Without flinching, Caso shook his head. 'I am sorry, Sergeant. I cannot let you have the letter. My orders are to personally deliver it to your division commander.'
Seeing that the major's eyes betrayed no fear, no hesitation, Jefferson knew that he was serious. Without another thought, he decided it was time to pass this off to someone who got paid to deal with this kind of crap. 'Okay, Major, you and your driver stay right here. I'm going to get my CO out here. He'll know what to do.' Suddenly, Jefferson laughed as he thought about his young company commander. Like hell he'll know, Jefferson thought. Like hell.
As they waited for the Mexican Army colonel to be shown in, Big Al sat in a chair turned sideways at an old wooden table, staring at the floor with a vacant look on his face while Dixon nervously paced. The only sound was the hiss of the kerosene lantern that sat on the table and provided the only light in the room.
That he was allowing himself to be sucked into this was as much a surprise to Malin as it was to his staff. Big Al had no doubt that what he was about to do far exceeded his authority. Both he and Dixon knew that, when this incident was reviewed by people back in Washington, D.C., sitting in air-conditioned offices after having had a good night's sleep in a clean bed followed by a hearty breakfast, no amount of reasoning or logic would be able to save them. After all, the entire affair sounded more like a script from a mystery movie than a military operation.
From the beginning, everything, from the appearance of the Mexican Army major to their covert meeting in an old ranch house just behind the front line trace, was so unreal, so new. Even the means of contacting the Mexican minister of defense had been strange, almost comical. When Dixon had asked Major Caso how they were to give Colonel Guajardo their response, Caso had informed them that the postmaster in Sabinas Hidalgo had a secret phone line that the leader of the local guerrilla unit had been using for receiving his orders and reporting American troop movements. 'We are,' Caso told the Americans with a smile, 'keeping that line open so that, when you are ready, it will ring in Colonel Guajardo's forward command post in Saltillo.'
Still, Big Al had decided that it was a chance worth taking. Therefore, without so much as a word to the corps commander, Big Al and Dixon had gone to the ranch that served as a battalion CP to meet with Colonel Guajardo, minister of defense and member of the Council of 13, in order to find out what he knew about Congressman Lewis and Jan.
When the door opened, an infantryman, his M-16 held at the ready, entered the room, then stepped aside to make way for the tall Mexican officer who was following him. In the shimmering light, both Big Al and Dixon recognized Colonel Guajardo. Stepping up to the edge of the table, opposite where Big Al was seated, Guajardo stopped and saluted. 'Colonel Alfredo Guajardo, at your service, General Malin.'
Big Al, caught off guard, stood, returned the salute, and then, without thinking, reached over the table and offered Guajardo his right hand.
Mechanically, Guajardo took the general's hand and shook it. For a brief moment, while they still held each other's hand, the two opposing commanders stared into each other's eyes. It was as if they were gauging each other's strength and honesty.
Big Al took his seat while Guajardo pulled a chair out on his side of the table and sat down. Dixon, standing in the corner, caught the attention of the infantryman who had escorted Guajardo into the room. 'That will be all, soldier. Close the door when you leave.'
Without hesitation, the soldier saluted Big Al with his rifle and left the room, executing sharp, quick turns as he did so. When the door shut, Big Al waved over at Dixon.
'This, Colonel Guajardo, is Lieutenant Colonel Dixon, my operations officer.'
Guajardo and Dixon looked-at each other and nodded. How peculiar, Guajardo thought, that he should finally have the opportunity to meet Jan Fields's lover under such circumstances. Still, Guajardo knew, these were strange times. At times like this, nothing, not even this improbable meeting, a meeting between men who were supposed to be trying to kill each other, was odd.
Not understanding why Guajardo was staring at Dixon, Big Al hastened to explain his operations officer's presence. 'I brought him along as a sort of note taker, nothing more. You see, Colonel, my memory isn't what it used to be.' Then Big Al turned and shot Dixon a glance that could only mean 'Keep your mouth shut and ears open.'
Guajardo nodded. 'I understand. It is no problem.' Then, leaning forward, he placed two folders before Big Al. 'I am in your debt for honoring my request for a parley. Under the circumstances, had you refused, I would have understood.'
Big Al grunted. 'Hell, Colonel. After the thumping your people gave me outside of Monterrey the other day, my career is in the shitter anyway.'
The attempt by Big Al to put him at ease, and the compliment, whether intentional or not, pleased Guajardo. Perhaps, he thought, this would not S be as hard as he had expected. 'The folders in front of you, General, each contain a copy of a report I submitted after interrogating a mercenary being employed by a man named Alaman.'
At the mention of Alaman, Big Al snapped his head around and looked at Dixon. Guajardo saw the reaction and the surprised look on their faces.
They already know, he thought, something about this. But how? Was their CIA that good? When Big Al looked back at him, Guajardo continued.
'Rather than my trying to explain, it might help if you both read through these. The translation of the report is far better than my English.'
Big Al handed one of the folders to Dixon before he began to read his copy. As the two men read, Guajardo watched them, looking for a reaction.
When neither man showed any, Guajardo knew that the Americans already knew something about Alaman and his mercenaries. For a fleeting moment, Guajardo panicked. Were the Americans, he wondered, in league with Alaman? Had they, in order to provoke a war with Mexico and occupy its northern states, used Alaman to instigate a war? Were the Americans capable of such a thing?
Guajardo's mind was still racing with such thoughts when Dixon, and then Big Al finished reading the report and closed the folders. Tossing his copy onto the table, Dixon turned to Big Al. 'It agrees with what the G2's people got out of the Colombian.'
Big Al nodded. Then, seeing that Guajardo was looking at them with quizzical eyes, he explained. 'We found a wounded Colombian mercenary at a checkpoint that Alaman's men hit ten kilometers from where we found Congressman Lewis's vehicle and the dead escort officer and driver.' Big Al thumped the report with his finger. 'Although he didn't provide as much detail as this Lefleur character, everything that he told us agrees with what Lefleur said.' Big Al paused, sucking in a deep breath before he continued. 'We, our nations, have been had. The question is, Colonel Guajardo, what do you expect us to do? Why did your government not take this through diplomatic channels to my government? Why go through us?'
'That will be done, at the proper time. But first, there are things that need to be done before Alaman and his people find out how much we know about them. To do these things, I need your help, General Malin.
And you, mine. You see, my government has already been corrupted by Alaman. There are members of the Council of 13 who no longer support our efforts and have been providing information to this bastard. Although I could, eventually, pull together a force of loyal soldiers, it would take too long. My best and most capable leaders are scattered all over Mexico, many of them operating behind your lines as leaders of guerrilla units. By the time I pulled them back, your congressman and Miss Fields would be dead.'
The mention of Jan's name caused Dixon to straighten up. 'You know where she is?'
Guajardo nodded. 'Lefleur has agreed to lead us to their base camp.'
Big Al looked at Dixon, then Guajardo. 'This man has already betrayed his boss and comrades. Can he be trusted?'
Guajardo's response was dry and cold. 'Lefleur is a mercenary. Trust has nothing to do with this. His only concern is money and survival. He must survive in order to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Lefleur has no loyalty to Alaman. He would receive no bonus that he could enjoy by dying for him. There is no honor or principle attached to what Lefleur has done. He is a businessman, a man who provided Alaman a service and received money for that service. Right now, Lefleur is no longer in a position to provide that service or to be paid. At the present time, it is in his own best interests to cooperate.' Then, as a fleeting smile crept across his face, Guajardo added, 'Besides,
