Home Invasion (10 page)

“Of course the possibility occurred to me, sir.” The Chief of Staff’s jaw was tight with suppressed anger. “But it’s more likely that all three of them are dead. We’ve had a massive search operation going on now for two months, and I believe it would have turned up some trace of them if they were still alive.”

“You’d better hope they’re dead. Things are coming to a head now at Casa del Diablo. They promise me that the first shipment will be ready in less than a month. We can’t have word leak out now.”

“No, sir.” The Chief of Staff hesitated. “Should you issue a statement on the Navarre settlement?”

“Not just yet. We’ll wait a little longer. Let those ignorant rednecks stew a while longer. It has to look like the action we’ll be taking is justified”

“It will be, sir. Knowing those people in Texas, I think you can count on that”

The arrogant son of a bitch wasn’t near as smart as he thought he was, the Chief of Staff told himself as he let himself into his town house near Dupont Circle that evening. He thought that the country loved him so much he could do anything he wanted and get away with it. He never stopped to realize how much work those around him put in to make the country love him and accept his actions, no matter how outrageous and unconstitutional they were.

Thank goodness three of the Supreme Court justices had dropped dead during the previous administration, changing the balance of power on the court so that it went along with whatever the occupant of the White House wanted. The Chief of Staff, long a Washington insider, had wondered on occasion if the previous President might have had something to do with those deaths, even though officially they were from natural causes. He knew that woman, knew the lengths she would go to in order to get what she wanted. After all, it was common knowledge that she’d had at least one man killed, back before she took office.

Ultimately, though, she didn’t have the metaphorical balls to finish the job of taking the country in the direction it needed to go. The conventional wisdom was that when her second term neared its end, she would declare some sort of national emergency and suspend the Constitution, thereby postponing the election and keeping herself in office. That hadn’t happened, though. She had gone quietly, even meekly, surprising everybody who knew her.

The Chief of Staff supposed the death of the previous President’s husband probably had something to do with that. He should have known that he was too old to keep up with that many mistresses. His heart had given out while he was on top of one of them, pumping away. The public didn’t know that, but the former President and a limited number of insiders did.

One thing you could say about the guy in the Oval Office now: He had the balls to do whatever was needed. The project at Casa del Diablo was proof enough of that.

“Darling, is that you?”

The woman’s voice from the bedroom made a smile break out on the Chief of Staff’s face. One mistress was enough … if she was the right mistress. Julia Hernandez was brilliant at what she did. She would have drinks waiting for him, and she would be waiting for him as well, naked in his bed. By the time she was through with him, she would have made all the day’s stress go away. He was usually so relaxed that he had to take a nap before they went out for dinner.

She was good at her day job, too, one of the assistant social secretaries in the White House. He got to see her every day, but of course, everything between them was prim and proper as long as they were at the most famous building on Pennsylvania Avenue.

Grinning, he went into the bedroom and said, “Yes, it’s me. Are you ready for me, darling?”

“Always,” she said from the bed.

Yep. Naked. Just like he liked.

He must have been tired. The drugs worked even faster than usual, putting him in that twilight state between waking and sleeping where he was just conscious enough to answer every question she asked him, but too groggy to do anything but tell the truth. He’d babbled on about everything the President was planning, and when he woke up, he wouldn’t remember a bit of it except that they had made love.

Nude, Julia padded across the thick carpet of the bedroom and picked up her phone from the dresser. She started entering a text message. To anyone else who read it, the message would look even more like gibberish than the text messages sent by teenagers. When it arrived in Mexico, though, it would be decoded and brought to Enrique Reynosa y Montoya, the head of Rey del Sol.

The idiot now snoring away in the bed had been especially informative this evening. Julia smiled as she pressed the button on the phone that sent the message on its way.

She knew Señor Reynosa would be very interested to hear about what was going on in West Texas, at the place called Casa del Diablo….

Just as Alex had predicted, the citizens of Home weren’t happy when they heard about what had happened in the courtroom at the county seat. By the time she got back that evening and went to the police department, the sidewalks downtown were full of people, most of them milling around or gathered into tight, angry groups. The feeling of tension in the air was palpable as Alex got out of her car and went into the building.

