Drone (36 page)

Incendiary slugs ignited the gas tank of a seventy-foot bay cruiser anchored a half mile off of the coast of Veracruz, burning Target 25 to death, along with his heavily armed crew.

Target 08 drowned, trapped inside his vessel when it sank to the bottom of Lake Chapala, strafed by radar-controlled gunfire.

Targets 05 (Campeche) and 20 (Durango) were believed critically wounded by separate Reaper strikes, but confirmation of death was still pending.

Squads of commandos handpicked by Cruzalta took out six more targets with old-school wet work (blades, garrotes, semiauto pistols) while off-duty
Marina
snipers transformed the brain pans of three other targets into puffs of pink mist.

But not everything went according to plan that night. Target 01—Victor Bravo—was located at a fortified compound in rural Chiapas. Two extended-range Reapers were dispatched for the high-value target; rockets were loosed. Bravo escaped, miraculously, when the first rocket misfired and veered off course, alerting him to the attack. Three unidentifieds were killed.

A total of nineteen of the twenty-five primary Mexican targets had been eliminated. The rest were on the run.

The attacks in the U.S. were equally successful. Seventeen of
twenty-five primary targets were taken out with no civilian collateral damage, including Bravo’s top lieutenants in Washington State, Texas, and Louisiana. In the end, there was surprisingly little protest over the use of drones themselves against American citizens. The public understood that it ultimately made no difference if the American targets were killed with bullets fired from manned or unmanned vehicles. Bad guys were bad guys and dead was dead.

Pearce had selected a strike team for ground operations to take out targets not accessible by remote control. But he held his own people in reserve for a snatch-and-grab of Ali Abdi in the event they ever located him. Privately, Pearce was concerned that Ali had somehow slipped the net and made it back to Iran.

By any measure, the initial decapitation strike had been a brilliant success—better than they could have hoped. What it led to next, however, nobody could have foreseen.

San Diego, California

Pearce was stuck in traffic. Again. It fouled his already lousy mood.

“Still no leads on Ali?” Pearce grumbled. His tech wizard Ian was on the other end.

“The problem is too many leads. I can’t process the data flow fast enough.” The million-square-foot Utah Data Center was gushing a torrent of data—billions of bytes per hour—and all Ian had, comparatively, was a sippy cup to catch it with.

“Thanks. Call when you have something.” Pearce signed off.

The San Diego–Coronado Bridge was jammed in both directions and so was Harbor Drive. Unless he wanted to abandon his car in the middle of the road and walk over the bridge, he’d just have to sit here and enjoy the view. California dreamin’.

There were worse views in the world. God knows, he’d seen them. Had even caused some of them. But his frustration was at an all-time
high. He knew that almost any code could be cracked given enough computing power and time. Ian had the computing power—backed by the limitless resources of the federal government. Unfortunately, it was Pearce who had the time on his hands, and waiting for a breakthrough was killing him. Ali Abdi must have been one hell of an operator. He certainly knew the first rule of the game.

They can’t hurt you if they can’t find you.

Pearce’s one consolation was the electronic billboard flashing up ahead. A slideshow of most-wanted listers, their faces, names, and stats rolling past, each slide ending with the promise of a $100,000 reward “for information leading to the arrest of . . .” He’d seen them all over Southern California. They’d been posted all over the country as well. There weren’t many names left. Right now, Pearce hoped that one of those asshats would get captured or turn themselves in and spill the beans on Ali Abdi. That was as likely as this traffic jam clearing up anytime soon.

42

Myers’s startling national address triggered several responses with astonishing rapidity. Of course, the radio talk-show pundits were gibbering about it within minutes after it had aired, and while the majority of those shows had conservative hosts and audiences, even they had mixed reactions, at least initially. Of course, few people actually saw or heard the live presidential telecast because it had aired so late.

