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Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

Page 6

by Balance of Power [lit]


  "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

 

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