Betrayed Read online

  Veronica breathed a deep sigh. "Besides my Uncle Viktor, several other people have disappeared. The whole group of people he tried to help lead across the border is gone. No one here has received a letter or phone call."

  "Okay," Austin said. "I still don't understand how I'm a problem."

  "Because there is a rumor that an American politician is involved."

  Austin felt as if the earth had fallen out from under his feet. "Who?" he asked.

  "I don't know," she said. "But I'm going to find out."

  Chapter 30

  Carranza, Mexico

  Three days had passed since the block party. Rico and Austin played basketball using a rusted rim, without a net, nailed to a telephone pole. They had visited the video arcade several times. Veronica usually made an appearance every day, and sometimes the three of them visited the cantina and got lattes or soft drinks and just chilled watching people. She never stayed long, which made Austin wonder if she still disliked his being there.

  He had wracked his brain over the last seventy-two hours trying to think of an American politician who would even consider playing a part in the kidnapping of Mexican citizens. It could be anybody–a local official on the take, a state representative or senator who had fallen prey to the lure of money, or even a national office holder. They didn't even have to be from Texas. Austin knew there were thousands of suspects, but few ways to narrow down the list without asking questions, and that came with a potentially fatal risk.

  Something nagged at Austin's mind, not a solution, really, but a plan, a course of action. What is it? The thought, just beyond the grasp of his imagination, pinged in the back of his head like a tiny little hammer. He knew there had to be a way to help. The path to doing that simply proved elusive. He put his head down and rubbed his forehead with splayed fingers and thumb trying to massage out the answer. Then the light bulb finally clicked on.

  It hit Austin like some primordial instinct embedded in his DNA. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. He had heard that verse a million times in church and Sunday school, but then, sitting in a pew safe in his hometown, it had been just that–a verse, a quaint, lyrical collection of words that meant little–until right now. If people were missing and possibly dying, Austin realized there was no way he could remain silent or still any longer. If he was called on to sacrifice, so be it. That's the way real life worked, and the time to take action was now.

  He and Rico sat at an outside table at the cantina drinking from bottles of Coke chilled in a barrel of ice. Neither spoke as they watched traffic and people slogging by slowly, affected by the late afternoon heat. Rico hadn't even noticed the change in Austin's demeanor, but then again, Austin hadn't yet given voice to his new found determination. Dust from passing cars hung in the humid air. A trickle of sweat beaded its way down Austin's cheek.

  He felt a bump from behind him and pitched forward in his chair. "What the…"

  He turned and saw the wicked grin. Veronica. "You two solving the world's problems?" she asked. She passed by Rico and slid out a chair beside him, the metal legs scraping along the concrete patio floor.

  "Nice to see you, too," Austin said. She smiled. He liked it when she smiled.

  The waiter took her drink order, a lime Jarritos. He brought it to the table wrapped in a drenched napkin. Veronica's bottle had been submerged in the ice barrel, too.

  Some rowdy construction workers arrived in a loud, dusty group, calling out to the waiter.

  "Looks like your friends are back," Rico said to Veronica. When he told Austin about the encounter the week before, Austin felt an anger rise in him he'd rarely felt before.

  The group of men drinking beer sat at a table a few feet away. Austin assumed it was the same stupid guy who again whistled at Veronica and patted his lap, just like Rico had said. Veronica blushed and the other men at the table uttered a guttural, primal laugh.

  Austin hadn't understood the words since the man spoke in Spanish, but he got the gist of the insult from the man's expression and the way he patted his crotch. He stood up and yelled, "Hey!"

  Veronica snapped her head around and silenced him with her look. She spun to face the man, a painter by the look of his spotted overalls. She let fly a string rapid fire Spanish. The painter's face grew angry and the other men threw their heads back laughing furiously. Whatever she said, it hit him where it hurt.

  She turned and motioned for Austin to sit.

  "I can guess what he wanted, but what did you say?

  She sneered and laughed at the same time while fiddling with the corner of her napkin. "I told him to shut up and leave me alone or I'd kick his cahones up into his throat."

  Austin nodded. Yeah, that would do it. He sipped from his drink.

  She looked up from her napkin and directly at his eyes. "And by the way. I can handle myself. I don't need saving." She skipped a beat. "Ever."

  "Obviously."

  "I'm serious," she said.

  He sat up and spread his hands apart. "Okay! I get it." Man this girl has issues.

  Austin allowed her to take one long, slow draw of her drink before he opened the debate he knew would turn her mood sour. But it had to be done. "Hey guys. I've been thinking." He switched his glance between his friends and saw that both of them registered a silent "Oh, no" reaction, but both probably had vastly different reasons. "We're not going to make any progress on finding out who this politician is if we don't start asking around."

  Rico merely shook his head and looked toward the patio floor.

  Veronica sat straight up and seemed to consider his offer. "We? As in you, me, and Rico?"

  "Yes,"' he said, his eyes locked on hers.

  She inhaled a deep breath and let it drift out through her nose. "Austin, I thought I made it clear. You can't be involved. You draw unwanted attention to me and that will only increase if the only gringo in town starts interrogating everybody he sees about corrupt American politicians."