She had never experienced an actual riot … but it felt like that’s what was brewing in Home this evening.

Jimmy Clifton looked up from behind the counter where the dispatcher’s station was located. “Chief, am I… glad to see you,” he said. He had a slight slowness of speech. That and a hesitant gait were the only outward signs of his Down Syndrome. “People are sure … mad about Pete.”

“I don’t blame them, Jimmy,” Alex said. “He’s gotten a really raw deal all the way around. But folks ought to be in their houses, not out stirring up more trouble.”

“That’s what… Jerry and Betsy told ’em. And the … sheriff’s deputies, too. But it’s not against … the law for people to be … on the street.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Alex muttered. The way that bunch in Washington tried to suppress dissent, there was no telling what might happen by the time another so-called liberal administration was over. That bunch preached tolerance while practicing some of the worst intolerance Alex had ever seen.

“What do you … want me to do, Chief? I can stay here on … duty for as long as you need me.”

She smiled. “I know you can, Jimmy, and I appreciate that. But you take off when Eloise comes in to relieve you the way she always does. You’d better go home and look after your folks.”

Jimmy lived a few blocks away with his elderly parents. Alex didn’t want him on the street this evening, not with the trouble that might be building up. She knew that by telling him to take care of his parents, he would listen to her.

“Jack called a little … while ago,” Jimmy added. “He wanted to know if … you were here yet.”

“I’ll call him back,” Alex promised as she started into her office. She had a spare uniform here at the station. She wanted to get out of the dress she had worn to court so she could move around better if she had to.

She wanted to strap on her gun, too. She hadn’t taken it to the county seat with her, knowing that she wouldn’t be allowed to bring it into the courtroom with her.

As much as she loved and respected the citizens of her town and would never use a weapon against them except as an absolutely last resort, she knew that some of them would be more likely to listen to her if she was armed.

When she came out of her office wearing the brown slacks and tan short-sleeved shirt, with the 9mm automatic in the holster strapped to her belt, she found J. P. Delgado and Clint Barrigan waiting for her, along with the two reserve officers, Lester Simms and Antonio Ruiz, the mayor’s cousin.

“We figured you’d need all hands on deck tonight, Chief,” Delgado said.

“Well, the nearest ocean is several hundred miles away,” Alex said with a smile, “but I appreciate the sentiment. And I’m really glad to see all of you.”

Lester asked, “Is what they’re saying true, Chief? The federal government is really siding with that … that monster who killed Inez McNamara?”

“They reached a settlement with him, yes, and Navarre dropped them from the lawsuit.”

“But that’s the same thing as saying they think he was in the right and Pete was in the wrong!”

Alex nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Have you seen the latest news conference?” Delgado asked tightly.

“The one with Navarre’s lawyer and that federal attorney?” Alex shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll bet it’s all over the TV.”

“That woman said Pete violated Navarre’s civil rights by shooting him,” Delgado said. “She claims the evidence at the trial proved it wasn’t self-defense. The government’s going to pay Navarre five million dollars, and if the state doesn’t press charges against Pete, the federal government is.”

The craziness just kept on getting crazier, Alex thought with a sigh.

“As ridiculous as it is, none of that is our concern,” she said. “Our job is to keep the peace on the streets of Home … and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“You know the people of this town, Chief,” Clint said. “They’re law-abiding folks. But they’re starting to figure that they’ve been pushed far enough.”

Alex nodded. “I know, and I can’t say as I blame them. But I’m still not going to stand by and let anybody start any trouble.” She paused. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. They can blow off steam all they want, but there’s nobody for them to really direct their anger at. That federal attorney and Navarre and his lawyer are all over in the county seat.”

“The news media is here,” Delgado pointed out. “That’s pretty much the fourth branch of government these days.”

Alex knew that was true. The media excused everything the President and the liberal-controlled Congress did, while downplaying every gaffe by the Vice-President and exaggerating beyond all sense of proportion anything a conversative politician said or did that they didn’t like. And people on both coasts sat there every day and night and lapped up the distortions and outright lies like cream, while the rest of the country could only shake their heads in dismay and think,
That’s just not true.

