Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

by Balance of Power [lit]

  Maria and the sergeant-his nameplate said

  Garcia-waited. She swore she could hear his

  heartbeat. He did as he was instructed when the

  others called to him, and when they were gone Maria told

  him to rise. Still facing front, he was told to take

  off his uniform.

  He did. Maria then turned him around so he was

  facing the toilet. She told him to kneel in

  front of it.

  "Please don't shoot me," he said. "Please."

  "I won't," she said, "if you do as you're

  told."

  There were two things she could do. One was to stuff his mouth

  with toilet paper, break his fingers so he couldn't

  take it out, then tie him to the heavy tank lid. But

  that would take time. Instead, she executed a tight

  front-kick to the back of his head. That drove his

  forehead into the ceramic tank and knocked him out.

  He'd probably suffered a concussion, but there was no

  way to avoid injuries in this situation. Grabbing the

  uniform and guns, she changed quickly in the adjoining

  stall. The uniform was baggy, but it would have to do.

  Tucking her hair into the snug pillbox cap, she

  bolstered the sergeant's gun and hid the extra

  pistols under the front of her shirt.

  She stuffed her clothes into the wastebasket- everything

  except the shoes. She rubbed the soles on

  328 OP-CENTER

  her cheeks to give herself "stubble." When she was

  finished, she threw the shoes out as well. Then she

  went to the mirror to give herself a final check. As

  she did, two other sergeants entered. They were in a

  hurry.

  "You're late, Garcfa!" one of them barked. He

  walked past Maria following the other man toward the

  urinal. "The lieutenant gave each

  group five minutes to get in and-was

  The sergeant stopped and turned. Maria didn't

  wait for him to act. She faced him and placed her

  right knee behind his left knee. Then she hooked her

  right arm, locked it around his neck, and threw him over

  her leg. He fell in front of her, lengthwise.

  Because her weight was on her right leg, she was able

  to lift her left leg. She stomped hard on his

  chest, breaking ribs and knocking the wind from him. His

  companion was facing the urinal. He turned but

  Maria had already stepped over the sergeant and was moving

  toward him. Lifting her right leg without breaking her

  stride, she drove her right knee hard into the small

  of his back. He was slammed against the urinal and

  fell back. As the soldier hit the tiled floor

  Maria kicked him in the temple with her heel. He

  went out immediately. The other man was still moaning so

  Maria pivoted gracefully and kicked him

  squarely in the side of the head. He, too, fell

  unconscious.

  Maria stumbled back. She had marshaled the energy

  she'd needed for the attack, but the effort had drained

  her. The blows she'd suffered in the music room

  ached wickedly and this activity hadn't helped. But

  there was still a mission to complete and Maria

  intended to finish

  BALANCE OF POWER 329

  it. Staggering to the sink, she cupped water in her hands

  and drank.

  Then she remembered something the man on the floor had

  said. Soldiers were being allowed to come in here at

  five-minute intervals. She'd just eaten up

  nearly two of those. There was no time to delay.

  Pulling herself erect, Maria turned and started

  toward the door. Then, without hesitation, she stepped

  into the hallway. She turned right and then turned

  left a few doors down. She was back in the

  corridor leading to the throne room.

  There were soldiers stationed here but she moved quickly, as

  though she were hurrying somewhere. Whenever she worked

  undercover Maria had found that two things were necessary for a

  successful infiltration. First, you had to act like you

  belonged wherever you were. If you did, no one questioned

  you. Second, you had to act as though you had somewhere

  to go-immediately. If you moved fast and with assurance, no

  one stopped you. She was certain that those qualities,

  plus the uniform, would get her back to the Hall of the

  Halberdiers. They might even get her inside.

  After that, Maria would need four things in order to get

  to Amadori.

  The guns, wile-and two special allies.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tuesday, 4:30 a.m. Washington, B.c.

  Mike Rodgers joined Paul Hood in his office

  to await word on Striker's deployment. Shortly

  after Rodgers arrived, Steve Burkow phoned with

  news from the White House. Hood hoped the call

  was only to give him the news. The hawkish National

  Security chief had a way of using calls like these

  to push the President's agenda.

  According to Burkow, the king of Spain had phoned from his

  residence in Barcelona and spoken with the

  President. Officers loyal to the king had confirmed

  that General Rafael Amadori, head of military

  intelligence and one of the most powerful officers in

  Spain, had relocated his command center to the throne

  room of the Royal Palace.

  Hearing that. Hood and Rodgers exchanged glances.

  Without a word, Rodgers went to a phone by the couch

  to inform Luis at Interpol that they had positively

  located their target. Hood allowed himself a little

  smile. He was pleased that they'd gotten that one right.

