Drone

“Come around,” Cruzalta ordered his pilot. The helicopter had flown in an elliptical pattern all day, racing ahead of the slower-moving convoy, then circling around and catching up with them, keeping an eye on threats in front of and behind his men. The OH-6 had gotten far ahead again and now the pilot circled back on his commander’s order. The nose of the helicopter turned just in time to give Cruzalta a God’s-eye view of the tunnel.

The Situation Room, the White House

Myers was fixed on the helicopter video monitor. Flames suddenly jetted out of both ends of the mountain tunnel.

“Oh my God!” Myers shouted.

Fire continued to boil out of both ends as the helicopter camera plunged toward the tunnel. Cruzalta’s voice shouted over the speakers, screaming for the pilot to land.

Cruzalta’s OH-6 Cayuse

“OBREGÓN! OBREGÓN! COME IN!” Cruzalta shouted as the helicopter rocketed down toward the highway below. Just as the helicopter’s skids hit the hot asphalt, a long-horned bull shrouded in flames charged out of the tunnel entrance. Even above the rotor wash, Cruzalta could hear its agonizing screams as it thundered past the cockpit and hurled itself blindly over the side of the mountain into the gorge below.

The Situation Room, the White House

Myers’s eyes darted over to the other monitor. The laughing Castillo boys were still batting the volleyball around with their girlfriends in the pool, oblivious to the carnage in the hills below them.

“Jesus, what a goat fuck,” Greyhill blurted. He turned to Myers. “Good thing you weren’t directly involved in this, Margaret. It would’ve been your Bay of Pigs.”

The Situation Room, Los Pinos

President Barraza sat in stunned silence, staring at the monitors. He finally managed to speak, his voice cracking with emotion. “This is a disaster, Hernán. Those poor kids.”

Hernán Barraza turned toward his brother. “We sent the best we have. The Americans will realize that, won’t they?” His voice was etched with pained sincerity. He even managed to wet his eyes a little. Hernán had practiced both for hours last night in front of a mirror. Antonio wasn’t the only actor in the family.

The president bolted to his feet. “If that Myers bitch thinks we’re going to do this again, she’s crazy. If that isn’t good enough for her, then fuck her. Do you understand me?”

Hernán Barraza nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. I understand perfectly.”

14

Camp David, Maryland

President Myers admired the tall pines through the large picture window. She loved the presidential retreat nestled in the low wooded hills of Catoctin Mountain Park. It reminded her of her mountain home in Colorado. The main building where she stood was, in fact, a lodge, just one of many reasons she felt more comfortable here than in the White House.

She needed another meeting with her inner circle. The problem now was secrecy. There had already been too many scheduled meetings with the same people not to draw outside attention, and the Washington rumor mill was in full grind. Myers wasn’t ignorant of the political forces on both sides of the aisle arrayed against her. Just being kept out of these meetings was causing something of a scandal among senior congressional leadership, especially in her own party, Senator Diele the most vocal among them. Myers had discovered early on that Washington, D.C., was just like high school, only with money—other people’s money, technically. Jealousy, cliques, and rivalries were the stock-in-trade for the preening, precious egos that populated the Hill.

“Sorry to drag you out in the woods away from your families on a Saturday, but we needed to talk about yesterday’s fiasco,” Myers began.

“It’s our job, Madame President. No need to apologize,” Jeffers said.

Lancet flashed a sympathetic smile. “I used to have a pastor who said, ‘There’s no rest for the wicked, and the righteous don’t need any.’ So we’re good to go.”

“Thank you. Let’s get to it so we can get you all back home at a reasonable hour. Mike, what exactly happened down there?”

“Near as we can tell, somebody must have dropped a dime on the operation and the Castillos set a trap.”

“What about operational security?”

“There are many honest cops and some truly terrific people fighting the good fight down there, including Colonel Cruzalta and his Marines,” Lancet said.

“You’re sure about Cruzalta?” Myers asked. “We all know there is a tremendous amount of corruption in the police and even military ranks.”