“This is starting to hurt my head,” said David.
“It’s been hurting mine for more than a decade. Let me break it down for you. When push comes to shove between delivering water to the population and irrigating the fields, the citizens will take the hit.”
“I don’t think so. Public outcry would win that battle,” said David. “People won’t go thirsty.”
“Really? I think you’ve been living in your Marine Corps bubble a little too long.”
“Excuse you?” said David, setting down his coffee cup on a chair behind him.
“Camp Pendleton has its own desalination plant, which provides an unlimited source of water to the base, while providing both Orange and San Diego Counties with water.”
“That’s part of Pendleton’s community outreach program. It’s not exactly a bad deal for the counties.”
“Depends on your point of view. It certainly takes the sting out of local municipalities supporting your federal mandated water allotment—which is far higher than, say, the average citizen’s. Fifty percent higher, if I’m not mistaken.”
David remained quiet.
“And your neighbors can’t buy whatever they want, whenever they want, at government prices on base. You might be surprised how water stressed they feel. I’m sure Nathan could shed some light on this. He’s spent the past several years working on this problem. Has it gotten better or worse since you started, Nathan?”
“Definitely worse,” said Nathan, keeping his focus on the map. “Most families supplement their water allotment with store-bought juices or sodas. Whatever they can get their hands on. Staying adequately hydrated is a challenge, unless you’re willing and able to throw disposable income at it.”
“And surprisingly few Californians have disposable income these days,” said Jose.
“All the more reason why they won’t stand for a reduction,” said David.
Jose shook his head sympathetically. “They won’t know it happened. Decisions like these are made behind closed doors. One Nation Coalition lobbyists have worked hard to push the state’s big-picture resource deal making into the secret recesses of the Sacramento statehouse—where money and promises can change hands without public scrutiny. In fact, the details never really see the light of day. From top to bottom, state resource agency operations are highly classified. Can you talk about your job outside the home, Nathan?”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about it inside the home. We all sign nondisclosure agreements.”
“The system is like this by design—the ONC’s design,” said Jose. “Ever hear of Cal Farms United?”
David shrugged.
“It’s not a name you hear in the mainstream media or find easily in search engines—by design. Cal Farms United owns or represents close to ninety percent of California’s remaining agricultural industry, and—surprise, surprise—they are one of the biggest contributors to the ONC. The once beleaguered agricultural industry is a lucrative business now that CFU rigs water distribution and regulates the vast majority of the state’s exports. Those poor water-stressed California farmers have no choice but to charge the rest of America exorbitant prices for produce or livestock. Right? And it’s not the individual farmer’s fault. They’re not making a dime more today than they did twenty years ago. CFU takes most of their profits, graciously allowing them to stay in business—and feed the greed machine. Trust me when I say this, David. Water will flow to the farms before the people. Ninety-two billion dollars in profit per year guarantees it. Jack Bernal, the head of Cal Farms United, makes the Mexican cartel bosses look like street peddlers. And he’s just one of several industrialist kingpins working over the American people. It gets worse.”
“I don’t know. Sounds a little conspiracy heavy,” muttered David.
“I’m not making any of this up. I’ve spent the better part of a decade investigating the connections between all of these groups, watching it slowly play out. That’s the key, you see. This hasn’t happened overnight. Californians have been conditioned over time to accept it.”
“Did you know all of this?” David asked, nodding at Nathan.
“Not exactly,” said Nathan, slightly distracted by the map. “My focus is pretty narrow at work.”
“That wasn’t always the case,” said Jose. “You used to see the big picture. I have a thesis paper written by you at UC–Davis that proves it. I suspect you once cared, too. The tone of your paper is—inflammatory? Accusatory? Both?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“They buried your paper pretty damn fast. Classified top secret before it was published. I bet that wasn’t a pretty scene.”
“I put it behind me.”
“Not far enough, apparently,” said Jose.
“You figured this out in college?” David asked Nathan.
“Not the Cal Farm United connection.”
“It was too early for that,” Jose said. “Jack Bernal was still a small-time crook at that point, on the verge of discovering his true place at the big table. Nathan exposed some inconvenient truths about the diversion of water in the Upper Basin, then he had the balls to recommend that the Arizona National Guard seize the Glen Canyon Dam. Your professors at Davis must have swooned over this paper—until the black helicopters showed up.”
“Black Suburbans,” said Nathan. “I had two hours to sign some serious paperwork to avoid domestic terrorism charges.”
“No shit,” said David. “Your dad must have blown a gasket.”
“He never found out.”
“Nobody did,” said Jose. “Well, I wouldn’t say nobody. Copies survived. You’ve been on my radar ever since I read it.”
Nathan put both hands on the map. “Look, this isn’t rocket science. Drop these two dams. Control the Hoover. Water flows to California. I don’t see why my paper is a big deal. You need a demolitions expert and a shit ton of explosives, not a water engineer and a thirteen-year-old thesis paper.
