Frustrated with the current political climate self-made billionaire, Chris Cameron retires from a successful hedge fund to focus on philanthropic endeavors. With the notoriety received after he competes in the World Series of Poker to raise money for his newest charities, the Tea Party member is introduced to the presumptive Republican presidential nominee. A driven, charismatic, and brilliant leader by nature, Cameron soon finds himself invited into the elite world of professional politics.

When Chris is asked to be the running mate on the GOP ticket, he leaps at the opportunity. The duo is elected and with the assistance of a super-majority Republican-controlled Congress they quickly implement a far-reaching agenda to restore the United States to its rightful place atop the geopolitical stage.

Cameron Nation tells the story of how a street smart kid from the suburbs of New York City leverages a deep understanding of economic theory, the business world and the capital markets combined with the savvy of an experienced poker player to provide overwhelming strategic support and gain the trust of the new president and the growing conservative movement.

Cameron Nation

Going All-In to Save His CountryBy David Carraturo

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 David Carraturo
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0620-5

Contents

Acknowledgments..................................................viiPrologue Big Tony and Sally Nuts.................................ixPart 1: Who Is Chris Cameron?....................................1Chapter 1 First We Eat, and Then We Talk.........................3Chapter 2 Tuckahoe...............................................14Chapter 3 Forward Observer.......................................22Chapter 4 Sabina's Secret........................................30Chapter 5 Cameron Investment Partners............................43Chapter 6 Samajumia3.............................................55Chapter 7 A Scene from Hell......................................64Chapter 8 Misery Index...........................................83Part 2: A Day in the Life........................................93Chapter 9 The Media..............................................95Chapter 10 Joint Council.........................................100Chapter 11 Tea Party.............................................111Chapter 12 The Eagle Ford Shale..................................118Chapter 13 Reunion...............................................126Chapter 14 Almost Dead and Not Well..............................131Chapter 15 The Speech Heard 'Round the World.....................140Chapter 16 Mexican Vacation......................................148Chapter 17 An Incident...........................................159Chapter 18 Time for Real Change..................................167Part 3: Now We're Moving.........................................173Chapter 19 Liquefied Natural Gas.................................175Chapter 20 Oregon Ducks..........................................184Chapter 21 New Best Friend.......................................199Chapter 22 Blood Brothers........................................208Chapter 23 The Smartest Men in the Room..........................215Chapter 24 The Hardest-Hitting Linebacker........................224Chapter 25 Beautiful Pieces of Art...............................236Chapter 26 George Jetson.........................................245Chapter 27 Gamblers Anonymous....................................254Chapter 28 And Now You Can't Get Out.............................267Epilogue We Did It...............................................284

Chapter One

First We Eat, and Then We Talk

March 21, 2015

The sun shone brightly in the eastern sky, but it was not the best day to be out along the border. With the late spring morning wind whipping across the rugged south Texas terrain, the thermostat might have read thirty-one degrees, but in actuality it felt more like it was in the teens. Fort Bliss, the largest US Army Training and Doctrine Command installation in the country, was situated adjacent to the city of El Paso. Built in 1849 to protect the southern border from raids by Mexicans and Native Americans, the reservation served its country commendably, with a long history of being a staging point for deploying military personnel to support conflicts around the world.

Strategically located on the southwest quadrant of the military establishment was ground zero. The US Army Corp of Engineers had erected a special six-story viewing tower that was secured directly into the pavement of the J. E. B. Stuart and Cassidy Road intersection. The eight-by-ten-foot rectangular platform protruded above a reception tent and provided a magnificent panoramic view for miles in all directions. The structure was purposely meant to look hastily constructed, but in reality it could withstand gale-force winds.

As you looked east, the arriving and departing flights of El Paso International Airport could clearly be seen. To the north stretched the four-mile-long runway of Biggs Army Airfield. To the west, the city of El Paso blocked the expanse of Puerto de Anapra and the lands thereafter. Five miles to the south clearly showed the catalyst for today's event, Highway 375, snaking along the border with Ciudad Juarez. This Mexican city was home to one of the major hot spots for the crossing of undocumented aliens.

