Invasion Usa: Border War

by Johnstone, William W.

  “Because it was a suicide attempt?”

  “Frankly, yes,” DeZavala said. “We have an excellent psychiatric ward here, and it might pay to have a full evaluation of your sister’s mental state done, so that there’s no recurrence of this incident.”

  Bonnie looked over at Tom. “What do you think?”

  “You have to do whatever you think is best,” he said with a shrug.

  “You don’t have to decide right now,” the doctor told them. “Like I said, Mrs. Simms will have to remain here overnight, at least, so you’ve got some time to think about it.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Tom said. DeZavala nodded and went back through the door into the emergency room.

  Tom didn’t say anything about it, but he knew what Kelly needed even more than a psychiatric evaluation. The only real cure for what ailed her would be the safe return of her daughter.

  And from the looks of the situation, Tom and his newfound friends were the only ones who could supply that particular medicine.

  Twenty-four

  Tom found Brady Keller sitting in the cactus garden again. The man in the wheelchair frowned when he saw Tom approaching.

  “I thought you’d backed out on me,” Keller said.

  Tom shook his head. “I got delayed a little.” He explained what had happened and concluded by saying, “It took me a little longer to get away from the hospital than I thought it would. The other hospital, I mean. There was a hell of a lot of paperwork to fill out, and my wife wanted me to help her with it.”

  Keller grunted. “Yeah, if there’s one thing they’ve got more of in hospitals than sick people, it’s paperwork. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Were you able to talk to some of your people?”

  “Yes, I had a meeting last night with more than a dozen who are interested. And there are more coming tonight.”

  “Do they know what they’re letting themselves in for?” Keller asked with a frown. “There’s a damned good chance a lot of them won’t be coming back.”

  “They know that. They’re willing to risk it rather than do nothing while God knows what happens to their children.”

  “Most people, when they get upset about something, they go whining to the government or somebody else and want them to fix the problem. They’re not willing to put their own lives on the line to do what’s right.”

  “This is a special situation,” Tom pointed out.

  “Yeah, but you want to keep a close eye on them anyway. When things get tough, some of them are liable to bug out. That can get the rest of you killed if you’re not careful.”

  Tom said, “I’ve been in combat before. I won’t trust my back to anybody unless I know they’ll come through.”

  “Just remember that.” Keller pointed to a low rock wall around part of the garden. “Sit down. My neck gets tired when I have to keep looking up at you.”

  “Sorry,” Tom said as he sat on the rock wall. “Were you able to talk to some of those contacts you mentioned?”

  A grotesque expression pulled at Keller’s scarred face. After a second, Tom recognized it as a grin. “Damn right I did. I’ve got eight guys who are interested in going with you.”

  Now it was Tom’s turn to frown. “Lawmen, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Border Patrol agents and DEA guys.”

  “And they want to go into Mexico with us?” Worry surged up inside Tom. What if this was a trap? “They’re willing to go against their superiors, knowing it might cost them their careers if anybody finds out?”

  Keller hunched forward in his wheelchair. “Listen, Brannon. I know these men. They all lost good friends in the ambush that did this to me. In a couple of cases, they lost brothers. Trust me, they want to strike back at Guerrero and the Night Wolves as much as you do.”

  “Enough to turn outlaw?”

  Keller snorted. “You don’t really believe you’re an outlaw, and you know it. You’re just doing what a bloated, impotent government refuses to do. You’ve been there before, when you started the Patriot Project.”

  “That didn’t involve crossing the border. We were on our own land, defending our homes.”

  “Guerrero crossed the border, didn’t he? He attacked and killed American citizens on American soil. That makes him fair game as far as I’m concerned.”

  Tom couldn’t argue with that. Guerrero and the Night Wolves had started this ball rolling, there was no mistake about that.

  Slowly, he said, “If you say we can trust these men, Keller, then I believe you. With the addition of them, that will give us around forty people ... assuming that none of the others back out.”

  “Guerrero’s got a hundred men, maybe more. That’s not even two-to-one odds. They’ll be armed to the teeth, too.”

  Tom clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “That’s something else I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Guns?” That ugly grin stretched across Keller’s face again. “Yeah, I figured you might be a little light on firepower. My guys can help you with that, too.”

  “Sounds like they’ll be risking a lot.”

  “It’ll be worth it to them if they can blast those sons o’ bitches off the face of the earth.”

  Tom knew he was still taking a chance, but he was willing to put his faith in Keller’s judgment. He told the former DEA agent about the gun club and the meeting scheduled there for that night.

  “We should have the whole group together,” Tom said. “We’ll know then if what we’ve been talking about has any chance of succeeding ... or if we’ve just been fooling ourselves.”

  “You can do it,” Keller said. “I’m convinced enough that I wish like hell I could go along with you.” He laughed bitterly. “I figure I’d just slow you down, though.”

  Tom said fervently, “Without your help, we wouldn’t stand a chance. As far as I’m concerned, you’re contributing just as much as if you were going across the border with us.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not as good as the feel of a gun in my hand, but I guess it’ll have to do.” Keller looked away for a moment, and Tom wondered if he saw the faint gleam of a tear in the man’s good eye. After a moment, Keller went on. “It’s time to find out where those girls are being held.”

