Copperheads - 12 (14 page)

“Oh, Lord, May. Now I understand what you said before about believing she was still alive. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

“They turned toward the south and sped off. I caught one last glance of my sister’s horrified face, staring out between the bars. A minute later, the truck had disappeared into the distance. We’ve not seen or heard from her since.”

Bishop and Terri watched the Blackhawk raise its nose and bleed off speed. Both parents were more than a little nervous about their son’s first flight on a helicopter and held their breath as the pilot began the final maneuvers to touch down.

The downdraft kicked up a swirling cloud of southern Texas grit as the wheels gently impacted what had once been a small shopping mall’s parking lot. It had taken several moments before the air cleared enough for mom and dad to spot Nick holding their son.

Hunter looked tiny in the big man’s massive arms as Nick pointed toward the eager parents, trying to get the lad to wave and smile. The boy refused to cooperate, however, remaining fixated on the pilot’s cluttered dashboard of gauges and blinking lights.

Diana’s security team was the first to deploy, hustling out of the copter’s bay and moving off to augment the perimeter already established by a handful of deputies and the rest of Bishop’s team. Since the Alliance leader’s visit was unannounced, her protection detail was at the bare minimum.

Despite Nick’s famous work ethic and business-first attitude, Bishop noted the big guy scanning the area for his own son. After Hunter had been passed to his mother’s anxious arms, the Texan pointed toward a rooftop just over 500 meters away and explained, “He’s over there, Nick, pulling counter-sniper duty. I’ll bring him down as soon as Diana is in a vehicle.”

A few minutes later, they were all loaded into four of Sheriff Watt’s SUVs and rolling toward the marina.

The houseboat’s main salon was more than spacious enough to host the meeting, which started after Mr. McCarthy’s arrival and subsequent search by Diana’s bodyguards. Bishop almost laughed as he watched one of the burly security men thoroughly frisk the troublesome fellow. The Texan was sure Nick had ordered the precaution just to irritate the U.S. representative.        

“I think the convoy got caught up in some sort of local feud or range war, or perhaps a dispute over territory,” Bishop calmly reported once everyone was seated around the dining table. “It’s next to impossible to know exactly who or why, and it’s for damn sure that bringing them to justice is far beyond our capabilities. Short of a full-scale invasion by the Alliance’s military forces, sticking our toe over the border is only going to get us pulled into a dispute that is none of our business. In summary, I recommend an enhanced presence by Sheriff Watt’s department and perhaps an occasional military training exercise along the river. Those moves should discourage any violence from spilling over onto our territory. That, sir, is my final report.”

“Thank you for that report, Bishop,” Nick acknowledged with formality, “Your team did a good job getting in and out of there without leaving a big footprint, and the recovery of an Alliance citizen’s property was a bonus.”

Mr. McCarthy’s palms slammed onto the table as he bellowed, “This is preposterous! A bonus! You call recovering some rickety old, shot-up houseboat a bonus? What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you want the United States of America to fail? Are you wringing your hands in eager anticipation, hoping that millions more of us will starve this winter? Is that what all of this is about?”

Diana remained stoic at the head of the table, her voice betraying none of the frustration that was welling up inside of the Alliance’s highest elected official. “Mr. McCarthy, sir, please calm down. I assure you we are utilizing every resource at our disposal. We sent our best people into a dangerous situation in order to discover what happened to that convoy. There’s only so much we can do. Even before the collapse, not every crime could be solved.”

The U.S. representative’s exasperation wasn’t going to be quelled so easily. “My nation must secure an external source of agricultural products. There is no other option available to us. We came to the Alliance with hat-in-hand and were promptly kicked to the curb. We were forced to move on and found a viable, willing trading partner in Mexico. Then, all of a sudden, our goods were mysteriously destroyed in Alliance territory. The perpetrators of this crime vanish into thin air, and soon your government executes what I can only describe as a half-assed effort to investigate. An amazing string of coincidences, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Terri replied. “But a believable one. What is it that you want from us, Mr. McCarthy? Do you want us to invade Mexico? Do you want us to send in tanks and armed gunships? You seem quite adept at pointing fingers, yet I’ve not heard a single suggestion or potential solution from your side of the table.”