The chattering classes went into overdrive the next day on television and radio; satellite, cable, and network stations were inundated with nothing but the Myers announcement. The Christian Right was particularly incensed at the thought of “legalized marijuana,” though technically, Myers hadn’t legalized it. In fact, it had been a rather cynical ploy on her part. Every governor she had ever worked with had demanded greater state autonomy from the federal government so she was only giving them exactly what they wanted. Besides, only Colorado and Washington had legalized recreational marijuana in 2012; every other state—including liberal California—still considered it an illegal drug outside of medicinal usage.

The few liberal talk shows that were still on the air teed off on just about every other issue she raised, but the idea of targeted killings was the hammer that rang the most alarm bells for them. Those self-same moralists didn’t raise an eyebrow when President Obama had taken credit for personally selecting human beings as targets for drone strikes—including the killings of four American citizens who had been neither tried nor
convicted of any crime—nor had they complained when President Clinton had thrown cruise missiles around the Horn of Africa like a wobbly drunk playing a game of darts at the King’s Head pub back in the ’90s.

Cries of another Nixonian “imperial presidency” were leveled by liberal critics for Myers’s excessive use of executive orders to bypass Congress, conveniently ignoring the over one hundred EOs issued by President Obama. They also didn’t seem to mind President Obama’s use of dozens of unelected and unapproved “czars” who issued thousands of new regulations that carried the force of law.

Conservative pundits who applauded Myers’s use of executive orders to carry out her actions, however, were screaming tyranny when President Obama had used them previously. And where were they when President Bush had issued 291 executive orders during his two terms of office? But then again, Bush was a slacker compared to Bill Clinton’s record issue of 363 executive orders. If Myers was guilty of an “imperial presidency,” it was because she stood on the shoulders of the elected emperors from both parties who preceded her.

But that was just the beginning of the debate. Hours and hours of heated exchanges about sovereignty, globalism, executive powers, free trade, the causes of drug abuse, the failings of the criminal justice system, and just about every other aspect of modern American life were discussed ad nauseam
.
It was a national town hall, but most of the speakers seemed to suffer from political Tourette’s syndrome.

Within days, thousands of protestors had taken to the streets in larger urban areas. The Occupy Wall Street crowd had long since lost its original focus, but the president’s announcements gave them renewed purpose. They reemerged in their disorganized glory, a collection of unhygienic malcontents, bored trust-fund kids, unemployed anthropology majors, and D-list Hollywood airheads camping out on courthouse lawns and civic-center plazas on both coasts, smoking dope and swapping STDs in bouts of equally unorganized, angry, and pointless sexual encounters.

The only problem was that the OWS types often protested against themselves. The antiglobalists and legalized-dope advocates wound up in screaming matches with the borderless-world advocates and Ivy League romantics. The anarchists protested everybody and everything, merely on principle.

But the OWS rabble was only a tiny fraction of the turnout. The Tides Foundation, the SEIU, the reorganized and rebranded ACORN radicals, and a half dozen other left-wing groups had quickly mobilized their standing armies of professional “volunteers” in “spontaneous” rallies. Hispanic protestors were conspicuously absent from these initial events.

But the radical left’s response nevertheless prompted the various Tea Party, Posse Comitatus, and Minute Man factions to rally around their respective historic flags (national, state, and Confederate), mostly in suburban and rural areas, far away from the maddening urban crowds. All in all, it was as ugly and beautiful a spectacle of free speech and free assembly democracy as anyone could have hoped for in the morally hazardous climes of the twenty-first century.

American public opinion among educated people was strongly uncertain on the whole affair. Myers enjoyed incredible pluralities of public support for specific aspects of her announcements, but there was no clear majority that favored
all
of her actions. Two fault lines fractured public opinion: the need for security versus the protection of civil liberties. Most valued both, but not equally, especially when they were in conflict.

