The Border: A Novel

by Don Winslow

  Crosby leans across, into the microphone. “Mr. Chairman, I’d like a recess. My client—”

  “Is fine,” Keller says. “I violated DEA procedure and numerous requirements for warrants. I used Adán Barrera’s 1994 murder of liberal Cardinal Juan Parada—an element of Red Mist—to ‘flip’ Barrera’s mistress, an American citizen named Nora Hayden, to become my informant. Ms. Hayden was a dear friend—as was I—of Cardinal Parada’s, who had also been Adán Barrera’s parish priest.

  “To protect Ms. Hayden’s identity, I leaked false information to the Barreras that the informant was a young drug trafficker named Fabián Martínez. In response, Barrera sent a team of gunmen to slaughter Martínez and the nineteen innocent men, women and children who lived in his family compound.

  “I will take the responsibility for those murders to my grave.”

  He pauses. The room is silent.

  Old men take siestas.

  And old men get up from their siestas to piss.

  Caro swings his legs out of bed and puts his feet on the cold floor. He wears only an old T-shirt, a large size that hangs over his spindly legs, and they shake as he pads down the hall to the bathroom.

  Getting old is a bad idea, he thinks, the stupidest thing we ever do.

  So there have been setbacks.

  There are always setbacks.

  Overall, the situation is good.

  Elena has gone to join her brother in hell.

  Núñez is a spent force.

  Tito is taking over more and more territory from the Esparzas and will soon put an end to them. As soon as he does, Caro thinks, I put an end to Tito. His in-laws will object, but the Valenzuelas are so rich because they value money over blood.

  A year or two, maybe a little more, and I’ll have what I’m owed.

  And within a few hours, Art Keller will be dead.

  I’m owed that, too.

  He opens the bathroom door and blinks.

  A young man is sitting on the toilet, a pistol pointed at him.

  “What do you want?” Caro asks.

  “The lady reporter,” the young man says, “you had to kill her, beat her to death?”

  Caro doesn’t answer.

  “And the forty-three kids on that bus,” the young man says, “they had to die, too? You had to burn their bodies so there was nothing even left for their families to bury?”

  “Who are you?” Caro asks.

  “I’m an hijo,” the young man says. “My father was Ernesto Hidalgo. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  Caro’s bladder empties.

  Keller says, “There has been public speculation about my 1999 arrest of Adán Barrera. These are the facts: I lured Barrera across the border with false information that his daughter’s death was imminent, and then arrested him in the hospital parking lot. To effect his release, American intelligence personnel kidnapped Ms. Hayden and we arranged for an exchange of hostages, as it were, on a bridge in San Diego. Miguel Ángel Barrera, John Hobbs, and an American operative named Salvatore Scachi were present.

  “Their intent was not to exchange Ms. Hayden for Barrera, but to kill both her and me. In the gunfight that followed, both Hobbs and Scachi were shot by a gunman who they had engaged to shoot me. I killed Miguel Barrera and rearrested Adán Barrera.

  “I can confirm the rumors that there was an additional gunman at the bridge. I later learned that he was Sean Callan, a former mercenary and onetime bodyguard for Adán Barrera who was romantically involved with Nora Hayden.

  “After the incident on the bridge, I was placed under investigation and testified to a special congressional committee the truth of what I knew about the Mexican Trampoline, and Operations Cerberus and Red Mist. I believe this testimony was suppressed. To my knowledge, it has never been revealed to the public. Perhaps you can tell me what happened, Senator O’Brien, as you were a member of that committee.”

  O’Brien glares down at him.

  “As rumor has it, I did retire to a monastery in New Mexico,” Keller says. “I was trying to find some serenity and also to reflect on what I had done in my pursuit of Barrera. I remained there until Barrera issued a two-million-dollar bounty on my head, which would have put the lives of my hosts in jeopardy, and the Department of Justice agreed to transfer Barrera back to Mexico to complete his sentence. I knew that Barrera would ‘escape’ from Puente Grande prison. Of course, this wasn’t an escape—an escape does not involve the active collusion of one’s jailers. Barrera was simply released by a warden, Ricardo Núñez, who later became his chief lieutenant.

