A confused twinge tweaked the President's face. "No number?"
"No, sir. The U.S. Army South. Our Southern Command, as we like to call it. Basically, with the Fifth and Sixth perched above the Mexicans and the Southern Command roosting on their back doorstep, we have them surrounded from the git-go."
The President grinned. He was not only right, but he knew what git-go meant without having to ask. He was starting to get the hang of all this military stuff and decided to venture a solid suggestion. "I propose for the duration of this engagement—"
"Operation."
"Operation. I meant to say that. It's not an engagement until we actually engage, is it?"
"No, sir. And even then it will be a war. But you had a suggestion?"
"Yes. For the duration I propose we rename the Southern Command the US. Seventh Army so there's no confusion."
The faces of the JCS fell like crumbling outcroppings.
"Can't. We already have a Seventh Army."
"I don't see them on the map___"
"That's because they're headquartered in Germany."
"Maybe we should call them back."
"Not a good idea."
"Okay. Then the Southern Forces will be the Eighth Army."
"They're hunkered down on the Korean DMZ. We pull them out, and I guarantee you Seoul will fall in two days flat."
"Damn," said the President. "Is there a Ninth Army?"
"Not in name."
"Then who's protecting Alaska and Hawaii?"
"That would be the U.S. Army Pacific."
"Why aren't they on the map?"
"Because for the purposes of this briefing, we assume no Mexican military threat to Alaska and Hawaii, Mr. President."
"I think I follow you now."
"So in conclusion—" the other JCS members perked up at the welcome word, conclusion "—I submit to you that our borders are secure."
The President beamed. "I can see that now."
"Great."
The phone shrilled. It was the direct line to the Pentagon.
The JCS chair picked it up and said, "We're briefing CinC CONUS here."
"That's you, Mr. President," the secretary of the Navy said to the President. "It's short for Commander in Chief CONUS."
The President positively beamed. He had a new title.
"What's that?" the JCS chair said into the receiver. After listening a moment, he said, "I'll pass the word." And he hung up.
The JCS chair adjusted his glasses and said, "That was the Pentagon. We have word from our Marine air base listening post in Yuma that the Mexicans are announcing to the world they have a secret weapon."
"What's it called?"
"El Diablo."
"Isn't that Spanish for 'the Devil'?"
"That's what they're calling it."
The President looked shaken. "This sounds serious. Can they have a secret weapon with a name like that?"
"If they do, it's their secret weapon. They can call it whatever they want."
"I don't like the sound of it…"
"Propaganda."
"What if it's not? What if American cities are at risk?"
The Joint Chiefs of Staff exchanged doubtful, worried glances. For once they didn't know what to tell the President of the United States. They had never heard of any weapons system like El Diablo, but the very name made them fidgety.
Chapter Twenty-four
"No matter what happens," Remo Williams was saying, "I'm kissing nobody's ring."
The Master of Sinanju made no reply. He had held his silence since the white chocolate limousine had conveyed them through one of the three gates to the walled city-state in the heart of modern Rome called the Vatican.
"You hear me? I don't kiss rings."
They were following the ramrod figure in the crimson vestments who had greeted them as they exited the limousine.
He had announced himself in heavily accented English as the cardinal secretary of state. Chiun had said nothing then, only inclined his head politely toward the cardinal, who gestured them to follow.
Now Chiun spoke, his voice sounding faraway. "On these grounds good Nero had his gardens and his circus. Christians were put down in wonderful numbers."
"I don't give a novena," said Remo.