"It's tonight or never," sighed Nichols wearily.
The President asked, "What kind of numbers are we looking at?"
"A computer head-wunt from an aerial photograph shows nearly four hundred and thirty-five thousand," replied Schiller.
"And they're going to pour ugh a corridor less than a kilometer wide,"
Nichols said grimly.
"Damn that murdering bastard!" the President said savagely. "Doesn't he realize or care that thousands will be killed or drowned in the crush alone?"
"A majority of them women and children," added Nichols.
"The Capesterres aren't known for charity and goodwill," muttered Schiller acidly.
"Still not too late to remove him." This from CIA director Martin Brogan. "Killing Topiltzin would be comparable to assassinating Hitler in 1930."
"Providing your hired gun got close enough," commented Nichols.
"Afterward, he'd be butchered by the crowd."
"I was thinking of a high-powered rifle from four hundred meters."
Schiller shook his head. "Not a practical solution. A clear shot could only come from an elevation on our side of the river. The Mexicans would know immediately who was responsible. Then things could Turn real ugly. Instead of a peaceful crowd, General Chandler's troops would be facing a maddened mob. They'd storm Roma with any weapons they could find, guns, knives, rocks and bottles. Then we'd have a real war on our hands."
"I concur," said Nichols. "General Chandler would have no choice but to open up with everything he had to save his men and any American citizens in the area."
The President struck the arm of the chair with his clenched fist in frustration. "Is there nothing we can do to prevent mass slaughter?"
"any way we look at it," said Nichols, "we're on the short end of the stick."
"Maybe we should say the hell with it and Turn over the Alexandria Library's treasure to President De L4orenzo. Anything to keep it out of
Topiltzin's filthy hands."
"A meaningless gesture," said Brogan. "Topiltzin's only using the artifacts as an excuse for a confrontation. Our intelligence sources report he plans the same immigrant invasions from Baja into Southern California and across the border at Nogales into Arizona."
"If only we can stop this madness," muttered the President.
One of four phones buzzed, and Nichols picked it up. "General Chandler, Mr. President. He's coming through on a scrambled frequency."
The President let out a long breath. "Staring into the face of the man I may have to order to kill ten thousand people is the least I can do."
The monitor faded for a moment and then came back with the head and shoulders of a man who was in his late forties.
His face was gaunt and his heavily silvered hair was bare of helmet or cap. The stress of command showed in the lines around the blue eyes.
"Good morning, General," the President greeted him. "I regret I can see you and you can't see me, but there is no camera at this end."
"I understand, Mr. President."
"What is the situation?"
"A heavy rain is just starting to fall, which should prove a godsend for those poor people. They can replenish their water supplies, dust will be dampened, and the stench from their latrines is already beginning to diminish."
"Have there been any provocations?"
"The usual taunts and banners, but no violence."