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Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

Page 29

by Balance of Power [lit]


  their vacation in California. He'd forgotten

  birthdays and anniversaries and school concerts.

  He'd neglected to ask about report cards and

  doctor's appointments and God knows what else.

  Hood picked up the interoffice line as the

  black-andwhite satellite photo was downloaded.

  This was not the time to beat himself up. Tens of thousands of

  lives were at risk. He still had

  responsibilities, however distasteful Sharon had

  managed to make the word sound.

  "Mike, I'm here," Hood said. "What am I

  looking at?"

  "The Royal Palace in Madrid," he said.

  "The effective view is from twenty-five feet

  up looking down from about two o'clock. That's the main

  courtyard of the palace."

  "I don't suppose those are tourist vans,"

  Hood said.

  "No," Rodgers said. "Here's how we got there.

  After the attack on the Ramirez factory,

  Steve Viens had an NRO satellite follow

  the prisoners. They went from the parking lot to the

  airport in Bilbao to the airport in Madrid.

  Then they were bused from there to the palace. We think that

  woman near the front of the line is Maria

  Comeja."

  Hood enlarged the figure in the center. The computer

  automatically cleaned up the image for him. He

  hadn't known Maria well and he wasn't sure

  he'd recognize her if she hadn't been

  pointed out. But it certainly could be her, and it was the

  only woman in view.

  296 OP-CENTER

  The screen cleared.

  Other photographs began to appear.

  "These are higher level views," Rodgers said.

  "Fifty feet, one hundred feet, two hundred

  feet. From the number of soldiers there and the

  top-level brass who are coming and going we think that

  that's where Amadori may be. But there's a

  problem."

  "I see it," Hood said as the higher views

  appeared. " 'A square building with a courtyard in

  the center and nothing higher around it. Infiltration during

  the day is going to be a problem."

  "Bingo," Rodgers said. "And waiting twelve

  hours until dark may not be acceptable."

  "What about Spanish uniforms?" Hood asked.

  "Can't Striker wear those to get inside?"

  "In theory, maybe," Rodgers said. "The problem

  is it doesn't look like any of the soldiers who

  bring prisoners to the palace or patrol the grounds

  are actually going inside. That's another reason we

  think General Amadori's there. He's probably

  got an elite guard inside, patroling

  the halls and taking care of security. They're the

  only ones who'll have access."

  "Are there any underground passageways?"

  "We're looking into that now," Rodgers said. "

  "Even if there are, coming up inside those big

  sunlit corridors is going to be risky."

  Hood's eyes burned and his mind was whirling. Part

  of him wished he could just bomb the palace, fly up

  to Connecticut, and collect his family. Maybe

  stay there and open a fish-and-chips stand on the

  seashore.

  "So we wait?" Hood asked.

  "No one here or in Madrid's in favor of that,"

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  Rodgers said. " "But Aideen just arrived at the

  Interpol office. She and Darrell are talking the

  situation over with Brett and members of the Interpol

  team, adapting their playbook for the palace. There's

  a team of Interpol spotters on the roof of the

  Teatro Real, the opera house, on the other side

  of the avenue. They're scanning the entire palace with

  an LDE trying to pick out Amadori's voice."

  The LDE'-THE Long Distance Ear-was a

  funnellike dish that collected all the sounds from a

  narrow area and keyed in on those of a

  specific decibel range. In the case of a

  room inside a castle, it would automatically

  filter out external sounds such as cars, birds, and

  pedestrians. It would only "hear" very low intensity

  sounds inside walls. It would then compare the sounds

  to whatever was digitally stored in its memory-in this

  case, Amadori's voice.

  " "How long will it take them to scan the entire

  castle?" Hood asked.

  "Until about four o'clock," Rodgers said.

  Hood looked at the computer clock. "That's

  nearly two hours from now."

  "I don't like the idea of Striker sitting around and

  getting stale either," Rodgers said, "but it's the best

  they can do."

  "How far is the palace from the Interpol office?"

  Hood asked.

  "I'm checking a map now," Rodgers said. "It

  looks to be about fifteen minutes by car-if there's

  no traffic or military checkpoints.".

  "Which means that if they sit and wait for the LDE

  findings they're as much as two hours and fifteen

  298 OP-CENTER

  minutes away," Hood said. "If Amadori

  decided to leave the area before we pinpoint

  him, we'd have a problem."

  "True," Rodgers said. "But even if the

  Strikers were at the palace, there's nothing they can do.

  They can't choose a game plan without knowing

  exactly where he is. Besides, if Amadori

  isn't there we may be sending them off in the wrong

  direction."

  Hood looked at the high-resolution photograph

  of the troops in the courtyard. There were at least two

  hundred of them, broken into small groups. The

  soldiers looked as though they were drilling-perhaps

  to defend the compound, perhaps to serve as firing squads.

