as quickly as we can. I don't think they'll shoot
at us until we're down. They won't want
to bring a chopper down on their heads. When we touch
down, you fire to clear the field. The soldiers will
run for cover. When they do, I go and get Maria
before they can regroup."
"Just like that," Luis said doubtfully.
"Just like that," McCaskey nodded. "The simplest
plans always work best. If you cover me and keep the
soldiers ducking, I should be able to get in and out in
about thirty seconds. The courtyard's not that big.
If I can't get back to the chopper, you abort and
I'll try to get her out some other way."
McCaskey sighed and dragged his fingers through his
hair. "Look, I know this is dangerous, Luis.
But what else can we do? I'd
BALANCE OF POWER 361
want to do this if any of our people were in trouble. I
have
to do it because it's Maria."
Luis took a deep breath, nodded
once, then turned to the gun rack. He selected
a NATO L96A1 sniper rifle with an
integral silencer and a Schmidt and Bender
telescope. He handed McCaskey a Star
30More Parabellum pistol, the standard issue of the
Guardia Civil.
"I'll have Pedro swing over the palace and then come
straight down in the courtyard," Luis said. "As
soon as we touch down I'll try to drive the
firing squad back. Maybe I can hold them
back without having to kill anyone." Luis's face
fell slightly. "That's
maybe,
Darrell."
"I know," McCaskey said.
"I don't know if I'll be able to shoot a
Spanish soldier, Darrell," Luis admitted.
"I honestly don't know."
"They don't seem to have a problem with that,"
McCaskey pointed out.
"I'm not them," Luis replied.
"No, you're not," McCaskey said
apologetically. "For what it's worth, I'm not
sure I could shoot one of my own people either."
Luis shook his head. "How did it ever
come to this?"
McCaskey checked the clip and sat back. He
thought bitterly.
It came to this the way it always does. Through the fierce
hate harbored by a few and the complacency displayed by the
rest.
There were signs of that in the United States.
McCaskey knew that if Striker succeeded the real
work was just beginning- here and elsewhere. People like General
Amadori had
362 OP-CENTER
to be stopped before they got this far. McCaskey
wasn't as versed in aphorisms as Mike
Rodgers, but he did remember hearing someone say
once that all it took for evil to flourish was for men
of conscience to do nothing. If he survived this,
Darrell McCaskey vowed that he would not be one of
those who did nothing.
They would be passing over the northeastern corner of the
palace in approximately fifteen seconds.
There were no military helicopters in the immediate area
though trucks and jeeps were coming and going along
Calle de Bailen just below them.
McCaskey was calm now after his initial urgency.
Part of that was because he hadn't slept in over
a day. Sitting still allowed a relaxing torpor
to wash over him. Though his mind was sharp and his
purpose true, the anxious finger-drumming,
foot-tapping and cheekbiting that were a part of his
impatient nature were missing. Part of his composure
was also due to Maria. Relationships can be
problematic and mistakes will be made and hindsight
is frustrating. McCaskey didn't punish himself
for being human. But it was rare and comforting to have an
opportunity like this to set a wrong right. To tell
someone you're sorry and to show them you care. Whatever it
cost, whatever it took, McCaskey was determined
to get Maria out of the courtyard alive.
While McCaskey sat looking out his window,
Luis leaned forward and spoke to Pedro. The pilot
nodded, Luis squeezed his shoulder
appreciatively, and then sat back.
"Are you ready?" Luis asked McCaskey.
BALANCE OF POWER 363
McCaskey nodded once.
The helicopter descended and flew low over the
eastern wall of the palace. Then it banked to the south
and sped toward the courtyard between the Royal Palace
and the Cathedral of the Almudena.
There was a megaphone built into both
sides of the chopper. Luis slipped on the
headset, adjusted the mouthpiece, then lay the
rifle across his lap. He looked outside and
tapped McCaskey on the leg.
"There!" Luis said.
McCaskey looked over. He saw Maria being
held against a fifteen-foot-tall pedestal, which was
supporting four massive columns. The square,
grayish pedestal projected about five feet out from
the long, unbroken wall to the left. To the right was a
short expanse of wall and then a series of arches
that swept away from the wall at a right angle. The
low, darkly shadowed arches formed the eastern boundary
of the courtyard. Beyond them was the eastern wing of the
palace which contained the royal bedchamber, the study,
and the music room.
There were two soldiers on either side of Maria,
clasping her arms. An officer was standing in front of
her. About one hundred fifty feet to the south, a
line of military vehicles separated the courtyard
from the church. There were no civilians in the courtyard
and roughly sixty or seventy soldiers. Six of
them were walking toward Maria in a line.