  “At my request, I returned to DEA and was assigned to Mexico to aid in returning Barrera to custody. Adán Barrera re-formed his uncle’s organization under the rubric of the ‘Sinaloa cartel’ and launched a war of conquest to eliminate various other regional cartels and seize the immensely valuable plazas of Tijuana, Nuevo Laredo and Ciudad de Juárez. Over the next ten years, the inter-cartel fighting would kill over one hundred thousand Mexican people, most of them innocents, making it the bloodiest conflict on this continent since the American Civil War, fought just across our borders. People in Texas, Arizona, New Mexico and California have literally heard the gunfire from some of these battles.

  “The most violent among the competing cartels was a group known as the Zetas, which began as former Mexican special forces who deserted to serve the Gulf cartel, but eventually became a force of their own. The sheer sadism of the Zetas is almost impossible to describe or even believe—immolations, beheadings, the mass murders of women and children—all preserved and distributed on video to terrorize the population.

  “I had been appalled by the murders of nineteen innocent people in 1997; by the height of the drug war in 2010 to 2012, that would have been a low daily body count barely worthy of news coverage.

  “Certain elements of the Mexican government—often accused of corruption, with considerable justification—desperate to stem the carnage, made a deal with the devil. Viewing the Sinaloa cartel as the lesser of two evils when compared with the Zetas, it entered into a tacit arrangement with Adán Barrera to assist him in winning his war against the Zetas. I participated in this arrangement.”

  He takes another sip of water.

  Callan steps out into the daylight, shields his eyes, and then sees Nora and Flor standing by a car.

  He walks over and they both pull him into an embrace.

  “What did this cost you?” Callan asks.

  “A few bad memories,” Nora says. “A distasteful encounter. It’s nothing.”

  On the drive to the airport she says, “Flor has been talking about a little boy she traveled with. They lost track of each other. She asked me if maybe we could help find him.”

  “We can sure try,” Callan says. “What’s his name?”

  “Nico,” Flor says.

  “Do you think he made it to the States?” Callan asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  Most of them don’t, Callan thinks. Most of them get sent right back to where they came from.

  If he remembers Flor’s story, that was a garbage dump.

  I’ve been luckier, he thinks.

  I’ve been on the garbage dump more than once in my life, and someone has always pulled me off.

  He looks over at Nora. “We’ll start looking in Guat City.”

  They get on a flight to Juan Santamaría Airport in San José, Costa Rica.

  María and Carlos are there to pick them up and take them home.

  Keller says, “I personally met with Adán Barrera, and we agreed to suspend our conflict for the purpose of destroying the Zetas. In the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you that the Zetas had attempted to murder my now wife, Dr. Marisol Cisneros, grievously wounding her, and threatened further assaults. I am sure that this colored my judgment and informed my decision.

  “In Mexico, the campaign against the Zetas was spearheaded by the FES—the special forces of the Mexican marines. The Zetas had slaughtered the family of
one of their officers, and they formed a secret unit called the ‘Zeta Killers.’

  “I and other DEA personnel assisted in this effort by providing American intelligence resources to locate Zeta cells, training camps, and leadership. Remember that the Zetas had murdered an American DEA agent, Richard Jiménez. Not to put too fine a point on it, this was an assassination program. Far more Zetas were killed than arrested.

  “Analysts of the Mexican drug situation have noted the relatively few captures, arrests, and killings of Sinaloa cartel personnel versus other cartels, including and especially the Zetas, and opined that this demonstrated governmental bias toward the Sinaloa cartel. I can affirm that this analysis is true and accurate, and that the United States participated in favoring the Sinaloa cartel as a way of bringing some kind of stability to Mexico.

  “There have been rumors and reports about a covert operation in Guatemala; let me address those now.

  “In October of 2012, Adán Barrera arranged a meeting with the leadership of the Zetas to discuss a peace treaty. This was to be held in a remote Guatemalan village called Dos Erres.