  "There's now no doubt about what this General

  BALANCE OF POWER 331

  Amadori is planning," Burkow

  continued. "The President has informed the king about the

  presence of the Striker team in Madrid. His

  Majesty has given us his approval to take

  whatever action is necessary."

  "Of course he did," Hood said. The

  President's action was expedient and probably

  necessary, but it made him uneasy.

  "Don't be so quick to judge the king," Burkow said.

  "He has also acknowledged that it probably won't

  be possible to hold Spain together. He said that too

  many long-simmering ethnic demons have been let

  loose. He also told the President that if the

  U.n. and NATO will assist in an orderly

  disassembling of the nation, he will abdicate."

  "What good would that do?" Hood asked. "The king's

  powers are only ceremonial."

  "That's true," Burkow said. "But he's prepared

  to use his abdication as a gesture to the people of Spain.

  He wants to show them that if they want autonomy,

  he won't stand in their way. However, he's

  adamant about not handing over power to a tyrant."

  Hood had to admit that even though the king probably

  had a fortune hidden in foreign banks, there was an

  admirable if grandstanding logic to what he had

  proposed. "When will the king be making this

  gesture?" Hood asked.

  "When Amadori is no longer a threat," Burkow

  replied. "Speaking of which, what's the stat
us of your

  team?"

  "We're awaiting word," Hood said. "Striker should

  be arriving at the target any mo-was

  332 OP-CE1MTER"...TheY'RE

  there," Rodgers said suddenly.

  "Hold on, Steve," Hood said. "Mike,

  what've you got?"

  "Darrell just heard from Colonel August,"

  Rodgers said, the phone still pressed to his ear.

  "Striker has successfully deployed along the

  east side of the opera house. They have the palace in

  view and so far no one has bothered them. The

  soldiers seem to be concentrating on the palace and

  nothing more. Colonel August is awaiting further

  instructions."

  "Thank Darrell for me," Hood said, and repeated

  the information to Burkow. As he spoke, he brought up

  the mission profile McCaskey had filed a

  half hour before. There was a map of that section of

  Madrid as well as a detailed map of the Royal

  Palace, along with various assault and infiltration

  configurations. According to McCaskey, the

  estimate from the Interpol spotter put the palace

  strength at four or five hundred troops. Most

  of them were clustered outside the southern end, where the

  throne room was located.

  " 'What would the plan and timing be if they had to go

  in now?" Burkow asked.

  Rodgers had come over to the desk. He looked over

  Hood's shoulder. Hood put the phone on

  speaker.

  "There's a sewer on the northwest corner of the

  Plaza de Oriente," Hood said. "It connects

  to a catacomb which used to be part of an old

  Moorish fortress. It's used to store rat

  poison now."

  "Hold it," Burkow said. "How do they get into the

  sewer?"

  BALANCE OF POWER 333

  "They use an old French Resistance trick,"

  Rodgers replied. "Create a diversion and hit the

  main target. Nothing lethal-just lots of smoke."

  "I see," Burkow said.

  "The catacomb connects to a palace dungeon, which

  hasn't been used for that purpose in over two

  centuries," Hood said.

  "You mean it's just sitting there?" Burkow

  said.

  "That's correct," Hood replied.

  "Given Spain's history vis-a-vis the

  Inquisition," Rodgers said, "I'm not surprised

  it hasn't been restored and opened to the public."

  "Entering the dungeon will bring the Strikers right below the

  Hall of Tapestries," Hood continued. "From

  there, it's a short trip to the throne room."

  "A short trip as the crow flies," Rodgers

  said, "though there are probably troops up and down

  the corridor. If they go in a three-cut mode,

  there'll definitely be casualties among the

  Spaniards."

  "Three-cut mode?" Burkow said.

  "Yes, sir," Rodgers said. "Cut through any

  resistance, cut down the target, then cut out. In

  other words, if they don't bother to obtain uniforms

  and sneak up on Amadori and take pains

  to minimize casualties-on either side."

  "I see," Burkow said.

  "We intended to wait and see if we hear from our

  person inside," Hood said.

  " "The Interpol agent who allowed herself to be

  captured," Burkow said.

  "That's right. We don't know whether she'll

  try to

  334 OP-CENTER

  reach us or try to take out the target herself," Hood

  said. "But we thought it best to give her time."

  Burkow was silent for a moment. "While we wait,

  we run the risk of Amadori growing exponentially

  stronger. There's a point at which a usurper ceases

  to be regarded as a rebel and becomes a hero to the

  people. Like Castro when he overthrew Batista."

  "That is a risk," Hood agreed. "But we

  don't think Amadori is at that point yet. There

  are still dozens of riot zones and Amadori hasn't

  been named as an interim leader in any of the

  newscasts we've monitored. Until a few

  major figures join him-not just politicians, but

  business and religious leaders-he's probably

  going to lay low."

