"It seemed to creep up along the curb a few
seconds before the man opened fire."
"Did any of the shots come from the car?"
"I don't think so," she replied. "The only
flashes I saw came from the one gun."
"You were behind the other victim, the postman, for-part of the
attack. You were very conscientiously attending to his
wound. You might have missed a second gunman."
"I don't think so," she said. "I was only behind
him at the very end. Tell me-how is the gentleman?
Will he recover?"
"Sadly,
senorita,
he has died."
Aideen glanced down. "I'm sorry."
"You did everything you could to help him," the inspector
said. "There is nothing you should regret."
"Nothing," she muttered, "except moving in that
direction. Did he have a family?"
50 OP-CENTER
"Si,"
said the inspector. "Senor Suarez supported a
wife, a baby son, and a mother."
Aideen felt her temples grow tight as fresh
tears formed behind her eyes. Not only had she failed
to do anything to help Martha, but her instincts to draw
the gunman's fire had cost an innocent man his
life. In retrospect, she should have jumped toward
Martha. Maybe she could have put her body between the
gunman and Martha or tried to pull the wounded
woman behind the goddamn sentry booth. She should have
done anything but what she'd done.
"Would you like a glass of water?" the inspector
asked.
"Thank you, no. I'm all right."
The inspector nodded. He paced for a moment, staring
at the floor, before looking back at Aideen.
"Senorita,"
he said, "do you believe that you and your companion were the
gunman's targets?"
"I believe we were," she replied. She had
expected the question and now she wanted to be very careful
about how she answered it.
"Do you know why?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Have you any suspicions? Are you involved in any
kind of political activity? Do you belong to any
groups?"
She shook her head.
There was a knock on the door. The inspector
ignored it. He regarded Aideen harshly and in
silence.
"Senorita Temblon," he said, "Forgive me for
pressing you at this time, but a killer is free in the
streets of my city. I want him. Can you think of
no
BALANCE OF POWER 51
reason that someone would want to attack you or your
friend?"
"Comisario,"
she replied, "I have never been to Spain nor do I
know anyone here. My companion was here years ago but
she has-she
had-
no friends or enemies that I know of."
There was a second knock. The inspector went to the
door and opened it. Aideen couldn't see who was standing
outside.
His
"Si?"'"
the inspector asked.
His
"Comisario,""
said a man, " "Deputy Serrador wishes for the
woman to be brought to his office at once."
"Does he?" the inspector asked. He turned and
looked at Aideen. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Perhaps,
senorita,
the deputy wishes to apologize in person for this
terrible tragedy."
Aideen said nothing.
" "Or perhaps there is some other reason for the
audience?" the inspector suggested.
Aideen rose. "If there is, Comisario
Femandez, I won't know that until I see him."
The inspector folded away his notebook and bowed
courteously. If he were annoyed with her he
didn't show it. He thanked Aideen for her
assistance, apologized again for what had
happened, then extended an arm toward the open door.
Aideen left the room. The sergeant who had brought
her inside was waiting. He greeted her with a bow and
they walked down the corridor together.
Aideen felt bad for the inspector. He had an
investigation to oversee and she hadn't given him
anything to go on. But as Martha had pointed out, there were
52 OP-CENTER
rules for every society and for every stratum of that
society. And whatever the country, despite the
constitutions and the checks and balances, the rules were
always different for government. Phrases like
"needto-know" and "state secrets" effectively
shut out otherwise legal inquiries.
Unfortunately, in many instances-this one among them-the
obstructions were necessary and legitimate.
Deputy Serrador's office was located a short
walk down the corridor. The office was the same
size and had largely the same decor as the room
Aideen had just left, though there were a number of
personal touches. On three walls were framed
posters of the bullring of Madrid, the Plaza de
las Ventas. On the fourth wall, behind the desk,
were framed newspaper front pages describing
Basque activities during the 1980's.
Family photographs were displayed on shelves
around the room.
Deputy Serrador was seated behind the desk when
Aideen entered. Darrell McCaskey was sitting
on the sofa. Both men rose when she entered.
Serrador walked grandly from behind the desk, his arms
outstretched and a look of deep sympathy on his
face. His brown eyes were pained under his gray
eyebrows. His high, dark forehead was creased beneath his
slickedback white hair and his wide mouth was
downturned. His soft, large hands closed gently
around Aideen's.
"Ms. Marley, I am so, so sorry," he said.
"Yet in my grief I am also relieved that you are
unharmed."
