day?” Jefferson asked. “Folks won’t focus on the violence—in fact, I would think more folks would likely blame the U.S. government for
“That’s crazy,” Kinsly said. “You can’t possibly believe that Mexico is
“No, Mr. Kinsly—I’m suggesting that forces within the Mexican government, possibly aided by the Consortium and also by radical leaders like Ernesto Fuerza, are staging violent attacks against the United States in order to incite their people to react against the United States, whether by violence or simply by leaving their jobs and heading south,” Jefferson responded. “There could be other reasons as well—political, financial, criminal, even public relations—but by doing what they’re doing, they are forcing the United States to expend a lot of political, financial, and military resources on this issue. I don’t know if the Mexican government is assisting the insurgents, but they don’t have to—all they need do is play along. Whatever they’re doing, Mr. Kinsly, it’s
“I’m still not buying it, Sergeant Major,” Kinsly said. At that moment the phone rang. Kinsly picked it up, listened…and groaned audibly. “A suspected terrorist attack at a university north of Los Angeles,” he said after he replaced the receiver. “Possibly a truck bomb outside an engineering building. L.A. County sheriffs and California Highway Patrol bomb squads are on it.” The President said nothing, the National Security Adviser noticed, as if suspected terrorist truck bombs were as common as traffic accidents nowadays. But that’s what the world had come to, he thought ruefully: if it wasn’t bigger than Nine-Eleven, the Consortium attacks on Houston, or the floods in New Orleans, it hardly registered on the White House’s radarscope anymore.
At that moment Ray Jefferson’s wireless PDA beeped. Knowing that only an extremely urgent message would have gotten through to him while in a meeting at the Oval Office, he pulled the device from his jacket pocket and activated it. He read quickly, his face falling; moments later, a look of astonishment swept across his face. “I have an update on that situation at the university, Mr. President,” he said, shaking his head in amazement, “and you are
CHAPTER 12
OVER SOUTHERN ARIZONA
THE NEXT EVENING
The target was more than eleven hundred miles ahead—almost six hours of one-way flying.
The aircraft made their last refueling over U.S. territory from an MC-130P Combat Shadow aerial refueling tanker low over the Sulphur Springs Valley area of south-central Arizona just before going across the border around 9 P.M. local time. Flying at less than five hundred feet aboveground, the aircraft were still spotted by U.S. Homeland Security antismuggling radar arrays and balloons, but the word had already been passed along, and no radio contact with the aircraft was ever made or even attempted.
After refueling, the two aircraft flew in close formation, with the pilots using night vision goggles to see each other at night. Each aircraft was fitted with special infrared position lights that were only visible to those wearing NVGs, so from the pilots’ point of view it was very much like flying in hazy daytime weather conditions. The pilots of each aircraft would trade positions occasionally to avoid fatigue, with the copilot of one aircraft taking over and then moving over to the other aircraft’s opposite wing. The two propeller-driven aircraft were fairly well matched in performance, with the smaller aircraft having a slight disadvantage over its four-engined leader but still able to keep up easily enough. Throughout all the position and pilot changes, and no matter the outside conditions, the aircraft never strayed farther than a wingspan’s distance from each other and never flew higher than eight hundred feet aboveground.
Mexican surveillance radar at Ciudad Juarez spotted the aircraft briefly near the town of Janos as it made its way southeast, and one attempt was made to contact it by radio, but there was no response so the radar operators ignored it. The Mexican military was tasked primarily with counterinsurgency operations and secondarily with narcotics interdiction—and even that mission ranked a
From Janos the aircraft headed south over the northern portion of the Sierra Madre Occidental Mountains. The aircraft flew higher, now a thousand feet aboveground, but in the mountains it was effectively invisible to radar sweeps from Hermosillo, Chihuahua, and Ciudad Obregon. Over the mining town of Urique, the aircraft veered southeast, staying in the “military crest” of the mountain range to completely lose itself in the radar ground clutter. This two-hour leg was the quietest—central Mexico was almost devoid of any population centers at all, and had virtually no military presence. They received the briefest squeak from their radar warning receivers when passing within a hundred miles of Mazatlan’s approach radar, but they were well out of range and undetectable at their altitude.
The aircraft performed another low-altitude aerial refueling on this leg of the journey, ensuring that the smaller aircraft was completely topped off before continuing further. The MC-130P had a combat range of almost four thousand miles and could have made two complete round trips with ease; the smaller aircraft had only half the range and needed the extra fuel to maintain its already-slim margin of safety. Once topped off, the MC-130P orbited at one thousand feet above the ground about sixty miles northwest of the city of Durango, over the most isolated portion of the central Sierra Madre Occidental Mountain range and directly in the “dead spot” of several surveillance and air traffic control radar systems. The electronic warfare officer on board the Combat Shadow was on the lookout for any sign of detection, but the electromagnetic spectrum remained quiet as the two aircraft split up.
Just north of the city of Zacatecas the smaller aircraft jogged farther east to avoid Guadalajara’s powerful air traffic and air defense radar system. Now the aircraft was no longer over the mountains but flying in Mexico’s central valley, so it was back down to five hundred feet or less aboveground, using terrain-avoidance radar, precise satellite-guided navigation, night vision devices that made it easy to see the ground and large obstacles, and photo-quality digital terrain and obstruction charts, with computerized audio and visual warnings of nearby radio towers and transmission lines. Northeast of the city of San Luis Potosi, the aircraft made a hard turn south to avoid Tampico’s coastal surveillance radar.
Now the aircraft was flying in the heart of Mexico’s population centers, with 80 percent of the country’s population within one hundred miles of their present position—and most of the country’s air defense, surveillance, and air traffic radars as well. Plus, they had very little terrain to hide in now. Staying far away from towns and highways, relying mostly on darkness to hide their presence, the aircraft’s crew prepared for the most dangerous part of the mission. After over five hours of relative peace and quiet, the last twelve minutes was going to be very busy indeed. The crew performed their “Before Enemy Defended Area Penetration” checklist, making sure all lights were off, radios were configured to avoid any accidental transmissions, the cabin was depressurized and secure, and the crew members waiting in the cargo area were alerted to prepare for evasive maneuvers and possible hostile action.
Somehow, after the events that had transpired in the past several days, it was not hard to imagine they were flying over enemy territory—even though they were flying over Mexico.
Immediately prior to the last turning point over the town of Ciudad Hidalgo, eighty miles northwest of Mexico City, came the first radio message on “GUARD,” the international emergency frequency, in English: “Unidentified
