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Clancy, Tom - Ballance of Power

Page 38

by Balance of Power [lit]


  He wouldn't smother her with gifts or jealousy the way

  Stefano had. And then one day, at a Fourth of

  July picnic a couple of months after they met,

  she happened to look into his eyes and it all

  clicked. Affection became love.

  BALANCE OF POWER 393

  A branch scraped heavily against the window and

  Sharon looked over. The branch had certainly

  grown since she was a girl. That same branch used

  to scratch so gently against the same window.

  It

  has grown larger,

  she thought,

  but it hasn't changed.

  She wondered if that was a good or a bad thing, being

  able to stay the same.

  Good for a tree, bad for people,

  she decided. But change was one of the most difficult

  things for anyone to do. Change- and compromise.

  Admitting that your way might not be the only way of

  doing things or even the best way.

  Sharon gave up trying to sleep. She'd pull

  another Nancy Drew from her shelf. But first she

  slid from the bed, pulled on a robe, and

  went to look in on Harleigh and Alexander. The

  kids were sleeping in the bunk bed that used to belong

  to her younger twin brothers- Yul and Brynner. Her

  parents had met at a matinee of the original

  The King and I.

  They still sang "Hello, Young Lovers" and "I Have

  Dreamed" to one another, off-key but beautifully.

  Sharon envied her parents the open affection they shared.

  And the fact that her father was retired and they got to spend

  so much time together and they seemed so thoroughly happy.

  Of course,

  she thought,

  there were times when Mom and Dad weren 'I so content-

  She remembered quiet tension when her father's

  business wasn't going so well. He rented

  bicycles and boats to people who came to the sleepy

  resort on the Long Island Sound, and some summers

  were bad ones. There were gas shortages and

  recessions. Her father had to put in long hours then,

  running his business

  394 OP-CENTER

  during the day and working as a short-order cook at

  night. He used to come home smelling of grease and

  fish.

  Sharon looked at her children's peaceful

  faces. She smiled as she listened to Alexander

  snore, just like his dad.

  The smile wavered. She shut the door and stood in

  the dark hall, her arms folded around her. She was

  angry at Paul and she missed him terribly.

  She felt safe here, but she didn't feel at

  home here. How could she? Home wasn't where her

  possessions were. Home was where Paul was.

  Sharon walked slowly back to her old bedroom.

  Marriage, career, children, emotion, sex,

  stubbornness, conflict, jealousy-was it hope or

  arrogance that possessed two people and convinced them that all

  of those things could be melded into a working life?

  Neither,

  she told herself.

  It was love.

  And the bottom line, however she got to it, was that as much

  as her husband frustrated her more than any man had

  or could, as much as he wasn't there as much as she or

  the kids wanted or needed, as much as she was angry

  at him almost as much as she felt affection for him, she

  still loved him.

  Deeply.

  Alone now in the small, quiet hours of the morning,

  Sharon felt that she may have come down too

  hard on Paul. Leaving Washington with the kids,

  snapping at him on the phone-why the

  hell

  wasn't she willing to cut him any slack? Was it

  because she was angry that he could take all the time he

  wanted for his career and she couldn't? Very possibly.

  Was it also because she

  BALANCE OF POWER 395

  keenly remembered missing her father during the summer

  busy season and when he had to hold a night job?

  Probably. She didn't want her kids

  to experience the same thing.

  Sharon didn't feel that what she'd said to Paul was

  wrong. He

  should

  spend more time with his family and less time at work. His

  job required a greater commitment than

  nine-to-five, but Op-Center would continue

  to function if he came home for dinner

  some

  nights ... if he went on vacation with them

  once

  in a while. But how Sharon had spoken to him-that was a

  different matter. She was frustrated and instead of

  talking to him she'd taken it out on him.

  After taking his kids away, that had to leave him

  feeling very much alone.

  The woman took off her robe and lay down on the

  twin bed. The pillow was cold with her sweat and the

  branch was still scratching. She looked over. As she

  did, she saw her cellular phone on the night

  table. The black plastic glowed in the moonlight.

  Rolling onto her side, Sharon picked up the

  phone. flipped it open, and began punching in

  Paul's private number. She stopped after the

  area code. She discontinued the call and set the

  phone aside.

  She had a better idea. Instead of giving him a

  call- where even a small thing, like getting voice

  mail or hearing the wrong word could trigger a

  relapse-she'd give him an olive branch.

  Feeling guilty and forgiving at the same time,

  Sharon lay back, shut her eyes, and dropped

  almost at once into a contented sleep.

  FORTY-ONE

  Tuesday, 11:50 a.m. Madrid, Spain

  When the soldiers in the courtyard suddenly withdrew,

  Darrell McCaskey silently thanked Brett

  August. The Strikers had to be the reason for the

  abrupt pullback.

  After the helicopter took off, the soldiers on the

  rooftop kept McCaskey and Maria pinned down.

  At the same time the scattered soldiers around the

  perimeter regrouped. It appeared as if they were

  organizing for an assault. But the attack never

  came. Everyone seemed riveted by loud pops from

  inside the palace.

  "It's begun," McCaskey said to Maria.

  Yellow smoke filtered through several of the windows

  along the wall beside the arches. There were shouted commands

  at the far end of the courtyard, near the western side

  of the palace. Though it was difficult to see because of the

  high, bright sun and deep shadows, the bulk of the

  soldiers seemed to disappear. Not long after that,

  McCaskey heard gunfire behind the ornate white

  walls.

