After topping off their fuel tanks, the lead pilot checked in with the AWACS for vectors to their holding pattern. The senior pilots had been thoroughly briefed about the mission and looked forward to playing a role in discouraging the Mexican advance.
THE WHITE HOUSE
The president and his advisers quietly filed into the Situation Room and took their seats. There was little conversation while they waited to monitor the firepower demonstration. They paid rapt attention when the AWACS cued the first event, the B-1B supersonic Mach 1.2 reveille call. The second bomber would remain at altitude as a spare.
Ready to step onstage after the 900-mph B-1B pass, the lead AC-130 Spectre gunship was orbiting two miles north of the Mexican caravan. The second ground-attack Hercules circled six miles to the east. The A-10s would roll in together after the AC-130 departed the immediate area.
Three U. S. Air Force HH-60G Pave Hawk combat search-and-rescue helicopters formed a triangle around the caravan. They were ready to snag any downed crew members. Along the entire length of the U. S.-Mexican border, other AWACS and fighter aircraft continued to fly combat air patrols to stop any threat from the ground or from the air.
The B-1B aircraft commander was beginning his run fourteen miles east of the Mexican brigades. Since the target was moving, the bomber crew would have to make a few minor heading corrections during the pass. The last five miles would be flown supersonic at treetop level.
SAN FERNANDO-MATAMOROS, MEXICO
Moving at a steady pace on Highway 101, the Mexican military caravan was getting closer to the U. S -Mexican border. Most of the soldiers were asleep as the first light of day began to engulf the line of olive-drab cargo trucks. There was little traffic going north and practically no vehicles traveling south. The highway crossing the Rio Grande at Brownsville, Texas, had been closed for hours.
Some of the Mexican soldiers were beginning to wake up and stretch their arms and legs. Others who had been awake for a while smoked cigarettes and discussed how far their senior officers and their government were going to take the military charade. Even though it embarrassed some of the veteran soldiers, they figured the Americans were laughing out loud.
In reality, few people north of the border even knew the Mexican convoy was approaching the border of Texas. Certainly, no one was laughing at the Pentagon or in the White House Situation Room.
While the Mexican soldiers were discussing what was going to happen when they reached the border, a black dot appeared in the eastern sky. It rapidly grew larger as it hugged the terrain with its wings in full sweep. There was no sound, no warning.
Flying faster than sound travels, the "Bone" could drop 7 tons of 500-pound bombs in a concentrated path of destruction. Before anyone on the ground would even know what happened, the B-1B could lay waste to a large concentration of troops and their equipment.
That was the bombers mission: to rain astonishing destruction and then disappear in the blink of an eye. The psychological impact of not being able to see or hear death coming had a debilitating effect on infantry soldiers.
Making a slight course correction a mile from the caravan, the aircraft commander intended to pass directly in front of the lead cargo truck. All four General Electric turbofans were in full afterburner, each generating over 30,700 pounds of thrust.
The driver and the colonel in the first truck never saw the bomber coming. They never heard anything. A huge, dark object flashed past the hood, startling them. A second later, the quiet of the early morning was shattered by an explosive sonic boom that cracked the trucks windshield in three places. The eardrum-splitting roar of the four afterburners topped the aerial demonstration as the B-1B steeply climbed and turned north.
The copilot of the bomber keyed his radio and spoke to the orbiting AWACS. "Adios, partner."
"Good job."
On the highway, chaos ensued as the army vehicles lurched to a stop in accordion fashion. No one remained asleep, not in the convoy or anywhere within a twelve-mile radius. Shock and fear permeated the ranks. They had never seen anything that even vaguely resembled the weapon that had just shocked them. While the officers huddled, the soldiers stopped traffic in both directions. The troops not on traffic detail gathered in small groups and speculated about their march toward the U. S. border.
Watching the scene through the eyes of Global Hawk, President Macklin was growing impatient. "I dont think we should let the shock wear off. Show them another example of why they don t want to pursue this machismo madness."
SecDef nodded.
"Off alongside the road," the president suggested. "Give them an opportunity to wake up and start thinking straight before we have to destroy the damn highway."
General Chalmers gave the order. It was immediately transmitted to the orbiting AC-130 gunship.
The aircraft commander of the Hercules had the convoy in visual contact. After carefully adjusting the power, he set up a left-hand orbit around the caravan of army vehicles. The object lesson began at the edge of the highway approximately 100 yards from the lead truck.
A combination of unbelievable firepower, accurately concentrated in one small area by the onboard fire-control radar system, dug a hole six feet deep in a matter of seconds. The thunderous noise and total devastation stunned the people on the ground.
The soldiers on traffic detail lost control as the myriad civilian drivers frantically made U-turns, some bumping into each other, and roared off in the direction they had come from.
Within seconds the frightened officers made a decision while the Spectre gunship continued to orbit overhead. Forget what the generals and politicians were going to say. Continuing northbound would be suicidal. The convoy would return to their quarters near Mexico City.
While the caravan was reorganizing, the AC-130 gunship departed the area and returned to its holding pattern. The spare B-1B bomber was granted permission to make a low supersonic pass over the convoy and then return to Dyess AFB. It was a final warning for those who might harbor second thoughts.
