Drone

“What do you expect the president to do? Invade the United States?” Hernán sweated. Castillo had never called him directly before. It was a complete breach of their security arrangement, and now he was making insane demands.

“The gringos killed my son on Mexican soil and the Mexican government has no interest in this matter?” Castillo roared on the other end of the line.

“Forgive me for saying so, but as an attorney, I don’t believe you have enough proof that the Americans killed your son.”

“I’ve explained to you the proof! But that’s not the point, is it? Tell me, Barraza, what if you did have your lawyer’s proof? Would your brother the president have the huevos to do anything about it?”

Hernán paused. There was no good answer. An attack on the United States was out of the question. Surely Castillo understood that. But doing nothing was out of the question as well. Hernán understood that perfectly. In his gut, he believed the Americans probably were behind it. “Do you have any suggestions, César?”

“Yes.” Castillo detailed what he wanted the president to do for him. But Castillo didn’t explain what his own course of action would be or that his Iranian security chief had concocted the scheme.

“Very well. Consider it done,” Hernán said.

“When?”

“Starting tomorrow. You have my word.” Hernán clicked off the phone, then opened the cell-phone case, extracting the SIM card and shredding it in his high-security shredder. He didn’t want that psychopath calling him directly ever again.

He then crossed over to his desk and picked up a landline. He called his brother.

“At this hour?” the president asked. “Can’t it wait?”

“I just had a call from our friend, the Farmer.”

“What did he want?”

Hernán described Castillo’s request.

“That’s all?” the president asked. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“There is one more thing. We need the Federal Police and other drug enforcement agencies to back off of him for a while. He needs ‘room to maneuver.’ His words, not mine.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Yes. I have a feeling that Castillo’s reach is about to exceed his grasp.” Hernán grinned. “Our friend could stand a dose of humility.”

The Oval Office, the White House

Dr. Strasburg was on the couch, perched in his usual spot. He held a cup and saucer in his slightly trembling hands, a symptom of the Parkinson’s that he had recently developed. The cup was brimming with freshly brewed coffee, despite doctor’s orders. They had been discussing Russia’s recent diplomatic offensive in the Caucasus when Myers received the urgent message that a call was coming through. He nodded reassuringly at her to take it.

President Myers took her seat behind the famous desk. She picked up her phone. “Put him through, Maggie.”

The receiver clicked as the call was rerouted. Myers pressed another button and put the call on speakerphone so that Strasburg could hear it as well. A familiar voice came on the line.

“Madame President. Thank you for taking my call.” It was President Barraza on the other end. His tone was icy.

“I understand it is a matter of some urgency, Mr. President. By the way, Dr. Karl Strasburg is in the room with me. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“No. In fact, I prefer it. Dr. Strasburg is a wise man. I hope he will give us both good counsel.”

“How may I be of assistance to you today?” Myers asked.

“It has come to my attention that the United States has engaged in covert military action against one of our sovereign citizens while in Mexican territorial waters. Is this true?”

Myers blanched. How could Barraza possibly know about Pearce and his operation?

“To whom are you referring, Mr. President?” Myers stalled for time.

“Aquiles Castillo, of course. He died of a massive hemorrhage in the brain.”

“I’m sorry. Who?”

“One of the sons of César Castillo. I’m sure you’re familiar with his name,” Barraza sniffed.

“A parent’s worst nightmare. I understand his grief.”

“We believe that some form of covert action was taken by your government against him that caused the brain hemorrhage.”

Myers glanced at Strasburg.

“That’s quite an accusation, Mr. President. It seems a little far-fetched, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Myers said.

“Dr. Strasburg?”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“Please remind President Myers of America’s long history of ‘far-fetched’ covert operations. For example, the CIA’s attempt to assassinate Castro with exploding poisonous cigars.”

Strasburg set his coffee down. “We’re all well aware of those attempts, Mr. President, along with Mr. Castro’s long record of torturing and killing his political opponents. We also know that the CIA is currently prohibited by law from assassinating governmental leaders. The fact that Fidel Castro is alive and well suggests that the CIA’s capabilities in that area were never terribly effective anyway, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Madame President, let me ask you directly. Did you authorize a covert mission to kill Aquiles Castillo?”