“You’re not going to take down one of those dams with a demolitions team. The feds will shut you down fast, especially if your tales of corruption are true. At best, you might temporarily disable one of the dams—maybe both of them, if you coordinate a simultaneous strike. Frankly, I’m not seeing the manpower required to pull that off,” he said, glancing around the operations center. “Kind of a ghost town around here.”
Ghost town. Nathan had been struggling to put his finger on something that had been bothering him since he’d seen the Mexican paratroopers. Now his eyes darted from dam to dam, taking in the scope of Jose’s proposed plan. Flaming Gorge Dam was nearly an impossible target; several hundred miles away from any point in California, it had to be a major stretch for the California Liberation Movement. Then he turned to take in the entire room. Empty tables lined two of the walls, leaving only one wall occupied by digital communications gear and Jose’s computer station. The fourth wall stood in front of them, covered with maps. This was his fourth visit to the operations center, and in all that time he’d seen only Jose, Jeremy, and maybe two more members of the team. From what he could tell, the center was mostly staffed by security, and there couldn’t have more than a few dozen of them.
The numbers didn’t add up. None of this added up. He found Jeremy turned in his seat, burning a hole through him with an eerie stare—half grin, half scowl.
Oh shit.
“Something wrong, Nathan?” said Jose.
“You’re on your own here,” said Nathan, turning his head slowly to the map. “None of this is sanctioned by the CLM.”
“It’s sanctioned—by a group of us tired of fighting a reactive battle, on the wrong front. Too many in my organization have become so focused on secession that they’re missing the bigger picture. Secession won’t solve the problem. In fact, it’ll probably make it worse. Water liberates California . . . and Arizona . . . and Nevada. This is bigger than California. It has to be.”
“Fuck,” said David, his hand slinking toward the pistol hidden
behind his chest plate. “This is a splinter group? Rogue CLM? We’ll take our chances on the streets.”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” said Jose.
“One group hunting us down is enough,” David said. “We don’t need the CLM after us, too.” He shook his head. “I knew this was fucked from the start.”
“You did?” said Nathan. “When were you going to mention it?”
“Once we got our bearings—and our weapons. And I wanted some coffee,” he said, slowly squaring his body toward Jeremy.
“David,” said Jose. “No need to draw your pistol. This is not a prisoner situation.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind if we depart pronto, like, before Mexicali starts to get really crowded with people looking for this place.”
“The rest of CLM has no idea what we have in mind. All they know is that the cartel situation in Mexicali has destabilized to the point that we need to seek a more stable base of operations north of the border. Leaving here was inevitable. No eyebrows will be raised for quite a while. I evacuated personnel not affiliated with my splinter group when we learned you’d travel by convoy to Yuma. My original plan involved meeting you on the road soon after you left the base. To have this talk and offer our protection.
“When our aerial surveillance assets detected the Cerberus ambush, I scrambled to get those paratroopers airborne. The Mexicans would not jump until the convoy was attacked. Not my rules. We brought you reinforcements as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, not soon enough.”
David’s eyes moistened. He swallowed hard, then took a deep breath. Nathan reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but David shook his head.
“I appreciate what you did, but we’re done here,” said David, pausing for a few moments before gesturing toward the map. “This is insane, by the way. You’ll either get killed or sent to prison for the rest of your lives if you try it.”
“That’s why we need Nathan’s help,” said Jose. “And yours.”
“How about this: supply us with a get-out-of-Mexicali-free card and a working vehicle. Once we link up with our parents, as far away from here as humanly possible, Nathan will be glad to get in touch with you to fine-tune your suicide mission.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to—” Nathan began.
“Negative,” said David. “We need to put some distance between this place and your family. You’re still my responsibility. And I wouldn’t mind seeing the only family I have left before Cerberus takes that away, too.”
“We’ve all lost people to this cycle of greed and corruption,” said Jose. “Seeking revenge won’t bring them back, but it does occasionally ease the pain. This plan is the most effective way to break a cycle that has ruined millions of lives.”
“I need to take care of my own before I even consider diving into something like what you’re planning. Nathan needs to do the same.”
“Nathan?” said Jose.
He had to tread carefully here. Jose had sounded genuine when he’d said they were not prisoners, but he couldn’t imagine him letting them go without making a stronger pitch. Nathan had been through higher-pressure time-share presentations than this. If Jose truly thought he held the key to taking down the dams, he couldn’t outright reject the notion of helping in some way.
“Well,” he said, “once I get my family somewhere permanently safe—”
“Such a place doesn’t exist,” said Jose. “Not for long, anyway.”
“We have something worked out,” said Nathan. “Once we get situated, I’ll start by giving a sworn deposition about what I saw at the beach and what’s happened over the past three days.”
Jose sighed, meeting his stare for a brief moment. “A sworn deposition from a cop killer is meaningless.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” blurted Nathan.
“We know that. But we’re apparently the only ones. Publicly, we can’t afford to voluntarily connect with you in any way at this point. That’s why Cerberus went the extra mile to frame you for killing a detective. Even David’s testimony would be worthless. Trotting him out will only serve to identify him as Pendleton’s mystery accomplice, and an accomplice to a cop killer is equally worthless to us in the public relations realm.”