“Sending in our armed forces would be a horrible mistake,” Nick added. “Tanks rolling across fields tend to destroy crops. Artillery barrages flatten warehouses. Unfortunately, battles often kill civilians. We could probably crush any unorganized resistance in a matter of days, but you would no longer have a viable trading partner. The medicine might cure the symptoms, but it would kill the patient.”

McCarty sighed, and then a slight smirk appeared at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve spoken with the President, and he has approved what we feel is a valid compromise. We want the Alliance to guarantee the next shipment of food.”

“What?” Bishop started. “How can we….”

Nick interrupted, stopping his friend before he could finish. “What exactly do you mean by
guarantee
, sir?”

“Washington wants Alpha to deliver 300 tons of foodstuffs to the border at Texarkana. We don’t care where it comes from or how it is delivered. If you wish to utilize our original source in Mexico, that tonnage has already been paid for as part of our initial agreement with the people down there. If you want to substitute with product produced in Alliance territory, that’s acceptable as well. We don’t care what assets you use to secure this shipment or where the food comes from. Such a gesture would dispel any concerns Americans might have about possible Alliance involvement in this incident. We need to be sure that you have our backs.”

“So you want us to be your insurance policy and your mercenaries?” Bishop protested as he started to stand. “I got your insurance policy, pal. Right here.…”

Terri’s hand stopped her husband from rising and making an obscene gesture, firmly pushing him back into the chair. 

Diana then dropped a bombshell that evaporated the Texan’s follow-on protest. “I think those terms are acceptable, Mr. McCarthy. We in the Alliance sincerely regret this incident and want nothing but continued success for our former countrymen in the U.S. of A. We’ll deliver your convoy of food in 25 days.”

Bishop was stunned, his eyes wide with shock. In fact, he was so taken aback, he didn’t utter another word as the meeting wrapped up and the attendees began filing out of the salon.

By the time he recovered, the Texan had found himself alone with Nick, Diana, and his wife.

“If you think I’m taking my team into Mexico so that asswart doesn’t get in trouble with his bosses back in Washington, you’ve got another think coming,” he growled at Diana. “Lady, I would follow you through the gates of hell, but this is bullshit. Pure, grade-A, unadulterated bullshit, and I’m not going to risk a single life on such an ill-advised mission.” With that, Bishop rose in anticipation of storming out of the room.

“Bishop!” Diana barked harshly, and then added a softer, “Please.”

The Texan did as she requested, his frame stiffening, but waiting for her next words.

Diana’s expression didn’t change as the Alliance honcho exchanged knowing looks with Nick. She then rose calmly and ambled toward Bishop, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. “I love you like a brother. Your passion is endearing, and your respect for the men in your command is inspiring. You do, however, have about the quickest trigger finger on that temper of yours that I’ve ever seen. Before you rush off in a huff, please answer one question for me.”

Begrudgingly, Bishop nodded. “Okay. Shoot.”

“What did the United States use to pay for all that food?”

“Huh?”

“How did they pay for the food?” Nick chimed in, now grinning at his hot-headed friend.

Bishop shrugged, “Hell if I know? Gold? Fuel? Strippers? Beer? What difference does it make?”

“What if they traded weapons for food?” Diana asked, a knowing smirk turning up the corners of her mouth.

It all fell into place, Bishop suddenly realizing that his thinking had, once again, been tactical, not strategic. Still, he had trouble admitting his latest tantrum was unjustified. “What makes you guys think the Colonel… err… the President would do such a thing? He of all people should know that giving whiskey and guns to the savages is a recipe for disaster.”

“He may not know,” Nick replied. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone from Washington had acted autonomously. Remember our friend the ambassador? Just think about this. McCarthy is hiding something, and we’re not getting any direct answers from Washington. They know one hell of a lot more about what’s going on south of the border than we do, and it’s obvious that they aren’t concerned with
our
best interests.”

