Paul laughed. 'Topiltzin.'
Robert set down the glass and slowly raised his hands in the air as if beseeching a fly on the ceiling. His eyes took on a hypnotic look and he began to speak in a haunting tone.
'We will rise up by the tens of thousands, by the hundreds of thousands.
We will cross the river as one and take what was buried on our land, land that was stolen from us by the Americans. Many will be sacrificed, but the gods demand we take what rightfully belongs to Mexico.' Then he dropped his hands and grinned. 'Needs a little polishing, of course.'
'I believe you've borrowed my script,' said Paul, applauding 'What's the difference so long as we're family?' Robert took a final forkful of salmon. 'Delicious. I could eat smoked salmon by the boatload.' He washed it down with the champagne. 'If I can seize the treasures and hold on to them, then what?'
I only want the maps. Whatever else can be smuggled out gole's to the family to keep or sell on the black market to wealthy collectors.
Agreed?'
Robert thought a moment, and then nodded. 'Agreed.'
The waiter brought a tray of glasses, a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars.
Paul slowly lit a panatella. He looked questioningly through the smoke at his brother. 'How do you intend to grab the Library treasures?'
'I had planned to launch a massive, unarmed invasion of the American border states after I gained power. This strikes me as a good opportunity for a test run.' Robert stared at his glass as he swirled his brandy. 'Once I set the wheels of my organization in motion, the poor in the cities and the peasants of the country will be gathered up and transported north to Roma, Texas. I can assemble three, perhaps as many as four hundred thousand on our side of the Rio Grande in four days.'
'What about American resistance?'
'Every soldier, border patrolman and sheriff in Texas will be helpless to stop the crush. I plan to put the women and children in the first wave across the bridge and river. Americans are a maudlin lot. They may have slaughtered villagers in Vietnam, but they won't massacre unarmed civilians on their own doorstep. I can also play on White House fears of a nasty international incident. The President won't dare issue orders to shoot. Static resistance will be inundated by a human tide that will sweep up through Roma and occupy the underground vault containing the Library treasures.'
'And Topiltzin will lead them?'
'And I will lead them.'
'How long do you think you can hold on to the vault?' asked Paul.
'Long enough for ancient-language translators to assess and remove any scrolls pertaining to long-lost mineral deposits.'
'That could take weeks. You won't have the time. The Americans will build up their forces and push your people back into Mexico within a few days.'
'Not if I threaten to burn the scrolls and destroy the art objects.'
Robert patted his lips with a napkin. 'My jet should be refueled by now. I'd better return to Mexico and set the operation in motion.'
Respect for his brother's inventive reasoning showed in Paul's eyes.
'With their backs against the wall, the American government will have no option but to deal. I like that.'
'Certainly the largest horde of people to invade the United States since the British in the Revolutionary War,' said Robert. 'I like that even better.'
They began arriving in the thousands the first day, in the tens of thousands the next. from all over northern Mexico people inspired by the unpassioned mvings of Topiltzin traveled by car, overloaded bus and truck, or walked to the dusty town of Nfiguel Ale across the river from Roma. The asphalt roads from Monterrey, Tampico, and Mexico City were glutted with a continuous stream of vehicles.
President De Lorenzo tried to stop the human wave rolling toward the border He called out the Mexican armed forces to block the roads. The military might as well have tried to stop a raging flood. Outside of Guadalupe, a squad of soldiers about to be swept away by a crush of bodies fired into the crowd, killing fifty-four, most of them women and children.
De Lorenzo had unwittingly played into Tbpiltzin's hands. It was exactly the reaction Robert Capesterre had hoped for.
Riots broke out in Mexico City, and De Lorenzo he had to back off or face mushrooming unrest and the lighted match of a possible revolution.
He sent a message to the White House with his sincere regrets for failing to stem the tide, and then he called off the soldiers, many of whom deserted and joined the crusade.
Unrestrained, the throng swarmed toward the Rio Grande.
The Capesterre family's hired professional planners and Robert's Topiltzin followers raised a five-square- kilometer tent city and set up kitchens and organized food lines. Sanitation facilities were trucked in and assembled. Nothing was overlooked. Many of the poor who flooded the area had never lived nor eaten so well. Only the clouds of dust and exhaust smoke from diesel engines swirled beyond human control.
Hand-painted banners appeared along the Mexico bank of the river proclaiming, 'The U.S. stole our land,'
'We want our ancestors' land returned,'
'The antiquities belong to Mexico.' They chanted the slogans in English, Spanish and Nahuatl. Topiltzin walked mnong the masses, agitating them into a frenzy rarely seen outside Iran.
Television news teams had a field day taping the colorful demonstration.
Cameras, their cables meandering to two dozen mobile field units, stood tripod to tripod on top of Roma's bluff, lenses panning the opposite shore.
