"I'm sorry about what has happened," Luis said
in husky, accent-tinged English.
"Thank you," McCaskey said.
"I'm also sorry to be so late," Luis said,
finally breaking the hug. "I see that you have adapted the
Spanish way of dining. Eat very late at night and
then sleep well."
"Actually," said McCaskey, "this is the first chance
we've had to order room service. And I'm not
sure either of us will be able to sleep tonight, however much we
eat."
"I understand," Luis remarked. He squeezed his
friend's shoulders. "A terrible day. Again, I'm very
sorry."
"Would you care for something, Luis?" McCaskey
asked. "Some wine, perhaps?"
"Not while I am on duty," Luis replied.
"You should know that. But please, you two go ahead." His
134 OR-CENTER
eyes fell on Aideen and he smiled. "You are
Senorita Marley."
"Yes." Aideen rose from the table and offered her
hand. Though she was physically and emotionally
exhausted, something came alive when she touched the
man's hand. He was attractive, but that wasn't
what had stimulated her. After everything that had
happened today she was too numb, too
depleted to care. What he gave her was the sense of
not being afraid of anything. She had always responded
to that in a man.
"I'm sorry about your loss," Luis said. "But
I'm glad that you are all right. You
are
all right?"
"Yes," she said as she sat back down. "Thanks
for your concern."
"Mi delicia,"
he said. "My pleasure." Luis pulled over an
arm chair and joined them at the table.
McCaskey resumed eating his spicy partridge.
"So?"
"That smells very good," Luis said.
"It is," McCaskey said. His eyes narrowed.
"You're'stalling, Luis."
Luis rubbed the back of his neck. His
"Si,""
he admitted. "I'm stalling 'big time," as you
say in America. But it's not because I have something.
It's because I have nothing. Only thoughts. Ideas."
"Your thoughts are usually as good as someone else's
facts," McCaskey said. "Would you care to share
them?"
Luis took a drink from McCaskey's water
glass. He gestured vaguely toward the window.
"It's terrible out there, Darrell. Simply
terrible. And it's getting worse.
BALANCE OF POWER 135
We've had very small anti-Basque and
anti-Catalonian riots in Avila,
Segovia, and Soria."
"All Castilian regions," Aideen said.
"Yes," Luis remarked. "It doesn't appear
as if the police there are doing everything they can
to prevent these outbursts."
"The police are standing along racial lines,"
McCaskey said.
Luis nodded slowly. "I've never seen such-I'm
not even certain what to call it."
"Collective insanity," Aideen said.
Luis regarded her. "I don't understand."
"It's the kind of thing psychologists have been warning
about regarding the coming millennium," Aideen said.
"The fear that we're all going into it but most of us
won't be coming out alive. Result: a sense of
mortality which brings out panic. Pear. Violence."
Luis looked at her and pointed. "Yes, that's
right. It's as though everyone has caught some
kind of mental and physical fever. My people who have
gone to those regions say there's a sense of hatred
and excitement you can almost feel. Very strange."
McCaskey frowned. "I hope you're not saying that
Martha's shooting is part of a mass psychotic
episode."
Luis waved his hand dismissively. "No, of
course not. I'm merely remarking that something strange
is happening out there. Something I've never felt
before." He leaned forward, toward the Egg. "There is
also something brewing, my friends. Something that I think is
very well planned."
"What kind of "something"?" McCaskey asked.
136 OP-CEIMTER
" "The ship that sank in San Sebastian was
destroyed with C-4," Luis said. "Traces were
found on some of the debris."
"We heard that from Bob Herbert," McCaskey
said. He regarded Luis expectantly. "Go
on. There's an 'and" in your voice."
Luis nodded. "One of the dead men, Esteban
Ramirez, was at one time a CIA courier. His
company's yachts were used to smuggle arms and
personnel to contacts around the world. There have been
whisperings about that for a while, but those
whisperings are bound to become louder now. People here will
say he was hit by American agents."
"Do you believe that the CIA was involved in the
attack, Luis?" Aideen asked.
"No. They wouldn't have done something so public.
Nor would they have been so quick to retaliate for the
murder of your colleague. But there will be loud
gossip about that in political circles. No one
talks more than people in government. You know that,
Darrell."
McCaskey nodded.
"And the Spanish people will hear about it," Luis continued.
"Many will believe it and turn on Americans here."
"According to Bob Herbert, who I spoke with earlier,"
McCaskey said, "the Agency is as surprised
by the attack on the yacht as everyone else is. And
Bob always gets through the bureaucratic double-talk
over there. He knows when they're bullshitting him."