  “It was a setup.

  “I resigned my DEA position to take a job at a security company called Tidewater based in Virginia. This was actually a team of mercenaries—former SEAL and DEVGRU operatives formed to drop into Dos Erres to eliminate the Zeta leadership. It was funded by money from various oil companies—the Zetas had been attacking oil pipelines in Mexico—arranged by you, Senator O’Brien.

  “I helped to lead this operation in the full knowledge that it was against both international and American law. I believed then, and believe now, that it was nevertheless morally justifiable. In another contravention of law, I obtained the temporary release of one Edward Ruiz, an American-born cartel leader and longtime informant, to accompany the raid, as he could personally identify the Zeta leadership.

  “What we didn’t know was the Zetas were planning to kill Barrera at this meeting. After the peace talks were completed, the Zetas ambushed the Sinaloan delegation and slaughtered them. We dropped in just as this was finishing up and succeeded in the mission of terminating the Zeta leaders, effectively destroying the organization.

  “Adán Barrera’s remains were only located in March of 2014, shortly after I took over at DEA. The assumption was that he had been killed during the Zeta assault.

  “This is not true.

  “I killed Adán Barrera.”

  The room erupts.

  O’Brien bangs the gavel.

  Keller leans closer to the microphone and says in a loud voice, “I was supposed to have located him and extracted him, if he was still alive. I did locate him. He had survived the attack and was hiding in the jungle outside his camp.

  “I shot him twice in the face.

  “I am fully prepared to accept responsibility for this, if the Guatemalan government chooses to extradite me, and also to accept responsibility for any crimes I might have committed under American law for participation in this raid and its subsequent cover-up.”

  Crosby throws her hands up, then sits back in her chair as if to say, Go ahead, destroy yourself.

  Eddie Ruiz gets off the phone with Minimum Ben.

  Who told him that he can’t blow up Art Keller anymore because Keller just blew himself up. Copped to the whole Guatemala thing and capping Barrera, too. Took the ace right out of Eddie’s hand and stuck it up his ass.

  The only play I have now, Eddie thinks, is to flip on Lerner. Tell them fuck yes I set up security for Lerner’s meetings. Had a dope slinger do it, because the meetings were about getting dope money.

  How do I know that? he rehearsed.

  Because Rafael Caro asked me to do it.

  Nico finally makes it back to Manhattan.

  Way downtown, in the oldest part of the city, to the Immigration Court on Federal Plaza. A long line of people stand outside, waiting to pass through security. Most of them are Latino, some are Asian. There are other kids there, some with families, a few, like Nico, alone. His aunt and uncle didn’t want to come to the hearing for fear of being deported themselves.

  So Nico came alone.

  He makes it through security and goes up to the twelfth floor, where he finds his name and courtroom assignment on a large bulletin board. The hallway is packed, the few benches are filled, a lot of people lean against the walls or sit on the floor. Nico edges through the crowd, trying to find his volunteer lawyer, Ms. Espinosa. He finally sees her and makes his way over, and they confer in the hallway because there are no rooms provided.

  She almost has to shout to make herself heard. “Nico, you’re going to appear before a judge who’ll decide if you can stay or be deported. Okay, we have about five minutes. Answer all the questions truthfully, and if he asks you if your life is in danger if you return to Guatemala, you say yes. Got it?”

  They go into the packed courtroom and sit in the back. Nico watches the judge. He looks like an old man, with white hair and glasses. He looks mean, and Nico sits there for half an hour as the judge denies refuge to two women and a teenage boy.

  Then he hears his name called.

  “Let’s go,” Espinosa says.

  She walks him to the witness stand and she says, “Marilyn Espinosa in pro bono for Nico Ramírez.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Espinosa. Do we need an interpreter?”

  “Mr. Ramírez speaks some English,” Espinosa says. “But, yes, to be on the safe side.”

  The judge peruses the file, then asks, “Mr. Ramírez is applying for refugee status?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “On what basis?”

