4
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
Republican presidential candidate Richard Oren Wells was
hot on the campaign trail. With only a couple of months until the election, all reports placed him ahead in the polls by a healthy 12 percent over his rival, the incumbent Democrat first-term president. And by George, Wells intended to keep it that way. His campaign policy, “Clean Up America First,” had been paying off. Brilliant idea from his powerful campaign manager, Pete Roff. He was a very shrewd political manager who knew how to operate behind the scenes.
“Give the American people something they can get their teeth into,” Roff advised early on in the campaign. “Forget Afghanistan and Pakistan and goddamn Palestan,” he advised.
“You mean Palestine,” a junior aide tried to correct him.
“No, son. I do not mean Palestine. I mean Palestan. And when I want your advice, you fresh out-of-college know-nothing piece of shit, I will ask for it. Now, as I was saying, most Americans couldn’t care less about what the rest of the world does. And you know what? As long as the rest of the world does not get to vote in US elections, it matters as much as rat’s shit what these people think. If I am to get the senator elected to the White House, as I intend to do, then I want to know what the people of Iowa, Nebraska, Alabama, and Tennessee care about, and I want them to know that Senator Wells cares about them, thank you very much.”
With that in mind, the senator from South Dakota argued that the American people were tired of meddling in the affairs of far-off countries, when the much-closer-to-home Latin drug cartels were flooding the US with their lethal products, killing American kids. All the polls and prognostics seemed to indicate that Wells was going to be the next president of the United States.
High on his agenda was his promise to put a stop to the drug trade across the US southern border and take on the Mexican drug cartels, even if that meant sending boots on the ground in pursuit of the traffickers. His current campaign stop was in San Diego, California. His promise to fight the drug lords made him popular not only with conservatives, but also with many in the Hispanic community, who traditionally voted liberal, but were now fed up with what was happening in their old country, where the vast majority of Mexican Americans retained some form of family connection. Many were simply fed up with how much Mexico had fallen to the drug lords and where law and order had turned into anarchy. There was hardly a day when newspapers didn’t carry some report of a gruesome killing, reports that bodies were found, hands bound, shot in the head, decapitated, or worse. Many Mexican Americans were frightened of going back home. And their votes in the United States counted.
Senator Wells stepped up to the podium in front of a huge crowd gathered in the San Diego Convention Center. There were hundreds of Hispanics in the audience, a point that Senator Wells did not miss. Or rather, that Pete Roff did not miss.
“My fellow Americans, my opponent has ignored what is happening right here on our very doorsteps, right here in this beautiful city of San Diego, and just a tram ride away from here where a real war is being fought. The war on drugs: a war that is killing dozens of innocent people every day in our neighboring country. A war that is infecting our very future, infecting our children with narcotic drugs. I PLAN TO PUT A STOP TO THAT!” The senator banged his fist down on the dais with every word of his last sentence for greater emphasis. There were wild cheers from the crowd.
“My fellow Americans, just a tram ride away . . .” He lowered his voice for effect and repeated his sentence enunciating every word. “Yes, just-a-tram-ride-away, just a tram ride away is a war threatening our very sons and daughters AND THE DECENT PEOPLE OF MEXICO. Y TAMBIÉN A NUESTROS AMIGOS MEXICANOS.” Huge cheers burst from the crowd, especially the Hispanics, now standing and clapping loudly.
“We started out waging a war on terrorism when my party, the Republican Party, fought terrorism when it threatened America in our cities. When terrorists attacked New York City and Washington, DC, we took the war to the terrorists. We sent our armed forces, our army, air force, navy, and marines to fight the terrorists. Today, not only New York and Washington are under attack, but so too are Phoenix, and Sacramento, and San Francisco, and Denver, and Chattanooga, and Boise, and hundreds of other cities across this great land of ours. And my opponent, ladies and gentlemen, my opponent sitting now in the White House is doing nothing to combat this real and present danger, this real threat to the security of the United States of America. And the threat is also endangering this great city of San Diego, JUST A TRAM RIDE AWAY. JUST A TRAM RIDE AWAY FROM ONE OF THE GREATEST CITIES IN AMERICA.” Wild cheers from the audience.
“My friends, AMIGOS, COMPAÑEROS, what, you ask, has my opponent been doing these last four years to address this problem? Nothing. NADA. Do you want four more years of that?”
“No.”
“Let me ask you then, can you afford four more years of that?”
“NO!”
“If you want to ignore the dangers that threaten you and your sons and daughters right here in America, then vote for my opponent and get another four years of the same, by which time the threat will no longer be just a tram ride away, it will be right here on your doorsteps, right here in San Diego. You want them to continue this policy of poisoning our children, then vote for my opponent.” A few boos started to be heard in the audience, triggered by a handful of interns strategically placed around the hall.
“But if you want to change the way Washington deals with the drug trade, and if you want to see the drug criminals thrown in jail with harsh prison sentences, if you want to bring security back to your streets, then give me your vote, put me in the White House and I promise you this much . . .”
More cheers, and some people began shouting, “We want Wells, we want Wells!”