“You’re right,” she told Delgado. “All it’ll take is some reporter shoving a microphone and a camera in somebody’s face and smirking while they pretend to ask a question and really make a political speech instead. People are liable to blow up if that happens. So let’s get out there and make sure it doesn’t. If folks see us on the street, they’ll be a lot more likely to behave.”

Alex hoped that was true.

She had left the station with the other officers before she realized she had forgotten to call Jack and let him know she was back from the county seat.

He would be all right, she told herself. He had long since learned that with his mom being the chief of police, there would be times when he was on his own. He’d probably make himself some supper, then spend the evening doing homework, watching TV, surfing the Internet, or listening to music … or all of those options at the same time. Jack’s generation had learned to multitask while they were practically still in their cribs.

No, Alex told herself, she didn’t have to worry about her son.

“It’s gonna be historic,” Rowdy said. “We don’t want to miss it.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “It sounds to me like there could be real trouble.”

Rowdy made a disgusted face. “Ah, you’re just a wuss. What do you think, Jack? The rest of the team’s gonna be there to show support for Mr. McNamara.”

Jack understood that. There was a lot of anger on the football team about what had happened. Most of them had played Little League in Home, which meant Pete McNamara had either coached them or coached against them, and either way, they knew him and liked him. He was a big supporter of high school athletics, too, always at the games, no matter what sport it was. Sometimes he even announced the games when the regular PA guy couldn’t be there.

“I don’t guess it would hurt for us to go,” Jack said. “Just to see what happens.”

“Now you’re talking,” Rowdy said as he slid off the bench in the Dairy Queen booth. “Maybe we’ll be on TV. There are still some news crews around town.”

The Dairy Queen was busy this evening, and all the talk was about what had happened in the trial at the county seat that day. It was loud, angry talk, too, Jack noted as he and his friends left. Several people had already grabbed the booth they’d vacated.

People were mad, and that made Jack worry a little about his mom. She knew how to take care of herself, though. She was the chief of police, after all. Sure, she annoyed him sometimes, and he didn’t understand why she had to be such a hard-ass, but sometimes being a hard-ass was good. She would keep things under control. He was confident of that.

They didn’t bother getting into Rowdy’s pickup but started walking downtown instead. Home wasn’t so big that you couldn’t walk all the way from one end of Main Street to the other if you wanted to. There was a lot of traffic, both on the road and beside it. Cars, trucks, and SUVs clogged the asphalt, while people walked along the shoulders and sidewalks, all of them converging on the center of town.

Jack saw a couple of police cars in the parking lot of the supermarket, but they were both empty. He supposed the cops were out on foot, mingling with the crowd so they could keep order. Rowdy saw some of their teammates from the football team and called out to them. As the two groups moved to join each other, a pickup with half a dozen more teenage boys in the back pulled to the side of the road next to them. The kids piled out.

“This is the biggest thing to hit this town in a long time,” one of them said.

Another gestured toward the water tower at the edge of town, which was lit up at night. “Biggest thing since the state championship.”

“Yeah, but that was a good thing,” Jack said. “This sucks. It’s not right, what they’re doin’ to Mr. McNamara.”

That brought a burst of profanity-laced agreement from the other boys. One of them added, “It’s all because of those damn wetbacks.”

Several of them turned to look at the boy who had spoken, whose name was José Gonzales. He spread his hands and said, “What? My family was here when Stephen F. Austin was. We’re
Texans.
I got no use for those criminals and drug smugglers from south of the border.”

“Yeah, well, I feel sorry for the honest people who have to live over there,” Steve said.

“There’s not many of those anymore,” Rowdy put in. “We oughta go to war with Mexico, that’s what we oughta do. It’s gonna take our army to put all those damn cartels outta business.”

Jack said, “The politicians will never do that. You can just forget it.”

José nodded. “Yeah. They don’t got the
cojones
for that.”

Rowdy nudged Jack with an elbow and nodded toward a blond woman in a dark blue dress making her way through the crowd toward them. He said, “Look at that babe. She’s gotta be one of the reporters. Anybody that hot must be on TV.”

“Yeah, and the guy behind her with the camera is probably a clue, too,” Jack said dryly.