"I agree that the CIA probably isn't behind
this," Luis said. "So here is a possible scenario.
An American diplomat is murdered. That sends
a message to
BALANCE OF POWER 137
your government to stay out of Spanish affairs. Then
the men who killed her are murdered. The
tape recording tells all of Spain that the
Catalonian dead and their Basque accomplice.
Deputy Serrador, are ruthless assassins. That
turns the rest of the nation against those two groups."
"To what end?" McCaskey asked. "Who
benefits from a civil war? The economy is
ravaged and everyone suffers."
"I've been considering that," Luis said. "By law,
treason is punishable by capital punishment and a
seizure of assets. The taking of Catalonian
businesses would help to distribute power more evenly
among other groups. Conceivably, the
Castilians, Andalusians, and Galicians would
all benefit."
"Back up a moment," Aideen said. "What would the
Catalonians and Basques gain by joining
forces?"'"
"The Catalonians control the heart of Spain's
economy," Luis said, "and a core group among the
separatist Basques are highly experienced
terrorists. These are very complementary assets if one
is looking to paralyze a nation and then take it
over."
"Attack the physical and financial
infrastructure," McCas
key said, "then
come in and save it like a white knight."
" 'Exactly. A cooperative effort
supports intelligence we have had-not first hand and not enough
to act upon-that they have been planning a combined action of
some kind."
"How'd you come by this information?" McKaskey asked.
"Our source was a longtime hand on the Ramirez
138 OP-CENTER
yacht," Luis said. "A good man. Reliable.
He was killed in the explosion. He reported on
frequent meetings between Ramirez and key members
of industry, as well as regular trips along the
Bay of Biscay."
"Basque Country," remarked McCaskey.
Luis nodded. "With frequent disembarkments
by Ramirez. Our informant reported that a
bodyguard always went with him, some member of his
familia.
He had no idea who Ramirez met there or why.
He only knew that over the last six months the
meetings increased from once-monthly
to once-weekly."
"Is there any chance that your informant was
double-dipping?" McCaskey asked.
"You mean selling this information to someone
else?" Luis asked.
"That's right."
"I suppose it's possible," Luis said.
"Obviously, some outside person or group
learned what Ramirez and his people were planning and made
sure that things went wrong. The question is who. To begin
with, whoever stopped Ramirez and his group knew that the
assassination of your diplomat was going to happen."
"How do you know that?" McCaskey asked.
"Because the yacht was bugged and booby-trapped before the
assassination," Luis informed him. "They obtained the
taped confession, the man who shot Martha arrived, and
they blew the yacht up."
"Right," McCaskey said. "Very neat and
professional."
"The whole thing has been very neat and professional,"
Luis agreed. "You know, my friends, talking
BALANCE OF POWER 139
about civil war-there are those who believe that the last
one never really ended. That differences were merely
patched over with-what do you call them?"
"Band-Aids?" Aideen offered.
Luis pointed at her. "That's right."
Aideen shook her head. "Can you imagine," she
said, "the enormous impact that a person-not
a group, but an individual-would make by bringing a
final and lasting end to the strife?"
Both men looked at her.
"The new Franco," Luis said.
"Right," said Aideen.
"That's a helluva thought," McCaskey agreed.
"It's like the old Boston election racket my father
used to talk about when I was a kid," Aideen
continued. "A guy hires thugs to terrorize
shopkeepers. Then one day that same guy picks up
a baseball bat and stands guard at a fish store
or shoe shop or newsstand and chases the thugs
away-which he'd also paid them to do in the first place.
Next thing you know he's running for public office
and gets the workingman's vote."
"The same thing could be happening here," Luis said.
Aideen nodded slowly. "It's possible."
"Anybody you know who might fit that profile,
Luis?" McCaskey asked.
"Madre de Dios,
there are so many politicians, officers, and business
figures who could do that job," Luis said. "But
what we have decided is this. Someone in San
Sebastian destroyed the yacht. Someone else
delivered the tape to the radio station.
Whether
140 OP-CENTER
these people are still in the village or not, there has to be a
trail. We have asked someone to go up there tonight and have a
look. She's being helicoptered up"-he looked
at his watch-"in two hours."
"I'd like to go with her," Aideen said. She threw her
napkin on the table and rose.
"I'll be happy to send you," Luis said. He
regarded McCaskey warily. "That is, if you
don't mind."
McCaskey gave him a funny look. "Who's
going up there?"
"Maria Comeja," Luis answered softly.
