Don Winslow - The Power of the Dog

Art says, “Look, I only know about Cerberus. And what I know is enough to sink you.”

“I agree with your analysis,” Hobbs says. “Now, where does that leave us?”

“With our jaws clamped on each other’s throats,” Art says. “And neither of us can let go.”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

They hike through the camp, past the obstacle course, the shooting range, the clearings in the jungle where cammie-clad soldiers sit on the ground and listen to instructors teach ambush tactics.

“Everything in the training camp,” Hobbs says, “was paid for by Miguel Angel Barrera.”

“Jesus.”

“Barrera understands.”

“Understands what?”

Hobbs leads him up a steep trail to the top of a hill. Hobbs points out over the vast jungle stretching below.

“What does that look like to you?” he asks.

Art shrugs. “Rain forest.”

“To me,” Hobbs says, “it looks like a camel’s nose. You know the old Arab proverb: Once the camel gets his nose inside the tent, the camel will be inside the tent. That’s Nicaragua down there, the Communist camel’s nose in the tent of the Central American isthmus. Not an island like Cuba, that we can isolate with our navy, but part of the American mainland. How’s your geography?”

“Passable.”

“Then you’ll know,” Hobbs says, “that Nicaragua’s southern border-which we’re looking at-is a scant three hundred miles from the Panama Canal. It shares a northern border with an unstable Honduras and a less-stable El Salvador, both of which are struggling against Communist insurgencies. So is Guatemala, which would be the next domino to fall. If you’re up on your geography, you’ll know that there is very little but mountainous jungle and rain forest between Guatemala and the southern Mexican states of Yucatan, Quintana Roo and Chiapas. Those states are overwhelmingly rural and poor, populated by landless helots who are perfect victims for a Communist insurgency. What if Mexico falls to the Communists, Arthur? Cuba is dangerous enough-now imagine a two-thousand-mile border with a Russian satellite country. Imagine Soviet missiles based in hardened silos in Jalisco, Durango, Baja.”

“So what, they take Texas next?”

“No, they take Western Europe,” Hobbs says, “because they know-and it’s the truth-that even the United States doesn’t have the military or financial resources to defend a two-thousand-mile border with Mexico and the Fulda Gap at the same time.”

“This is crazy.”

“Is it?” Hobbs asks. “The Nicaraguans are already exporting arms across the border to the FLMN in El Salvador. But don’t even take it that far. Just consider Nicaragua, a Soviet client state that straddles Central America. Imagine Soviet subs based on the Pacific side from the Gulf of Fonseca, or on the Atlantic side along the Gulf of Mexico. They could turn the Gulf and the Caribbean into a Soviet lake. Consider this: If you think it was hard for us to spot missile silos in Cuba, try detecting them in those mountains, over there in the Cordillera Isabelia. Intermediate-range missiles could easily reach Miami, New Orleans or Houston with very little response time available to us. That’s not to mention the threat of submarine-launched missiles striking from somewhere in the Gulf or the Caribbean. We cannot allow a Soviet client state to remain in Nicaragua. It’s that simple. The Contras are willing to do the job, or would you rather see American boys fighting and dying in that jungle, Arthur? Those are your choices.”

“That’s what you want me to choose? Dope-pushing Contras? Cuban terrorists? Salvadoran death squads that murder women, kids, priests and nuns?”

“They’re brutal, vicious and evil,” Hobbs says. “The only worse people I can think of are the Communists.

“Look at the globe,” Hobbs continues. “We ran away in Vietnam, and the Communists learned exactly the right lesson from that. They took Cambodia in the blink of an eye. We did nothing. They marched on Afghanistan, and we did nothing except pull some athletes out of a track meet. So it’s Afghanistan, next it’s Pakistan and then it’s India. And then it’s done, Arthur-the entire Asian landmass is red. You have Soviet client states in Mozambique, Angola, Ethiopia, Iraq and Syria. And we do nothing and nothing and nothing, so they think, Fine, let’s see if they do nothing in Central America. So they take Nicaragua, and how do we respond? The Boland Amendment.”

“It’s the law.”

“It’s suicide,” Hobbs says. “Only a fool or Congress couldn’t see the folly of allowing a Soviet puppet to remain in the heart of Central America. The stupidity beggars description. We had to do something, Arthur.”

“So the CIA takes it upon itself to-”

“The CIA took nothing on itself,” Hobbs says. “This is what I’m trying to tell you, Arthur. Cerberus comes from the highest possible authority in the land.”

“Ronald Reagan-”

“-is Churchill,” Hobbs says. “At a critical moment in history, he has seen the truth for what it is and has had the resolve to act.”

“Are you telling me-”

“He doesn’t know any of the details, of course,”Hobbs says. “He simply ordered us to reverse the tide inCentral America and overthrow the Sandi-nistas by whatever means necessary. I’ll read chapter and verse to you, Arthur-National Security Department Directive Number Three authorizes the vice president to take charge of activities against Communist terrorists operating anywhere in Latin America. In response, the vice president formed TIWG-the Terrorist Incident Working Group-based in El Salvador, Honduras and Costa Rica, which in turn instituted the NHAO-the National Humanitarian Assistance Operation-which, in accordance with the Boland Amendment, is meant to provide nonlethal 'humanitarian’ aid to Nicara-guan refugees, aka the Contras. Operation Cerberus doesn’t run through the Company-that’s where you’re wrong-but through the VP’s office. Scachi reports directly to me, and I report to the VP.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m appealing to your patriotism,”Hobbs says.

“The country I love doesn’t get in bed with people who torture its own agents to death.”

“Then to your pragmatism,”Hobbs says. He takes some documents out of his pocket. “Bank records. Deposits made to your accounts in the Caymans, Costa Rica, Panama… all from Miguel Angel Barrera.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Withdrawal slips,”Hobbs says, “with your signature.”

“It was a deal I had to make.”

“The lesser of two evils. Exactly,”Hobbs says. “I understand the dilemma completely. Now I’m asking you to understand ours. You keep our secrets, we keep yours.”

“Fuck you.”

Art turns and starts to walk back down the trail.

“Keller, if you think we’re just going to let you walk out of here-”

Art holds up his middle finger and keeps walking away.

“There must be some sort of arrangement-”

Art shakes his head. They can take their domino theory, he thinks, and shove it sideways. What couldHobbs offer me that would make up for Ernie?

Nothing.

There is nothing in this world. Nothing you can offer a man who’s lost everything-his family, his work, his friend, his hope, his trust, his belief in his own country. There’s nothing you can offer that man that means anything.

But it turns out there is.

Then Art understands-Cerberus isn’t a guard, he’s an usher. A panting, grinning, tongue-lolling doorman who eagerly invites you into the underworld.

And you can’t resist.