  “Mr. Ramírez fled Guatemala,” Espinosa says, “because a street gang, Calle 18, threatened to kill him if he didn’t join. In all likelihood, they will kill him if he is returned.”

  The judge studies the papers some more. “But he did join.”

  “He was given a gang tattoo by force. He’s a child, Your Honor.”

  “I have the file in front of me,” the judge says. “What’s the HS position?”

  The lawyer from Homeland Security says, “Mr. Ramírez entered the country illegally. Recommend deportation.”

  “Your Honor,” Espinosa says, “will you at least hear my client?”

  The judge looks at Nico. “Young man, why do you want to stay in the United States?”

  “Because they’ll kill me if I go back,” Nico says.

  “Who will?”

  “Pulga.”

  “Who?” the judge asks.

  “He’s the shot caller for 18 in my barrio,” Nico says.

  “Do you have anything else to say?” the judge asks.

  Nico thinks really hard. What can he say that will make them let him stay? He’s desperate.

  “Because it’s beautiful here,” he finally says.

  The judge examines the paperwork again and then looks back up. “I’m going to remand Mr. Ramírez to the custody of Homeland Security for deportation.”

  “Your Honor,” Espinosa says, “this could be a death sentence.”

  “And I could be saving an American life by getting rid of a precocious criminal,” the judge says. “We have enough gangbangers and drug dealers in this country already without importing them.”

  He looks at Nico and asks a pro forma question: “Do you waive appeal?”

  Even with the translation, Nico doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  “No, Your Honor,” Espinosa says. “We intend to appeal to BIA and request bond.”

  “Which in this case would just mean removal back to Southern Virginia,” the judge says. “Bond denied. You have thirty days to appeal. ICE will take custody of Mr. Ramírez and proceed with deportation.”

  A strange man handcuffs Nico and leads him out of the courtroom. Nico looks at Espinosa, who tries to keep up beside them through the crowd.

  “I’ll file an appeal, Nico,” she says. “And a motion to reconsider.”

  He understands enough to know that she’s goi
ng to ask them to change their minds.

  Nico knows that they’re not going to change their minds.

  He’s going back to El Basurero.

  He’s garbage and he’s going back to the garbage dump.

  “A few months after the Guatemala operation,” Keller says, “Senator O’Brien approached me about taking over at DEA. I did so because I truly thought that I could do something about the heroin epidemic afflicting the country. I thought that was why Senator O’Brien asked. I now realize that I was once again naive, that the senator put me in the position to cover up the Guatemala operation.”

  O’Brien says, “I think we have heard just about enough—”

  “My extrajudicial execution of Adán Barrera also had the opposite effect from that which I intended,” Keller says. “During the brief supremacy of his Sinaloa cartel, Mexico experienced a period of relative peace and security. In eliminating him, I unleashed a score of lesser competitors for the throne, who have, in turn, unleashed chaos on a people who have already suffered far too much. In fact, Mexico has just experienced its most violent year, eclipsing even the horrors of 2010 to 2012.

  “And the drugs keep coming in, which leads me to—finally—the matter which I have been called to testify about today.”

  O’Brien says, “I am going to suspend this hearing until further notice. Mr. Keller is simply making more unsubstantiated allegations—”

  “I want this hearing to continue,” Elmore says. “We have called Mr. Keller to testify, and he has a right to complete his testimony.”

  “He has no right to filibuster,” O’Brien says. “I’m going to adjourn this—”

  “If you do,” Keller says, “I will resume it on the Capitol steps.”

  “You are in contempt, Mr. Keller,” O’Brien says.

  “You don’t know the half, Senator.”

  “Continue,” Elmore says.

  Keller says, “In my role as DEA administrator, I became aware that a new heroin-smuggling network, led by Eddie Ruiz and released trafficker Rafael Caro, was sending masses of heroin and lethal fentanyl into the United States through intermediaries in New York City. I also learned that Caro had ordered the murders of forty-nine students in Mexico—some of them burned to death—and the torture-murder of journalist Ana Villanueva, who was investigating this atrocity.