Whether the modern American public would have elected a wheelchair bound president may have been a question but a wheelchair bound president with a facial disfigurement wasn’t even up for debate. His political career was over; it just seemed nobody had told the constituents of 23rd congressional district. Despite not having run for a second term, more than half of the districts voters added his name to the ballot and with the acceptance of the other candidates, John Brown regained the seat he hadn’t fought for. The following election resulted in a near 100 % vote and ensured as long as John Brown stood in the 23rd district, he would stand unopposed.
Rick Brown was a miracle or at least so his mother had told him almost every birthday that he celebrated. Conceived after his father’s accident, Rick Brown was only alive thanks to the wonders of modern science and the brilliance of the doctors based at what was then the leading fertility clinic in the country. Ultra exclusive, it was only after winning his first term as Congressman that John Brown was even made aware of its existence. The Clinic catered only to the Washington elite. Money, as John Brown had discovered, made little difference. It was the only bright spot after the accident. Two months after John’s crash and his ability to father a child gone forever that the miracle happened. Esther Brown became pregnant. It wasn’t to be an easy pregnancy and in fact resulted in her spending the last three months of the pregnancy in the Washington clinic, finally giving birth to Rick by caesarean section.
Esther and John both knew that Rick’s birth had to be as a result of some type of test tube program but it was almost ten years later, in 1978, that the first test tube baby was revealed to the world. Of course only Esther and John were aware of the accident’s effects in the bedroom and therefore to the outside world, the news was met with joy rather than wonder. It seemed with exclusivity came privacy which, as far as they were concerned, was no bad thing. They had, after all, the only thing they cared about, their own child.
The depression that had hit John after his accident immediately lifted. Rick became his purpose in life and through Rick, he would have the chance to make the difference that the accident prevented him from making. By the age of ten, Rick’s life was planned intricately. The course for him to become president was already setting sail. An Ivy League law degree would be followed with a stint in the Navy. The white uniform always looked best in the photo shoots. He would then take over John’s own seat as he retired. At age 35, Rick Brown would spend one term as Congressman before two terms as Governor, the perfect position, according to John, from which to become President.
Unfortunately, a fatal heart attack ended John’s plans and had Rick Brown being sworn in as one of the youngest congressman in US history at the age of 25, his law degree being completed while in office but the much necessary, according to John, military service, never transpired. Although ten years early into congress, Rick Brown wasted no time in following in his father’s footsteps and before long, people were talking of a potential president just as they had his father and just as his father had planned.
Governor Rick Brown tapped the mike and caught the press’ attention. The pressroom at the Governor’s Mansion was overflowing. Although hotly tipped as the next president, he had still to announce his intention to run. Calling a press conference at 12.30am was, to say the least, unorthodox and was for exactly that reason that the pressroom was packed and not just with locals. Network stations were breaking into their normal programming to bring the breaking news from Texas.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Rick addressed the cameras somberly.
“It is never an easy decision to call our young soldiers to action but as Governor and Commander in Chief of Our National Guard, I’m afraid it is my duty to do just that. Our great State is in danger and I will not stand idly by and allow the lawless few to threaten even one of my fellow Texans!”
It was a forceful display of the Governor showing the leadership that was expected from a military chief. Not one of the journalists in the room saw the maneuver as anything more than a pre-cursor to his announcement to run for president.
It was a barnstorming speech. The lectern was banged on several occasions as the Governor made it clear that the cartels would not be threatening even one Texan. If the Mexicans couldn’t control the cartels, he sure as hell would. He stopped short of announcing an invasion into neighboring Nuevo Laredo but it wasn’t far short. Governor Rick Brown was filling in the blank for military service currently lacking in his resume.
As El Jefe neared the border crossing, he smiled. The Southbound road was empty, while the Northbound road was at a standstill. But it wasn’t just the fact that the border was closed that made El Jefe happy. It was the vehicles that had closed it.
The sight of the Texan National Guard’s armored personnel carriers lining the bridge that separated the two countries was a major bonus. The Americans had obviously taken the small war he had waged over the last few hours very seriously. The five Lexuses that formed his advance party had wreaked havoc in the Gulf cartels strongholds. Hitting hard and fast, they had left a trail of casualties in their wake. Indiscriminately shooting throughout the streets had added to the casualties and confusion that had hit Nuevo Laredo and its impotent authorities.
El Jefe loaded his 4th 100 round drum onto his FN minimi and handed it to one of his men in the rear and received a sniper rifle, as requested, in return.
“Pull up over there!” he ordered, pointing at a Multidivisas bank that overlooked the river.
“You two go over to the riverside and when I signal empty your magazines towards the bridge.”
As the car drew to a stop, the two gunmen in the rear barked acceptance of El Jefe’s orders and scuttled across the road and positioned themselves amongst the bushes, ensuring they had a clear line of sight to the border bridge.
El Jefe judged the distance at just over five hundred yards, outside of the range of his gunmen but well within the range of his Heckler amp; Koch MSG90 sniper rifle.
Chapter 28
With nearly half of all US exports to Mexico travelling through it, closing the Laredo — Nuevo Laredo border was no small gesture by the Republican Governor. Its closure was going to hit business hard and by default the Governor. It was with this thought ringing in his ears that Colonel George N. Masters of The Texas National Guard (Reserve) had stationed his four troop carriers on the main bridge crossing the Rio Grande into Mexico. With only the small reserve party at his disposal, he had little more might to project but at least the four M113 Bradley personnel carriers made a fairly impressive statement as they blocked the Border crossing and made it clear America wasn’t going to tolerate any nonsense.
The fact that he had barely managed to crew the four troop carriers with local reservists, never mind fill them with soldiers, was known only unto himself and the eight men that had in fact crewed the four troop carriers which, fully manned, would have housed a further forty four guardsmen. Instead, they had a driver and a gunner each and even then two drivers weren’t even legal, having both been caught DUI, in the last couple of months.
The Governor had shot down Masters protestations and assured him he needed do nothing other than show force. The Colonel just needed to reassure his fellow Texans they were safe. It was, after all, the Governor explained, why they had based the four armored personnel carriers in Laredo in the first place — to project power. Masters had argued that was fine but without anybody to operate them, they were effectively powerless. The Governor had promised the Guards were on their way from Fort Worth and would be with him in a few hours — Masters knew this was code for some time the next day. In the meantime it was going to be up to him and his eight men to pretend to be a platoon strength detachment of the National Guard.