"I'm convinced that General Rafael Amadori is
running this put-down operation as a private war,"
Maria said. "It appears that he's engineered events
so that parliament has granted him emergency powers.
He also has a very narrow window in which to eliminate
opposition. By the time anyone decides to try and
stop him it will be too late."
"Do we know where the general is based?"
McKaskey asked.
"Not yet," the woman replied. "But I'm sure
he's made it difficult for anyone to get
near him. I'll have to give Amadori this much: he
appears to be very well prepared."
McCaskey noticed a change in Maria's
voice. He recognized it because it had always made
him feel a little jealous. She did not approve of
Amadori's motives or actions, but there was a
trace of admiration for the man.
Maria fell silent as gunfire erupted in the
distance.
Aideen said something McCaskey couldn't quite make
out.
"Maria!" McCaskey yelled. "Talk to me!"
It was several seconds before she came back on.
"Sorry," she said. "The troops have entered the
fac-
242 OP-CENTER
tory. We were trying to see what they were doing- there
are parked cars in the way. We heard a few
bursts of fire from the soldiers and then-
damn!""
"What?" McCaskey said.
There was a peppering of loud reports followed by the
unbroken drone of automatic fire.
"Maria!"
McCaskey shouted.
"They let the soldiers provoke them," she said.
"Who did?" Luis demanded.
" "Probably some of the
familia
members and maybe some of the other workers," Maria
said. "There was gunfire from inside the factory.
They must have shot at the soldiers. Workers are
running out-falling out. The ones with guns are being cut
down. Juan is yelling for them to surrender."
McCaskey looked over at Luis. The
Interpol officer seemed pale as he looked back
at McCaskey.
"This is incredible," Maria said. "The soldiers are
shooting anyone who doesn't put down their
weapons. Even if they're just goddamned crowbars!
People are shouting inside. It sounds like they're warning people
to surrender."
"How near are the soldiers to your position?"
McCaskey asked.
"About four hundred yards. But there are other cars
around-I don't think they know we're here."
Perspiration collected on McCaskey's upper
lip. The law was collapsing. He wished there were some
way he could get the two women out of there. He
looked over at his companion. Luis's
eyes were moving quickly without focusing on anything.
He was anxious too.
BALANCE OF POWER 243
"Luis," McCaskey asked thickly, "what about
the police chopper?"
"It's still there-was
"I know. But can you get permission for it to go in?"
Luis lifted his hands helplessly. "Even if I
could, I doubt they'd go. The soldiers might
suspect
afamilia
ruse."
A strong military offensive and paranoia. It was
a combination that caused leaders to shut themselves off from all
but their closest advisors. It was also a mix that could
turn soldiers into indiscriminate executioners.
McCaskey wished that Striker were here instead of over
the Atlantic, hours away.
No one spoke for a long moment. McCaskey
continued to regard Luis. There were three options. The
women could stay where they were; they could try to get out;
or they could attempt to surrender. If they tried
to sneak away and were spotted, they'd probably be
cut down. If they attempted to surrender they
might also be shot. The safest course
seemed to be to stay where they were and use their fake
ID'S if they were discovered. McCaskey wondered
if Luis were going to make the call for them. The
Interpol officer was big on taking
responsibility for his people's actions and then taking
any heat those actions generated. But this wasn't about
blame or credit. This was about lives.
"Maria," Luis said into the speaker, "what do you
want to do?"
"I've been wondering about that," Maria said. "I
don't know what the attackers are after. We're
seeing prisoners coming out now. Dozens of them. But
we
244 OP-CENTER
have no idea where they're going to be taken.
Possibly to be interrogated. I wonder-was
"What do you wonder?" Luis asked.
There was muted conversation on Maria's end. Then
silence except for faint gunfire.
"Maria?" Luis said.
The conversation stopped. There was only gunfire.
"Maria!" Luis repeated.
After a moment Aideen came on. "She's not here."
"Where is she?" Luis asked.
"On her way to the factory with her hands
raised," Aideen replied. "She's going to try
to surrender."
TWENTY-THREE
Monday, 10:45 p.m. Washington, D.c.
The phone call from National Security Chief
Steve Burkow was brief and surprising.
" "The President is considering a radical
shift in Administration policy toward Spain,"
Burkow informed Paul Hood. " "Be at the
White House situation room at eleven-thirty
tonight. And would you please have the latest intelligence on
the military situation sent over?"'"
