Edge of Battle

politician, known for occasionally lighting up a Cuban cigar and letting an expletive or two “slip” past her full red lips when the opportunity suited her.

“How dare he do this without consulting us?” Maravilloso screeched. She lit up a Cohiba Exquisito and wielded the thin cigar like a dagger, aiming it at everyone she spoke to. She aimed it first at the Minister of National Defense, General Alberto Rojas: “I want twice as many soldiers on the border as the Americans have. How many can we send there?”

“Madame President, they have as many troops just in the state of California as we do in our entire army,” the general said. “We cannot outgun them.”

“They are only National Guard troops…”

“I am talking about the National Guard, madam,” he said. “California is the most populous state in America and can field a vast number of paramilitary forces—even though heavily committed around the world, their national guard outnumbers even our regular military forces in every category. You do not want to escalate a military confrontation, senora.”

“Then we will take our case to the United Nations Security Council and to the Organization of American States,” Minister of Internal Affairs Felix Diaz said as he breezed through the doors to the president’s office. “This situation is becoming an international crisis, Madam President, and we should respond accordingly.”

“Minister Diaz!” Maravilloso exclaimed happily. “We were afraid you were dead after your stunt the other day, riding around in your helicopter and inciting riots.”

“I thank you for your concern, Madam President,” Diaz said, smiling and bowing. Tall, young, and impossibly handsome, he hailed from several generations of rich, powerful hacienda owners dating back to the original Mexican land grants from the royal court in Madrid, Spain. His family had managed to keep the majority of their lands by aligning with whichever side had more power at the time—the military, the Catholic Church, the revolutionaries, the Communists, the Spanish, the Bonapartists, even the Americans: whoever could benefit the Diaz family the most received their political and financial allegiance…until power shifted again.

Diaz was educated in the finest private schools in Mexico, attended the military academy at Chapultepec, went to undergraduate flight training in Arizona, then served four years in a variety of flying units in the Fuerza Aerea Mexicana, the Mexican Air Force, including one year as squadron commander of an air combat squadron of F-5A Freedom Fighter air defense jets and AT-33A propeller trainers modified for counterinsurgency missions.

While commanding the 202nd Air Combat Squadron in Santa Lucia, Diaz helped organize and conduct a series of exercises with the Cuban Air Force, where he flew his F-5s against several different models of MiG fighters and fighter-bombers. He received considerable attention from generals and defense ministers from around the world for his political as well as flying skills. He served out his military commitment as the Mexican air attache to the Caribbean and Latin America, shuttling all over the hemisphere almost on a daily basis on behalf of the Mexican government.

Even though he spent eight successful years in the Mexican armed forces, Felix Diaz was destined for politics almost from birth. For most of the past eighty years, his family were loyal and high-ranking members of the Partido Revolucionario Institucional, or PRI. But Felix Diaz saw something happening that others failed to see: the emergence of a tremendous groundswell of support for a strong-willed, outgoing, hardworking, and hard-charging woman, Carmen Maravilloso, and her young husband. Mexican culture was slowly but surely changing, just as surely as its politics—Diaz knew he had to change with it, or be left behind.

He switched party allegiance to the Partido Accion Nacional just in time for the surprise ascension of Maravilloso’s husband, bringing a considerable amount of money and national prestige along with him, and was offered several positions in the new government as a reward. His personal gamble paid off, as he knew from past generations it would. When Carmen took the office of president, Diaz was immediately appointed Minister of Internal Affairs, the third-highest-ranking position in the executive branch of the Mexican government.

“I like that idea—let us go before the Security Council,” Maravilloso said. “Amassing those troops on the border is a clear provocation, meant to falsely imprison Mexican citizens and force unfair and oppressive economic and political terms on a peaceful neighbor. Very good suggestion, Minister Diaz.” She turned to another one of her advisers in her office: “General Rojas?”