"We'll land with those arches on your side," Luis
said. "They may provide you with cover."
"Right!"
"I'm going to try and focus on the officer in
front
364 OP-CENTER
of Maria," Luis said. "If I can control him,
maybe I can control the group."
"Good idea," McCaskey said. He held the
Parabellum in his right hand, pointing upward. He
put his left hand on the door handle. Pedro slowed
the chopper's forward motion and they began to descend.
They were less than one hundred feet above the
courtyard.
The soldiers were looking up now, including the officer
in front of Maria. He wasn't moving; no one
was. As McCaskey had suspected, they weren't
going to shoot at a chopper bearing directly down
on them. When they landed, though, he suspected it would
be a much different matter. He looked over at
Maria. Because there was an iron streetlamp between them
and the pedestal, the chopper wouldn't be able to get as
close as McCaskey would have liked. He'd have
to cross about thirty feet of open courtyard to get
to Maria. At least it didn't look like she was tied
up though it did appear as though she might be hurt.
There was blood on her left side and she
was leaning in that direction. S
he wasn't looking up
at the helicopter.
The Spanish army officer-he was a captain,
McCaskey could tell now-was swinging an arm at
them to take off again. As they continued to descend, he
unholstered his pistol and motioned more wildly for them
to leave.
The soldiers of the firing squad were on Luis's
side. They stopped their approach as the chopper set
down. The captain was on McCaskey's side.
McCaskey watched him closely as he stalked
toward them. He was shouting but his words were swallowed by the
din
BALANCE OF POWER 365
of the rotor. Behind him, the two soldiers were still
holding Maria.
"I'm going to open the door," McCaskey said
to Luis when the captain was about fifteen feet
away.
"I'm with you," Luis said. "Pedro-be ready
to lift off again at my command."
Pedro acknowledged the order. McCaskey put his
hand on the latch, pulled, and threw open the door.
McCaskey got exactly what he was expecting.
As soon as he placed one foot on the
ground the captain lowered his gun without hesitation and
fired at the helicopter. The bullet struck the
rear of the cabin, just aft of the fuel tank. If it was
a warning shot, it was a dangerous one.
McCaskey didn't have the same reservations as
Luis. McCaskey knew that if he shot the
captain he would make Luis an accomplice. But
they had to defend themselves.
With the cool of a seasoned G-man putting in time at
the shooting range, McCaskey swung his
Parabellum around, leveled it at the captain's
left leg, and fired two rounds. The leg folded
inward, blood spitting from two wounds just above the
knee. Ducking low, McCaskey jumped from the
cabin and ran forward. Behind him, he heard the
distinctive
phut, phut
of the silenced sniper rifle. He didn't hear
any return fire and imagined that the soldiers of the
firing squad, as well as the other soldiers in the
rear of the courtyard, were doing just as Luis had
predicted. They were scattering for cover.
The soldiers holding Maria released her and ran
to
366 OP-CENTER
ward the nearest arch. She dropped to her knees and
then onto her hands.
"Stay down!" McCaskey yelled as she tried
to rise.
She looked at him defiantly as she turned a
shoulder toward the pedestal. Leaning against it, she got
her legs beneath her and stood slowly.
Of course she did,
he thought. Not because he told her she shouldn't but because
she was Maria.
The gun had fallen from the captain's hand. He was
attempting to get it back as McCaskey raced
past him. He snatched it up and continued ahead. The
officer's cries of rage and pain were quickly drowned
by Luis's voice coming over the megaphone.
His
"Evacuen la area,""
Luis warned them. His
"Mas helicopteros estdn de trdnsito!"
McCaskey had had four years of Spanish in
high school but he got the gist of what Luis was
saying. He was telling the soldiers to get out, that more
helicopters were on the way. It was an inspired
maneuver that could buy them the little extra time they
needed. McCaskey didn't doubt that the
soldiers would resist. If they were ready to execute
Spanish prisoners, they wouldn't hesitate
to attack Interpol operatives. But at least they
wouldn't charge recklessly back into the courtyard.
Occasional bursts of fire were met by Luis's
rifle fire. McCaskey didn't look back
but he hoped the chopper wasn't damaged.
As he came closer to Maria, he saw that her
side was thick with blood and that her face was bloody
as well. The bastards had beaten her. Reaching her
side, he ducked a shoulder under her arm.