"Thank you, Mr. Deputy," Aideen said. She
looked at McCaskey. The short, wiry,
prematurely gray Deputy Assistant
Director was standing stiffly, his hands
BALANCE OF POWER 53
folded in front of his groin. He was not wearing the
kind of diplomatic sympathy that was all over
Serrador: his expression was grave and tight.
"Darrell," she said. "How are you?"
"I've been better, Aideen. You all
right?"
"Not really," she said. "I blew it, Darrell."
"What do you mean?"
"I should have reacted... differently," Aideen said.
Emotion caused her 10 choke. "I saw what was
happening and I blew it, Darrell. I just blew
it."
"That's insane," McCaskey said. "You're
lucky you were able to get out of the way at all."
"At the expense of another man's life-was
"That was unavoidable," McCaskey said.
"Mr. McCaskey is correct," Serrador
said. He was still holding her hands within his. "You
mustn't do this to yourself. These things are always much clearer
in-what do you call it? Hindsight."
"That's what we call it," McCaskey said with
barely concealed irritatio
n. "Everything is always much
clearer after the fact."
Aideen gave McCaskey a questioning look.
"Darrell, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing except that Deputy Serrador
is disinclined to hold any discussions at the moment."
"What?" Aideen said.
"It would be most inappropriate," Serrador
stated.
"We don't agree," McCaskey replied.
He looked at Aideen. "Deputy Serrador
says that the arrangement was made with Martha. That it was
her experience and her ethnic background that enabled him
to
54 OP-CENTER
convince the Basques and Catalonians to consider
possible U.s. mediation."
Aideen regarded Serrador. "Martha was a
respected and highly skilled diplomat-was
"A remarkable woman," Serrador said with a
flourish.
"Yes, but as gifted a negotiator as Martha
was, she was not indispensible," Aideen went on.
Serrador stepped back. His expression was
disapproving. "You disappoint me,
senorita."
"Do I?"
"Your colleague has just been murdered!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Deputy," Aideen said,
"but the issue is not my sense of occasion-""
"That is true," said Serrador. "The issues are
experience and security. And until I'm convinced that
we have both, the talks
be postponed. Not canceled, Segnor McCaskey,
Senorita Marley. Merely delayed."
"Deputy Serrador," McCaskey said, "you know
as well as I that there may not be time for a delay.
Before Ms. Marley arrived I was telling you about her
credentials, trying to convince you that the talks can go
ahead. Ms. Marley has experience and she isn't
timid, you can see that."
Serrador looked disapprovingly at the woman.
"We
can
carry on," McCaskey said. "As for security,
let's assume for the moment that word of this meeting did
get out. That Martha was the target of an
assassination. What does that mean? That someone
wants to scare away American diplomats. They
want to see your nation come apart."
BALANCE OF POWER 55
"Perhaps the goal isn't even a political one,"
Aideen said. "Martha thinks-Martha
thought
that perhaps someone is hoping to make money on an armed
secession."
Serrador cleared his throat. He looked away
at his desk.
"Mr. Deputy, please," McCaskey said.
"Sit down with us. Tell us what you know. We'll
take the information back with us and help you put a
plan in place before it's too late."
Serrador shook his head slowly. "I have already
spoken with my allies in the Congress. They are
even more unwilling than I am to involve you now. You
must understand, Senor McCaskey. We were talking
with the various separatist parties before this-and we will do so
again. It was my personal hope that if the United
States could be brought into the discussions unofficially,
and the leaders of both sides could be persuaded to make
concessions, Spain could be saved. Now I'm
afraid we'll have to try and solve the problem
internally."
"And how do you think that will end?" Aideen demanded.
"I don't know," Serrador replied. "I only
know, regrettably, how your association with this
process must end."
"Yes," she said. "Thanks to the death of one who was
brave enough to lead . .. and the retreat of one who
wasn't."
"Aideen!" McCaskey said.
Serrador held up a hand. "It's all right,
Senor
56 OP-CENTER
McCaskey. Senorita Marley is overwrought.
I suggest you take her back to the hotel."
Aideen glared at the deputy. She wasn't going
to be bullied into silence and she wasn't going to do an
end run. She just wasn't.
"Fine," she said. "Play it cautiously, Mr.
