stirred up the hornet’s nest and suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. Valdez had always insisted on one hundred percent loyalty to his business interests and would never allow anyone to survive such an infidelity.
“There is a spy among us,” Valdez said, removing his sunglasses and baring his shark-like teeth. “There are people who suggest the spy is close to Garza. I would be careful what you say.”
Rodriguez could feel twenty pairs of eyes boring in on him. He understood how paranoid these cartels had become lately, killing scores of innocent people just because of a wrong word spoken, or a meeting with the wrong person.
“Santiago, I have known you for many years,” Rodriguez said, with open palms. “Have I ever given you a reason to be suspicious about my behavior?”
Valdez’s expression changed. The creases around his eyes deepened and his mouth turned into a warm smile. He reached out and held Rodriguez’s arm with a gentle touch.
“Do not act so defensive, my friend,” Valdez said. “Until this spy is discovered, there will be many more nervous discussions.”
Valdez replaced his sunglasses and began his return to the vehicles. There was always a finite period of time where a meeting could be considered safe. The cartel leader seemed to know exactly how long that period was and never exceeded its limit.
Rodriguez followed, the soldiers opening a path for the two men to travel.
Valdez added, “A famous man once said, ‘First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.’” He looked over at Rodriguez. “Do you know who said that?”
Rodriguez was familiar with the phrase, but reverentially said, “No. Who?”
“Mahatma Ghandi.” Valdez smiled behind his shaded eyes.
Even though Valdez had unwittingly twisted the pacifist’s words to suit his needs, the man was a sinister foe who needed to be treated with caution.