Senator Wells held his arm out, asking the crowd to let him continue. “I promise you this much . . . I promise you this much . . . I will take on those who threaten our security right here in San Diego. I will take this war away from our doorsteps and throw it in right at the doorsteps of the drug traffickers. The Mexican and Colombian drug lords are killing our children, infecting our youth. Their threat is as real today as Al-Qaeda was ten years ago. We did not hesitate then when we faced a real, clear, and present threat to the security of this great nation, and we will not hesitate now to apply needed force to defeat the terrorists, be they Islamo-fascists or narco-traffickers. WE WILL NOT SHY AWAY FROM OUR RESPONSIBILITIES.
“We must now apply similar force to deal with the real and present threat that we face every day from Latin American drug cartels. What I propose is a comprehensive plan to work with the government in Mexico, to send our special forces to train their troops, to send our troops to the border areas with authority to pursue the narco-terrorists inside Mexico so they can no longer continue to hide behind an international frontier, one they chose to cross at will. My plan calls for the eradication of the drug traffic, once and for all. I will ask the Department of Justice to create a special court where we will be able to expedite the trials of drug traffickers and see that they get the justice they deserve. I will ask the Department of Health and Human Resources to create a program drug users can turn to for help. I will make sure the narco-traffickers never get the chance to get on that tram ride to our borders. I will make sure they get a ride, but not in that tram to San Diego, my friends. I will make sure they get a ride up the river and a stay behind bars—for a very long time.
“My fellow Americans, give me your votes! We are blessed in this nation to have the right to vote freely; let’s do our civic duty, get out and vote, and help me clean up America first. God bless you, God bless San Diego, and God bless the United States of America. God bless Los Estados Unidos. Good night and thank you.”
5
TIJUANA, MEXICO
Among the millions of viewers watching Senator Richard Wells live on television addressing the crowds in San Diego was a small group of men just across the border in Tijuana,
Mexico, not very far from where the senator was giving his speech. They were just a little more than a tram ride away, but close enough to worry about the man who could very well become the next president of the United States.
The six men were very powerful and feared in their respective communities, each representing one of the most influential families of Mexico’s drug franchises. Between 2006 and 2012 they were responsible for the deaths of more than 47,500 people.
The men were meeting inside a heavily fortified compound with armed guards patrolling the impressive mansion grounds. There were sharpshooters on the rooftops and even a helicopter with armed men flying in a large figure-eight formation overhead. Although these men in the meeting room did not vote in the United States, they nevertheless remained extremely concerned by what they had just seen and heard. The business these men represented had enormous investments riding on the outcome of the next US presidential election. If the United States was going to declare war on them, they could ill afford to lose that war.
The six men were somewhat reassured when Antonio Juan Ortega, whom they called Paco, entered the room. They were nervously chatting about what the American president had just said, and it worried them.
“This gringo is just loco enough to send his marines to Tijuana. Then what do we do?” asked one of the six men.
“He cannot do that; it would be an invasion,” said another.
“And when did that ever stop the Americans?” said another. “You have not been watching CNN? You think they were invited to visit Afghanistan and Iraq?”
“Now, gentlemen, if you will be so kind as to turn off your cell phones and hand them over to your drivers or assistants who will be entering any moment now,” said Paco. The six men complied.
“Señores, señores, please stay calm; we have nothing to fear,” said Paco. “I told you a couple of weeks ago that I was working on a plan and that I was going on a trip to Europe. The truth is that I did not go to Europe, but that I went to the Middle East. I went to Beirut, Lebanon. Wonderful place. There is even a so-called Mexican restaurant there. But I did not ask you here today to talk about international cuisine. I told you before I left that you had nothing to worry about and I repeat it now: there is nothing to worry about.”
“Paco, this man is loco. He wants to send his soldiers here to fight us. We cannot take on the whole damn US Army,” said the man sitting at the end of the table.
“Gentlemen, I am asking for your participation. Our friends in the Middle East are willing to take care of this little problem for us, but it will cost.”
“How much?” asked the one wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt.
“Sixty million American dollars buys us a new president in Washington,” said Paco. “Ten million dollars each.”
“That’s a lot of money,” said the man smoking a cigar. Yes, agreed the others, ten million dollars was a lot of money.
“Yes,” echoed Paco. “It is a lot of money, but think of it as an investment with a very high rate of return. Look at it this way. You can choose to invest ten million or choose not to invest. If you invest, you are guaranteed to make your money back tenfold within a few short months. If you refuse, then you will not be allowed to partake in the advantages of a confused United States and move your merchandise without hassle—I repeat, without hassle—across the border. In fact, if you refuse to participate, then you will fail to take advantage of the situation. I give you three minutes to reach a decision.” He turned and left the room.
Three minutes later, Paco returned. “What I need from you now is your generous financial contribution that will GUARANTEE—gentlemen, I underline the word ‘guarantee’—that Mr. Wells never makes it to the White House. Before we start, I need from you two things. First, your participation of ten million dollars that will finance this operation. You can have the money wired into my account from the secure laptops in front of you. And second, I would like to remind you that this conversation does not leave this room. If you are having doubts about anything, walk out now. In either case, this conversation does not go further than here.”
