“First of all, congratulations on that oil rig speech. Great optics. I just wish you would’ve invited a few of your friends on the Hill to accompany you.”
By “friends,” Diele meant himself, of course. Screw everyone else. There were several big energy companies based out of his state and they stood to profit handsomely from Myers’s “Drill, baby, drill!” policy. So did Diele.
“Then let’s put together some comprehensive energy legislation and pass it, and I’ll give you all the optics you want, Gary, along with all of the credit, if that’s what it takes.”
“You misjudge me, Madame President. All I want is what’s best for the American people, which leads to the reason why I’ve asked for this meeting.”
Diele took a sip of coffee. Myers had taken the liberty to order it with heavy cream and three sugars, the way she knew Diele liked it. So did the White House steward. He’d been schlepping coffees for the rancid old legislator for years.
“And what have I done—or failed to do—that leads you to think the American national interest isn’t being served?”
“I believe I made my position clear the other day. We need a strong, forceful military response to the Houston attack, not a ‘law enforcement’ exercise. Have you seen the papers? Every op-ed page around the country is calling for some sort of military strike.”
“Gary’s right, Margaret. The nation is scared. A swift, surgical strike into Mexico and you’ll get a ‘rally- round-the-flag’ bump in the polls.” Greyhill had seen plenty of presidents use military action to bolster public approval when the opinion polls flagged.
“I’ve thought about it a lot, Gary. The Houston attack underscores the reality that the drug lords represent a strategic threat to the United States. My responsibility as president is to defend our borders against such attacks.”
Diele smiled. “We’re in agreement on that point, I assure you.”
“I’ve initiated a plan to seal the U.S.-Mexico border. The Department of Homeland Security is coordinating with the relevant federal law enforcement agencies, state governments, and the Pentagon to ensure that no undocumented person may enter the country, and no illegal drugs or weapons, either.”
“You’re aiming at the wrong target,” Greyhill insisted. “It isn’t the dishwashers and the pool cleaners who are threatening our way of life—”
“And I’m calling for the full enforcement of the immigration laws we currently have on the books, including fines, penalties, and jail time for those employers who are employing illegal aliens.”
She leaned forward in her chair.
“This isn’t just a terrorism issue, it’s a public-safety issue. Tens of thousands of illegal aliens fill our jails and prisons. Many of them are members of criminal gangs like the Bravos. One GAO report stated that illegal aliens committed over seven hundred thousand crimes in just one year, over eighty thousand of which were for violent offenses like murder, robbery, assault, and sex crimes. It’s estimated that between 1,800 and 2,500 Americans are killed by illegals every year, and too many of those who die are law enforcement officers. Many illegal immigrant criminals are repeat offenders and, worse, have been deported on multiple occasions. This will not continue during my administration.”
“But you can’t close the border. A billion dollars a day crosses over on twelve thousand trucks and railcars.” Diele’s voice rose a couple of octaves when he got excited. Many of his big donors relied on cheap illegal labor to run their enterprises at a profit. This new policy wouldn’t sit well with them at all.
“A lot of the problems we’re facing—human smuggling, drugs, guns—are coming in through those NAFTA trucks,” Early said.
Greyhill shook his head. “You’re biting the hand that feeds you. American industry needs the raw materials and manufactured goods that those trucks carry. The National Association of Manufacturers is going to jump down your throat on this one.”
Myers took a sip of coffee.
“I’m more worried about the American worker than the NAM. We’ve got to turn off the spigot of cheap, undocumented workers that flood our labor market decade after decade. It depresses wages while draining away expensive, taxpayer-funded public services for lawful citizens. If Congress wants to change the immigration laws, fine, but until they do, it’s my constitutional responsibility to vigorously enforce the laws that Congress has already put on the books.”
“You know you’re going to be painted as a racist xenophobe, don’t you?” Diele asked. “Punishing poor Hispanic migrant workers who are just trying to feed their families so that you can protect the oil companies —”
“I don’t care what other people think. I know my own motives. Do you doubt me on this?”
“Not at all. I’m just trying to protect you. After all, we’re in the same party.” Diele turned to Strasburg. “What is your opinion on these matters, Doctor?”
“I believe, Senator, that your analysis is fundamentally correct but incomplete. By shutting down the border, more pressure is put on the Barraza administration than ours. The Mexican economy is far more fragile and far more export-dependent than our own.”
“That should put a fire under their tails to get at Bravo and his thugs, pronto,” Early added. “Let them do the dirty work of kicking down doors and midnight raids.”
“That is what you asked for, isn’t it?” Myers asked. “Put pressure on the Mexican government to act?”
“I see,” Diele said, setting down his coffee. He smiled thinly at Myers. “It appears that this was less of a meeting of minds than a school lesson for yours truly. Be it far from me to try to dissuade you from your plans. After all,
Myers fought the urge to laugh. Diele was a frustrated presidential candidate from years past, and Greyhill’s number one supporter last year. Was he merely lamenting the fact she was the person occupying the office? Or just reminding himself that he wasn’t?
Diele made a point of checking his watch, then stood. “Looks like I’m late for my next meeting. Thank you for your time, Madame President.” His smile faded. “Mr. Vice President. Gentlemen.” He turned on his well- polished heels and left.
“That didn’t go well,” Greyhill said.
“Why would you say that?” Myers asked.
“He’s a dangerous man. Not one to be trifled with.”
“What do you want me to do? Invade Mexico so that Diele’s feelings won’t be hurt?”
“There is some value to listening to the opinions of others. Especially ones with decades of experience in these matters.”
Myers wasn’t sure if Greyhill was referring to Diele or himself.
“I do listen, Robert. Carefully. And what I hear is a frustrated old man more worried about his reputation than his country.” Myers hoped Greyhill caught her double meaning.
He did.
35
Near the Snake River, Wyoming
It was late. Pearce was skyping with Tamar on a secure line. She was propped up in her hospital bed with her arm bound in a sling.
“I wanted you to know how it happened. Menachem just briefed me,” Tamar said.
“You should rest,” Pearce insisted.
“Mossad really had broken into the Quds Force mainframe all right, but Quds had planted a sentinel program at the portal. When we broke in, the Quds program was alerted, and the sentinel program followed our signal all the way back to our mainframe. The Iranians knew which file had been stolen and the contents of those files.”
“And they used that intel to set up the ambush,” Pearce concluded. “What was the name of the Iranian you
