Remember The Alamo (22 page)

"Take it easy," Dave said. "He's on our side."

Phil stared at him. "You can't believe that!"

Stark said, "I believe in givin' a man the benefit of the
doubt ... at least until I've heard him out"

"Fair enough," Mahone said. "And I appreciate that, Mr.
Stark"

For the next hour, the six of them talked, hashing out the situation up one way and down the other. Mahone filled the
others in on the information he had given Dave earlier, and
concluded by saying, "I want in on whatever you've got
planned for tomorrow. I've had a desk job for a long time,
but I like to think I can still handle myself pretty well when the
excrement encounters the ventilation equipment."

Mahone's sincerity won the other men over, with the possible exception of Phil, who was still wary. "Finding out what
we're planning could be the way this guy figures he'll get his
job back," he suggested.

"You have my word that's not the case," Mahone said. "All
I'm interested in is doing everything I can to prevent the loss
of innocent life and the shaming of this country."

"All right. Then stay here tonight. We'll all stay here tonight,
so that we can keep an eye on each other. How about that?"

Belko bristled at the suggestion. "Now you're sayin' that
you don't trust us?"

"I'll be happy to stay," Mahone said without hesitation. "In
fact, that's probably a good idea. That way, you'll have plenty
of time to fill me in on the plan."

"We can put it to a vote," Dieter said. "That's the American
way, isn't it?"

None of them were able to argue with that, so Dave said,
"All in favor of accepting Mr. Mahone as one of us-"

"I told you to call me Ed," Mahone reminded him.

Dave just shook his head. "Sorry. I'm afraid that a guy who
was the head of the FBI is always gonna be a `Mr.' to me ""

In the end, even Phil went along with letting Mahone in on
the plan, and they spent the night talking about what was
going to happen on Friday. Everybody was too keyed up to
sleep much, so they just snatched catnaps, taking turns stretching out on the cot in the storage room where Dave had been
sleeping for the past few nights.

Now it was morning. Only hours remained before everyone
involved would start to gather in the plaza in front of the old
mission that meant so much.

The members of the group that had informally dubbed itself
the Defenders of the Alamo-which now numbered fifty-four
with the addition of Mahone-would be arriving at the plaza
one by one, spreading themselves out among the crowd. They
all knew each other by sight, having spent quite a bit of time
getting to know each other, so there wouldn't be any trouble
about recognizing their allies. They wouldn't do anything
except stand there and watch the ceremony, unless and until
the Reconquistadores showed up and started trouble. As much
as it would gall to see the Alamo given back to Mexico, if it
really was just a symbolic gesture, none of the defenders
would interfere.

Dave found himself hoping that would be the case. He
didn't want to see anybody get hurt. He could live with having
the Alamo under Mexican control for the weekend, even
though he wouldn't like it.

But given everything that had happened so far, he was
going to be shocked if things turned out that way.

Mahone was carrying, so they didn't have to furnish a gun
for him. "That was a pretty good idea, hiding weapons and supplies in the Alamo ahead of time," he said as they got ready
to leave the VFW hall. "If this doesn't work out, though, the
Daughters of the Republic of Texas are liable to be in a lot of
trouble for helping you"

"The DRT didn't do it," Phil pointed out, "just some of the
members acting on their own. And they're tough Texas ladies.
They can take care of themselves if they have to" He looked
around at the others and gave them a curt nod. "See you at the
Alamo."

They all echoed that sentiment as they left, going their separate ways for now.

See you at the Alamo.

Constance's hair hadn't been brushed yet this morning, and
she wore a robe that she had owned for several years, but Dave
thought he had never seen her looking more beautiful. She
turned toward him as she heard him walk into the kitchen
behind her, and the expression on her face was a mixture of
anger, relief, and longing.

"Dave," she said, and he knew she was trying to sound
stern, "where have you been?"

"I told you I was going to stay at the VFW hall for a few
days. I didn't want you to worry."

"Well, I did worry. All these secrets you have these
days ... I can't stand it, Dave. I just can't. I feel like you're
turning your back on me. On us"

He took her in his arms. She stiffened at first, then eased
into his embrace and rested her head against his shoulder.

"That's the farthest thing from my mind," he assured her.
"Everything I've been doing, I've been doing for us,
because-"

He stopped, because it would be difficult to explain that
he didn't want them to live in a country that could so easily turn its back on its heritage and everything decent about it just
for the sake of political expediency. That was too abstract for
a moment as personal as this one.

So he just tightened his arms around her and said, "I'm
doing it because I have to. Because I wouldn't be the man you
fell in love with if I didn't."

"But it's over now, right? You're home to stay?"

Hearing the eagerness for normalcy in her voice, he hated
to tell her the truth. He had no other choice, though.

"Almost. I have one more thing to do today."

"Dave .. " She lifted her head and tipped it back so she
could look into his eyes. "Don't leave. Stay here today.
Please."

"I ... I can't."

"Whatever it is, someone else ..." Her voice trailed away.
She must have read the truth in his eyes.

