“We’re all hoping for the same thing, sir.” Cass withdrew a folder from a drawer in her desk. “I have been authorized to offer you a settlement on your own claims against my government for your treatment, Mr. Ochoa: formal apologies from the Secretary of Defense, Brigadier General Lopez the man in charge of the military operation, and Major Jason Richter, who was the officer in charge at the scene at the time of the offense; a guarantee of full reimbursement for any medical bills you may incur for a period of five years from the date of the incident; and a lump sum cash award of twenty-five thousand dollars. All my government asks in return is a strict gag order on the terms of our settlement.”
The deputy consul took the offer form and looked it over. “I myself believe that this is an exceedingly generous offer,” Ochoa said, “but of course I must confer with the consul general first before I can accept.”
“I understand. I’m sure all sides will be as fair and flexible as possible.”
“Of course.” Ochoa paused for a moment, then: “So Brigadier General Lopez is still in charge of the border security operations along the U.S.-Mexico border?”
“Yes, sir. As I’m sure you know, the dynamics have changed in response to the recent killings in Arizona, but I assure you that the whole face of the operation has been toned down considerably. According to my briefing, the National Guard units currently being deployed on the border are completely subordinate to the U.S. Border Patrol. The Guard’s job is merely to assist the Border Patrol in conducting surveillance, nothing more. They are prohibited from making arrests and will not impede or interdict any person unless that person is actually observed committing a serious crime. I would be pleased if you would pass this information along to the Mexican embassy in Washington.”
“But of course,” Ochoa said. “But there are other serious concerns.”
“Oh?”
“As troubling as the presence of heavily armed National Guard troops on the border is, Miss Cass, my government is extremely concerned about those robots, the TALON devices…”
Cass appeared greatly relieved. “TALON? They are no longer involved in Operation Rampart,” Cass said, waving a hand. “They are back doing…well, whatever they were doing before, chasing down bad guys, real bad guys like the Consortium, not in any way bothering Mexican citizens.”
“Ah.” Ochoa put on his best pained expression. “Then may I please ask you to comment on a recent report I received, Miss Cass, from an immigrant advocacy agency in Indio, California, that claimed that Major Richter was recently spotted at the U.S. Border Patrol sector headquarters?”
Cass’s eyes bulged, and her mouth opened and closed in confusion. “I…I don’t know anything about this, Mr. Deputy Consul, nothing at all,” she said. “I was assured by the FBI and the Department of Defense that Task Force TALON was no longer involved whatsoever in border security operations. Perhaps your informants were mistaken, or Richter and Vega were involved in some other task…?”
“I am sure you are correct, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said, “but it would be very unlikely for the consul general to approve a settlement with the U.S. Justice Department with this question still lingering. Perhaps there is some way to check, perhaps with the commander of the sector headquarters?”
“Of course,” Cass said. She picked up the phone on her desk. “Get me the Border Patrol sector commander in Indio right away.” She turned to Ochoa. “Please remember, Mr. Ochoa, that this conversation and this information are highly confidential.”
“Of course, Miss Cass. You have my solemn assurance that I will divulge nothing of this conversation. The consul general need not know anything about this phone call, only of the results of my negotiations regarding the settlement offer.”
“Thank you.” She turned to the phone: “Yes, hello, this is U.S. Attorney Annette Cass, southern district of California in Los Angeles. Who is this…? Special Agent Roberts, I’m conducting an investigation involving the recent incidents at the Rampart One border security facility…yes, that’s it, that’s the incident…no, I know no one from your sector was involved. The reason I’m calling is to follow up on a report I’ve received that claimed that Army Major Jason Richter had a meeting at your headquarters recently, perhaps as early as yesterday.
“I…say again…? Yes…no, I understand. I’ll be waiting.” Cass hung up the receiver. “A routine security procedure,” she said to Ochoa. “He’ll call the office back in a few minutes to verify that he wasn’t talking to the media or some other person. Shouldn’t take more than a minute.”
“Of course. A wise precaution.”
The phone rang a couple minutes later: “This is Cass…yes, I’m expecting his call…this is Cass…Special Agent Roberts, thank you for calling back so fast. Okay, what do you have for me…he was there yesterday. I see. My reports were accurate then…you didn’t? You didn’t request a meeting with him? Then why were they…what? I see…that’s incredible…well, that’s good news, that’s great news. But I still don’t see how Richter and Purdy are involved. Any involvement on their part could be extremely serious to any legal or diplomatic initiatives with the Mexican government. Who authorized them to…oh. I see. No, I wasn’t informed…I know, we’re all supposed to be on the same team, but apparently it doesn’t apply both ways between investigations and the prosecutors’ office—or the White House, at least when TALON is involved. I shouldn’t have to play phone tag to find out information from my own department…well, I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Roberts. Thank you.” She hung up the phone with a disturbed expression.
“So it is true, Miss Cass?” Ochoa prompted her after a few silent moments. “My information was correct—TALON is still involved in some way with border security operations?”
“I wouldn’t be too hasty to come to conclusions, Mr. Ochoa,” Cass said with an edge in her voice. “Richter and Purdy definitely were at the Indio sector headquarters, but the purpose of their visit and their involvement with the Border Patrol is still unclear.”
“Unclear? But did you not just speak with the man in charge…”
“The special agent in charge of the sector didn’t know what was going on,” Cass explained. “Apparently there are some witnesses who survived the shootings near Blythe, California a few weeks ago. I don’t know why, but TALON was asked to assist in the search for other witnesses that may be in the area. They’re out looking for them in the Indio sector now.”
“Is that not a job for the FBI, Miss Cass?”
Cass looked pained, even embarrassed. “The FBI is involved—apparently the director of the FBI as well as the director of Customs and Border Protection contacted the special agent in charge and notified him of this activity, but there are very few other details. I will probably need to contact someone in Washington, perhaps the Secretary of Homeland Security himself, to get to the bottom of this.”
“This is highly irregular, Miss Cass,” Ochoa said. He could easily tell that Cass was lost in her own thoughts: he was quickly being dismissed from her attention and would be gone in moments if he didn’t do something. “¡Esto es absurdo!” Ochoa barked. He shot to his feet and asked indignantly, “What is going on here, Miss Cass?” His sudden movement and shrill tone startled her—the first time he had ever seen this tough lady surprised. “I came here as a gesture of good will, seeking to put the past episodes of violence and mistrust behind us and start afresh, but instead I am being stonewalled and given misleading and evasive information. Exactly what is the meaning of this, señora?”