“They know who you are. They won’t cooperate with you.”
“They know I’m fair and don’t try to bust their balls, ma’am,” Purdy said. “They probably don’t know how dangerous those Russians are—if the migrants knew who they were hiding, they might welcome our help in shutting them down.”
“You’re still La Migra,” Pierce said. “If the Consortium is living and moving among them, the migrants might just turn you in to ensure safety for themselves and their families. Do you have anyone in the community who could help you?”
“I might be able to contact some of my informants…” Purdy replied, but from his expression it was obvious he couldn’t trust them either. He turned to Ariadna. “But Dr. Vega here could help me. She knows the language better than me, and she’s a helluva lot better-lookin’.”
“I’m second-generation American,” Ariadna said uneasily, her eyes lowered apologetically to the floor. “I’ve never been part of the Hispanic community. I’m not sure if I could help you. Besides, I’ve got my hands full with the task force.”
“Hey, Dr. Vega, you look pretty tough to me,” he said, “and from what I heard you did in Brazil and Egypt, I think you can handle yourself. Besides, the Hispanics usually don’t rough up or squeal on the women, even if they’re not from their community—it’s not very macho to put a lady in danger, even a lady cop.” In pretty good Spanish, he added, “Ellos no pueden parar mi Veracruz y su belleza, señorita.”
“Gracias, señor,” Ari said, adding tentatively, “But I don’t think I can do it.”
Purdy looked at Ariadna carefully, quietly trying to gauge the real meaning of her response, then shrugged. “I’m stuck, then,” he said. “I’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way—pound the pavement, kick a little ass, and pass around a lot of cash. Give me a couple BORTAC squads and I’ll have enough firepower to handle anyone.” He looked wistfully at Jason and added, “Except the Consortium. For them, I’m sure I’ll need the Marines or Special Forces, if I can’t get the robots.”
“It might be too late anyway, Paul,” Pierce said. “I’m sure Flores has hightailed it back to Mexico by now.”
“He might have, but I don’t think so,” Purdy said. “Flores is not Mexican. He’s an ‘angel baby’—his parents were Mexican migrant workers, but he was born in the US of A, an instant citizen.” From Pierce’s expression, she obviously didn’t know this bit of information. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you don’t show us yours, so we don’t show you ours. That’s gotta change if we hope to get any real work done.
“Anyway, Flores’s parents were migrant farmworkers, but he was born in southern California, Coachella Valley, JFK Hospital, I think—I’ve seen his jacket. Hell, nowadays more than half of all kids born in southern California have parents who are illegals, but seventeen years ago, that made you special—an ‘angel baby.’ I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts he’s still in the area. He helps the migrants but he’s one hundred percent American—I don’t think he would run to Mexico.” He turned again to Jason and Ariadna. “Give me these two and their gadgets, and I’ll find Victor Flores, I guarantee it.”
Kelsey looked at Jason, then said, “There’s no way the White House is going to approve using TALON to hunt down one young man,” she said.
“You’re the freakin’ director of the FBI, ma’am—tell ’em what you want and what you’re plannin’ on, and they’ll do it—if they’re smart,” Purdy said. “You meet with the President all the time, right? You used to work for the new Secretary of Homeland Security, and if I’m not mistaken you reported directly to the new National Security Adviser and that rat bastard traitor Chamberlain when TALON was first stood up, right? Excuse me, ma’am, but what’s the question here? You got more insider avenues than Martha Stewart.”
“TALON wasn’t designed as an investigative system, Agent Purdy,” Jason said. “TALON is a high-tech individual motorized infantry unit, equivalent to a heavy rifle, missile, or mortar squad. It’s better if it…”
“You guys are killin’ me,” Purdy said, shaking his head in pure exasperation. “You’re tellin’ me you have a gazillion-dollar robot and all these fancy unmanned reconnaissance aircraft out there and you can’t help me find one damned kid in an artichoke field in the Coachella Valley? You”—he went on, turning to Kelsey—“can’t requisition these guys to help you track down the one other survivor of a terrorist assassination, the guy that may lead us to the whole gang?” He glared at them both. “With all due respect: what kind of pansies are you guys? That’s all you do all day is whine and tell your subordinates no, no, no?”
“You’ve never seen a CID unit in action, Agent Purdy…”
“I’ve seen ’em on TV enough to know they’re a hell of a lot faster, stronger, and tougher than those Russians that shot me in the back,” Purdy interjected. “Yeah, sure, robots aren’t your typical undercover agent. But that doesn’t mean we can’t put them and the rest of your stuff to work. It just takes a little imagination and brainpower, Major. What’s the matter—the Army not issuing creative thought to its field grade officers anymore?” Jason smiled and nodded in surrender; Purdy nodded in satisfaction and turned to Kelsey. “And you, Miss Director—I don’t want to hear the words no or I can’t do that in my presence, with all due respect. If you don’t want to use your power or authority as director of the freakin’ FBI, hand it over to me—I’ll show you how to get the job done.”
“Keep it in check, Agent Purdy…” Angelica Pierce warned.
“No, he’s right, Angelica,” Kelsey said. She looked at her watch, then at Janice Perkins. “Janice…?”
She had her personal digital organizer out before Kelsey asked the question. “We’ll be taking status reports from the SACs and the foreign bureaus on the flight back to Washington,” she said immediately. “Meetings in Washington start at thirteen hundred hours. The first one is with the intelligence staff, followed by the meeting with the directors of national intelligence and central intelligence at Langley. We’ll have one hour after that to prepare briefings and recommendations. We brief the AG at sixteen hundred hours, the National Security Adviser and Chief of Staff at sixteen-thirty, which I think will go at least two hours, and then we brief the President. He may ask for it earlier because he has the speech to deliver at Annapolis.”
“That’s way too much information, Agent Perkins,” Purdy said. “No one wants to know how the damned sausage is made, for Christ’s sake.”
Kelsey thought for a moment, then nodded resolutely. “Janice, I need you to…”
“Have the deputy director take the status reports and report any unusual or significant activity to you,” Janice interjected, making notes on her PDA with amazing speed, “because you’ll be in a strategy meeting with Major Richter, Dr. Vega, and the charming Agent Purdy, preparing a plan to utilize Task Force TALON to apprehend suspected Consortium terrorists that you think have infiltrated into the southwestern United States with the use of Mexican human smugglers.”
“Tell me you can cook and I’ll marry you tonight, sweetheart,” Purdy said to Perkins.
Janice only winked at the veteran Border Patrol agent in reply, then asked, “Are you going back to Washington, ma’am?”
“Back to all those damned fool boring-ass meetings?” Purdy mumbled under his breath. “How can she bear to miss any of them?”
“I’ll be back for the meeting with DNI and DCI,” Kelsey said. “The deputy will have to take over all other chores until I return.”