“So Mexico thinks those states still belong to Mexico? That’s why they don’t see anything wrong with crossing our borders like they do?”
“Some Mexicans do claim that the border states still belong to Mexico, sir—historically, insurrections and guerrilla attacks have taken place to try to capture or force a state to secede, such as the attacks by Pancho Villa in the early 1900s,” Jefferson said. “Some firebrands in Mexico will never forget the American invasion of Veracruz by General Pershing during the punitive wars—it’s a million times worse than what many Iraqis feel about America going to war to force ‘regime change’ there.
“But the point is that the region is culturally and historically Hispanic, and it will always be so,” Jefferson went on. “The borders are artificial, arbitrary, and in most areas not even marked or in any way delineated—for many Mexicans there is no border, in every sense of the word. Most border towns look, sound, and feel more like Mexican towns than American. In addition, the Hispanic population is growing faster than the white population—Hispanics are no longer a minority in California, for example. Anti-immigrant activities will never be popular in that region.”
“This is very entertaining, Jefferson, but this is the twenty-first century, and all of that is practically ancient history,” Kinsly said. “Besides, if I’m not mistaken, we paid for the land we took in that war, did we not? We didn’t steal it—we bought it.”
“Most Mexican nationalists consider that blood money, sir—in any case, most of the money went back to the U.S. to pay war reparations,” Jefferson said. “Part of the problem in dealing with illegal immigration is the cultural undercurrent running through this region—any government activities against Mexicans will be seen as an attack against Mexican culture and heritage, not just against illegal migrants or terrorists.”
“I’m impressed, Sergeant Major,” the President said. “You exhibit quite a detailed knowledge of the history and origins of the problems down there.”
“Thank you, sir. I studied up on it as part of the planning process for Operation Rampart, and brushed up on it after learning about the attacks on the Border Patrol agents last night.”
“To me, you sound like that nutcase who makes those videotapes that air every now and then…what’s his name…?”
“Veracruz. Comandante Veracruz,” Jefferson said. “Named after the Battle of Veracruz, the largest and deadliest U.S. Army battle before the Civil War. It was also America’s first amphibious invasion—twelve thousand soldiers landed on the beach in Veracruz, Mexico, in less than one day. Major General Winfield Scott had the city outnumbered four to one but Scott still refused to negotiate terms of surrender. The Army blasted the city continuously for twelve days. It was a great victory for America but was considered a disgrace and humiliation to Mexico.”
“It almost sounds like you’re sympathetic to the Mexicans, Sergeant,” Kinsly added.
Jefferson turned his whole body toward Kinsly and gave him a look that made little hairs on the back of the Chief of Staff’s neck stand up; Kinsly tried to regain his composure but found his throat had turned completely dry in the blink of an eye. Jefferson’s expression was clear: you are my immediate supervisor, but if I don’t get the simplest sign of respect due me, I’ll rip your head off your pencil-thin neck and shit down your throat.
“Do not,” Jefferson began in a voice that was more like a growl, “confuse analysis with sympathy, Mr. Kinsly. It’s essential to study the enemy personality, composition, terrain, logistics, and tactical situation in order to identify the enemy’s center of gravity and compose a plan of action. Basic combat strategy.” He took one step toward the Chief of Staff, impaling him with his eyes. “I’d be happy to meet in your office, one on one, any time, to discuss it further. Sir.”
The President found his own throat a little dry after watching Jefferson putting Kinsly in his place, and he took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Now it’s the ‘enemy’ we’re talking about, Sergeant Major?” the President asked.
“It is if you tell me it is, sir, yes,” Jefferson said. “As I said, I believe there’s a military solution to the illegal immigration situation, and I’m prepared to implement it whenever I’m given the order. However, I’m pointing out the inherent difficulties created by the historical, anthropological, and cultural situation. We could very well win every battle and lose the war.”
“Why?”
“This Veracruz guy is a known drug smuggler, sir, but he has enormous popularity all around the world for the Mexican cause. He represents a militant backlash to anti-immigration sentiment that’s growing in the United States, fueled by guys like Bob O’Rourke. Veracruz could start an uprising among the migrants in America.”
“An uprising? That’s ridiculous,” Kinsly said. “The Mexicans are here to work and earn money for themselves and their families, not revolt against America. Besides, who is this Veracruz guy? Is he a general? What army does he command?”
“His audience can turn into his army if we’re not careful,” Jefferson said. “Remember that there are an estimated ten million illegal immigrants in America today, at least a million more enter every year, and over a third of all the live births in the southwest U.S. are children of illegal immigrants. If even ten percent of them decide it’s time to listen to ‘Comandante Veracruz’ and fight, he’d have an army twice as large as Mexico’s itself. He shouldn’t be underestimated.”
CHAPTER 2
CAJON JUNCTION, CALIFORNIA
THE NEXT MORNING
Any business consultant would have told them what they already knew: it was the perfect place for an enterprise such as theirs. The area featured ready access to transportation outlets such as Interstate 15, the major freeway artery between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, which made transporting both raw materials and finished product quick, easy, and secure; it was on the edge of the Mojave Desert where land was cheap, but also at the edge of the San Bernardino National Forest so it didn’t seem as if they were actually in the desert; and they had ready access to over ten million potential customers, without having to directly compete against the hundreds of other manufacturers scattered around the Los Angeles megalopolis.
Of course, their real market was Los Angeles, but they chose to locate in San Bernardino County instead—along with going up against the competition, they would have to go up against the infinitely better-funded and-organized Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department rather than the much smaller San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department. One had to balance customer service, marketing, and location of facilities with the competition factor, and their competition was not only the other manufacturers, but law enforcement.
This was Ernesto Fuerza’s pride and joy—one of the largest and most successful methamphetamine labs in southern California. Mostly built on trucks and trailers for easy portability and concealment, the lab produced almost a hundred kilos a day of crystal meth, or “speed,” worth almost a hundred thousand dollars; mixed with cheap fillers and sold on the street, the drug could be worth ten to twenty times that amount.