Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

by Balance of Power [lit]

  "I'm convinced that General Rafael Amadori is

  running this put-down operation as a private war,"

  Maria said. "It appears that he's engineered events

  so that parliament has granted him emergency powers.

  He also has a very narrow window in which to eliminate

  opposition. By the time anyone decides to try and

  stop him it will be too late."

  "Do we know where the general is based?"

  McKaskey asked.

  "Not yet," the woman replied. "But I'm sure

  he's made it difficult for anyone to get

  near him. I'll have to give Amadori this much: he

  appears to be very well prepared."

  McCaskey noticed a change in Maria's

  voice. He recognized it because it had always made

  him feel a little jealous. She did not approve of

  Amadori's motives or actions, but there was a

  trace of admiration for the man.

  Maria fell silent as gunfire erupted in the

  distance.

  Aideen said something McCaskey couldn't quite make

  out.

  "Maria!" McCaskey yelled. "Talk to me!"

  It was several seconds before she came back on.

  "Sorry," she said. "The troops have entered the

  fac-

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  tory. We were trying to see what they were doing- there

  are parked cars in the way. We heard a few

  bursts of fire from the soldiers and then-

  damn!""

  "What?" McCaskey said.

  There was a peppering of loud reports followed by the

  unbroken drone of automatic fire.

  "Maria!"

  McCaskey shouted.

  "They let the soldiers provoke them," she said.

  "Who did?" Luis demanded.

  " "Probably some of the

  familia

  members and maybe some of the other workers," Maria

  said. "There was gunfire from inside the factory.

  They must have shot at the soldiers. Workers are

  running out-falling out. The ones with guns are being cut

  down. Juan is yelling for them to surrender."

  McCaskey looked over at Luis. The

  Interpol officer seemed pale as he looked back

  at McCaskey.

  "This is incredible," Maria said. "The soldiers are

  shooting anyone who doesn't put down their

  weapons. Even if they're just goddamned crowbars!

  People are shouting inside. It sounds like they're warning people

  to surrender."

  "How near are the soldiers to your position?"

  McCaskey asked.

  "About four hundred yards. But there are other cars

  around-I don't think they know we're here."

  Perspiration collected on McCaskey's upper

  lip. The law was collapsing. He wished there were some

  way he could get the two women out of there. He

  looked over at his companion. Luis's

  eyes were moving quickly without focusing on anything.

  He was anxious too.

  BALANCE OF POWER 243

  "Luis," McCaskey asked thickly, "what about

  the police chopper?"

  "It's still there-was

  "I know. But can you get permission for it to go in?"

  Luis lifted his hands helplessly. "Even if I

  could, I doubt they'd go. The soldiers might

  suspect

  afamilia

  ruse."

  A strong military offensive and paranoia. It was

  a combination that caused leaders to shut themselves off from all

  but their closest advisors. It was also a mix that could

  turn soldiers into indiscriminate executioners.

  McCaskey wished that Striker were here instead of over

  the Atlantic, hours away.

  No one spoke for a long moment. McCaskey

  continued to regard Luis. There were three options. The

  women could stay where they were; they could try to get out;

  or they could attempt to surrender. If they tried

  to sneak away and were spotted, they'd probably be

  cut down. If they attempted to surrender they

  might also be shot. The safest course

  seemed to be to stay where they were and use their fake

  ID'S if they were discovered. McCaskey wondered

  if Luis were going to make the call for them. The

  Interpol officer was big on taking

  responsibility for his people's actions and then taking

  any heat those actions generated. But this wasn't about

  blame or credit. This was about lives.

  "Maria," Luis said into the speaker, "what do you

  want to do?"

  "I've been wondering about that," Maria said. "I

  don't know what the attackers are after. We're

  seeing prisoners coming out now. Dozens of them. But

  we

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  have no idea where they're going to be taken.

  Possibly to be interrogated. I wonder-was

  "What do you wonder?" Luis asked.

  There was muted conversation on Maria's end. Then

  silence except for faint gunfire.

  "Maria?" Luis said.

  The conversation stopped. There was only gunfire.

  "Maria!" Luis repeated.

  After a moment Aideen came on. "She's not here."

  "Where is she?" Luis asked.

  "On her way to the factory with her hands

  raised," Aideen replied. "She's going to try

  to surrender."

  TWENTY-THREE

  Monday, 10:45 p.m. Washington, D.c.

  The phone call from National Security Chief

  Steve Burkow was brief and surprising.

  " "The President is considering a radical

  shift in Administration policy toward Spain,"

  Burkow informed Paul Hood. " "Be at the

  White House situation room at eleven-thirty

  tonight. And would you please have the latest intelligence on

  the military situation sent over?"'"