Deputy. But don't forget this. When I dealt with
revolutionary factions in Mexico the results were
always the same. The government inevitably relied
on muscle to crush the rebels. But it was never enough
to destroy them completely, of course, and the
insurrectionists went underground. They didn't
flourish but they didn't die. Only people who were
caught in the crossfire died. And that's what's
going to happen here, Deputy Serrador. You can't
tamp down centuries of resentment without a very big
boot."
"Ah. You have a crystal ball?"
"No," she replied sharply. "Just some experience in
the psychology of oppression."
"In Mexico," Serrador pointed out. "Not in
Spain. You'll find that the people are not just-what do you
call them? Haves and have-nots. They are also
passionate about their heritage."
"Aideen," McCaskey said, his voice stern,
edgy. "That's enough. No one knows what's going
to happen anywhere. That's what these meetings were
supposed to be about. They were supposed to be
fact-finding, sharing ideas, a chance to find a peaceful
resolution to the tensions."
"And we may yet have those explorations," Serrador
said, once again the diplomat. "I mean no
disrespect to the loss of your colleague but we've
lost
BALANCE OF POWER 57
just one opportunity. There will be other ways to avoid
spilling blood. Our immediate concern is to find out who
was responsible for this crime and how the information got out
of my office. Then-we will see."
"That could take weeks, months," McCaskey
said.
"While haste, Senor McCaskey, may cost
us more lives."
"I'm willing to take that risk," Aideen
muttered. "The cost of retreat and inactivity may
be much higher."
Serrador walked behind the desk. " "Prudence
is neither of those." He pressed a button on the
telephone. "I sought the help of the
distinguished Senorita Mackall. She has been
taken from us. I sought and may still seek the help of the
United States. Is that still available, Senor
McCaskey, should I call on it?"
"You know it is, Mr. Deputy," McCaskey
answered.
Serrador dipped his head. His
"Gracias.""
" "De nada,""
McCaskey replied.
The door opened. A young aide in a dark suit
took a step into the office. He stood with his arms
stiffly at his sides.
"Hernandez," said the deputy, "please take our
guests out through the private entrance and tell my
driver to see that they get safely back to their
hotel." He looked at McCaskey. "That is
where you wish to go?"
"For the moment, yes. If possible, I'd like to go
wherever the investigation is being handled."
"I see. You have a background in law enforcement,
I recall."
58 OP-CENTER
"That's right," said McCask
ey. "I spent a lot
of time working with Interpol when I was at the
FBI."
Serrador nodded. "I'll look into it, of course.
Is there anything else I can do for either of you?"'"
McCaskey shook his head. Aideen did not
move. She was seething. Again, politics. Not
leadership, not vision. Just a cautious "T-step,"
as they used to call a little dance move back in
Boston. She wished she'd saved some of the
mierda de perro
for this meeting.
"My automobile is bulletproof and two of the
guards will accompany you," Serrador said. "You will
be safe. In the meantime, I will speak with those of my
colleagues who were scheduled to participate in today's
meeting. I will contact you in a few days-in
Washington, I imagine?-to let you know how and if
we wish to proceed."
"Of course," McCaskey replied.
"Thank you." Serrador smiled thinly. "Thank you
very much."
The deputy extended his hand across the large
mahogany desk. McCaskey shook it.
Serrador swung his hand toward Aideen. She
shook it as well, very briefly. There was no warmth
in the short look they exchanged.
McCaskey had eased his hand onto Aideen's
back. He half-guided, half-pushed her out the
door and they walked the corridor in silence.
When they were inside the deputy's limousine,
McCaskey turned to Aideen. "S."
"S. Go ahead. Tell me I was out of line."
"You were."
"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry. I'll
take the next
BALANCE OF POWER 59
plane home." This was becoming the theme of the day. Or
maybe it was something larger, the wrong fit of Aideen
Marley and ivory tower diplomacy.
"I don't want you to do that," McCaskey said.
"You were out of line but I happen to agree with what you
were saying. I don't think our accidental
goodcop, bad-cop routine worked, but it's got
potential."
She looked at him. "You agreed with me?"
"Pretty much. Let's wait until we can call
home and see what the rest of the clan has to say,"
McCaskey continued.
Aideen nodded. She knew that that was only part of the
reason McCaskey didn't want to talk.
Limousine drivers were never as invisible as
passengers presumed: they saw and heard everything.
And putting up the partition wouldn't guarantee
privacy. Chances were good that the car was bugged and their
conversation was being monitored. They waited until they
had returned to McCaskey's hotel room before
continuing. He'd set up a small
Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power Page 6