  “I know. That may be the one roadblock we can’t get around. I have no idea where to look, and as far as I know, neither does the FBI or any other law enforcement agency on this side of the border.”

  “Maybe nobody on this side of the border knows, but I guarantee you that somebody on the other side does. The cartel pays off the Mexican police and military to look the other way, so those greedy bastards have to know what to look away from.”

  Tom felt his pulse quicken. That idea hadn’t occurred to him, but now that he thought it over, he knew Keller was right. The Mexican authorities had to be aware of places to avoid because they might run into Los Lobos de la Noche.

  “The DEA has deep-cover agents south of the border, too,” Keller went on. “Some of them are so deep they can’t risk getting in touch with their handlers unless they have something big enough to bring down not only the Night Wolves but also the whole cartel. But maybe, just maybe, one of them might pass something along that could help us. Together with the network of informants that we have in Nuevo Laredo, there’s a chance somebody will give us a lead to the location.”

  “Have you already talked to anybody about that?”

  Keller nodded. “Yeah, I put the word out, very discreetly. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know right away.”

  “Back when you were in the DEA, you didn’t know where Guerrero’s headquarters were?”

  “No, we never could pin it down. To tell you the truth, we never really tried all that hard to find out. We knew that if we did locate their HQ, the Mexican law wouldn’t do shit. And since we couldn’t cross the border ...” Keller’s left shoulder lifted in that half shrug. He didn’t have to say anything else. Tom could just imagine that the rank-and-file agents were as frustrated as anyo
ne else at the seeming inability to do anything about the problems plaguing La Frontera.

  And in the big picture, nothing would be accomplished as long as the borders stayed open. It would take thousands of miles of barbed-wire fence, as well as troops, tanks, jeeps, and helicopters, to truly close the borders, and the liberals would never stand for that. The media, the politicians, and the ACLU would be screaming their heads off about police states and comparing the American military and police forces to the Gestapo—an assertion so wrongheaded that it sickened anybody who hadn’t been brainwashed by the decades of bias that the media so self-righteously claimed didn’t exist.

  Nor were they the only ones to blame, Tom mused. If the borders were closed, the inexhaustible supply of cheap, easily exploited labor that so many businesses depended on would be shut off. The owners of those businesses weren’t going to stand for that. The people who had whined so much about the Patriot Project and called them a bunch of racists had never understood that Tom and those who stood with him had nothing against legal immigrants. America had started out as a melting pot, the most open society in the history of the world, and that was how it still ought to be, as long as everything was done legally.

  Keller heaved a sigh and said, “Well, I’ll make some more calls. Might be able to round up a few more men and a little more information before tonight. Good luck to you, Brannon.”

  “Thanks.” Tom shook hands with the man again and turned to walk back through the private hospital to the parking lot.

  He pretended not to hear when Keller said softly, “You’re going to need all the luck you can get, you big, stubborn son of a bitch.”

  The parking lot at the gun club was more crowded when Tom drove into it that evening. He added his rental car to the others and walked inside. The first people he saw were Joe Delgado and Frank Ramirez.

  The two men greeted him and shook his hand. Tom looked past them at the large group milling around. Ramirez said, “Everybody’s getting acquainted. Most of them sort of know each other anyway, from school functions.”

  “Come on, Brannon,” Delgado added. “We’ll introduce you to the guys we brought.”

  Again there was a flurry of names that Tom knew he probably wouldn’t remember all that well. All told, counting himself, there were thirty-three people at the meeting—thirty men and three women. Remembering how Bonnie and Louly and Deputy Sheriff Lauren Henderson had acquitted themselves during the Battle of Little Tucson, Tom told himself not to worry too much about these women. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t know what they were getting into.

  He didn’t see any of the men Brady Keller had promised, though. These people were all parents of the missing girls.

  “Some of the other guys wanted to come,” Delgado said, “but Frank and I talked them out of it. Their hearts are in the right place, but they just don’t have the training to take part in a mission like you’re talking about.”

  “They’ve promised to do whatever they can to help, though,” Ramirez said, “like furnishing money for equipment or things like that.”

  Tom nodded. “Good. We have to move fast, so cash will help to grease the wheels.”

  “Yeah,” said one of the men, “you can’t accomplish anything in Mexico without some mordida.” He was talking about the ever-present bribery that was a part of everyday life south of the border.

  Tom raised his voice a little to make sure that everyone heard him as he went on. “All of you have to understand that what we’re going to do will be dangerous. We’ll be going up against a force that’s larger, better armed, and more ruthless than we are. I can almost guarantee you that not all of us will be coming back.”

  “Men have fought and died for their families since the beginning of time, Brannon,” Wayne Van Sant said. “This is no different. We know the risks.”

  Nods and words of agreement came from the assembled group.