The woman came to a stop and held out a cordless microphone toward them. “Could I ask you boys some questions?” she asked with a dazzling smile.

Rowdy didn’t bother trying to tear his eyes away from her cleavage as he nodded and said, “Sure.”

“Do you go to school here in Home?”

“Yeah, we’re all members of the varsity football team.”

She looked like she was impressed by that. Jack would have been willing to bet that she wasn’t, not really, but she knew what she was doing and how to get what she wanted.

“Do you know Pete McNamara?”

“Of course, we know Pete,” Rowdy said. He had taken over as the spokesman for the group. “He coached Little League when we were all playing.”

“So you consider him a friend, a mentor?”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”

“Are you upset about the things being said about him?”

“Wouldn’t you be, if somebody claimed that a friend of yours shot some people without good reason?”

“Do
you think he had a good reason?”

“Of course, he did! Those Mexicans broke into his house and killed his wife.”

Jack saw a momentary gleam in the blonde’s eyes. Rowdy had played right into her hands by using a phrase like “those Mexicans” and sounding so contemptuous. He had just sent out the message to whoever watched this footage that the citizens of Home were ignorant racists.

Never mind the fact that Jorge Corona and Emilio Navarre actually were Mexican citizens. Truth didn’t matter much anymore.

“But it’s been established that Emilio Navarre never fired his weapon,” the reporter went on. “How could he have been a threat to Mr. McNamara?”

“He had a gun,” Rowdy replied with a frown.

“A lot of people have guns. If they don’t use them, they can’t hurt anybody.”

It was hard to argue with a statement like that, even though the logic behind it was false. And the blonde knew that.

“But they broke into Pete’s house,” Rowdy protested. “And they shot Mrs. McNamara.”

“She was injured only
after
Mr. McNamara fatally wounded Jorge Corona. So isn’t it possible to say that Mr. McNamara was responsible not only for the death of Mr. Corona, but also for what happened to his wife?”

Jack had had as much as he could swallow. More, even. He stepped forward and said, “Listen, lady, Mrs. McNamara wasn’t
injured.
She was
killed.
She’s dead, you understand that?”

The blonde’s face turned cold. “Of course, I understand that, young man. I’m well aware of the tragedy that happened here.”

“Then you ought to understand what a tragedy it is that Pete McNamara’s being blamed for something that’s not his fault at all. At least, you would if you weren’t a moron.”

The cameraman lowered his camera and said, “Don’t worry, Stacy, that didn’t go out on a live feed. We can edit it. “ He glared at Jack. “And you, kid, you’d better watch your mouth.”

“Why don’t you make him?” Rowdy demanded, stepping forward. “Or even better, why don’t you tell me what to do, mister?”

The man sneered as he lifted his camera again. “You can’t touch me, punk. I’m protected by freedom of the press. Ever heard of it, you dumb hick?” “Freedom of the press
this,
you Yankee mother—” “Rowdy, no!” Jack yelled as his friend lunged at the cameraman, swinging a punch.

It was too late. Rowdy was an offensive tackle and plenty of size and strength were behind the blow. It landed on the side of the cameraman’s head and knocked him sprawling as the blond reporter screamed. The cameraman managed to hang on to the piece of expensive equipment.

The blonde had screamed, but she had also whipped out a cell phone and was recording video on it even as Rowdy started after the fallen cameraman, obviously intent on stomping him. Jack grabbed his friend’s arm and tried to hold him back.

“Rowdy, you’re just doing what they want,” Jack said urgently, trying to get through the anger Rowdy was feeling. “Let it go.”

“Too late,” Steve said. “Here come some more guys, and they don’t look happy.”

Jack turned his head and saw several men jumping out of the back of a nearby truck that belonged to one of the cable news networks. The fleeting thought that they were awfully big and burly for audio and video technicians had time to cross his mind, and then José and the other guys whooped in excitement and lunged forward to meet the rush. Shouts filled the air as fists began to fly, and like ripples emanating outward from a rock tossed in a pond, the trouble started to spread through the crowd.

Yeah, it was all hitting the fan, Jack thought, and he was right in the middle of it.

His mom was gonna be royally pissed.