At 10:45 a.m. CST on board Air Force One during the flight from Washington DC, to Texas, Christopher Joseph Cameron was sworn in as the forty-sixth president of the United States of America. He asked that the ceremony coincide with when they flew directly over Austin, or more specifically, his alma mater, the University of Texas.

While his transition team took these unprecedented forty days to work out succession details, his initial order of business was to focus his time on dealing with the escalating problems to the south.

You can't pick your neighbors; you can only choose your friends, the newly minted president thought to himself as he sat as a passenger in the new Stryker 250 armored personnel carrier next to a twenty-three-year-old motor transport officer from Palatine, Illinois.

As the sole vehicle traveling on Cassidy Road, this next-generation military transport was moving at close to full speed of seventy-two miles per hour. Set to be unveiled next month as the centerpiece of the ongoing army transformation, the "Quart," which had a range of 406 miles, operated with the latest C4ISR equipment and an integrated armor package to protect soldiers against a wide array of weapons and explosives.

Since his surprising election win two years earlier, Felix Lozario, the presidente of Mexico spent a considerable amount of time condemning the actions of the United States and, in particular, outgoing President Harloe. With a strong left-wing political agenda, the sixty-one-year-old senior Party of the Democratic Revolution member devoted far more time to railing against US policy than focusing on stabilizing his fragile nation.

Now precipitously close to being declared a failed state, Mexico had been suffering for close to a decade mired in the grip of a never-ending recession. A crippling one-two punch was the culprit. Oil revenue was severely hampered by the precipitous drop in the price of the commodity, while at the same time, the flow of pesos from repatriated undocumented worker earnings decreased significantly with the implementation of the initial phases of the FairTax. This monumental change in the US tax code did what was thought of as impossible, to capture revenue from illegal sources. It was estimated that close to two billion dollars that had previously been sent back to Mexico families now found its way into the federal tax revenue stream.

The knockout blow was the ever-expanding power of the cartels. The ruthless gangs exponentially increased the level of violence throughout the drug-smuggling corridors and continued their extortion of protection money and murder of local families and businesses. Even more concerning was that they now branched out to the political world and supplanted many government officials. This was most prevalent in Chihuahua, Coahuila, and Nuevo Leon, the states closest to the US border.

President Cameron arrived fifteen minutes before his invited guest and sat under the olive-colored canvas field tent in front of the viewing platform. He was casually chatting and comparing stories with the soldiers on duty about his time stationed at Fort Bliss before being deployed to Iraq in 1990 versus their current engagements. A table for two was set, waiting with some of his favorite Italian lunchtime selections laid out under silver tray covers. The two world leaders would start with a trio platter of sliced parmesan cheese, thickly cut sopressata, and marinated mulignani. This would be followed by a tossed tomato salad with olive oil, basil, and oregano. When the appetizers were finished, there were family-style plates of broccoli rabe, fried veal cutlets, and roasted potatoes warming on a chafing dish. Of course, fresh Italian bread and a bottle of 2011 Drew Pinot Noir to wash it all down would go with every course.

The Mexican contingent, consisting of three silver Mercedes, arrived ten minutes after noon. Chris glanced at his Samajumia3-inscribed Minute Repeater, he really hated when people were late. Shrugging off the tardiness, he walked over and warmly shook the hand of Felix Lozario. Fourteen years his senior, Chris was careful not to squeeze too hard.

"Bienvenidos, bienvenidos," he welcomed his guest. "Sit, sit, first we eat, and then we talk."

As he always did, Chris wished to make all visitors feel at home, even more so now that his home was the entire United States of America.

"This meal was specially prepared, and I present this to you in honor of my mother, so manga, manga."

An hour later, after much small talk and a lot more eating, Chris drained the last drop of vino and stood up.

"That, my friend, should last me the entire day; I may not need to eat again until tomorrow night."