“Motherfuckers,” said Nathan.
“That’s more or less been my personal mantra for the past several years,” said Jose.
“I’m not sure how I can help you beyond validating this plan. You have the right targets. You just need to figure out a way to take down both dams.”
“We’ve been stuck at that point for far too long,” stated Jose. “And time is running out.”
“When I get to safety, I’ll try to figure something out.”
Nathan knew that sounded terribly weak, if not worthless, but what the fuck did the guy expect? Beyond the fact that Nathan could see no feasible way for Jose’s crew to destroy even one of the dams, the thought of compounding his own criminal status by engaging in a blatant act of terrorism gave him serious pause. He couldn’t afford to upgrade his fugitive status. Not if he wanted any chance at a normal life for his family. He had to protect Keira and Owen, both short and long term.
“Can I at least provide you with a security escort north through the Wastelands?” Jose said. “I’m not going to pretend this is a selfless offer. I’d like to get you to your destination in one piece.”
Nathan was about to accept the offer when David interjected.
“We won’t need an escort.”
“We won’t?” said Nathan.
“No. Too many cars on the road will draw the wrong kind of attention on the ground and in the air. I don’t need some disgruntled Border Patrol drone pilot looking to meet his monthly kill quota with the car I’m driving. If you can get us out of Mexicali quietly, we can cross into Arizona farther east along the border. It’s more or less quiet at the Nogales crossing, right? That’s what our intelligence summary reports indicated.”
“Quiet is a relative term in Mexico. You could probably get through Nogales without trouble, even at night. Tucson is where it all goes to shit.”
“I know Tucson,” said Nathan. “We lived there for close to six years.”
“It’s a little different now.”
“We’ll be fine,” said David.
“All right,” Jose said, almost too quickly. “But nobody leaves until dark. We’ll work on a way to slip you past the cartel lookouts.”
“That’s it?” said Nathan.
“That’s it. It’s in God’s hands now,” said Jose. “All we can do is pray.”
“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” said David.
“I’m not. But where you’re going, I’ll make an exception.”
Nathan left the room wondering if they hadn’t overestimated their chances of successfully navigating Arizona. He’d heard crazy rumors about the Wastelands.
CHAPTER 14
When Jose was certain that Nathan and David had not lingered outside the operations center, he moved a chair next to Jeremy Baker. He took one more look around before nodding. Baker clicked the wireless computer mouse, reactivating the security feed window. The top left-most digital images showed Nathan and David returning to their respective bunk rooms.
“They went their separate ways,” said Baker. “Interesting.”
“David didn’t appear to be in the mood for conversation,” said Jose.
“He’s a Marine. They don’t talk much.”
“Or he suspects they’re under surveillance.”
“Neither of them acted like it earlier. Sorry my people missed the pistol. He’s a cautious little fucker, isn’t he?”
“Resourceful might be a better description. He’d make a great addition to our team, but he isn’t close to being receptive. Listen carefully to Nathan’s conversation with his wife,” said Jose. “He’s an open book one minute, totally closed the next. I want to get a better feel for where he stands. I got the distinct impression that he was placating me toward the end of our co
nversation.”
“Are you really letting them head to Nogales alone?” said Baker.
“Alone in a sense. We’ll keep them under surveillance. Close enough to respond to an attack.”
“Kind of hard to respond to a rocket-propelled grenade attack or a roadside bomb when you’re not right on top of it.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“It depends upon how important you think this guy might be.”
“I honestly don’t know yet. I’ve read his thesis paper backward and forward, but I’m not finding what I really need. He’s either purposefully holding back key information we can use, or he doesn’t understand the importance of what he has locked up in his head. The guy’s still in shock, so getting him to safety and letting him decompress may be our best strategy.”
“As long as we can still find him,” said Baker.
“Yeah. I have no intention of losing track of Nathan Fisher, or letting any harm come to him.”
“Easier said than done. We might have to break a few eggs to get them out anonymously,” said Baker.
“We’re done here, so break as many as you see fit. But break them quietly. We can’t rush our departure.”
A message appeared in the bottom corner of the computer monitor screen, grabbing Jose’s attention.
“That doesn’t look good,” he said.
Baker navigated to the messaging application that handled the encrypted reports sent by CLM’s network of informants. The system supported direct messages, a function enabled only for the few highly trusted, key contacts in the government, military, or cartel. Only one member of the cartel had been granted this level of access, and he’d just sent a message.
Spydr520: New faces in town with $$$$ and ?’s. Gringos. Want them gone?
The idea was tempting.
“What do you think?” said Jose.
“Disappearing them would buy us the time in the very immediate future, but it could trigger an overwhelming, targeted response. They don’t know anything for sure. Mexicali is a logical destination from the ambush point, but it’s not the only destination. For all they know, we swapped the dune buggies for SUVs in Ciudad Morelos. We could be halfway to Cabo by now. I say let this play out. There’s no reason to prematurely draw more of them to Mexicali.”
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 8