BALANCE OF POWER 367
"Can you make it back with me?" he asked. He
took a moment to look at her. Her left eye was
bloody and swollen shut. There were deep cuts on
both cheeks and along the hairline. He felt like
shooting the bastard captain.
"We can't go," she said.
"We can," he insisted. "A team's inside hunting
for-was
She shook her head. "There's another prisoner in
there." She pointed toward a doorway some thirty
feet away. "Juan. They'll kill him. I
won't leave without him."
That too was Maria,
McCaskey thought.
McCaskey looked back at the chopper.
Flashes of fire were increasing as soldiers got
inside the palace and took up positions by the
windows. Luis was able to drive them back but he
wouldn't be able to hold them for long.
McCaskey picked Maria up. " "Let me
take you to the chopper," he said. "Then I'll go
back and get-was
Suddenly, there was a loud report from somewhere
directly above them. It was followed by a gurgled
cry from the chopper megaphone. A moment later
Luis stumbled from the open door on McCaskey's
side. He was holding the rifle in one hand and
clutching a wound in his neck with the other. McCaskey
looked up. A sharpshooter on top of the arches had
managed to get a clear shot through the open door of the
helicopter. McCaskey was furious with himself for
having anticipated only groundfire. He should have
had the goddamn chopper drop him off and then get the
hell out of there.
368 OP-CENTER
Luis walked forward haltingly. The rifle
clattered from his hand and he left it where it fell. His
goal was obviously the captain, who was
writhing painfully. Luis took two steps more and
then fell across him. No one risked shooting at him
now.
Pedro looked desperately toward McCaskey,
who waved him off. There was nothing else the pilot
could do. A couple of bullets
pinged off
the rotor as the helicopter rose, but it wasn't
severely damaged. The chopper headed away from the
palace, toward the cathedral, and was quickly out of
range.
They, unfortunately, were not.
THIRTY-SIX
Tuesday, 11:11 a.m. Madrid, Spain
To reach the throne room from the Hall of
Tapestries, it was necessary to exit the long but narrow
hall, go around the grand staircase, then pass through the
Hall of the Halberdiers. Altogether it was a journey of
slightly more than two hundred feet. The
Strikers would have to cover the distance quickly, lest the
noise of the explosion send General Amadori
into hiding.
For the seven soldiers and Aideen, however, it was also
a foray against more than two hundred years of
American tradition. Although the United
States had clandestinely assisted or encouraged
assassination attempts against the likes
of Fidel
Castro and Saddam Hussein, only once in its
history had the military targeted a foreign leader
for assassination. That was on April 15, 1986,
when U.s. warplanes took off from England to bomb
the headquarters of Libyan despot Muammar
al-Qaddafi. The attack was in retaliation for the
terrorist bombing of a West Berlin discotheque
frequented by American soldiers. Qaddafi
survived that assault and the U.s. lost an
F-111 and two airmen. Three hostages were
murdered in Lebanon in reprisal for the American
air raid.
370 OP-CENTER
Col. Brett August was aware of the lonely
significance of the mission they were undertaking. In
Vietnam, the base "padre," Father Uxbridge,
had a word for it. The priest tried to keep the mood
light by giving all his sermon themes a
military-style acronym. He called ethical
ambiguities like these M.i.s.t.: Moral
Issues Sliced Thick. That meant there was so much
to chew on that you could think about it forever and never do
anything because you could never reach a
satisfactory intellectual resolution. The
priest's advice was to do what felt right. August
hated bullies-especially bullies who
imprisoned and killed those who disagreed with him. This
felt right. The irony was that if they succeeded,
credit for the deed would go to Spanish patriots
loyal to the king, whose identities must be kept
secret for security reasons. If they failed,
they would be described as rogue operatives who had
been hired by the Ramirez clan to avenge his death.
When the dungeon door blew open, the Strikers
found themselves behind what was left of a three hundred
year old arras. The bottom of the tapestry had
been torn off in the explosion and the top was still
fluttering as they rushed through. The Strikers" orders
were to disable opponents wherever possible and they were ready
for the first wave of soldiers that came to investigate the
blast. The Strikers' ski masks contained goggles
and mouth filters which would protect them from the
Orthochlorobenzylidene malononitrile
grenades Privates DeVonne and Scott were
carrying. The fast-acting agent caused burning eyes
and retching. In an enclosed area like the palace
rooms, the gas would disable an opponent for up
to five minutes. Most peo-
BALANCE OF POWER 371
ple couldn't stand the effects for more than a minute or
two and attempted to get to fresh air as quickly as
possible. During the leapfrog approach,
Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power Page 35