Edge of Battle

anywhere they like in the United States, especially on official business involving their citizens.”

“I think the State Department and Attorney General may disagree with you, Miss Cass—that’s not my department,” Kelsey said. “But your conduct during this entire escapade of yours is starting to look more and more suspicious. A no-notice arrival with armed U.S. marshals and a Mexican consular official in tow? What were you trying to do, Miss Cass—shut down an entire Army base before anyone could stop you?”

“This is not an Army base, DeLaine—this is an illegal Army prison,” Cass retorted, going over to help Lombard as he crawled painfully out of his cage, “locking up innocent civilians without due process and terrorizing people on both sides of the border with birds-of-prey airships and armored robots!”

“This base belongs to the Army National Guard and the Department of Homeland Security…”

“…and it’s in my federal district, and it has civilians in federal custody, which brings it under my jurisdiction,” Cass interjected just as angrily. “All federal law enforcement matters in the southern district of California come under my review, and capturing and detaining suspected illegal immigrants is a law enforcement issue. And if there are Mexican nationals being detained here, consular officials have every right to meet with and speak to their fellow citizens, ascertain their medical, physical, legal, and political status, and ensure that all of their rights as Mexican citizens and American detainees are being preserved.”

Kelsey fell silent—it was difficult, if not impossible, to argue with her reasoning. It was obvious that Cass thought she had gained at least an ideological advantage here, even though she was the one leaving. “We’re not done here, Major Richter,” she said. The two marshals, their arms and shoulders heavily bandaged, were escorted to waiting military ambulances while Cass’s dark blue government Suburbans were brought for her. “You can’t trample on the Constitution in my district like you did in San Francisco and Washington and get away with it. I’m going to see to it that you and your jack-booted storm troopers are removed from here, pronto.”

“Sheesh, who peed in her cornflakes this morning?” Jason remarked as Cass and the other federal officials departed down the dusty access road.

“Jason, this thing is just getting started, and already we’ve got Americans battling each other,” Kelsey said. “A little more restraint might be in order here.”

“I hear you, Kelsey,” Jason said, “but I’ve got my orders too, and they come right from the White House. The argument over who has jurisdiction is way above my pay grade. I was ordered to build reconnaissance and operations firebases, keep the border region under surveillance, and detain anyone illegally crossing the border, in support of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. I’m not saying people like Cass are right or wrong, or what we’re doing is right or wrong—but I’ve got a job to do and superior officers to report to, and they do not include U.S. Attorney Annette Cass, the U.S. Marshals Service, or anyone from the Mexican consulate.”

“Well, we’re all on the same side here—you might consider thinking twice before siccing your robots on fellow Americans, especially federal agents.”

“I know no one will believe me, Kel,” Jason said earnestly, “but I thought you were all Consortium, I swear to God. She came here unannounced with guys in bulletproof vests and submachine guns, and minutes later two helicopters swoop in. I thought we were goners.” Kelsey could tell that Richter was being absolutely serious—she never questioned his feelings. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought she saw a little unexpected paleness in his face, and he swallowed nervously. “I never realized how vulnerable we are out here, Kel. They walked onto this base with guns and badges and no one even radioed us to tell us they were here. Maybe I panicked a little. Even when I saw their IDs, I felt…defensive, like I didn’t do enough to watch my own back. I guess I got…”

“Scared? Hey, Jason, you have no idea how many times I was scared, working on the Task Force TALON, working in the FBI. You lose tactical control, even for a moment, and all you want to do is react, do something, until you get it back.” She felt a sudden wave of concern wash over her consciousness, and without thinking she took his hand—and found it cold and clammy. “It’s okay, Jason,” she said gently. “It’s over.”

“TALON wasn’t made to guard a base or stay in one place—we’re hunters, not rent-a-cops,” Jason said bitterly. “As long as TALON is here, we’re sitting ducks for the Consortium. TALON was successful against the Consortium because we were aggressive and offensive—we took the fight to them. Here, they don’t have to hunt us—they know exactly where we are, and they can take all the time they want planning an attack.”

Richter’s hands were subconsciously clenched into fists, and his voice was shaking with anger. “This will not happen again, Kelsey—I swear it,” Jason went on adamantly. “I don’t care who it is —federal agents, illegals, or terrorists—I will not allow this task force to work with its hands tied behind its back, anywhere, but especially on American soil.”

“Ease up, Major,” Kelsey said, her voice firm. “This is not a personal crusade, and Task Force TALON is not alone out here. You’re part of a team—start working like it.”

“That’s what I’m doing here, Miss Director…”

“By having Falcone inside a CID unit grab two U.S. marshals and use them to club down another federal agent?” She didn’t like Jason suddenly turning sarcastically formal on her, but he had it coming—he was still acting like Task Force TALON was his own private personal boys’ club. She pointed to the ruined TEMPER units, surrounded now by National Guard soldiers starting to repair the damage. “What are you going to have your CIDs tear down next, Jason—the Border Patrol regional headquarters, after you get shut down? The federal courthouse, after they arrest Falcone for assaulting a federal officer? Are you going to take on the entire Justice Department because you want to run this assignment your way?”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips; Richter stopped but only half-turned toward her. “You haven’t changed much since we began the task force, Richter—you haven’t learned a thing. You’re little more than a spoiled laboratory nerd out here playing army with your fancy high-tech toys. It’s getting tiresome. Sure, you had some victories—but that’s only when you worked with others like the FBI and the rest of the U.S. military. But now the stakes are higher—there are lives at stake here, not just terrorists but peaceful, unarmed, regular people. Maybe this job isn’t for you.”

“Bull, Kelsey. This is my job. TALON can do anything we’re assigned…”

“Sure it can—but maybe you can’t lead it,” Kelsey said. “Maybe you ought to turn this assignment over to someone else and go back to your lab where you belong. In fact, I think I might recommend that to the AG. After this morning’s incident, I think he’ll do it to avoid a mutiny in his own department—at the very least, he’ll have to do it to avoid an international incident and official government protest. Until the White House decides what to do with you, Major, I suggest you adopt an extremely low profile—for the sake of this operation as well as your own career.”

“Kelsey, I may just be a nerd engineer with no field experience,” Jason said, “but I was chosen to lead this task force, and my task force was deployed to this location, so I’m going to do the job I was assigned the best way I know how. The President or Ray Jefferson can shit-can me any time they feel like it, for whatever reason—or for no reason. Until then, I’m going to operate my men and equipment my way, following whatever guidance or directives I’m given. I’m going to…”

He was interrupted by a beep from his command radio: “TALON One, TALON Two,” Ariadna radioed. “Condor has detected several large vehicles heading our way from the south across the border, about six kilometers out.”

At the same time, Ben Gray radioed, “TALON One, we have a possible situation out here at the south perimeter.”

“On my way,” Jason responded. Both he and Kelsey hurried off.

They found Gray standing on the roof of a Humvee, scanning the area to the south with binoculars. “Three armored personnel carriers, about five klicks south of us, spread out about two klicks along the border,” he reported when Richter and DeLaine ran up. “The one closest to us looks like an old World War Two half-track; the others are M-113s, with 12.7 mm machine guns mounted on the gunner’s turrets. I see flags of Mexico on their radio antennae.”

“Do they look like the real thing?” Jason asked.

Both Gray and DeLaine looked at Richter curiously—obviously neither of them had considered that they might