After the aircraft shattered everyone's nerves and tortured their eardrums, the bomber pulled up in a steep climbing turn to the north. Still in afterburner, the number-three engine exploded. The pilots went through the procedures to shut it down and extinguish the fire, but the number-four engine soon began to show indications of trouble.
Major Jared Townsen, the aircraft commander and mission commander, slowed the airplane to 300 knots and broadcast a Mayday radio call. Two F-16s from a nearby combat air patrol rendezvoused with the stricken bomber and reported a long trail of fire emitting from the right engines.
As the aircraft began suffering multiple malfunctions, Townsen was having problems controlling the plane. He tried to salvage the situation and find a suitable airport, but the B-1B finally pitched up and rolled to the right. As hard as he tried, Townsen could not arrest the roll. He ordered the crew to eject and all four crew members exited the bomber.
The sleek aircraft crashed in a field six miles south of Reynosa, Mexico, across the border from McAllen, Texas. Once the crew was on the ground, the F-16s flew cover for the men until an air force HH-60G Pave Hawk rescue helicopter arrived.
Although the final demonstration proved costly, the end result was worth the price. A potentially deadly conflict on the border was avoided and there were now scores of true believers in the Mexican Army They would be spreading the word to their cohorts. Provoking the world's only superpower was not a sound idea.
When news of the armys humiliating confrontation with the Americans was made public in Mexico City it provoked more demonstrations and riots. The U. S. Marines at the embattled embassy had been ordered to hold their fire unless the perimeter of the grounds was breached.
Later, when a story broke about the army shooting down the American supersonic bomber, the crowds began cheering and chanting. Less than an hour later, the radio stations and television outlets were reporting that two American warplanes had been shot down. The news fueled more c
elebrating and flag waving. The Mexican military had indeed acquitted themselves well.
THE WHITE HOUSE
Acting on General Chalmers's orders, the lead AC-130 gunship reduced the crashed B-1B to rubble. There was nothing left to give anyone a single clue about its offensive and defensive capabilities.
Relieved by the turn of events, Chalmers faced the president, the only other person in the Situation Room. "The flight crew has been checked. No broken bones, just bruises, minor cuts, and abrasions."
"That's definitely good to hear." Macklin was filled with relief over the outcome of the standoff, but he didn't want to show any elation. "Do they have any idea what happened? Missile, maybe?"
"The pilots believe they might have ingested some birds just as they pulled up. At any rate, the crew is on their way back to Dyess, and I'm headed to the Pentagon."
The president rose to shake hands with Chalmers. "Great job, Les. Thanks for coming through for me."
Chalmers finally cracked a smile. "The folks flying the airplanes deserve the real credit."
"Well, at least part of it." Macklins voice reflected fatigue. "Why don't you take a few days off and go fishing."
"If you 11 go with me."
"Wish I could, but I have to be in Corpus Christi in a couple of hours."
Chalmerss smile slowly faded. "Cord, I hope you dont mind an old friend being honest. You need to get some rest, some quality sleep."
"I just might do that when we get back this evening."
Chapter 30.
CORPUS CHRISTI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
Thunderstorms were building in all quadrants as the C-32A (Boeing 757) from the 89th Airlift Wing began its descent into the Corpus Christi area. The ride was not too bad, but the aircraft commander went ahead and slowed the jet to mush through the turbulence.
The U. S. Navy F/A-18s accompanying the president matched the Boeings speed and maintained their position. They would stay with the gleaming blue-and-white 757 until it turned on final approach at Corpus Christi.
In the cabin, President Macklin was going over strategy with Secretary of State Austin and National Security Adviser Hartwell Prost. Because of the mounting friction between the United States and Mexico, they had decided on a bold recommendation for President Juan Cardenas.
Now in radio contact with Corpus Christi Approach Control, the busy flight crew was coordinating their arrival with that of President Cardenas. The senior pilots from the 89th had been instructed by Secretary Austin to follow the Boeing 727 from the Presidential Transport Squadron based in Mexico City.
After a series of radar vectors and two visual turns to circumvent thunderstorms, the Boeing 757 was finally vectored into position behind the 727. Both aircraft landed in a heavy downpour and taxied to a secure area.
The Secret Service was out in force and quickly shuttled the two parties to a portable air-conditioned conference room parked only yards away. Cardenas and Macklin had agreed to have only the principals in the meeting. The various political aides and the Secret Service agents remained outside underneath shelters.
Avoiding any reference to the military confrontation that morning, the men shook hands and sat down. President Cardenas and Secretary of Foreign Affairs Antonio Ferreira were on one side of the table. On the other side of the table, President Macklin was flanked by Brad Austin on the right and Hartwell Prost on the left.
After a few pleasantries, Macklin broke the ice. "President Cardenas, Secretary Austin and I have had an in-depth conversation about the core problem that exists in your administration: the corruption in the military and in the law-enforcement branches. Please take the time to tell me how ingrained you think the problem is."
Even though he had known the question would be coming, Cardenas paused to craft his answer carefully. "The primary problem is the military. Six generals and one admiral have the military in their grip. They are clever mobsters cloaked in uniforms who recruit servicemen in their image.