It was less than an hour since the conference call with
U.n. Secretary-General Manni. It had
been decided, then, that the status quo was going to be
maintained. Hood had been able to lie down and take
a short nap. He wondered what could have changed
since the call.
Hood said he'd be there, of course. Then he went
into the small private washroom in the back of his
office. He shut the door. There was a speakerphone
set in the wall under the light switch. After splashing
water on his face he called Bob Herbert.
Herbert's assistant said that he was talking
to Darrell McCaskey and asked if this were
a priority call. Hood said it wasn't and asked
for Herbert to call back when he got off.
246 OP-CENTER
Hood had already finished washing his face and
straightening his tie when the internal line beeped.
Hood was glad to hear it. Like a scavenger drawn
to carrion, his tired mind had padded back to Sharon
and the kids. He didn't know why-to punish himself,
he wondered?-but he didn't want to think about them
now. When a crisis was pending, it was not the best time
to reassess one's life and goals.
Hood hit the telephone speaker button and leaned
on the stainless steel sink. "Hood," he said.
"Paul, it's Bob," Herbert said. "I was going
to call you anyway."
"What's Darrell's news?"
"
It's pretty grim," Herbert said. "NRO
intelligence has confirmed that four helicopters,
apparently sent by General Amadori, attacked the
Ramirez factory at 5:20 a.m., local
time. Aideen Marley and Maria Corneja were in the
parking lot, hunkered down in their car, during the
attack. The Spanish troops gunned down about
twenty people before taking control of the factory and rounding
up others. According to Aideen- who's still in the
car and in contact with Darrell- Maria surrendered
to the soldiers. Her hope is that she can find out where
Amadori is headquartered and get that information back
to us."
"Is Aideen in any immediate danger?"
"We don't think so," Herbert said. "The troops
aren't making a sweep of the parking lot. It looks
to her like they want to finish rounding up a few people and
get the hell out."
"What about Maria?" Hood asked. "Will she try
BALANCE OF POWER 247
to stop Amadori?" He knew that the White House
would have some of this information. That was probably one of the
reasons for the hastily called meeting. He also
knew that the President would ask the same question.
"Truthfully, I don't know," Herbert
admitted. "As soon as I hang up I'm going
to ask Liz for the psychological workup she did when
Maria was working here. Maybe that'll tell us
something."
"What does Darrell think?" Hood asked
impatiently. "If anyone would know Maria
Comeja, he's the man." Hood didn't put much
trust in psychoanalytical profiles. Cold,
paint-by-number studies were less
valuable to him than human feelings and intuition.
"What man knows any woman?" Herbert asked.
Hood was about to tell Herbert to spare him the
philosophy when his mind flashed to Sharon. Hood
said nothing. Herbert was right.
"But to answer your question," Herbert continued,
"Darrell says he wouldn't put it past her
to kill him. She can be single-minded and very, very
focused. He says she could find a handy pen or
paperclip and rip a hole in his femoral artery.
He also says he could see her hating his barbarity but
also applauding his courage and strength."
"Meaning?"
"She could think too much or too long," Herbert
said. "Hesitate and miss an opportunity."
"Would she ever join him?" Hood asked.
"Darrell says no. Emphatically no,"
Herbert added.
Hood wasn't so sure, but he'd go with Darrell
on this one. Herbert didn't have any additional
informa-
248 OP-CENTER
tion on Serrador's death or outside confimation
of his involvement with Martha's murder. But he said
he'd keep working on both. Hood thanked
Herbert and asked him to send all of the latest data
to the President. Then he headed out to the White
House.
The drive was relaxed at this hour and he made the
trip in just under a half hour. Hood turned off
Constitution Avenue, turned onto 17th Street,
and made a right onto the one way E Street.
He made a left and stopped at the Southwest
Appointment Gate. He was passed and, after parking,
he entered the White House through the West Wing. He
walked down the spacious corridors.
Whatever his state of mind, whatever the crisis,
whatever his levels of cynicism. Hood never
failed to be moved and awed by the power and history of the
White House. It was a nexus for the past and
future. Two of the Founding Fathers had lived here.
Lincoln had preserved and solidified the nation from
here. World War II had been won from here. The
decision to conquer the moon was made here. Given the
right mix of wisdom, courage, and savvy, this
pulpit could drive the nation-and thus, the world-to
accomplish anything. When he was here, it was
difficult for Hood to dwell on the failings of
any of our nation's leaders. There was only the fire
of hope fueled by the mighty bellows of
power.