  Austin's heart sank only a little. Sure he wanted to help–and impress–Veronica, but his desire to help went deeper than that. He stiffened his resolve. "So we–or you if you don't want me to have any part of it–are just going to sit by while people are disappearing or maybe even dying?" He cocked his head to the side, a self-assured expression on his face. "Hmm, with all of your bluster and hard headedness, I thought you'd be a bit more willing to do something."

  Rico moaned, leaned forward, and hid his face in his hands, moving his head side-to-side. "Orale! Geez!"

  Veronica glared at him through her lashes, giving him a venomous look. "Voy a matarle cuando esto está por todas partes," she uttered practically hissing.

  Austin kept his eyes locked on her but aimed his words at Rico. "What did she just call me?"

  Rico didn't look up. He replied through his hands. "She said she's going to kill you when this is all over."

  "You're going to get involved no matter what I say, aren't you?" Veronica asked.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Why?" she said almost pleading now.

  "Because you need my help."

  "Ahh!" Veronica screamed the expression from somewhere deep inside. She slammed her drink bottle down on the table and stomped off. Her hair floated backward as she created her own breeze with her speed.

  Rico slid his fingers apart and sat upright. "Why did you do that?" Rico asked, his tone one of bewildered disbelief.

  "Mostly for the fun of it." He felt the smile fade from his face as his thoughts grew serious. "But also because I really want to help. It'll be like the Three Musketeers, man. You'll see."

  Veronica had gone about ten yards when Austin called after her, "If you didn't want me to do something, you shouldn't have shown me the barrio the other night."

  She stopped and spun on her heel. She barreled back toward him, leaning forward as if to give her words a more forceful projection. "I showed you that hoping you'd understand how important my work is." She stopped just short of
Austin's chair. "Hoping you would leave me alone to carry it out." Her cheeks glowed with frustration.

  "Well it looks like your plan backfired because I don't have any intention of leaving you alone. I can help and I'm going to."

  She squeezed her eyes closed. "You will only make things worse."

  Austin leaned back in his metal patio chair rocking it on its back two legs. "Yes, you keep saying that, Miss Can't-Be-Wrong, but let's look closely at the situation. You've got people missing, no sign of them, and relatives who haven't heard a word." He ticked the list off on his fingers. "All you've been able to do so far is wring your hands and scream about how I'm going to make it worse." He saw Veronica wince and the pain register in her eyes. Obviously, she was a girl used to being in control. He knew the insult cut deep, but he knew he needed to say it to break through her armor so she'd let him in–either that or alienate her for good, but he had to take the chance.

  Veronica expelled a deep sigh and looked at Rico. He could only shrug to indicate he had nothing to do with what Austin was about to suggest.

  "I suppose you have all the answers, then?" she said.

  "No. But I have a plan." He motioned to her chair for her to sit. "If you're interested in hearing it."

  Chapter 31

  Senator Ben Stevens' Conference Room

  Russell Senate Office Building

  Washington, D.C.

  A true brain trust sat around the conference table–Senator Stevens, Jordan Steele, Communications Director Jenni Chow, and Campaign Manager Jack Hunter. Opposite them sat campaign consultants from Goolsby, Damron & Koob who'd won the senator's account over William Pierce.

  "Now y'all know this is likely the most important speech of my career, don't ya?" Stevens asked, his voice thunderous in the relatively tight room. He looked over the tops of his reading glasses looking at a document marked IMMIG37, meaning it was the 37th draft of the speech he was to deliver this Saturday in Eagle Pass. Each person around the table, and even the lower-level aids sitting against the wall, had a copy. "Are we gonna go through this page by page or what?"

  Steele, his jaw in his hand as he studied the script, about ninety percent of which he wrote, slid his elbow back along the mahogany table, its top polished to a glasslike sheen. "No sir…" it came out a little more harsh than he'd intended. "We've got it polished up pretty well." He nodded toward the consultants. "These folks are here to go over some questions you might expect after you deliver the speech so you're as prepared as you can be."

  The senator tilted his head in their direction as if just now seeing them.

  Jordan Steele flipped through his stapled copy of the speech and handed it to Stevens. "Why don't we start here," he said pointing to the top of the final page. "Then practice moving from the conclusion of the speech to taking questions from our mock reporters."

  "Very well," the senator said. He leaned forward in his chair and took a sip of water from his glass. He cleared his throat and spoke. "When I was a young man, our teachers, parents, and elders called this great nation a melting pot, so named because the greatness of America was derived from the strength of our differences.

  "When a broken bone heals, it becomes stronger than before the break. The same is true of society. In New York City, where the culture of the Irish intersected with that of Italians and Chinese, you might suspect that America might have broken, but instead traditions melded. Today few in that city say, 'I'm Irish or I'm Italian.' As the events of 9/11 showed us, they are simply New Yorkers, proud and strong, as we are here in the Great Republic of Texas, hard-working, fiercely independent, and yes, proud of our American heritage.

