Edge of Battle

“Of course. A wise precaution.”

The phone rang a couple minutes later: “This is Cass…yes, I’m expecting his call…this is Cass…Special Agent Roberts, thank you for calling back so fast. Okay, what do you have for me…he was there yesterday. I see. My reports were accurate then…you didn’t? You didn’t request a meeting with him? Then why were they…what? I see…that’s incredible…well, that’s good news, that’s great news. But I still don’t see how Richter and Purdy are involved. Any involvement on their part could be extremely serious to any legal or diplomatic initiatives with the Mexican government. Who authorized them to…oh. I see. No, I wasn’t informed…I know, we’re all supposed to be on the same team, but apparently it doesn’t apply both ways between investigations and the prosecutors’ office—or the White House, at least when TALON is involved. I shouldn’t have to play phone tag to find out information from my own department…well, I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Roberts. Thank you.” She hung up the phone with a disturbed expression.

“So it is true, Miss Cass?” Ochoa prompted her after a few silent moments. “My information was correct— TALON is still involved in some way with border security operations?”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty to come to conclusions, Mr. Ochoa,” Cass said with an edge in her voice. “Richter and Purdy definitely were at the Indio sector headquarters, but the purpose of their visit and their involvement with the Border Patrol is still unclear.”

“Unclear? But did you not just speak with the man in charge…”

“The special agent in charge of the sector didn’t know what was going on,” Cass explained. “Apparently there are some witnesses who survived the shootings near Blythe, California a few weeks ago. I don’t know why, but TALON was asked to assist in the search for other witnesses that may be in the area. They’re out looking for them in the Indio sector now.”

“Is that not a job for the FBI, Miss Cass?”

Cass looked pained, even embarrassed. “The FBI is involved—apparently the director of the FBI as well as the director of Customs and Border Protection contacted the special agent in charge and notified him of this activity, but there are very few other details. I will probably need to contact someone in Washington, perhaps the Secretary of Homeland Security himself, to get to the bottom of this.”

“This is highly irregular, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said. He could easily tell that Cass was lost in her own thoughts: he was quickly being dismissed from her attention and would be gone in moments if he didn’t do something. “?Esto es absurdo!” Ochoa barked. He shot to his feet and asked indignantly, “What is going on here, Miss Cass?” His sudden movement and shrill tone startled her—the first time he had ever seen this tough lady surprised. “I came here as a gesture of good will, seeking to put the past episodes of violence and mistrust behind us and start afresh, but instead I am being stonewalled and given misleading and evasive information. Exactly what is the meaning of this, senora?”

“Mr. Ochoa, I assure you, I would like to cooperate with you, but I’m in the dark as much as you are,” Cass said, flustered and confused. “The U.S. Attorney for the appropriate district is usually notified of any ongoing federal investigations, especially if it involves multidepartment operations. I don’t like being given only half the facts like this, and I’m going to get some answers.” She stood, walked around her desk, and extended a hand apologetically. “Unfortunately, I won’t have any answers for you this afternoon, Mr. Ochoa. I will be sure to notify you as soon as I’ve…”

“?Esto es indignante! I have never been treated so disrespectfully since…since I was assaulted by those soldiers at Rampart One!” Ochoa said hotly. “You will be hearing from the consul general about this, and so will your State Department! Good day to you, madam!” He ignored her proffered hand, spun on his heel, and left the office.

Annette Cass stood in the center of her office with a blank expression on her face—but only for a moment. “Laura! Get me Director DeLaine on the phone! I want answers, and I want them now! ”

It took several minutes, during which time Cass fired off several angry e-mails to the Attorney General, her assistant prosecutors, and several judges who might become involved in this case, complaining about what she had learned that afternoon. Finally: “This is Director DeLaine.”

“Miss DeLaine, this is Annette Cass, U.S. Attorney for the southern California district.”

“How are you, Annette?” Kelsey DeLaine said, her voice businesslike and neutral, not friendly but not yet confrontational.

“I’m angry, that’s how I am, Miss Director. I just learned from the commander of the Border Patrol sector field office in Indio, California, that Richter was there. The indications were that the FBI is conducting an investigation regarding the shootings near Blythe. Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“It’s an FBI investigation, Annette. You’ll be brought in as soon as we need support from your office.”

“Miss Director, I’m not sure if you’re fully aware of how we do things out here, but it’s customary to bring the U.S. Attorney’s office in right away, at the beginning of any investigation, even if there’s no requirement or…”

“And I’m not sure if you’re aware of how I do things, Miss Cass,” Kelsey interjected. “It’s simple: when I need you, or if the field office in San Diego who’s coordinating this investigation needs you, we’ll call you.” Cass was momentarily flustered into silence—she was not accustomed to being blown off like that. “Anything else for me, Annette?”

Cass quickly decided that confronting the director of the FBI was not going to gain her anything at this point. “What is going on out here, Miss Director?” Cass asked. “I’m asking for a little heads-up, that’s all. If there’s anything I can contribute, I’d be happy to do so, but I need a little background info first.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be annoyed because Richter is out walking around free and clear and still in your district?”

Cass silently swore at DeLaine. “Of course, I’m concerned about his activities, Miss Director,” she admitted. “I’ve still got U.S. marshals in the hospital with serious injuries, and no one is being punished for that. It’s still my opinion that Richter is part of the problem, not the solution. But I also hate surprises; I’m sure you do too. I have sixty prosecutors and a staff of five hundred standing ready to assist and support other local, state, and federal agencies in their work, especially the FBI. I’m accustomed to being asked for support, that’s all. I’m trying to help, Miss Director.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line; then: “All I can tell you right now, Annette, is that we received information that there are witnesses to the murders at Blythe.”

“Witnesses? That’s great! Who are they? Migrants? Border Patrol?”

“One of the Border Patrol agents on the scene that we reported as killed survived,” Kelsey said, hesitant to talk too much and anxious to end this call. “We debriefed him at our office in San Diego. He reported that there were not one, but two smugglers at the scene of the shooting. The second one, a kid named Flores, is missing. Richter and the surviving agent are going down there to try to find him.”

“Why the Border Patrol and TALON? Why not the FBI?”

DeLaine hesitated again, afraid she was talking too much, but hurried on: “The Border Patrol agent identified one of the men at the shooting scene near Blythe as possibly being Yegor Zakharov.”

“Zakharov! The terrorist? He’s back in the U.S…. ?”

“That’s what we’re looking into,” Kelsey said. “The shooters at Blythe could have been Consortium. If it was Zakharov and the Consortium, Task Force TALON has the authority to go after them anywhere in the world.”

“Well…yes…yes, I agree,” Cass said, mollified. “This is all new information, Miss Director. Thank you for sharing it with me. My office will do anything we can to help. I hope they find Flores.”

“Thank you, Miss Cass. I am the point of contact for all matters dealing with TALON. Don’t hesitate to call if necessary.”

“Yes, Miss Director.”

“This is all confidential information, of course, Annette.”

“Of course.” The phone connection was broken…

…but another connection—a small listening device planted under the front edge of Cass’s desk, directly opposite of where Ochoa had been seated—was still very much alive.

BAKERSFIELD, CALIFORNIA