Hood rode the main access elevator down to the
situation room on the first sublevel. Beneath this
level were three other subbasements. These included
a war room, a medical room, a safe room for the
first family and staff, and a galley. Hood was
greeted by a sharp
BALANCE OF POWER 249
young guard who checked his palm print on a
horizontal laser scanner. When the device
chimed, Hood was allowed to pass through the metal
detector. A Presidential aide greeted him
and took him to the wood-paneled situation room.
Steve Burkow was already there. So were the imposing
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General
Kenneth VanZandt, Carol banning-sitting in for
Secretary of State Av Lincoln, who was in
Japan-and CIA Director Marius Fox.
Fox was a man in his late forties. He was of
medium height and build, with close-cropped brown
hair and well-tailored suits. There was always a
brightly colored handkerchief in his breast pocket,
though it never managed to outshine his brown eyes. He
was a man who truly enjoyed his work.
But he's new at the job.
Hood thought cynically. It would be interesting to see
how long it took for the bureaucracy and the pressures
of the job to wear him down.
There was a long, rectangular mahogany table in the
center of the brightly lit room. An STU-3
secure telephone and a computer monitor were
positioned at each of the ten stations, with slide-out
keyboards underneath the table. The computer setup was
selfcontained. Software from outside, even from the
Department of Defense or State Department, was
debugged before it was allowed into the system. On the
ivory-colored walls were detailed color maps
showing the location of U.s. and foreign distroops, as
well as flags denoting trouble spots. Red
flags for ongoing problems and green for latent. There
were no flags in Spain and
250 OP-CENTER
a single green one offshore. Apparently, the
change in Administration policy did not include
sending American land troops to the region. The
offshore marker was most likely for a carrier
to airlift U.s. officials if it became necessary.
No one had had a chance to do more than say hello
to Hood before the President arrived.
President Michael Lawrence stood a
broadshouldered six-foot-four. He both looked
and sounded presidential. Whatever combination of the three
Cs- charisma, charm, and calm-created that
impression, Lawrence had them. His longish silver
hair was swept back dramatically and his voice still
resonated as though he were Mark Antony on the
steps of the Roman Senate. But President
Lawrence also looked a great deal wearier than he
had when he took office. The eyes were pu
ffier, the
cheeks more drawn. The hair looked silver because it
was more white than gray. That was common among U.s.
presidents, though it wasn't just the pressures of the
office which aged them tremendously-it was the fact that
lives were deeply and permanently affected by every
decision they made. It was also the steady flow of
early morning and late night crises, the exhausting
travel abroad, and what Liz Gordon once
described as "the posterity effect" His: the
pressure of wanting to secure a positive
review in the history books while pleasing the people you
were elected to serve. That was a tremendous emotional
and intellectual burden that very few people had to deal with.
The President thanked everyone for coming and sat down.
As he poured himself coffee, he offered his con
BALANCE OF POWER 251
dolences to Hood on the death of Martha Mackall.
The President commented on the loss of a young and
talented diplomat, and said that he had already
assigned someone the job of organizing a quiet
memorial tribute to her. Hood thanked him.
President Lawrence was very good and also very sincere when
it came to human touches like that.
Then he turned abruptly to the business at hand.
The President was also very good when it came to shifting
gears.
"I just got off the phone with the Vice-President
and with the Spanish ambassador, Sefior Garcfa
Abril," the President said. He took a sip
of the black coffee. " "As some of you know, the
situation in Spain is very confused from a military
standpoint. The police have been putting down some
riots while ignoring others. Carol, you want
to quickly address that?"
Lanning nodded. She consulted her notes. "The
police and the army have been ignoring riots
by Castilians against other groups," she said.
"Churches all across the nation are being forced to cope with
literally thousands of people coming to them for sanctuary."
"Are they providing it?" Burkow asked.
"They were," she replied, rifling through her
papers, "until the crowds became too great in some
locations-like Parroquia Maria Reina in
Barcelona and Iglesia del Sefior in
Seville. Now they've literally locked the doors
and are refusing to admit anyone else. In a few
cases the local police have been called in
to remove people from churches-a move, I should add, which
is being privately denounced by the Vatican
252 OP-CENTER
although they're going to urge 'restraint and compassion"
Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power Page 24