"Si, si, it was excellent and very unexpected. I thought we would not have time for a proper meal."

Chris laughed as he rubbed his stomach. "It's a wonder I'm not three hundred pounds; my mother cooked like this almost every day. Just your typical Italian family from the suburbs of New York."

"Si, my condolences for your loss."

"I really miss her a lot. She would not be happy if I had people over and did not feed them."

He then escorted his guest out of the tent and around toward the lift to make their six-story climb.

"Perdon, amigos, solamente bastante cuarto para dos (Sorry, folks, only enough room for two)," Chris said to the Mexican contingent following them, who attempted to squeeze into the four-by-four-foot elevator seconds before he locked the steel cage shut. He was glad to have picked up the language from his many years living in Texas. This meeting would be mano-a-mano.

After he pressed the green button on the control panel, the hum of the motor signaled their half-minute ascent to the viewing platform. As they inched higher, and once they cleared the top of the tent, the force of the wind grew more intense, and the gusts whistled loudly through the exposed skeleton.

When they reached the top, Chris unlatched the door. Ever the cordial host, he motioned for his guest to exit first. Lozario tentatively pointed his head out and studied the rattling structure. Though he was bundled up nicely in a long cashmere jacket and wool gloves, at this moment in time he realized it was actually much colder than he originally thought.

"No, no, no ... after you, Mr. Vice President. It's still protocol for higher-ranking officials to exit last." He further delayed his exit by adjusting the collar to his coat and refitting his gloves to better shield him from the harsh elements.

"Heck, this is nothing. When I was a Ranger, we had a week of survival training in Alaska. I think it got to be ten below, froze my cojones off." Dressed only in slacks and casual dress shirt, Chris was amused by his counterpart, who obviously spent far too little time above the equator.

He then firmly gripped Lozario's upper arm and guided him out into the elements. "Look around you, my friend. We both preside over beautiful countries."

Chris practically bounced around the structure, soaking in the panoramic views of the Texas border crossing. He turned to face Lozario. The sun shone directly behind his head.

"Oh, also forgot to fill you in on the changes. I'm officially the president, sworn in about an hour ago."

Like a child, Chris pointed left as a Boeing 747 effortlessly lifted off the runway at El Paso International. He then clanked right across the structure to admire the beautiful South Franklin mountain range, which began in Texas but stretched north along the New Mexico state line. With each terrifying rattle, the presidente held the railing tighter and tighter.

"Isn't that the Juarez Mountains behind the Wells Fargo building?" He pointed and waited for a response.

"Si, si ... yes, it is." He meekly confirmed the location. "Le ruego me disculpe; I meant no disrespect calling you the vice president."

The wind howled, and the structure shook in response. Lozario squeezed his eyes tight again. When they popped open a few seconds later, Chris had moved yet again. This early afternoon sightseeing tour was quite entertaining.

"No need to apologize, señor. You should be honored. You're the first person I've told, as well as the first I've wanted to meet with."

Chris smiled warmly and then changed gears and tested Lozario on his knowledge of the Treaty of Hidalgo, which officially ended the Mexican-American War in 1848. Under the terms of the treaty, Mexico relinquished all claims to Texas and ceded land in present-day California, New Mexico, and Arizona. They also recognized the Rio Grande as the northern boundary, and in return, the United States exchanged fifteen million dollars in reparations.

"Ironically, did you know this magnificent reservation was built soon after your government made us create the first generation of homeland security?" An additional provision to the treaty included protecting property and civil rights of Mexican nationals living within the new boundaries, along with the promise of the United States to police its borders.

Lozario found a secure corner of the structure, and with the wind dying down a bit, his confidence from earlier in the day returned to his voice. "I believe you tend to stretch your facts. Maybe too many revisions as your country stole more of our land?" He exhaled forcefully and continued. "Mr. President, the people of my country need to work; we're suffering greatly. You're a wealthy country. We shouldn't be treated so harshly. Your predecessor, his policies toward my people were loco. You're a good man, healthy, judgment not clouded like him."