  In any case, it reminded Hood of the pictures

  he'd seen of Saddam Hussein's Republican

  Guards drilling in front of

  his

  residence before Desert Storm. Muscle flexing.

  Amadori had to be there.

  "Mike," Hood said, "we're responsible for

  Maria being in on this. She's got no backup. I

  can't have that."

  Rodgers was silent for a moment. "I don't

  disagree. But we've been over these photographs

  and we're going through floor plans of the palace now.

  Getting in there isn't going to be easy."

  "They don't have to go in," Hood said. "I just

  want some firepower in the area. Darrell can be in

  touch with them through Ishi Honda."

  "That's right," Rodgers said. "But the mission is still

  Amadori and we don't know for sure that he's there.

  We haven't been able to pick up any ELINT

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  yet. It'll be another hour or so before we can start

  getting that."

  Hood was not getting impatient with Rodgers. The

  general was doing exactly what he was supposed to be

  doing. Pointing out options and possible pitfalls.

  "If Amadori's somewhere else we'll pull

  Striker off," Hood said. "And who knows? Maybe

  the son of a bitch will decide to show himself and save us

  the trouble of going in."

  Rodgers exhaled audibly. "That's not likely,

  Paul. But I'll tell Brett to move out
. I

  also want to remind you that, while we brought Maria

  into this, she acted without orders," Rodgers said.

  "She put herself in this situation. And not for our

  benefit, but for the benefit of her country. I will not be

  in favor of risking team lives to evacuate her."

  "Noted," Hood said. "And thanks."

  Rodgers clicked off and Hood hung

  up. He dumped the photos from the monitor and

  turned off the desk lamp. He shut his eyes.

  It made no sense; none at all. Clinging to a

  job that by its very nature left you alone, cut off from

  your family and often cut off from subordinates.

  Maybe that's why he felt drawn to Maria's

  situation. She was alone too.

  No, Hood wouldn't forget the mission. And he

  wouldn't forget what Mike Rodgers had been too

  respectful to point out: that the Strikers had lives

  and loved ones, just like Maria.

  But Hood also couldn't forget Martha Mackall.

  And he'd be damned if he did nothing while

  another unarmed colleague faced danger in the

  bloody streets of Madrid.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Tuesday, 8:36 a.m. Madrid, Spain

  Maria followed the young captain into the corridor,

  confident that she could trust the officer to bring her

  to Amadori. Neither the captain nor the general had

  anything to gain by tricking her. They had to be curious

  about the information she said she possessed. And if he

  didn't trust her, he wouldn't be in front of her.

  He'd be behind her, with a gun.

  Nonetheless, she was startled by the relative

  ease with which she'd been able to bully the captain.

  Either he was inexperienced or far more clever than she

  gave him credit for.

  He turned to the left. Maria stopped.

  "I thought we were going to see the general," she said.

  "We are," the captain replied. He extended his

  arm down the hallway-away from the Hall of

  Halberdiers.

  "Isn't he in the throne room?" she asked.

  "The throne room?" The captain laughed loudly.

  "Wouldn't that be somewhat presumptuous?"

  "I don't know," she replied. "Isn't being in this

  palace somewhat presumptuous?"'"

  BALANCE OF POWER 301

  "Not when the king returns to Madrid and we need

  to protect him," the captain said. "We intend

  to secure both of the royal palaces."

  "But there were guards-was

  "Protecting the chamber from the prisoners." The

  captain bowed his head in the direction of his

  outstretched hand. "The general is in the state dining

  room with his advisors."

  Maria looked at him. She didn't believe him.

  She didn't know why; she just didn't.

  "But the question is not where the general is

  located," the captain continued. "The question is whether

  you have something to tell him or not. Are you coming,

  Senorita Comeja?"

  Maria looked down. For now, she had no choice but

  to do what she was told. "I'm coming," she said, and

  walked toward the captain.

  The officer turned and strode briskly along the

  brightly lit corridor, and then around the corner.

  Maria walked a little slower, remaining several steps

  behind him. Other soldiers moved quickly along the

  corridor. Some of them had prisoners, others were

  on field phones. A few were carrying computer

  equipment into rooms. None of them was paying her any

  attention.

  This didn't feel right but Maria had to play it out.

  Yes, she was coming-but not without precautions.

  "Would you like a cigarette?" she asked the captain.

  She was already reaching into the breast pocket of her

  blouse. She removed the pack and took one of the

  cigarettes out. She tore a match from the book of

  matches.

  "Thank you, no," said the captain. "Actually,

  we'd

  302 OP-CENTER

  appreciate it if you didn't smoke

  here. So many treasures. A careless flick-was

  "I understand," she said.

