“Understood, sir,” Elvarez said. “The vehicle made several stops along Route 196 and Highway 111 before stopping last night at a motel south of Niland. We have not made direct visual contact with the subjects in the past few hours but we now have their vehicle under both visual and electronic surveillance.”
“I need round-the-clock direct visual contact on the subjects, Jose,” Diaz said. “Put your best men on this one. This Agent Purdy seems very well trained and experienced—unusual for a Border Patrol agent. He may be getting countersurveillance help from Richter and Vega, so tell your men to be extra careful, or they could be face- to-face with one of those robots.”
“My best men in southern California are already on it, sir.”
“Good. Now we need to find out what those three are up to.”
“Unfortunately we do not have any listening devices in the FBI field office in San Diego,” Elvarez said. “We can monitor comings and goings but cannot reliably tap their phone or data transmissions without risking discovery. The same is true for all of the high-level American government offices in southern California.”
“But we
A
…but with Carmen Maravilloso, anything could happen. He had to be ready to make Fuerza available to meet the president soon. It was a meeting he was certainly not looking forward to making happen.
CHAPTER 7
U.S. FEDERAL COURTHOUSE,
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
LATER THAT DAY
“I’m very glad to see you, Senor Ochoa,” Annette Cass, the U.S. Attorney for the southern district of California, said. She had met the deputy consul general of the United Mexican States’ consulate in San Diego, Armando Ochoa, just outside the security screening station at the federal courthouse in Los Angeles. She waved at the security guards at the X-ray machine and metal detector and breezed past them before they could remind her to follow their security precautions. “I hope we can come to an agreement on settling the questions before us.”
“As do I, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said. “My government and my office wish to see all of the unpleasantness we have experienced settled and forgotten as soon as possible.”
Cass escorted the Mexican deputy consul to her office and had her assistant fetch him coffee. “As I said before, Mr. Ochoa, my office still has not resolved the jurisdictional questions related to border security and the treatment of detainees suspected of illegally crossing the U.S.-Mexico border,” Cass said. “With the recent attacks by the Consortium, Congress successfully passing a war resolution against them, and the perceived similarity between the recent attacks on the border and activities by the Consortium, the military has a pretty strong hand in this debate.”
“I understand, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said. “I am confident this will soon be resolved so there will be no more hostilities between our countries.”
“We’re all hoping for the same thing, sir.” Cass withdrew a folder from a drawer in her desk. “I have been authorized to offer you a settlement on your own claims against my government for your treatment, Mr. Ochoa: formal apologies from the Secretary of Defense, Brigadier General Lopez the man in charge of the military operation, and Major Jason Richter, who was the officer in charge at the scene at the time of the offense; a guarantee of full reimbursement for any medical bills you may incur for a period of five years from the date of the incident; and a lump sum cash award of twenty-five thousand dollars. All my government asks in return is a strict gag order on the terms of our settlement.”
The deputy consul took the offer form and looked it over. “I myself believe that this is an exceedingly generous offer,” Ochoa said, “but of course I must confer with the consul general first before I can accept.”
“I understand. I’m sure all sides will be as fair and flexible as possible.”
“Of course.” Ochoa paused for a moment, then: “So Brigadier General Lopez is still in charge of the border security operations along the U.S.-Mexico border?”
“Yes, sir. As I’m sure you know, the dynamics have changed in response to the recent killings in Arizona, but I assure you that the whole face of the operation has been toned down considerably. According to my briefing, the National Guard units currently being deployed on the border are completely subordinate to the U.S. Border Patrol. The Guard’s job is merely to assist the Border Patrol in conducting surveillance, nothing more. They are prohibited from making arrests and will not impede or interdict any person unless that person is actually observed committing a serious crime. I would be pleased if you would pass this information along to the Mexican embassy in Washington.”
“But of course,” Ochoa said. “But there are other serious concerns.”
“Oh?”
“As troubling as the presence of heavily armed National Guard troops on the border is, Miss Cass, my government is extremely concerned about those robots, the TALON devices…”
Cass appeared greatly relieved. “TALON? They are no longer involved in Operation Rampart,” Cass said, waving a hand. “They are back doing…well, whatever they were doing before, chasing down bad guys,
“Ah.” Ochoa put on his best pained expression. “Then may I please ask you to comment on a recent report I received, Miss Cass, from an immigrant advocacy agency in Indio, California, that claimed that Major Richter was recently spotted at the U.S. Border Patrol sector headquarters?”
Cass’s eyes bulged, and her mouth opened and closed in confusion. “I…I don’t know anything about this, Mr. Deputy Consul, nothing at all,” she said. “I was assured by the FBI and the Department of Defense that Task Force TALON was no longer involved whatsoever in border security operations. Perhaps your informants were mistaken, or Richter and Vega were involved in some other task…?”
“I am sure you are correct, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said, “but it would be very unlikely for the consul general to approve a settlement with the U.S. Justice Department with this question still lingering. Perhaps there is some way to check, perhaps with the commander of the sector headquarters?”
“Of course,” Cass said. She picked up the phone on her desk. “Get me the Border Patrol sector commander in Indio right away.” She turned to Ochoa. “Please remember, Mr. Ochoa, that this conversation and this information are highly confidential.”
“Of course, Miss Cass. You have my solemn assurance that I will divulge nothing of this conversation. The consul general need not know anything about this phone call, only of the results of my negotiations regarding the settlement offer.”
“Thank you.” She turned to the phone: “Yes, hello, this is U.S. Attorney Annette Cass, southern district of California in Los Angeles. Who is this…? Special Agent Roberts, I’m conducting an investigation involving the recent incidents at the Rampart One border security facility…yes, that’s it, that’s the incident…no, I know no one from your sector was involved. The reason I’m calling is to follow up on a report I’ve received that claimed that Army Major Jason Richter had a meeting at your headquarters recently, perhaps as early as yesterday.
“I…say again…? Yes…no, I understand. I’ll be waiting.” Cass hung up the receiver. “A routine security procedure,” she said to Ochoa. “He’ll call the office back in a few minutes to verify that he wasn’t talking to the media or some other person. Shouldn’t take more than a minute.”
