Don Pendleton - Diplomacy Directive

Fonseca asked his assistant to bring coffee and then took a seat on a comfortable sofa across from one of a couple chairs he offered Bolan.

“I hate meeting with folks behind my desk,” he told the Executioner. “It’s too impersonal.”

“I understand. I know you’re busy so I won’t impose on too much of your time, sir,” Bolan said, easily shifting into his role as a military man accustomed to extending full diplomatic courtesies.

“Are you kidding, Colonel? Hell, you’re doing me a big favor by being here. I’m sure you can understand the governor wants this situation resolved as soon as possible. It’s resulted in a lot of political unrest.”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to ask you,” Bolan replied. “What are your thoughts about this attack being politically motivated?”

“I’m not buying it. And frankly, by virtue of the fact you even bothered to ask that question I’m thinking you aren’t, either.”

“Not really.”

Fonseca settled into the sofa by crossing his legs and draping one arm over the backrest. “As I’ve already told the president, I believe this indicates a move by militant members of the Puerto Rican Independence Party calling themselves Los Independientes. The Independents.”

“That’s a serious charge,” Bolan observed. “Especially seeing they’re an officially recognized party of government.”

“True, but not all of their members necessarily speak for the PIP. Please bear in mind this particular faction does not have any official position or support by the party. In fact, the PIP leadership denounces any actions by the Independents, and has further implemented both political and legal sanctions against them. Moreover, the views of this group are diametrically opposed to the New Progressive Party.”

Bolan furrowed an eyebrow. “Afraid I’m not familiar.”

“The New Progressives also support independence for Puerto Rico, but by means of ratification into U.S. statehood rather than adoption of territorial autonomy. If I might be blunt, it surprises me that the Oval Office would choose to respond to this incident by sending a military man rather than a full ambassadorial party.”

Bolan thought fast. “My position is…unique.”

“Really? In what way?”

“My function is actually as military liaison to the Diplomatic Security Service. Because of my particular background, someone thought I’d be of more use than a politician or DSS agent alone.”

“I see,” Fonseca replied, poker-faced. “You are, um, attaché to some sort of special operations group.”

Bolan smiled. “If it allays your concerns as to my qualifications.”

“Fair enough. I won’t press with uncomfortable questions. I’m sure the president’s decision to send you was well thought out, and that’s good enough for me, Colonel. And I can assure you that you’ll have the full cooperation and authority of my office as well as that of the governor’s while you’re in Puerto Rico.”

“Thank you. What else can you tell me about the militant group you suspect was behind this?”

“Well, you’ll recall I mentioned the New Progressive Party, or PNP as they are often referred to. They have their own entourage of violent radicals, whose actions are also fully sanctioned. The PNP has had considerably more success disavowing this group than the PIP has of the Independents, since there’s never been any evidence that ties the PNP cell to any violent actions in Puerto Rico, political or otherwise. Or anywhere in the Western Hemisphere for that matter.”

“Peaceful political extremists?” Bolan frowned. “Doesn’t feel right.”

“It may not be after what happened the other night,” Fonseca replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s claimed credit for the attack, yet, but if the Independents do come forward this might very well spurn their enemies into a counterresponse. A violent one. And that won’t be good for either the current political state of Puerto Rico or the upcoming elections.”

“You think the Independents might try to foment the PNPs folks into armed rebellion under some flag of solidarity.”

“The thought had merited my concerns for just such a possibility, and the governor agrees. In either case it’s a threat we cannot afford. We must stop the Independents, guilty or not, before there are any further acts like this.”

He paused for a time, probably to let the Executioner chew on that statement for a bit.

After a time, Fonseca continued, “There’s always been a level of political unrest here, Colonel. Most individuals in the general populace have very personal and impassioned views about what should be done to solidify Puerto Rico’s political sovereignty and economy. If such incidents continue to occur, warring between the Independents and their enemies could well become the least of our problems. It could cause Puerto Ricans to utterly lose faith in our system of government and, quite honestly, result in a full-scale civil war.”

“Thus destabilizing U.S. interests here.”

“Right. That would also give the more conservative elements in Washington ammunition to talk the president into adopting a military solution.”

That idea was unthinkable, although Bolan knew that a civil war in Puerto Rico would leave the Man no choice but to send military forces to restore law and order. The small National Guard presence here would never be enough to tamp down the fervor of an all-out armed conflict between civilians. The circumstances leading to the very founding of America had proven that. Democratic society only worked as long as the people had faith in the system of representative government. The moment they lost that faith, it wasn’t hard to believe they would take matters into their own hands by organizing an opposing force. Civil war in Puerto Rico? America having to intervene with its own protectorate by means of military force? The end results of such a thing would be tragic and horrific.

“I think I’ll start by sending a message to the Independents, letting them know if they are responsible this won’t go unchecked,” Bolan said.

“Fair enough. What do you need from me?”

“A place to deliver it,” the Executioner replied.

Bolan got a delivery address, and after returning to his hotel room and changing into civvies, he drove across San Juan to a poverty-stricken east side neighborhood. Grimaldi would pick up another rental vehicle and be on standby in case the Executioner needed backup. The houses were really shacks; gutters and sidewalks were in disrepair, and filth covered the streets and cluttered the curbs. Weeds or mud took up space where green lawns should have been. The cars parked in the yards or along the narrow streets were so old and rusted that most didn’t look like they could be moved, and if they were they might well fall apart before traveling even half a block.

Bolan had seen squalor like this before, and it left him understanding why elements within Puerto Rico were dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. Not that the Executioner believed an independent Puerto Rico could fair better. Sometimes there were political elements that chose to let things continue like this, to permit certain segments of the populace to live in these conditions, so they could justify some higher political gain.

Why would it seem out of place, then, for the Independents to set up shop in a neighborhood like this?

Bolan studied his target through the binoculars from his position a half block down. He didn’t take long to get the lay of the area. His vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb, and he knew if he stayed too long it would draw some unwanted attention, which he couldn’t afford. He would have to hit the place hard and fast.