  It was less than an hour since the conference call with

  U.n. Secretary-General Manni. It had

  been decided, then, that the status quo was going to be

  maintained. Hood had been able to lie down and take

  a short nap. He wondered what could have changed

  since the call.

  Hood said he'd be there, of course. Then he went

  into the small private washroom in the back of his

  office. He shut the door. There was a speakerphone

  set in the wall under the light switch. After splashing

  water on his face he called Bob Herbert.

  Herbert's assistant said that he was talking

  to Darrell McCaskey and asked if this were

  a priority call. Hood said it wasn't and asked

  for Herbert to call back when he got off.

  246 OP-CENTER

  Hood had already finished washing his face and

  straightening his tie when the internal line beeped.

  Hood was glad to hear it. Like a scavenger drawn

  to carrion, his tired mind had padded back to Sharon

  and the kids. He didn't know why-to punish himself,

  he wondered?-but he didn't want to think about them

  now. When a crisis was pending, it was not the best time

  to reassess one's life and goals.

  Hood hit the telephone speaker button and leaned

  on the stainless steel sink. "Hood," he said.

  "Paul, it's Bob," Herbert said. "I was going

  to call you anyway."

  "What's Darrell's news?"

  "
It's pretty grim," Herbert said. "NRO

  intelligence has confirmed that four helicopters,

  apparently sent by General Amadori, attacked the

  Ramirez factory at 5:20 a.m., local

  time. Aideen Marley and Maria Corneja were in the

  parking lot, hunkered down in their car, during the

  attack. The Spanish troops gunned down about

  twenty people before taking control of the factory and rounding

  up others. According to Aideen- who's still in the

  car and in contact with Darrell- Maria surrendered

  to the soldiers. Her hope is that she can find out where

  Amadori is headquartered and get that information back

  to us."

  "Is Aideen in any immediate danger?"

  "We don't think so," Herbert said. "The troops

  aren't making a sweep of the parking lot. It looks

  to her like they want to finish rounding up a few people and

  get the hell out."

  "What about Maria?" Hood asked. "Will she try

  BALANCE OF POWER 247

  to stop Amadori?" He knew that the White House

  would have some of this information. That was probably one of the

  reasons for the hastily called meeting. He also

  knew that the President would ask the same question.

  "Truthfully, I don't know," Herbert

  admitted. "As soon as I hang up I'm going

  to ask Liz for the psychological workup she did when

  Maria was working here. Maybe that'll tell us

  something."

  "What does Darrell think?" Hood asked

  impatiently. "If anyone would know Maria

  Comeja, he's the man." Hood didn't put much

  trust in psychoanalytical profiles. Cold,

  paint-by-number studies were less

  valuable to him than human feelings and intuition.

  "What man knows any woman?" Herbert asked.

  Hood was about to tell Herbert to spare him the

  philosophy when his mind flashed to Sharon. Hood

  said nothing. Herbert was right.

  "But to answer your question," Herbert continued,

  "Darrell says he wouldn't put it past her

  to kill him. She can be single-minded and very, very

  focused. He says she could find a handy pen or

  paperclip and rip a hole in his femoral artery.

  He also says he could see her hating his barbarity but

  also applauding his courage and strength."

  "Meaning?"

  "She could think too much or too long," Herbert

  said. "Hesitate and miss an opportunity."

  "Would she ever join him?" Hood asked.

  "Darrell says no. Emphatically no,"

  Herbert added.

  Hood wasn't so sure, but he'd go with Darrell

  on this one. Herbert didn't have any additional

  informa-

  248 OP-CENTER

  tion on Serrador's death or outside confimation

  of his involvement with Martha's murder. But he said

  he'd keep working on both. Hood thanked

  Herbert and asked him to send all of the latest data

  to the President. Then he headed out to the White

  House.

  The drive was relaxed at this hour and he made the

  trip in just under a half hour. Hood turned off

  Constitution Avenue, turned onto 17th Street,

  and made a right onto the one way E Street.

  He made a left and stopped at the Southwest

  Appointment Gate. He was passed and, after parking,

  he entered the White House through the West Wing. He

  walked down the spacious corridors.

  Whatever his state of mind, whatever the crisis,

  whatever his levels of cynicism. Hood never

  failed to be moved and awed by the power and history of the

  White House. It was a nexus for the past and

  future. Two of the Founding Fathers had lived here.

  Lincoln had preserved and solidified the nation from

  here. World War II had been won from here. The

  decision to conquer the moon was made here. Given the

  right mix of wisdom, courage, and savvy, this

  pulpit could drive the nation-and thus, the world-to

  accomplish anything. When he was here, it was

  difficult for Hood to dwell on the failings of

  any of our nation's leaders. There was only the fire

  of hope fueled by the mighty bellows of

  power.