McCaskey quietly placed his knife and fork on
his plate. Aideen watched as a strange
discomfiture came over the normally stoic former
G-man. It started with a sad turn of the mouth then
grew to include the eyes.
"I didn't realize she was working with you again,"
McCaskey said. He touched his napkin to his
lips.
"She returned about six months ago," Luis
said. "I brought her back." He shrugged. "She
needed the money so she could keep her small
theater in Barcelona going. And I needed her because-
pues,
she
is
the best."
McCaskey was still looking away. Far away. He
managed a weak smile. "She is good."
"The best."
McCaskey finally raised his eyes. He looked
at Aideen for a very long moment. She couldn't
imagine what was going through his mind.
"I'll have to clear it with Paul," he said, "but
I'm in favor of having our own intel from the site.
Take your tourist papers." He looked at
Luis. "Will Maria be going as an Interpol
officer or not?"
BALANCE OF POWER 14t
"That will be her call," he replied. "I want her
to have the freedom to act."
McCaskey nodded. Then he fell silent again.
Aideen looked at Luis. "I'll get a few
things together. How are we going to San Sebastian?"
"By helicopter from the airport," he said. "You'll
have a rental car when you arrive. I'll phone
Maria to let her know that you will be
accompanying her. Then I will take you over."
McCaskey looked at Luis. "Did she know
I was here, Luis?"
"I took the liberty of informing her." He patted
the back of his friend's hand. "It's all right. She
gave you her best."
McCaskey's expression grew sad again. "That
she did," he replied. "That she most surely
did."
ELEVEN
Tuesday, 12:07 a.m. San Sebastian,
Spain
When Juan Martinez maneuvered the runabout away
from the Ramirez yacht, the twenty-nine-yearold
sailor and navigator had no idea that he'd be
saving his own life.
Idling roughly twenty-five meters from the boat,
Juan was rocked from his feet by the explosion. But his
small boat was not overturned. As soon as the main
blast had died, the muscular young man threw the
small boat ahead, toward the listing ship.
He had found Esteban Ramirez-who was his
employer as well as the father of their powerful
familia-
lying face-up in the water. His severely
burned body was floating some fifteen meters from the
yacht. Holding on to a mooring rope, Juan
jumped into the choppy waters. Dog-paddling toward
Ramirez with his free hand and feet, he reached the
man and pulle
d him toward the boat.
His employer was still breathing.
"Senor Ramirez," Juan said. "It's Juan
Martinez. I'm going to bring you onto the runabout and
get you to a-was
"Listen!"
Ramirez wheezed suddenly.
BALANCE OF POWER 143
Juan started. A moment later Ramirez's
groping hand latched onto his sleeve. His grip was
surprisingly strong.
"Serrador!" Ramirez said. "Warn ... him."
"Serrador?" Juan said. "I don't know him,
sir." "Office-was Ramirez choked. "Reading
glasses." "Please, sir," Juan said. "You
mustn't exert yourself-was
"Must call!"
Ramirez said. "Do ... it!" "All right,"
Juan said, "I promise to call." Just then,
Ramirez began to tremble violently. " "Get
them ... or they . . . will.. . get us."
"Who will?" Juan asked.
Suddenly, Juan heard the chugging of an engine on
the other side of the yacht. He saw the edges of a
bright white light creeping around it, playing across the
water. A searchlight. A boat was approaching.
Juan didn't know much about his boss's business
affairs but he did know that their company's powerful
familia
had many enemies. The boat might not belong to one of
them, but he wasn't sure he wanted to take that
risk.
Before Juan could get his employer onto the runabout,
Ramirez opened his mouth but did not close it again.
Air hissed softly from deep in his throat as his
mouth hung frozen, agape.
Juan shut his employer's eyes. He decided
to leave his body there. Doing so was a sign of
disrespect and that bothered him. But whoever was
responsible for the explosion might still be in the
vicinity. Perhaps even on the boat that was approaching.
Juan didn't think it was prudent to be found here.
Climbing back onto the runabout, he engaged the
engine and sped
144 OP-CENTER
away before the boat arrived. He headed out
to sea where he wouldn't be seen, then cut the engine.
He remained until he saw the police arrive.
Then he set out again, giving the accident a wide
berth as he headed toward shore.
Upon reaching the dock, Juan went to a pay phone.
Wet and chilly, he called the night watchman at
the factory and asked him to send a car for him. Upon
arriving, Juan went directly to Senor
Ramirez's office. He forced open the door and
sat behind his desk.
His employer had mentioned something about his reading
glasses. Juan found the pair in the top drawer.
He looked at them. Printed inside the
Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power Page 14