“I agree that a diplomatic response would be far better than a military one, Madam President,” General Alberto Rojas, the silver-haired, grandfatherly-looking Mexican Minister of National Defense, said. “The more military forces the Americans place on the border, the worse it looks for them. Since President Conrad when asked did not tell you exactly why he placed all those heavily armed troops on the border, we have every right to demand that the UN and OAS get an answer. The UN General Assembly will surely be open to—”

“No. We will not go to the General Assembly—we will go directly to the Security Council,” Maravilloso said, taking a deep drag on her cigar. “This is no mere water, cattle-grazing, or cultural exchange issue—with missile-launching vehicles and armed helicopters flying dangerously close to our towns and villages, threatening our people with death or imprisonment, this is certainly an urgent national security issue.” The defense and foreign affairs ministers looked at each other worriedly but said nothing. “And I will address the Security Council myself.”

“I do not believe that is wise, Madam President,” Rojas said. “Addresses to the Security Council should be on issues that threaten peace and stability not just for the states involved, but for the entire world community. This incident, although serious to be sure, poses no imminent danger to the rest of the…”

“I do not care!” Maravilloso said. “I want this issue brought up before the Security Council, and I wish to present it myself. Do not tell me what reality for the world or for Mexico is. ?Soy Mexico! I am Mexico! Now make it happen! And get my speechwriters busy drafting up my address to the Council! I want a draft on my desk in four hours.”

Rojas looked at Maravilloso and sighed with obvious exasperation. “I will do as you say, Madam President,” he said with a defeated smile, “but I urge you not to use this situation for political or personal ventaja. I know it is in your nature to do so, but let us deal with this situation openly and honestly, not just to appeal to the television cameras.”

“What do you know of it, you old goat?” Maravilloso asked with an alluring, disarming smile on her face. “You are a good and wise fellow in international geopolitics, Alberto, but what you know about public relations and how to get the world’s attention for a worthy and noble cause wouldn’t even fill a thimble.”

“That may be so, Carmen.” Rojas stepped over to the beautiful, fiery president of Mexico as she smoked her Cuban cigar and made notes to herself at her desk. “But in my opinion, Mexico will not be served by doing anything just for the publicity value. Mexico already has an international reputation for poverty, crime, and corruption. More and more of our people are leaving every year, and the workers that leave are sending back less and less of the money they earn. We are losing our best workers, and we get little in return. This is a legitimate concern for Mexico—let’s treat it as such.”

“Do not give so much credit to the United Nations or the Security Council, General Rojas,” Felix Diaz said. “Do you expect them to do anything about our out-of-control emigre problem? Every industrialized country in the Western world has an immigration problem. The current rotating chairmanship of the Security Council is held by Australia, who has an illegal immigration problem ten times worse than the United States—they have illegal immigrants from most of Polynesia and half of Asia invading their shores every day. Do you think they will be sympathetic to us? You know as well as I that the United Nations Security Council is nothing but a collection of painted toy bobble-heads that respond only when rapped on the head—whoever raps hardest gets their nod.”

Rojas remained silent, but inwardly he felt a twinge of concern as he looked at this young politician. Diaz was intelligent, but he was also impulsive—and Maravilloso was quite simply enamored with him. It was a dangerous— no, an explosive—combination.

“I have told you this many times before, Alberto—there are proper channels to follow to get things done, and then there are my channels,” Maravilloso went on. “I wish to speak before the Security Council because I know my speech will be carried live by half the news outlets in the world. I will be on the covers of a hundred magazines and several hundred newspapers around the world—not just major outlets and political rags, but every kind of publication: fashion, teens, gossip, human rights, celebrity, even lesbian publications, reaching hundreds of millions around the world. With all your education and wisdom, my friend, and with all due respect, do you think you have any chance in hell of getting that kind of coverage?” She took another deep puff of her cigar, her perfume mixing with the smooth, aromatic aroma of the cigar, forming a musky, intoxicating potion. “I am not seeking action from the United Nations, Alberto—I am looking for a reaction from the