  The captain had said exactly what Maria had

  expected him to say. She began to replace the

  pack but first palmed the cigarette. Because the captain

  was facing forward he didn't see her poke the match

  into the tobacco of the palmed cigarette. Then she put

  the cigarette down the front of her pants, into the

  crotch, and put the pack back in her blouse

  pocket.

  Now, at least, she had a weapon.

  The state dining room was on the other side of the

  music room overlooking the Plaza Incognita.

  On the other side of the plaza was the Campo del

  Moro, the Camp of the Moors. The park marked the

  site where the troops of the powerful emir All

  bin-Yusuf camped in the eleventh century during the

  Moorish attempt to conquer Spain.

  They reached the door of the music room and the captain

  knocked. He looked at Maria and smiled. She

  reached his side but she didn't return his smile.

  The door opened.

  The captain extended a hand inside. "After you," he

  said.

  Maria took a step toward it and looked

  in.

  The windowless room was dark and it took a moment for

  her eyes to adjust. Something moved toward her from the

  shadows to the right. She backed away only to bump

  into the captain, who was standing directly and solidly

  behind her. Suddenly, he pushed her inside. At the

  same time, two pairs of hands grabbed her forearms.

  She was pulled off her feet and landed

  BALANCE OF POWER 303

  facedown on the floor. Boots were planted

  firmly on her shoulder blades.

  A light came on, casting a soft amber glow

  throughout the room. Maria looked out at a pastoral

  mural as a third set of hands groped her legs,

  waist, arms, and chest, searching for concealed weapons.

  Her belt and watch were removed and they took the

  pack of cigarettes.

  When the search was finished, the extra set of hands

  suddenly pulled back on Maria's hair. The

  tug was rough and she found herself looking up. With her

  shoulders pushed down and her head drawn back, the

  pain in her neck was intense.

  The captain walked over and looked down at her.

  He smirked and put the hard heel of his boot against

  her forehead. He leaned into it and her head

  went back further.

  "You asked me if I were sure I would get the

  information in time," the captain said. He grinned

  cruelly. "Yes,

  senorita.

  I am sure. Just as I am certain that many of the people

  we've brought to the palace will be purged from the

  system. Just as I am sure that we will win. A new

  nation isn't born without blood, sacrifice, and

  one thing more: willingness. The willingness to do whatever is

  necessary to get what you want."

  Maria's vocal cord strained against the tightening

  flesh of her throat. Thick cables of pain twisted

  along her body fro
m the front of her ears to the small

  of her back.

  "I could snap your neck," the captain said, "but then

  you would die and that wouldn't help me. In 304

  OP-CENTER

  stead, I will give you five minutes to reflect on

  the situation and then tell me what you know. If you

  talk, you will remain our guest but you will be unharmed.

  If you choose not to talk, I will leave you to these fine

  men. Believe me,

  senorita.

  They are very good at what they do."

  The captain released her forehead. Maria gagged

  horribly as her throat relaxed. The pain in her

  back was replaced by a cool, tingling sensation up and

  down her spine. She swallowed hard and tried

  to move, but the men were still standing on her back.

  The captain looked at the men. " "Let her

  taste some of what she can expect," he said. "Then

  maybe she will think differently."

  As he backed away, Maria felt the boots

  lifted from her shoulders. She was hoisted up by the

  arms. As she was getting her footing a fist was

  driven hard into her belly. She doubled over, the

  air rushing from her lungs. Her legs went out from under

  her but the men held her up. One of them grabbed her

  hair from behind, pulled her erect, and she was punched

  again. Maria actually felt the contours of the fist against

  the small of her back. Her legs wobbled like

  ribbon and she moaned loudly. The next blow came

  up from under her chin. Fortunately, her tongue

  wasn't between her teeth as they clacked loudly and

  painfully. After a second blow, which knocked her

  head toward the right, her lower jaw hung down. She

  felt blood and saliva roll along her extended

  tongue.

  The men released her and she dropped to the

  floor. She landed on her back with her arms

  splayed and her knees raised. Slowly, her bent

  legs rolled to the right.

  BALANCE OF POWER 305

  Maria didn't hurt; she knew that the pain would come

  later. But she felt utterly spent, the way she

  did when she bicycled up a hill and had no

  strength left in her limbs. Yet as weak as she was

  she forced herself to open her eyes and look at the men.

  She wanted to see where they wore their guns.

  They were all right-handed. That would make things easier.

  The soldiers stepped into the hallway, splitting up

  her cigarettes. They shut the door and turned off

  the light. She knew this drill: break the body and

  then leave the shocked, disoriented mind a few

  minutes alone to contemplate mortality.

 

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