  Hood rode the main access elevator down to the

  situation room on the first sublevel. Beneath this

  level were three other subbasements. These included

  a war room, a medical room, a safe room for the

  first family and staff, and a galley. Hood was

  greeted by a sharp

  BALANCE OF POWER 249

  young guard who checked his palm print on a

  horizontal laser scanner. When the device

  chimed, Hood was allowed to pass through the metal

  detector. A Presidential aide greeted him

  and took him to the wood-paneled situation room.

  Steve Burkow was already there. So were the imposing

  Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General

  Kenneth VanZandt, Carol banning-sitting in for

  Secretary of State Av Lincoln, who was in

  Japan-and CIA Director Marius Fox.

  Fox was a man in his late forties. He was of

  medium height and build, with close-cropped brown

  hair and well-tailored suits. There was always a

  brightly colored handkerchief in his breast pocket,

  though it never managed to outshine his brown eyes. He

  was a man who truly enjoyed his work.

  But he's new at the job.

  Hood thought cynically. It would be interesting to see

  how long it took for the bureaucracy and the pressures

  of the job to wear him down.

  There was a long, rectangular mahogany table in the

  center of the brightly lit room. An STU-3

  secure telephone and a computer monitor were

  positioned at each of the ten stations, with slide-out

  keyboards underneath the table. The computer setup was

  selfcontained. Software from outside, even from the

  Department of Defense or State Department, was

  debugged before it was allowed into the system. On the

  ivory-colored walls were detailed color maps

  showing the location of U.s. and foreign distroops, as

  well as flags denoting trouble spots. Red

  flags for ongoing problems and green for latent. There

  were no flags in Spain and

  250 OP-CENTER

  a single green one offshore. Apparently, the

  change in Administration policy did not include

  sending American land troops to the region. The

  offshore marker was most likely for a carrier

  to airlift U.s. officials if it became necessary.

  No one had had a chance to do more than say hello

  to Hood before the President arrived.

  President Michael Lawrence stood a

  broadshouldered six-foot-four. He both looked

  and sounded presidential. Whatever combination of the three

  Cs- charisma, charm, and calm-created that

  impression, Lawrence had them. His longish silver

  hair was swept back dramatically and his voice still

  resonated as though he were Mark Antony on the

  steps of the Roman Senate. But President

  Lawrence also looked a great deal wearier than he

  had when he took office. The eyes were pu
ffier, the

  cheeks more drawn. The hair looked silver because it

  was more white than gray. That was common among U.s.

  presidents, though it wasn't just the pressures of the

  office which aged them tremendously-it was the fact that

  lives were deeply and permanently affected by every

  decision they made. It was also the steady flow of

  early morning and late night crises, the exhausting

  travel abroad, and what Liz Gordon once

  described as "the posterity effect" His: the

  pressure of wanting to secure a positive

  review in the history books while pleasing the people you

  were elected to serve. That was a tremendous emotional

  and intellectual burden that very few people had to deal with.

  The President thanked everyone for coming and sat down.

  As he poured himself coffee, he offered his con

  BALANCE OF POWER 251

  dolences to Hood on the death of Martha Mackall.

  The President commented on the loss of a young and

  talented diplomat, and said that he had already

  assigned someone the job of organizing a quiet

  memorial tribute to her. Hood thanked him.

  President Lawrence was very good and also very sincere when

  it came to human touches like that.

  Then he turned abruptly to the business at hand.

  The President was also very good when it came to shifting

  gears.

  "I just got off the phone with the Vice-President

  and with the Spanish ambassador, Sefior Garcfa

  Abril," the President said. He took a sip

  of the black coffee. " "As some of you know, the

  situation in Spain is very confused from a military

  standpoint. The police have been putting down some

  riots while ignoring others. Carol, you want

  to quickly address that?"

  Lanning nodded. She consulted her notes. "The

  police and the army have been ignoring riots

  by Castilians against other groups," she said.

  "Churches all across the nation are being forced to cope with

  literally thousands of people coming to them for sanctuary."

  "Are they providing it?" Burkow asked.

  "They were," she replied, rifling through her

  papers, "until the crowds became too great in some

  locations-like Parroquia Maria Reina in

  Barcelona and Iglesia del Sefior in

  Seville. Now they've literally locked the doors

  and are refusing to admit anyone else. In a few

  cases the local police have been called in

  to remove people from churches-a move, I should add, which

  is being privately denounced by the Vatican

  252 OP-CENTER

  although they're going to urge 'restraint and compassion"