Then she came up on her toes and pressed her lips to his in
an urgent, almost desperate kiss. When she took her mouth
away, she whispered, "Damn it, Dave Rodriguez, you'd better
come back to me. You'd better be safe"

He managed to smile. "Of course I will be. I'll be just fine.
Be home late this afternoon sometime. We'll go out to eat.
Okay?"

"It ... it's a date"

He could tell that both of them knew he might never keep
that date.

There was no sense in drawing out the pain of saying goodbye. He kissed her again, crushed her to him in a hug, and then
left without looking back.

He wondered as he climbed on his Harley and headed for
downtown if she had felt the butt of the gun hidden under his
shirt pressing against her.

The crowd began to gather well before noon. The shops and
restaurants along the Riverwalk and in the Rivercenter Mall
were thronged with people. Tourists as well as citizens of San
Antonio streamed in and out of the Alamo and the adjoining gift
shop and museum. They stood in front of the cenotaph in the
plaza and had their pictures taken, and they moved slowly
through the Long Barracks, looking at the displays and reading
the plaques that explained what had happened here so long ago.

City workers moved in and set up the podium in the area directly in front of the old mission that was paved with flagstones of native Texas granite. The rebuilt pediment that gave
the front of the chapel its world-famous shape loomed over the
platform that was draped with American, Mexican, and Texas
flags. After the epic battle against Santa Anna, the building
had been chewed and pocked by cannon fire, and it had sat
there in disrepair for many years afterward. Taken over by the
army for a time and used as a storehouse for bags of grain, the
Alamo had languished.

Over time, though, people had come to realize what it truly
meant. The state bought the property from the army and began
to refurbish it. Later, the Daughters of the Republic of Texas
had taken it over and finished the job, restoring the Alamo to
a close semblance of what it had once been, making out of it
a shrine for anyone who truly loved liberty and opposed the
dictatorial hand of despots everywhere. The Alamo was not
just a symbol of Texas; it was a symbol of freedom everywhere, for everyone.

At least, that was what it was supposed to be. That was what
it had been before it was turned into a political football by men
suffused with cynicism and the lust for power.

What happened here today would determine, in large part,
what the Alamo would be in the future, whether it would continue to be a symbol of courage and hope-or a bastion of despair and death.

A few minutes before one o'clock in the afternoon, on
March 6th, the anniversary of the day this building was overrun by bloodthirsty hordes and its gallant defenders put to the
sword and the torch, with the sound system in place and the
cameras of the TV news crews rolling and a mariachi band
playing and the flags flapping in a warm, late winter breeze
and the plaza jammed with hundreds, perhaps thousands of
eager spectators, Mayor Joaquin Alvarez moved to the center
of the podium and prepared to do what had once been unthinkable.

He was going to give the Alamo back to the Mexicans.

Edward Mahone knew there would be a lot of police at the
ceremony, so he wasn't surprised to see all the uniforms working crowd control. But he suspected those weren't the only
cops on hand. The San Antonio PD would have plainclothes
officers in the crowd as well, and Mahone figured there were
probably some snipers posted here and there in surrounding
buildings as well. They would take special precautions to protect a prominent political figure like Mayor Joaquin Alvarez,
especially since he was about to be engaged in such a controversial act. Although the local and state newspapers had supported the decision to symbolically return the Alamo to
Mexico-no surprise there, given the leftward leanings of the
mainstream media-most of the talk-radio stations and a
horde of bloggers had opposed it. Everybody had an opinion,
one way or the other, and they weren't shy about expressing
them.

So Mahone's well-trained eyes searched the crowd and isolated several people he pegged as cops. He had warned Dave,
Phil, and the others that if any shooting started, they would be
in as much danger from the police as from the Mexican terrorists. The cops would target anybody with a gun. That was one reason they would have to move fast if they were forced to
take action.

It would be a damned shame to be gunned down by friendly
fire, but such things happened. Risks such as that were just
part of the price that had to be paid to preserve liberty and
the American way of life.

Mahone watched Alvarez stand up from one of the folding
chairs arrayed on the platform and move toward the microphone. The strains of mariachi music died away as the band
stopped playing.

Dave's gaze moved along the platform, taking in the celebrities and dignitaries seated there. All the Hispanic members of
the City Council were there, and a couple of the Anglo members. The U.S. congressman who represented the downtown
district was on hand, as were several members of the state legislature. Several representatives of the Mexican government
were there, including Ambassador Carranza.

And there was Elena Alicia Obregon, looking incredibly hot
in a low-cut dress with a short skirt revealing her sleek, goldenbrown, spectacular legs. From time to time she gave a practiced
toss of her head that made her raven-black hair swirl around her
shoulders. Dave and Constance had watched some of the tele-
novelas she was in, and even though he knew she had been
the mayor's girlfriend in the past-and evidently was againit was hard for him to believe that she was actually there, only
a few yards away from him.

Odd the things that went through a man's mind at a time like
this, he thought, when death might be only moments away.

But the huge majority of the crowd didn't know that, so they
cheered and applauded lustily as Alvarez stood up and began
making his way to the microphone to address the assemblage.