  "He's already started leaning hard on industrial

  leaders," Burkow pointed out. "The men on the yacht

  and

  thefamilia

  members he rounded up-was

  "He probably will scare others into line," Hood

  agreed, "but I doubt that'll happen within the next

  hour or two."

  "So you think we should wait."

  "Striker's on alert and ready," Hood said. "The

  delay isn't likely to do much harm and it

  may

  give us some valuable onsite intel."

  "I disagree that the delay isn't likely to do much

  harm," Burkow said. "General VanZandt

  believes that it may also give Amadori a chance

  to punch up his own security. And getting him is the

  primary

  objective."

  Hood looked up at Rodgers. They both knew

  what Burkow was implying: this wasn't the time to be

  cautious.

  BALANCE OF POWER 335

  Hood agreed, to a point. The blitzkriegs,

  purges, and murders seemed to put Amadori in a

  class with Hitler and Stalin, not Fidel Castro

  or Francisco Franco. He couldn't be allowed

  to rule Spain.

  "Steve," Hood said, "I agree with you.

  Amadori is the primary objective. But the

  Strikers are the only resource we have. If we

  use them recklessly, that'll endanger their lives and

  also jeopardize the mission." He looked

  at the computer clock. His assistant Bugs

  Benet had programmed it to give him the local time

  as well as the time in Madrid. "It's nearly

  eleven a.m. in Spain," he continued. "Let's

  see what the situation is at noon. If we

  haven't heard anything from Maria Comeja by then.

  Striker will move in."

  "A lot can happen in an hour, Paul," Burkow

  complained. "A few key endorsements could make

  Amadori unstoppable. Remove him then and you

  kill a world leader instead of a traitor."

  "I understand that," Hood replied. "But we need more

  information."

  "Look," Burkow pressed, "I'm starting to get

  pissed off. Your team is one of the best strike

  forces in the world. Don't sit on them. Let them

  loose. They'll collect their own intel as they

  proceed."

  "No," Hood said emphatically. "That isn't good

  enough. I'm going to give Maria the extra hour."

  "Why?"

  Burkow demanded. "Listen, if you're afraid

  to give the order to waste that son-of a-bitch

  general-""

  "Afraid?" Hood snapped. "That

  bastard sat back

  336 OP-CENTER

  and let one of my people die. I can eat what's on the

  plate. Gladly."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "The problem is we've been so damned target

  focused we haven't worked out an exit strategy for

  Striker."

  "You don't need Maria for that," Burkow said.

  "They go out the same way they go in."<
br />
  "I don't mean we need an exit strategy from the

  palace," Hood said. "I'm talking about

  culpability. Who's going to take the heat for this,

  Steve? Did the President work that out with the king?"

  "I don't know. I wasn't in on the conversation."

  "Are we supposed to disavow Striker if they're

  caught?" Hood asked. "Say they're mercenaries

  or some kind of rogue operation and then let them twist

  in the wind?"

  "Sometimes that has to happen," Burkow said.

  "Sometimes it does," Hood agreed. "But not when

  there's an alternative. And the alternative we have

  here is to let a Spaniard be involved somewhere. A

  patriot. Someone Striker is there to support,

  even if that's just smoke-and-mirrors for

  public consumption."

  Burkow said nothing.

  "So I'm going to wait until noon to see if we

  get anything from Maria," Hood said. "Even her

  whereabouts in the palace will do. If Striker can scoop

  her up on the way to Amadori, then no-I won't

  have any problem giving the order to waste the

  son-ofabitch."

  There was a long moment of thick silence. Burkow

  BALANCE OF POWER 337

  finally broke it.

  "I can tell the President it'll happen at

  noon?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Hood.

  "Fine," Burkow said coldly. "We'll talk

  then."

  The National Security chief hung up. Hood

  looked up at Rodgers. The general was smiling.

  "I'm proud of you, Paul," Rodgers said.

  "Real proud."

  "Thanks, Mike." Hood closed down the computer

  file and rubbed his eyes. "But God, I'm tired.

  Tired of all of this."

  "Close your eyes," Rodgers said. "I'll

  take the watch."

  "Not till this is over," Hood said. "But you can do

  me a favor."

  "Sure."

  Hood picked up the phone. "I'll get on top

  of Bob Herbert and Stephen Viens, tell them I

  want that woman found and pinpointed. Meantime, see

  if there's anything else Darrell can do. An

  hour's not much time, but maybe somebody once bugged

  the palace. See if he can scare up any

  enemies of the king."

  "Will do."

  "And make sure he briefs Striker about what

  we're waiting on."

  Rodgers nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

  Hood made the calls to Herbert and Viens. When

  he was finished, he folded his arms on his desk and

  rested his forehead on them.

  He

  was

  tired. And he wasn't particularly proud of

  338 OP-CENTER

  himself. To the contrary. He was disgusted by his eagerness