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Authors: Gary Grossman
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governors, congressmen, and even presidents. However, Congressman Duke Patrick’s run for the White House would be crafted by a committee of two scoundrels. They’d market and elect a winner. It was all detailed in a confidential white paper prepared by Williamson’s Center for Strategic Studies, a think tank that Patrick knew very little about. And yes, switching parties was an active scenario.
“Now, let’s review some talking points you can go with right away,” Aderly said in his booming voice. “This will be great.”
Seven
The Oval Office
The day was going to end as it began. With hard, harsh words.
“Good evening, President Hernandez. I’m sorry that this call is coming so late. I appreciate your time now.”
“No hours shall ever get in the way of our friendship,” the former importer, now president of Mexico, lied.
The CIA reported that Oscar Hernandez’s imports were not always legal. Taylor had been fully briefed before their first meeting a year ago. Hernandez had made multimillions in contraband—drugs and weapons. Much of his profit was earned at the expense of U.S. citizens—many of whom were now dead from overdoses or gangland assassinations.
“Thank you for that. Mr. President, you’re on a speaker phone and General Johnson is with me.”
J3 offered only a curt hello. He’d hadn’t perfected pleasantries yet.
“I’m honored to be on with both of you,” Mexico’s president noted. “My chief of staff, Elder Cabrera, has joined me.”
Cabrera said hello. But before they lost more time with small talk, Taylor went on point.
“Mr. President, I will start with geography we are both familiar with.” There would be no interruption for five minutes.
“We share a two-thousand-mile border that is porous. By conservative estimates, a quarter of a million illegal aliens, many of them Mexican nationals, enter the United States from other-than-official border crossings. Mind you, that two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand estimate is conservative, even though illegal immigration has slowed. A more accurate account suggests a half million to a million. You know how border states like Texas and Arizona feel. It’s not pretty.”
“We wish it were otherwise, Mr. President.
“Agreed,” Taylor said instantly shutting down a response. “Two years after 9/11, the U.S. Border Patrol apprehended”—for this he consulted his notes—“39,215 illegals and OTMs.” Other-than-Mexicans required no explanation. “The next year, the number increased to 65,814. Three years later, twice that number. Now it’s doubled again.
“Our records show that while many crossing the border are admittedly hard working men and women seeking to make an honest living for their families, many are not. More than 20 percent of illegals entering last year had criminal records. Twenty percent, Mr. President.
“They come through Mexico, though their countries of origin vary. Honduras, Brazil, Paraguay, El Salvador.” Morgan Taylor paused so his next point—the object of the call—would truly sink in. “They come from other countries as well. Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, and Pakistan.
“Mr. President, the problem is twofold. By not controlling your side of the border between our two great nations, you have created a terrorist freeway—a Highway One to the United States. Highway One with hundreds, if not thousands of off ramps.
“We detain. You don’t control. We disarm. You allow re-arming. We move to close the entrance points. You even publish and distribute guides for those who seek to enter. We deport. You turn them around and point them back north.
“Specifics, must be on your mind, Mr. President. So, I will give them to you. A Juarez television station, on more than one occasion, reported that suspected terrorists have paid taxi drivers to take them across the border. Their destination—Sante Fe, New Mexico. But if that is unsubstantiated, then the crossing of Mahmoud Youssef Kourani was
“Now, let’s review some talking points you can go with right away,” Aderly said in his booming voice. “This will be great.”
Seven
The Oval Office
The day was going to end as it began. With hard, harsh words.
“Good evening, President Hernandez. I’m sorry that this call is coming so late. I appreciate your time now.”
“No hours shall ever get in the way of our friendship,” the former importer, now president of Mexico, lied.
The CIA reported that Oscar Hernandez’s imports were not always legal. Taylor had been fully briefed before their first meeting a year ago. Hernandez had made multimillions in contraband—drugs and weapons. Much of his profit was earned at the expense of U.S. citizens—many of whom were now dead from overdoses or gangland assassinations.
“Thank you for that. Mr. President, you’re on a speaker phone and General Johnson is with me.”
J3 offered only a curt hello. He’d hadn’t perfected pleasantries yet.
“I’m honored to be on with both of you,” Mexico’s president noted. “My chief of staff, Elder Cabrera, has joined me.”
Cabrera said hello. But before they lost more time with small talk, Taylor went on point.
“Mr. President, I will start with geography we are both familiar with.” There would be no interruption for five minutes.
“We share a two-thousand-mile border that is porous. By conservative estimates, a quarter of a million illegal aliens, many of them Mexican nationals, enter the United States from other-than-official border crossings. Mind you, that two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand estimate is conservative, even though illegal immigration has slowed. A more accurate account suggests a half million to a million. You know how border states like Texas and Arizona feel. It’s not pretty.”
“We wish it were otherwise, Mr. President.
“Agreed,” Taylor said instantly shutting down a response. “Two years after 9/11, the U.S. Border Patrol apprehended”—for this he consulted his notes—“39,215 illegals and OTMs.” Other-than-Mexicans required no explanation. “The next year, the number increased to 65,814. Three years later, twice that number. Now it’s doubled again.
“Our records show that while many crossing the border are admittedly hard working men and women seeking to make an honest living for their families, many are not. More than 20 percent of illegals entering last year had criminal records. Twenty percent, Mr. President.
“They come through Mexico, though their countries of origin vary. Honduras, Brazil, Paraguay, El Salvador.” Morgan Taylor paused so his next point—the object of the call—would truly sink in. “They come from other countries as well. Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, and Pakistan.
“Mr. President, the problem is twofold. By not controlling your side of the border between our two great nations, you have created a terrorist freeway—a Highway One to the United States. Highway One with hundreds, if not thousands of off ramps.
“We detain. You don’t control. We disarm. You allow re-arming. We move to close the entrance points. You even publish and distribute guides for those who seek to enter. We deport. You turn them around and point them back north.
“Specifics, must be on your mind, Mr. President. So, I will give them to you. A Juarez television station, on more than one occasion, reported that suspected terrorists have paid taxi drivers to take them across the border. Their destination—Sante Fe, New Mexico. But if that is unsubstantiated, then the crossing of Mahmoud Youssef Kourani was
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