Finney was aghast. “What the fuck, Scot? Is this for real?”

It was one of the few things about his country Harvath was ashamed of, and his failure to respond spoke volumes.

“Why doesn’t the president or Congress do anything about this?”

“It’s complicated,” replied Harvath.

“So is prostate surgery, but you do it regardless of how much of a pain in the ass it is. The alternative is unacceptable.”

“Listen, I agree. The terrorists, the drugs, the tidal wave of illegal immigrants. I’ve got friends on the Border Patrol. This is criminal, and we’ve only got ourselves to blame. As far as I’m concerned, how can we call America the most powerful nation on earth when we can’t even secure our own borders? We’re being overrun, and if we don’t get a handle on it immediately, we’re going to wake up real soon to a very different America -one that even the most liberal among us isn’t going to enjoy very much.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

Harvath loved Finney, but now wasn’t exactly the time to be solving this particular problem. “Short of loading up your Hummer with cinder blocks, mortar, and gas money to get to the border,” he said, “there isn’t much we can do.”

“Actually,” said Morgan, focusing his attention on Harvath, “that’s not exactly true.”

“So now we get to the specifics of the presentation,” replied Harvath.

“Precisely,” replied Morgan as he advanced to the next slide-a grainy surveillance photo. “Ronaldo Palmera, forty-three, born two hours outside Mexico City in Querétaro.

“A Zeta and visiting instructor at several of the camps, Palmera was known for his expertise in paramilitary warfare and exotic explosives. According to Mexican law enforcement officials, he was also known as one of the most ruthless of the cartel enforcers. In particular, he was known for the horrific ways he invented to torture and kill his victims.”

The more Harvath listened, the more he was certain that this was the right guy.

“At some point, Al Qaeda was impressed enough with Palmera to offer him a boatload of money to come to Afghanistan and work in their training camps. He was already somewhat conversational in Arabic, but added Dari and Pashto as well. Soon after, he converted to Islam.”

“The Troll said that all of the men on the list had multiple confirmed kills against American soldiers, intelligence operatives, and private contractors, so I’m guessing Palmera wasn’t brought to Gitmo just for his involvement with the Al Qaeda camps,” said Harvath.

“No,” replied Morgan as he advanced to another slide, “he wasn’t. After 9/11 the United States launched Operation Enduring Freedom. In advance of putting ground forces into Afghanistan, highly specialized CIA and Special Operations teams were sent in to collect intelligence, help form alliances, and so forth. Without question, it was one of the most dangerous and important missions immediately after 9/11. It was also one of the most successful. It would have been even more successful if it hadn’t been for Palmera.

“With bin Laden’s blessing, Palmera assembled his own teams to track down the Americans that Al Qaeda knew were going to be slipped in in advance of the ground campaign. The five U. S. teams you see in this photo were taken out by Palmera, many in ways that are so gruesome, they don’t even bear mentioning.

“Suffice it to say that Palmera did most of the wet work himself-torturing and killing his American captives after they had been disarmed and could no longer fight or defend themselves. It’s said that he liked to keep trophies from his kills. In the case of the American advance teams, it was their tongues. He cut them out while the soldiers and CIA operatives were still alive and then had a shoemaker in Kandahar cobble a pair of boots from them.”

Harvath thought of his friend Bob Herrington, who had been wounded in Afghanistan while helping another wounded Delta Force operative and had seen his career come to an end because of it. Although he had been forced out of a job he loved, he hadn’t hesitated to step up once again when his country needed him. Harvath knew what kind of men those soldiers and CIA operatives Palmera had killed were. They were incredibly brave, incredibly capable, and put their love for their country above all-just as Bob had.

Harvath knew that when he located Ronaldo Palmera, he was going to make him pay for a lot more than what he had done to his mother and Tracy Hastings.

Harvath was about to say as much when Ron Parker looked up from his laptop and interrupting his thoughts by saying, “We’ve got activity in the chat room.”

SANTIAGO DE QUERÉTARO, MEXICO

The city of Querétaro was hot, dirty, and crowded. Though its population was just under 1.5 million, most of them seemed to crowd into the historic downtown-a UNESCO World Heritage Site, so recognized for its well-preserved Colonial Era architecture.

Depending upon whether you were a Mexican or a Spanish historian, Querétaro was known as the cradle of Mexican independence or as a hotbed of revolutionary activity. It was in this city that the plot to overthrow the Spanish and push them back to Spain was born. It was also where the peace treaty known as the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed, ending the Mexican-American War and ceding parts of the modern-day U. S. states of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming, as well as all of California, Nevada, and Utah. In return, the United States agreed to take over $3.25 million in debts owed by Mexico to American citizens.

With both radical Islamic fundamentalists and a good majority of the Mexican government intent upon bringing down the United States, Querétaro seemed a perfect place for Ronaldo Palmera to call home.

When word came from the Troll of Palmera’s whereabouts, Ron Parker was actually disappointed that he wasn’t holed up in one of the training camps. With all of the ex-Special Operations people on the Elk Mountain payroll, he had hoped they could assemble their own strike team, slip across the border, and take out an entire camp.

Harvath would have liked that too, but grabbing Palmera in Querétaro had some distinct advantages. Foremost among them was that the city was at the crossroads of Mexico and had one of the most dynamic economies in the entire country. This meant that large amounts of American and European capital as well as large numbers of businessmen moved through Querétaro on a regular basis. With their shaved heads, Parker and Finney weren’t exactly going to blend-not the two of them together and especially not Finney. He was so big that he stood out everywhere he went, but Harvath had a good idea of how they could turn that to their advantage.

Operationally, Parker and Finney had enough tactical knowledge and experience to pull off what Harvath wanted to do. What’s more, a three-man team was as big as they dared put together for this operation. As good as the guys from Valhalla and Site Six were, the crew for this kind of assignment was best kept small.

When their jet touched down at Querétaro International Airport, a well-dressed Finney and Parker took up bodyguard positions around an even-better-dressed Harvath.

Once through customs and passport control, Finney and Parker unpacked radios from their bags, affixed them beneath their sport coats, and placed Secret Service-style ear buds into their ears. The policemen guarding the terminal studied their movements, but no more intensely than they did those of any other wealthy foreign businessman who came through the airport. Americans and Europeans were still a thing of both wonder and envy in Querétaro.

Halfway along the main road into the city, Finney instructed Parker to pull off. They followed a poorly paved road for about seven miles into one of the worst Mexican slums any of them had ever seen. Rental car or not, this wasn’t a good place to be driving a shiny, new American luxury four-door.