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Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

Page 14

by Balance of Power [lit]


  "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

 

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