  “All right, just so we’re clear on that,” Tom said. “I’ve put some things in motion that I hope will help us even the odds, including some better armament, but I don’t know how long it will be until—”

  The doors of the gun club opened behind Tom, and as if they had been waiting for their cue, several men strode into the building. Tom turned to look and saw to his surprise that one of the men was pushing Brady Keller’s wheelchair.

  Keller’s scarred face contorted in his usual grotesque grin as he said, “Starting without us, Brannon?”

  Twenty-five

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Tom said.

  “I decided I needed to get out of that damned hospital. Anyway, just because I can’t go on this mission with you doesn’t mean I can’t be in on the planning of it.” Keller lifted his good hand and waved at the men with him. “Especially since I’m providing part of your firepower.”

  The man who had been pushing the wheelchair stepped around it and extended his hand to Tom. “Charles Long,” he introduced himself. He was a tall, muscular man with crew-cut brown hair.

  Tom shook hands with him and guessed, “Border Patrol?”

  “I’d rather not get into specifics, Brannon. Let’s just say that I’ve got a stake in seeing that Guerrero and his Night Wolves are brought to justice.” Long gestured with a big hand at the other men who had come in with him. “And so do these fellows.”

  Tom shook hands with them, as well. Like Long, they were all big and competent-looking, with an air of quiet strength and authority about them. He had seen that same air in a lot of law-enforcement officers and military personnel.

  “Brady has explained what you’re planning to do,” Long said. “You know it’s going to be deadly.”

  Tom nodded. “We know there are risks, and we’re willing to accept them.”

  “As long as you go into this with your eyes open.”

  “They’re open,” Sonia Alvarez said. “We want our girls back, and we’re willing to risk anything for that.”

  A frown creased Long’s forehead. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take women along... .”

  “Tell that to all the members of the Iraqi Republican Guard who got their asses shot off by my chopper during Desert Storm,” Sonia snapped.

  “No offense, ma’am, but that was a long time ago. Since then, you’ve been doing what? Driving kids to soccer practice?”

  Sonia’s eyes widened. “You want to shoot against me, amigo? Come on, let’s go back to the range. We’ll settle this pronto!”

  Long smiled. “No, that’s all right. I’ll take your word for it, ma’am ... for now. I’ll want to see all of you shoot before we go on a mission together, though.”

  “No offense, mister,” Wally Chambers said, “but who died and made you boss?”

  Craig Lambert spoke up, saying, “Yeah, we’ve sort of assumed that Brannon here is the leader. This is his idea, after all.”

  Long glanced at Brady Keller, who gave his customary half shrug. “You’ll have to work that out among yourselves,” Keller said.

  Long looked intently at Tom. “Brady’s told me quite a bit about you, Brannon. I know you’re a good man, but you’re not really qualified to take command of a mission of this sort.”

  “I’ve done all right so far, I think,” Tom said. “I don’t want to butt heads with you over this, though. And you probably are more qualified than I am to be in charge.”

  “Wait a minute, Brannon,” Van Sant said. “We don’t know these men—”

  “You didn’t know me before yesterday, either,” Tom said.

  “That’s true, but you’re like the rest of us. You’ve got a personal stake in this. Your niece is a prisoner just like my daughter.”

  Long stepped forward. “You think I don’t have a personal stake in this?” he asked. “My brother was a member of the task force that Guerrero ambushed a few months ago. He was burned down with a flamethrower. I had to identify his body because I didn’t want his wife to have to see the charred husk of a man that didn’t even look human anymore, let alone li
ke the man she loved. But I saw my brother and what Guerrero did to him, and I swore then and there that the bastard would pay.” Long’s voice trembled from the emotion he felt. “These men with me have all lost loved ones to Guerrero and the Night Wolves. I promise you, mister, the hate we got for those shitbirds is every bit as personal as what you’re going through. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  Silence hung over the group. After a moment, Tom said, “All right, Long. You’re in command, if that’s what you want.”

  Long nodded curtly. “Thanks. Now, you’ll need better weapons than what you’ve got, more than likely. We brought some rifles with us—”

  “I’ve been working on that,” Tom cut in. “By tomorrow night we should have a truckload of the best rifles, pistols, Kevlar vests, and ammunition that money can buy.”

  Keller frowned up at him and asked, “How did you arrange that?”

  “I called a friend of mine—Hiram Stackhouse.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Tom said, “He owns SavMart.”

  That brought looks of surprise from everyone. People started asking questions. Tom raised his hands to quiet them down and went on. “Stackhouse gave me a hand with that other trouble I had out in Arizona. He hates scum like Guerrero worse than we do, and he was glad to help out when I told him what we needed. He has his own private security force, and he’s promised that we’ll be as well equipped as they are. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stackhouse asks some of them to come along with us into Mexico. He can help out if we run into any diplomatic or political problems, too.”

  “How can he do that?” Craig Lambert asked. “He just owns a chain of discount stores.”

  “That contribute more money to the country’s economy than any other single business,” Tom said. “If it was its own country, SavMart’s gross national product would put it in the top ten in the world.”

  A smile pulled at the left half of Brady Keller’s mouth. “Well, this is starting to look feasible,” he said. “Maybe you can pull this off after all, Brannon.”