  "Though the politically correct fail to acknowledge it, we fought a war to free ourselves from Spanish rule. American blood watered the ground beneath our feet so we might live free. The Rio Grande, visible just in the distance, is not only a physical barrier, but a political one. We are a sovereign nation, as is the country of Mexico. Our forefathers believed, as some of us still do, that the citizens of the United States are endowed by Almighty God with a brand of liberty and justice superior to others.

  "Our Mexican friends must obviously believe the same given the number of them who illegally cross our border. Do not misunderstand me. I call them friends, and they are. Trade with Mexico supports a robust American economy. Tourism and travel help us achieve a cultural understanding and mutual respect, the significance of which we only share with one other nation–Canada. For people willing to follow the rules, we throw open America's doors and welcome them as brothers and sisters. Legal immigration today. Legal immigration tomorrow. Legal immigration forever. But…"

  Steele reached his hand out to stop the senator. "Sorry for the interruption, sir, but let's make a note to pause at that point. The speech reaches a bit of a climax there and I suspect people will give you a rousing round of applause." In fact there was no doubt in Steele's mind people would applaud, whoop, and scream since his staff had arranged for more than three dozen campaign workers to plant themselves throughout the crowd to do just that at strategic moments.

  Stevens continued. "But despite what the liberals would have us believe, people who come to this country illegally, no matter the reason, become criminals the moment they step foot across the border. Today we take a stand to slam that door closed with a system of fences, increased armed patrols, trenches–whatever the effort requires–that door closes today! American freedoms come with a price, and with our military daily sacrificing their freedoms, and sometimes their lives, standing in a line to immigrate legally is the smallest of prices to pay. Ladies and gentleman, may God bless you." Stevens' voice again thundered, "May He bless the great state of Texas. And may God bless the United States of America!"

  A moment of awkward silence followed until Jordan Steele waved one hand and said, "Okay. Applause, applause, applause. All right, Bert, fire away with your first question."

  He didn't hesitate. "Senator, critics of the fence and armed guards approach say it reminds them of the Berlin Wall where people were shot simply trying to reach freedom. They see a parallel here. How do you respond to that?"

  Stevens didn't even blink. "Son, the East Germans were communists who shot people for the pleasure of it…"

  "And yet, Senator," Bert interrupted, "Germans by the hundreds, knowing that danger was there, tried that wall and some even made it."

  Stevens raised a finger and flared his eyebrows. It was obvious he was not used to having his sentences intruded upon. "Let me finish my point. Our guards appreciate the concepts of justice and, like all American law enforcement, will fire a weapon only, and I stress only, in self defense or in defense of another. As to your question about danger, that is precisely why our democracy is so much better. All we're asking is that immigrants take a number and wait."

  Everyone at the table nodded their approval of his answer except the man who asked it, who pressed, "C'mon Senator. You mean to say that you're going to arm twenty-two year olds, pump them full of patriotic rhetoric, and you don't even anticipate one of them might pull a little 'frontier justice?'" The man made air quotes.

  Stevens' face turned a little pink. "I expect our law officials to be sufficiently trained to exercise good judgment. This is the U.S. side of the border, you know?"

  Everyone winced. "We should avoid that last statement," one of the consultants said.

  Stevens harrumphed and tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket.

  Another consultant chimed in. "Senator, some critics point out that some people are going to cross illegally no matter what we do and that the fence is forcing them to cross in areas of wide, dry desert with no fresh water for miles and full of dangerous terrain and wild animals, meaning we're creating a death trap for them."

  Stevens had regained his composure. "Some people are going to murder other people no matter what we do. The same with robbery and burglary. So following your logic, we should throw our hands up in defeat and abandon our efforts to prevent crime? I, for one, ref
use to do that. I'm sorry when anyone dies taking a shortcut to our country, but there's a legal alternative. It's called 'Get in line.' The line starts at the immigration office."

  The interview went on for nearly twenty minutes, some questions making Stevens more uncomfortable than others. His staff made suggestions on wording. Some he accepted, others he rejected, standing firm.

  Toward the end, Bert, the first consultant to ask a question, barely let him finish a sentence before he fired off another query. "Senator, do you condone the federal government suspending its own environmental laws and conducting what some people call the illegal seizure of land from Texans simply to build a fence that may do more harm than good?"

  It was the last straw. Stevens' volcanic temper erupted. "I don't know who you think you are, son, but if you're not on board with this…"

  Steele tried to interrupt but the consultant spoke first. "I am on board with this, but if you can't handle me or these questions, you'll never be able to handle CNN. You need to work on your reactions. And while these little speech mannerisms might play in Texas, you're going to be on the national stage. For God's sake, quit referring to Mexicans as 'them.' I'm not your son. Female reporters aren't 'honey' or 'darlin.' If you call them anything, call them by their first names. It's neutral and doesn't sound like you're on the defensive, which, by the way, is exactly how you're coming off."

  Stevens glared. "You do realize you're speaking to a United States senator, don't ya?"

  "I do," Bert said. "And if you want to win re-election, it's the kind of feedback you need to hear. Besides, you're paying me good money to talk to you in just this way."

  "Not for long, son." The senator stood. "Jordan, you stay! Everybody else, out!

  Chairs scuttled along the floor. People hurriedly picked up papers and Styrofoam coffee cups and scampered out the door.