Chris now went serious as he sternly walked past his guest toward the north end of the structure. "President Harloe's a good friend and an excellent man. It was the greatest honor to serve under him."

The roar of a C-5 Galaxy drowned out the Mexican presidente's answer as the massive military transport passed above. At that same instance, the lift was lowered by personnel at the bottom of the structure, leaving the leader of the free world and the leader of the third-world country to the south stranded above.

He repeated the apology so Chris could now hear it. "Again, I meant no disrespect to President Harloe. It just appeared that he was not sensitive to how things work along the border. We cannot control this activity, just as your government cannot control young Americans' appetite for narcotics and selling guns back to our country."

"Look, my friend. Here's what's going to happen, okay? We've given you two years to figure out that we're upset with your behavior." He was now talking to Lozario like a child.

"Your policies have only crippled our economy more. Our people are suffering greatly."

"I respectfully disagree, Mr. Presidente. There have been many examples of unprovoked aggression from your military as well as the cartels. Heck, a few of your drones even crashed in Texas and Arizona."

"The aggression from our military only showed we are keeping the pressure on the cartels. We are fighting them even more than you could know."

President Cameron did not believe his counterpart at all. While on the surface it appeared there was a major crackdown, the largest and richest cartels appeared to be flourishing. The bribing of top government officials helped them consolidate power among the most powerful, ruthless organizations, making them stronger, while allowing the Mexican government propaganda moments to highlight the capture of the weaker, less important gangs.

"Felix, did you really think we were joking? This shit's serious. Our country's being systematically infiltrated by your people."

"With over five hundred years of history in this territory, there are many relatives and ancestors north of the Rio Grande," Lozario smugly replied.

"By this so-called `territory,' would you mean Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California? Heck, Felix, over the past twenty-five years, your caucus in these states strengthened in Washington. There's more and more elected officials of Latin descent. Quite frankly, that growth rate was very concerning."

The two men were in a corner of the viewing area. They could not be seen or heard by anyone six stories below. Chris planned the discussion to be this way, as he wanted to dress down the Mexican leader for his failed policies and actions. At the same time, though, he did not want him to lose any respect or to have any witness to his bullying.

"Mr. Cameron ..."

Chris cut him off. "That would be Mr. President to you!" He raised his voice and then abruptly calmed down and pointed out at the army air base to the north. Far in the distance, you could see two doors of a massive hangar at Biggs Army Airfield opening.

"Let's look over there as we continue our discussion." He changed to a more normal speech pattern; he had vented enough. By coincidence, he handed his guest a pair of binoculars that just happened to be hanging on a corner railing. "Another surprise for you."

A transformerlike structure emerged from deep inside the hangar. Still miles away, it looked quite impressive rolling out on its massive treads. The electric gate blocking the exit to J. E. B. Stuart Road also began to swing open, providing an unobstructed path for the transforming figure to travel.

"Now listen up!" Chris totally changed his disposition, now speaking in a tone like he was back in the neighborhood. "I'm giving you till the fall. When we get back down to the ground, get someone in your posse to write down November 9. Circle that date. By then, you'll have made major steps on all of my demands."

Chris reached into his pocket. Out came a standard piece of paper, folded over four times. It looked like a note from his mother. He flattened it out and began to read the bullet points.

"Numero uno. By July, the Mexican government will begin to assist in the transport of all of your interred citizens at Gitmo. I expect to see the wake of your armada and at least fifteen thousand of your ciudadanos waving adios per month. Hey, they're your citizens; please take them back."

They both peered out again. The transformer began to move more quickly. It was now through the gate and heading south. "Numero dos. By August 1, the US government would like to receive our first installment of financial restitution for the medical treatment of Mexican citizens at our health-care facilities. I'd say it's about eighty million dollars, give or take a few million, so far accumulated since January 2014. The check should be made out to the US Treasury, and make the first one for twenty mil."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Cameron Nationby David Carraturo Copyright © 2011 by David Carraturo. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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