Bishop relaxed slightly, stomping to the window to stare out at the lake and digest Nick’s words.

It was clear that one or more large, well-organized parties existed in Mexico. It was also evident that they were aggressive and had zero respect for the border with the Alliance. Given the amount of food available for export, it was a reasonable assumption that plenty of manpower existed south of the Rio Grande. A population that could easily be used to raise a sizable army.

“A large, well-armed force could threaten the Alliance,” Diana stated as if she could read Bishop’s thoughts. “We might be facing raiding parties, organized crime, or even an invasion force. There’s only one way to know, and that’s to insert boots on the ground … boots worn by people we can trust.”

Bishop pivoted and argued, “I understand the need for intelligence. You’ll get no argument from me about that. So why don’t we just send in some spies? Bribe some locals to give us information? Governments have been practicing espionage since we lived in tribes – why not do it the time-honored way by being sneaky as hell and going under the table?”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing by granting McCarthy’s request,” Diana explained.

Terri got it. “You’re using the convoy protection to give our spies a good cover story. It makes sense. If there’s nothing devious going on between Mexico and the U.S., then no harm, no foul. If we do find something’s afoot, then you can act on the information without having gone behind Washington’s back. As a matter of fact, our friends to the north demanded that we get involved. Brilliant, Diana. Simply brilliant.”

Bishop wasn’t sold. “Okay. Fine. You want me to protect the convoy and see what’s going on down in glorious, old Mexico. I’ll be happy to oblige. I need a platoon of M1 Abrahams battle tanks, two companies of crack infantry, and at least two helicopter gunships overhead all the way there and back. Easy as pie, and I promise we’ll bring home the bacon.”

Nick shook his head, grinning at his friend’s antics. “If we go across the border with a significant force, we risk the people on the other side vanishing down a rabbit hole or assuming our actions are an invasion. Either way, we won’t learn a damn thing. Besides, everyone in this room knows the Alliance can’t afford any sort of long-term military action. If we get pulled into an extended fight down there, both the cost and the political ramifications would be unacceptable. We’re still recovering from the property ownership debacle and all of the unintended consequences and disruptions associated with that new law.”

“So you want me to take my team into harm’s way and play like we’re some sort of Hollywood super spies. Shaken, not stirred? I don’t like it, Nick. We’re not trained for that sort of thing. My guys are the best, but you’re asking us to put our round peg in a very dangerous square hole.”

Diana countered, “I don’t know about that, Bishop. Is what we’re asking really all that different than a typical SAINT mission? You’re approaching an unknown entity and trying to learn how they’re organized, how well armed they are, and who’s in charge. Is it really all that dissimilar doing those things in a Texas town versus Central Mexico?”

Bishop held up his fingers and began counting, “First, there is the language barrier. Secondly, we won’t have any support or backup close at hand like we do in Texas. Third, we have zero authority down there. Here, we can fall back on the Alliance, an elected government, and rule of law. There, we’re just a bunch of cowboys trying to ride shotgun on a convoy of trucks. There’s a huge difference in my mind.”

Tilting his head, Nick’s response surprised everyone in the room. “Yes, you’re absolutely right on every count. Tell you what, old friend; you think it over tonight and talk it through with your team and Terri. If you don’t want to accept the mission, I’ll assign one of the other SAINT teams. Fair enough?”

Bishop nodded but with hesitation. He wasn’t quite sure what his best friend was trying to pull. “Fair enough.”

Diana walked with Terri on the way to retrieve Hunter from the nanny brought along on the short flight from Alpha. “How’s the houseboat working out?” she asked.

“We love it. If it hadn’t been for the two massacres and the intense gunfight, it would be a great little vacation spot.” Terri smiled at her friend and elaborated, “Heck, I’d have given it four stars on post-apocalyptic-vacations dot com … if we still had such things.”

Bishop and Terri spent the rest of the afternoon playing with their son while Nick and Diana attended a couple of government functions in nearby Del Rio.