Gary Ponzo - A Touch of Greed

“I’m serious, Nick.”

Nick looked into his partner’s eyes and saw an anxious desperation. He didn’t want to fan the flames of hope too much.

“Okay, Walt. We’ll stick to the plan. But if we haven’t found a solid lead by morning, I can’t make any guarantees.”

There was an awkward silence as Walt seemed to understand his dilemma. He wanted results, but at what cost?

“Please. . at least tell me when you’re going.”

“Why? So you can document our insubordination?”

There was another long pause. Nick realized he’d taken out his frustration on the wrong person and immediately regretted the accusation. In the political world inside the beltway, Walt would be the last person to ever turn on Nick and he didn’t deserve such a harsh comment.

“Sorry,” Nick said.

“It’s okay. I understand.”

Stevie waved to Nick while remaining glued to his computer screen.

“All right, Walt,” Nick said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Be careful out there.”

“Will do.”

Nick hit the end button, then said, “What do you have, Stevie?”

“I have a story from eighteen months ago in the Tucson Citizen about a reporter of theirs name Donald Sandoval.

“Yeah?”

“Apparently he’d been reporting on the drug traffic crossing the border in southern Arizona. He was in the middle of a yearlong investigation when he was involved in a horrible accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“It doesn’t specify. It merely states he was leaving the newspaper to pursue other interests.”

“What other interests?”

Stevie looked up from the computer screen. “It doesn’t say. The article was buried in the local section of the paper.”

“Hmm.” Nick looked at Matt who was still fascinated with the notes he was writing, while Tommy was snoring away on the couch.

“Do you think you can track down a current address for him?” Nick asked.

Stevie looked disappointed. “Of course I can.”

“Good. Get it for me and I’ll check it out.” Nick walked a semicircle around Matt’s chair to see what he was writing. Once Nick saw the image in his lap, he froze. Matt had printed a recent satellite image of Garza’s Mexican compound and was writing notes about the information he was able to acquire from the image.

“If we could get even a dozen Special Forces down here,” Matt said, pointing to the entryways to the compound, “we could storm that complex and grab Garza.”

All the while, Matt was simply creating his own attack plan. It was becoming apparent Nick wouldn’t be able to hold him back much longer.

“We go over there with a chopper and do what you want, we lose,” Nick said.

“How?”

“Salcido will be blamed and virtually hand the election over to Rodriguez.”

“How can he be blamed?” Matt asked.

“It doesn’t matter. If he’s not responsible, then the media will say he’s out of touch. Either way, it will cause more friction and the Mexican voters want less friction, not more.”

“Fuck the voters,” Matt said. “Let Rodriguez take over. Why should we give a crap?”

Nick didn’t even entertain a return answer. Matt knew better than anyone what a Rodriguez presidency would mean for the US. He was fuming about his inability to get his hands on Garza and it was clouding his judgment.

“If we don’t find this bomb by tomorrow night,” Nick said, “we’ll go down and get this son of a bitch. I promise.”

That brought a gleam of life to Matt’s demeanor. He smiled. “Thanks, partner.”

President Merrick sat at a table in his private office eating Chinese food with Defense Secretary Martin Riggs and Secretary of State Sam Fisk. Unlike the Oval Office next door where Merrick would meet dignitaries, Prime Ministers and other diplomats, here, Merrick could loosen his tie and walk around in stocking feet.

A TV hung on each of the four walls. All four were muted. One TV was constantly set for CNN. The other three had Fox News, MSNBC and ESPN.

Riggs pointed to a TV screen behind Merrick. “Did you see this?”

Merrick shoveled a forkful of Beef Chow Mein and turned to see a replay of the Auburn Tiger mascot performing halftime tricks at a basketball game. The tiger jumped from a trampoline and misjudged a slam dunk, finishing upside down inside the basket.

The group chuckled at the scene.

ESPN fast-forwarded to show someone climbing a ladder and retrieving the poor kid from his plight. After returning to the floor, the tiger waved to the crowd and received a standing ovation.

Merrick returned to his meal, shaking his head with a smile.

“That was staged,” Fisk said.

“You think everything is staged,” Merrick said.

“And you think reality TV is real.”

Merrick took another bite of his Chow Mein. After swallowing, he pointed his fork at Riggs. “Where are we with the troop reduction in Pakistan?”

Riggs wiped his mouth with a white cloth napkin. “We’ll be down to bare minimum by Thanksgiving.”

“Is it affecting stability?”

“Of course, but it’s manageable.”

Merrick followed Fisk’s gaze to the CNN broadcast on his left. There was footage of protesters in Mexico City over President Salcido’s hard-line tactics, preventing travel to certain parts of the country because of the cartel’s stronghold. The violence had escalated to enormous proportions and Salcido was doing everything he could to protect his citizens.

“He can’t win,” Fisk said. “If he does nothing, he’s considered weak. If he tries to maintain control of certain districts, he’s considered restrictive.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come on in,” Merrick said, with a mouthful of food.

White House Chief of Staff Paul Dexter entered holding up a computer tablet in his left hand. He looked completely flustered. “Rodriguez just took the lead in the latest poll.”

Merrick dropped his fork and sat back in his chair. Riggs followed Merrick’s lead and stopped eating. Fisk went on unabated as Dexter handed his tablet to Merrick.

“Shit,” Merrick said, scanning the poll results.

Riggs sat there shaking his head. “This is not good.”

“Rodriguez has a compelling story,” Dexter said. “He’s going to offer the cartels unbridled passage on certain corridors to maintain their traffic. It will reduce violence and keep the majority of civilians safe.”

Riggs rolled his eyes.

“Don’t scoff, Marty,” Merrick said. “These people are living in a hopeless situation down there. Every president claims they’ll crack down on the cartels, yet all it ever does is pile up dead bodies in the streets. You think these people trust the government?”

“But Rodriguez is in collusion with these guys,” Dexter said.

“You think they care?” Merrick said, wiping his mouth and tossing the napkin on the table in front of him. “Rodriguez is offering the Mexican people safer streets. He’s offering them a way to keep their children out of harm’s way. Shit, I’d vote for the guy myself.”

“But what happens when he’s in office?” Dexter asked.

Riggs tapped a finger on the table. “He’ll get a cut of their profits, then he’ll give them unrestrained access to as many weapons as they’d like. It’ll be like arming an entire country. At that point, we couldn’t stop them from moving freely across our borders. They’ll own it.”

“Maybe we could offer them Arizona so they’ll leave us alone?” Fisk said, between mouthfuls.

No one laughed.

Merrick crossed his arms. “Are we interrupting your meal, Sam?”

“I think better on a full stomach.”

Dexter glanced nervously around the table. “Maybe we could send a team down there to. . um, assassinate him?”