Originally sent to Mexico as part of a delegation to assist in the transfer of surface-to-air missiles and antitank guided missiles to the new Mexican government, the Nicaraguan had been recruited by Alaman through a third party to provide a similar service to Delapos's growing army. It was because of this man that Delapos felt some confidence in his group's ability to continue its campaign of terrorism against the Texas National Guard with Some hope of success. Deciding on the exact mechanics of dealing with that new threat, and what to do while the Guard was still in the process of deploying and the border was uncovered, was the purpose of this meeting.
The Nicaraguan colonel, though he spoke with great authority and confidence and took the lead in the discussions, was anxious. He wanted to become involved in anything that would embarrass the United States.
Only the presence of the tall blond American across from him kept the Nicaraguan from saying so. Childress, for his part, said little, though he sensed the Nicaraguan's contempt for him. Instead, Childress merely leaned back in his chair, his right hand listlessly dangling down and within easy reach of the pistol sticking out of his right boot. With his left hand, he slowly turned the bottle of beer on the table, looking at the Nicaraguan with cold, steady, unemotional eyes. Though he knew that what the Nicaraguan was saying made sense, Childress didn't know whether he agreed or not. Until he could sort out his own emotions, Childress hid them as best he could behind a mask of stone.
For his part, Delapos, the third man at the table, also had concerns and reservations about some of the Nicaraguan's suggestions. The idea of hitting purely civilian targets, though logical, bothered Delapos. He was a mercenary, yes, but not a murderer. Though many of his own men would argue that such a fine distinction was purely academic, Delapos had for years maintained standards of conduct that had allowed him to keep his sanity and justify his work. A self-imposed prohibition against killing innocent civilians had been one of those standards. Now, it seemed, he Would have to violate that prohibition, for logic told him that regardless of what he personally thought, such actions, in order to achieve what they desired, were necessary. After all, it was the attack on civilians by some of Pancho Villa's men in 1916 that had brought the American Army south of the border. When Delapos and Alaman had made their pact at the beginning of July, exactly that reaction was what they had hoped for. Now, when such a possibility was there for the taking, De lapos could not hesitate. He had, after all, pledged his personal loyalty to Alaman and his quest. To back off now would be both dishonorable and, for him as a professional mercenary, disreputable. Besides, the project would go on with or without him. Others, men with no moral scruples, would gladly take up where Delapos left off.
Without looking up from the beer bottle that he continued to turn slowly, Childress summarized the major points of their discussions. "As I see it, the colonel has some very valid points. Even with the improved weaponry that he will be providing, and the inside information Alaman is able to provide concerning American operations, the National Guard will be able to achieve superiority over our people every now and then. The National Guard can afford to lose both men and materiel. We cannot." Childress paused, lifted his beer bottle, took a sip, then pointed it at Delapos to drive home his point. "You might be able to explain away the loss of a single team to bad luck. After all, accidents will happen and everyone understands that. But if we start taking casualties, you're going to have some real problems. We are, after all, businessmen, not patriots. There is no profit in becoming a dead hero."
Delapos, looking down at the drink he was holding with both hands, shrugged. "I cannot argue with such logic. We must stay one step ahead of the Americans. We must maintain an edge." Delapos looked up at Childress, then the Nicaraguan. "Like you, my friends, I see that we have no choice." Lifting his drink, Delapos proposed a toast to seal their agreement. "It is time to end this discussion. There is much to do, and the sooner we start, the better."
Both the Nicaraguan and Childress brought their own drinks up, tapped Delapos's drink, and took a long sip. As they sipped, each man watched the other out of the corner of his eye, for each man knew that they were, at best, reluctant partners, temporarily joined by necessity. All three understood that each of the others, and Alami, had his own agenda, one that was self-serving and had limits. In a pinch, each man would betray the next. They were, after all, businessmen.
The hostility that permeated the conference room poisoned every conversation, every comment. Even when no one was speaking, Dixon felt as if his body were being shredded by a deluge of invisible daggers from the governor and his staff seated across from them. It was for him, and all of the Army briefers from Fort Hood, a most difficult experience.
Combat, Dixon thought, was preferable to the verbal and mental abuse they were being subjected to. In combat, at least you could do something.
Here, in the presence of the governor of Texas, his adjutant general, and all their staffs, the only thing the Fort Hood people could do was preach the party line, take their lumps, and keep smiling.
The briefings being presented addressed how the regular Army planned to deal with the problems on the Mexican border. They were to have taken place at Fort Hood in another five days as part of a conference, a real dog-and-pony show meant to reassure the governors of the Southwestern states that the federal government was not ignoring them and had a plan to deal with the Mexican problem. Unilateral withdrawal of the U.S. Border Patrol and the deployment of the Texas National Guard to seal the border, however, had shot that plan all to hell. Instead of controlling the situation and providing a solution that would allow some flexibility for diplomacy, the federal government now found itself reacting to the initiatives of the governor of Texas. Part of that reaction was sending the corps commander and selected officers from his corps, to brief the governor of Texas on the Army's contingency plans for dealing with Mexico. Big Al, along with Dixon and the division intelligence officer, were among them.
The move by Governor Wise was a gamble. In a televised speech, Wise had stated, "Action, only action could protect the citizens of Texas and their property. Direct and unhesitating action, therefore, would be the order of the day in Texas. I am therefore ordering the Texas National Guard to do what the federal government seems incapable of doing, consequences be damned."
While his speech was stirring and his motives understandable, the Texas National Guard, despite its size, simply wasn't up to the task of sealing the border with Mexico. At best, the Guard would be able to establish outposts at critical crossing points along the border and patrol the rest. Even that would be difficult, for the bulk of the state's units were not structured for such operations. The largest unit, the 36th Mechanized Infantry Division, was designed to fight a high-tech foe on a modern battlefield using tanks, heavy artillery, and attack helicopters in swift, sweeping maneuvers. Its force structure, equipment, and training were ill-suited for the task of patrolling and securing the border. And even if the 36th Division, along with other Guard units, could do so, the cost of operating the equipment and paying its troops would soon bankrupt the state. Personnel and operating costs alone would cost the state of Texas several million dollars a day. Without federal manpower and funds, Texas alone could not accomplish what the governor publicly had set out to do.