"Without them in the picture, there are two generals and three promising colonels who want to help me take the steps to form a system on the U. S. model. Otherwise, we will be forever mired in graft and corruption. The crooks in uniform at the top have the weapons, the power, and the money while the citizens are defenseless."
Secretary Ferreiras eyes were downcast.
"These people are morally corrupt and totally ruthless," Cardenas said, speaking quietly and slowly. "They rule by using fear and hard-core intimidation. They will go to any length to destroy their opponents credibility, destroy their ability to make a living, destroy their personal lives, or worse."
"Or worse?" Prost asked.
"If they don t comply, members of their family or friends disappear or turn up dead. Many of the deaths are claimed by the medical examiners to be suicides. These examiners are on the military payroll as full colonels."
A few silent moments passed while Cardenas had a drink of water and regained his composure.
"President Cardenas," Secretary Austin began, "you mentioned the senior officers recruiting in their image. I take it that's the way this corruption has carried on for so long?"
"Absolutely Carefully planned ascension. Less than a month after I was elected, one of the senior generals promoted his twenty-four-year-old nephew, who had never served in the military, to lieutenant colonel. The nephew, who has a criminal record ranging from extortion to murder, is surreptitiously laundering drug money in the United States and taking care of his uncles offshore bank accounts."
Macklin glanced at Secretary Ferreira and then focused again on Cardenas. "Do the seven men--the generals and the admiral--ever get together?"
"I know they occasionally congregate at various resorts, but the outings are random and always secret. We dont know the location of the meetings until after they return to their military quarters."
"Let me suggest a course of action," Macklin said matter-of-factly. "You dont have to make a decision now, just think about it for a while. The details can be worked out later. If you want these criminals to disappear, we have the capability to do it."
Macklin glanced again at Ferreira. He was definitely nervous.
Macklin continued. "The question, President Cardenas, is basic, but fundamental to our success. Are you certain the officers you have confidence in will in fact remold the military as you see fit?"
There was no hesitation. "Yes, Im confident. There are many fine officers and soldiers who want to see the corruption weeded out of the military. It taints them and their profession, but they know the consequences if they try to change things."
Ferreiras mouth was agape but no words came out.
"How would we explain their disappearance?" Cardenas asked in a guarded but clear voice.
Macklin paused, frowning slightly. "They were killed in a plane crash at sea, in the Bahia de Campeche, en route to a military conference in Cancun."
Cardenas mulled the proposal. "I deeply appreciate your consideration, President Macklin."
"Were here to help both our countries; were no stranger to corruption. As you said, sometimes we have to do some weeding, be it in the military, the corporate world, or the political arena."
"President Macklin is right," Secretary Austin chimed in. "What s good for Mexico is good for our country."
Cardenas nodded. "I do want to take time to contemplate your suggestion and its consequences. Its a lot to digest."
"Think about your contribution," Prost said. "This could fundamentally change the course of Mexico."
Cardenas turned to Macklin. "Thank you for your generous support. I am deeply indebted, but I have to think about this for a while."
"We understand."
Cardenas and Ferreira rose to shake hands with the Americans. Out of respect, Macklin walked with the president and his senior statesman to the 727. He waited until the airplane began taxiing for takeoff before he boarded the 757.
"Well," Macklin said to Austin and Prost, "we might see a real change in Mexico's fut
ure. At least there's hope."
USS CONSTELLATION
Now in a position to join the war on terrorism, the carrier's air wing was tasked with bombing specific terrorist training camps. The complexes had been clearly defined by space-based assets and unmanned aerial vehicles. Some of the sites were new and had a multitude of weapons stockpiled, including mortars, rockets, and missiles. Other sites that had been destroyed were being modestly refurbished to use as storage facilities.
The first wave of strike aircraft launched at 5:40 P. M., to be over their targets after dark. The second strike launched at 6:30 P. M., and it would follow groups of planes from Stennis and George Washington. The wide-ranging air raids, which would continue to first light, were designed to flatten several terrorist facilities. Buildings, supplies, munitions--everything would be destroyed before daylight.
GENEYA, SWITZERLAND
Saeed Shayhidi was back in his familiar element. Although he was confident about his disguise, he avoided going to his office building. His executive assistant, Gamaa al-Harith, was his go-between. The CIA agents watching the office had no idea who al-Harith was or what he did. He was just one of the many anonymous employees who came and went during the course of the day
Living in a modest dwelling until his new home was built, Shayhidi was selling the remaining cargo ships and tankers in his fleet, consolidating his resources into long-term investments that could not be sunk or blown apart. Yes, life was pleasant again and he still had a plethora of assets to use against the infidels.
The company lawyers were fighting with the insurance companies while Shayhidi, using his new identity, was negotiating for a new airplane. He smiled every time he thought about Macklin and the CIA. Now, after putting his life back together, he could concentrate on continuing the attacks on the United States.
CHEVY CHASE, MARYLAND
Brad Austin was shaving when his wife, Leigh Ann, walked into the master bathroom. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you have a phone call."
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