“But what guarantees do we have . . .” began the cigar smoker.
“None,” Paco cut him off. “Just my word and the support of the best terrorist outfit in the Middle East working for us. Now, gentlemen, if you will be so kind as get on your laptops.” The six men complied. They really had little choice. If one of them had wanted to walk, the others would have never let him walk out alive armed with that information. Paco had played this beautifully.
“I have to share with you that this wonderful plan I have set into motion, like many good ideas, this one came to me while on the toilet. I was looking through old issues of Time magazine and I came across these photos showing that one day, every four years, when all the members of the US government are gathered in one place . . .” He stopped to relight his cigar. “All except one.”
“Why?” asked one of the men.
“Why what?” said Paco with a look of disbelief on his face.
“Why they make one guy stay away?”
“You are not serious?” retorted Paco.
“Oh, I get it. They don’t want them all in the same place in case of an accident. Right?”
“Oh, you are such a fucking genius, you are,” said Paco. “Of course, you fucking moron, in case of an attack, at least they still have someone who can become president and keep the affairs of state moving along. But whoever that one person is who gets to play interim president will be so swamped with all sorts of problems that we will be way down his list.
“Anyway,” said Paco, “this is what I thought after a while. I had this crazy idea. Then later that night I watched this movie, and then I think, hey, why can’t we do that? So I call my travel agent and ask him to arrange a flight to Beirut. I talk to our man there who handles our merchandise and we go out for dinner and this plan begins to take shape. We chat for a while and develop the plan some more. I tell him about the event, the movie, and the mortars, and he says he has the perfect man for the job. He wants one hundred million dollars. I tell him he is crazy. We talk more, I offer twenty-five, he says seventy-five. I say sixty, he says sixty-five. We drink some more. He brings in girls. Very classy ones. We spend an hour or two fucking these women. I say okay, but at sixty. Deal. We shake hands. They want the money half now, half on delivery.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Paco? What movie, what mortars? You sound almost as though you have been using some of your own product,” said the man in the Hawaiian shirt. The others all laughed.
“Oh! The movie, man, you gotta see this movie. It’s about the army in World War II and how they use mortars. So I get this idea, see?”
The others just shook their heads, not understanding what he meant by that.
“Anyway, additionally, you will be happy to know that besides that, our sales are going up in the Middle East. The market is expanding and our partners are projecting rising revenues. Especially now with this new democracy thing taking hold in a number of countries in the region, that means laxer laws, that means greater freedom for our people to go out and market our products. More open societies mean more jobs; more jobs, that translates as more spending money. However, I don’t need to remind you that if that son of a bitch Wells makes it to the White House, we are screwed. Big time.
“We can take the matter into our own hands and make sure Mr. Dick Wells does not become president in the United States. Or we can sit here and lament and allow ourselves to have our businesses shredded to pieces by this norteamericano maricón. Yes, sixty million dollars is a lot of money, but trust me, if Wells is elected, we might as well pack up and go home now. But what would happen if America became too preoccupied with its own internal problems to react to an offensive?”
“An offensive?” shouted out one of the six men. “You don’t mean a military offensive against the norteamericanos? That would be suicide.”
“That’s out of the question altogether,” said t
he man with the pipe. “There is no way in hell these goons you have on the roof are ever going to go fight the real US Army. You must be loco, Paco, excuse me.”
Paco smiled and said, “I did not mean that we attack the US, amigo. Of course not. What I meant is that we follow up with the plan I agreed to and get that asshole Wells out of the way. The beauty of this is that it will appear to be a politically motivated assassination. If we get our Arab friends to do it, and we are kept out of it—no retribution. For this operation to be financially feasible for us, the timing of this operation is essential, which is why I will share with you this information. But I remind you, not a word must leave this room or we are dead men. Only seven people in all of the Americas now know of this plan. I am not about to tell anyone outside this room. That leaves six of you. Not a word, especially not among yourselves on the telephone. Not a word to your wives, your mistresses, your children: no one.”
Paco looked straight into the eyes of the six men, one by one. His message was clear: You talk, you die. They all knew Paco well enough to realize he meant what he said. When it came to killing people, Paco always kept his word.
Paco felt he needed to explain in greater detail how this worked. “Now, supposing that America gets completely involved with a very serious domestic issue, such as the death of the former president and the current president-elect, the vice president, and the entire cabinet, save one. That would cripple the American machine and the system would probably grind to a halt for months until they hold new elections. The authorities would not know how to react to any major foreign or domestic event. The United States would go through months of political campaigning until a successor was elected.”
“In that case, the chief justice, their minister of justice, or the secretary of state would assume power,” offered the man closest to Paco.
“No, not so, Eduardo, in the unlikely event that the president and his vice president should both die at the same time, the American Constitution gives Congress the power to provide the succession. I have done my homework here, amigos.
Inauguration Day Page 3