Even the most-wanted list couldn’t drive the needle all the way over in her direction, despite the fact it was posted on the FBI’s Most Wanted web page, the White House web page, and dozens of law enforcement pages, along with millions of private Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and other social-media sites, not to mention the tens of millions of private e-mails blasting around the Internet daily. If anything should have won her overwhelming public approval, the most-wanted list should have done it, Jeffers had reasoned. The most-wanted list was a roll call of sociopaths who were deeply connected to the drug trade but also guilty of
violent crimes far exceeding their involvement with drugs. And yet, a considerable plurality of Americans on both sides of the political spectrum were still troubled by the use of lethal force against American citizens without benefit of trial, whether or not drones were used, even if the threat was imminent and catastrophic.

At the top of the Mexican list were Victor Bravo and his top ten lieutenants, some of whom were Castillo bosses who now swore loyalty to the Bravos. The top of the American list included Bravo’s top ten lieutenants operating on U.S. soil. But dealers from other organizations, including Chinese Triads, Salvadoran gangs, Jamaican posses, and white power bikers, were also on the list. Fifteen of the targets were women charged with some of the most heinous crimes imaginable. None of the targets was under the age of twenty-one, as per Myers’s direction.

The one thing the targeted drug dealers all shared in common was that they were evil personified. In addition to drug dealing, each of them was guilty of at least one or more violent crimes, including murder, torture, rape, arson, armed robbery, or kidnapping. Victims were often innocent; too often they were law enforcement officers in Mexico or the United States, or even military personnel. Hispanics clearly dominated both sides of the list (on the Mexican side it was almost entirely Hispanic), but a number of Anglos, African Americans, and even a few Asians on the American side ensured that the list couldn’t be construed as anti-Latino, though that charge would be repeated over and over in the days and weeks to come.

—

The Mexican government’s official response was predictable: outrage.
Mexican politicians raged on radio and television.

“A violation of international legal norms.”

“A betrayal of decades of mutual cooperation and trust.”

“A matter to be taken to the International Court of Justice.”

And so forth.

—

Mexican newspaper editorials were somewhat less restrained.

“Another
yanqui
stab in the back.”

“Naked hegemony!”

“A strange, cruel attempt to repeal NAFTA.”

“The end of history.”

—

But not every Mexican newspaper looked unfavorably upon what was being termed the “Myers Doctrine.” Stranger still, the Mexican public was mostly in favor of it.
Anything to break the back of the
narcotraficantes
that had tormented them for so long.

President Barraza ordered the Mexican armed forces to the border “to prevent American terrorist and criminal elements from entering
our
country” and declared Mexican airspace “inviolable,” with solemn pledges to shoot down any American drones that dared cross into it. He also summoned Ambassador Romero to Los Pinos for an excoriating lecture on the megalomaniacal and dictatorial posturing of “that woman” before dismissing him unceremoniously from both his office and the nation.

Privately, however, President Barraza craved retaliation. Would it be possible to acquire drones of their own for operations within the United States? Was the Mexican military capable of engaging American troops along the border—snipers, short incursions, harassments? He raised these possibilities with his capo, Hernán, who counseled restraint.

“Let’s see how this plays out, Antonio. Nothing may yet come of it. We have options we can exercise later if we need to.”

“What options?”

“Trust me, brother. It’s better if you don’t know what they are.” Problem was, Hernán didn’t know either. He was just hoping Victor Bravo had something up his sleeve.

San Diego, California

Ali Abdi’s response to the whole situation was borderline despair.

What else must I do to provoke the effeminate Americans to invade these idol-worshipping Catholics?

If the Americans didn’t invade Mexico, then Ali’s plan with the Russians would be in jeopardy.

More important, his larger plan that even the Russians weren’t aware of would fail completely.

He had no choice.

Ali had hoped to hold the Bravo men and his own Quds Force soldiers in reserve, especially now that they were well hidden on American soil. His original intention was to use them in partisan-style actions, harassing American supply lines when the U.S. military finally invaded Mexico.