 Recorded books presents Warlords by Matt Braun, narrated by me, George Goodell. Author's Note The Warlords is based on a true story. In the summer of 1915, bands of Mexican revolutionaries raided across the Rio Grande into Texas. Known as the Army of Liberation, the rebels destroyed property, burned railroad bridges, and killed civilians and army troops with a savagery born of racial hatred. Thousands of people fled the border in terror. There were rumors that Germany was behind the raids. In Europe, Germany was at war with England, France, and Russia, jointly known as the Allies. Speculation in Washington was that Germany, in an effort to prevent the United States from joining the Allies, had hatched a plot to bring war to the Rio Grande. The rumors, despite credible evidence of a conspiracy, were never acknowledged by the United States government. President Woodrow Wilson ordered the US Bureau of Investigation into action. A special agent was dispatched to the Rio Grande, his assignment to uncover the truth about German involvement with the Army of Liberation. His investigation, conducted with the aid of the Texas Rangers and the Army, revealed a complex of racial tension, international intrigue, and barbarity at its worst. The border that summer of 1915 ran red with blood. The warlords' fiction based on fact. Literary license has been taken with time and place and certain historical characters central to the story. Yet the events depicted, particularly the savagery on the Rio Grande, adhere closely to the truth. The warlords actually happened. Chapter 1 Berlin was at its most pleasant in early spring. The snows of winter were gone, and a riotous profusion of flowers lined the paths of the Rosengarten. Strollers paused to stare at the imposing marble statue of Empress Augusta Victoria. Not far away, the bridal paths of the Tiergarten wound through stately corpses of oak and hemlock. Officers of the German General's staff were out for their morning ride, cantering past with the rhythmic click of shod hooves unpacked earth. The silver spikes on the crown of their helmets glinted beneath a warm May sun. North of the Tiergarten was the stone monolith that served as headquarters for the General's staff. The building occupied a square block on the Bendelastasse, broad marble steps fronting the busy thoroughfare. Guards posted at the doors stood resplendent in blue uniforms trimmed with gold rifles grounded by their jackboots. Their eyes were fixed straight ahead. General Frans von Kleist hurried up the steps. The breast of his tunic was bedecked with an array of metals, among them the iron cross with clusters. The guards snapped to attention, the rifles at present arms, and he returned their salute as he pushed through the doors. A wide rotunda, flanked on either side by sweeping staircases, swirled with officers and enlisted men. Germany was at war, and everyone seemed in a rush. On the second floor von Kleist moved along a corridor toward the center of the building. He was posted to the Abwehr, the German secret intelligence service, and he'd been summoned to a meeting at Wehrmacht headquarters. He entered a large ante-room with the adjutant, a young major, quickly ushered him through a center floor to ceiling double doors. The inner office was lavishly appointed with thick carpeting, lush leather furniture, and a massive walnut desk. The imperial flag hung draped from a standard anchored to the floor. The officer behind the desk was Field Marshal Heinrich von Lütwitz, a portly man with a Leonine shock of gray hair. He was chief of staff of the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the supreme command of the German imperial armed forces. Another man, leaner, and with a hint of arrogance in his attitude, rose from one of the leather chairs. He was General Alexis Baron von Fritsch, chief of the Abwehr, von Kleist was directly under his command. There you are, Franz, he said, motioning to a chair. We were just talking about you. Von Kleist marched to the desk. He clicked his heels, nodding first to von Lütwitz, then to von Fritsch. Field Marshal, Herr General, he said, rigidly detention. How may I be of service? Sit down, Colonel, von Lütwitz ordered. We have asked you here to discuss a rather delicate matter. And one of the utmost secrecy von Fritsch added. Nothing discussed here today will go outside this room. Yes, sir, von Kleist removed his helmet and seated himself. I understand. Von Lütwitz and von Fritsch were of the aristocracy east of the Elbe River, the very core of German military power. Their titles had been bestowed on their forebears centuries ago by Frederick the Great, the ancient king of Prussia. Sample complete. Ready to continue?