  "What's going on?" Maria asked. She was leaning

  against the inside of the arch closest to the palace wall.

  Her legs were stretched in front of her.

  McCaskey had

  BALANCE OF POWER 397

  placed his handkerchief across the gunshot wound in her

  side and was holding it in place.

  "It's the countercoup," he replied. He didn't

  want to say much in case they were overheard.

  "How are you doing?"

  "All right," she replied.

>   As they spoke, McCaskey had squinted across the

  wide, sunlit space. To the south-McCaskey's

  left- a tall iron gate separated the palace

  courtyard from the cathedral. The church doors had

  been shut before but now it looked as though people were beginning

  to emerge-priests as well as parishioners. He

  assumed that they'd heard the helicopter and the shots that

  had been fired at it. Within the courtyard itself Luis

  was still lying across the captain. The Interpol chief was

  silent but the Spanish officer was moaning.

  "We have to bring him in," Maria said.

  "I know," McCaskey said. He continued to peer

  into the sunlight. He was finally able to pick out at

  least three soldiers who had remained behind. Two of

  them were roughly four hundred feet away. They were

  crouched behind a post that supported the gate on the

  southern side of the courtyard. A third soldier was

  squatting behind an old lamppost about three hundred

  feet straight ahead, to the north.

  McCaskey put his gun in Maria's hand.

  "Listen, Maria. I'm going to try and get

  Luis. I'll see if the soldiers will trade him

  for that captain."

  "That is not a trade," Maria declared angrily.

  "Luis is a man. The captain is

  una yibora.

  A snake that crawls on the ground." She glanced

  out at the captain and her swollen upper lip pulled

  into a sneer. "He is

  398 OP-CENTER

  lying there just as he should-on his belly."

  "Hopefully," McCaskey said evenly, "the

  soldiers won't see things quite the same way. Can you

  move around slightly so they can see the gun?"

  Maria put her left hand on the bloody

  handkerchief and twisted slightly. She brought her right

  hand around.

  "Hold it," he said before the gun came around. "I

  want to tell the soldiers something first. How do you

  say, 'Don't shoot"?"

  " We

  disparar.""

  McCaskey leaned his head out from behind the arch.

  "left-brace No disparar!"

  he yelled. He kept his head exposed then asked

  Maria, "How do you say, 'Let's take care of

  our wounded"?"

  She told him.

  McCaskey shouted, his

  jCuidaremos nuestros heridos!"

  There was no response from the soldiers.

  McCaskey frowned. This was one of those moves where

  you had to put everything on the table and pray.

  "All right," he said to Maria as he rose. "Let

  them see the gun."

  Maria twisted further until her right hand came from

  behind the archway. The gun glinted in the sun at the

  same time as McCaskey stepped into the open. He

  held his hands up to show that he was unarmed. Then,

  slowly, he began walking into the courtyard.

  The soldiers did nothing. The sun felt

  savagely hot as McCaskey stepped closer to the

  wounded men. He was aware of continued gunfire from

  inside the pal BALANCE OF POWER 399

  ace-not a good sign. The Strikers should have been in and

  out without engaging the enemy.

  Suddenly, a soldier stepped from behind the gatepost.

  He entered the gate and walked toward McKaskey.

  He was armed with a submachine gun. It was pointed

  directly at McCaskey.

  " We

  disparar,""

  McCaskey repeated in case the soldier

  hadn't heard him the first time.

  "fVuelta!"

  the soldier shouted. McCaskey looked at him and

  shrugged. "He wants you to turn around!" Maria

  yelled. McCaskey understood. The soldier

  wanted to make sure he didn't have a weapon

  shoved in his waistband. McCaskey stopped,

  turned, and lifted his pants legs for good measure.

  Then he continued walking. The soldier didn't

  shoot him. He also didn't lower his weapon, which

  McCaskey now recognzied as an MP5 of

  Hong Kong origin. If he fired at this range,

  he'd cut McCaskey in half. McCaskey

  wished he could see the soldier's face beneath his cap.

  It would have been nice to have some idea what the man was

  thinking.

  The walk to where Luis was lying took less than a

  minute but it felt much, much longer. When

  McKaskey arrived the Spanish soldier was still about

  thirty feet away. The soldier kept the gun

  pointed in McCaskey's direction. The

  American knelt slowly, keeping his arms raised.

  He looked down at the wounded men.

  The captain was looking up at him, wheezing through his

  teeth. His lower leg was sitting in a

  deepening puddle of blood. If he didn't get

  help soon he'd bleed to death.

  400 OP-CENTER

  lws comwas Yymg facedown across him, Yuce an

  X. McCaskey bent his head and looked at

  Luis. His eyes were closed and his breathing was

  shallow. His normally dark face was pale. The

  bullet had struck the right side of his neck about

  two inches below the ear. Blood was dripping onto the

  stone blocks. It streamed toward the pool of the

  captain's blood and they mingled thickly.

  McCaskey stood slowly and straddled the men. He

  put his arms under Luis and lifted him up. As he

  rose he heard a commotion at the gate.

  McCaskey and the Spanish soldier both looked

  over.

  A sergeant at the gatepost had his hand around a

  priest's arm. The priest was speaking quietly and

  pointing toward the wounded men. The sergeant was yelling.

  After a moment, the priest simply wrested his arm

  away and stormed forward. The sergeant continued to yell

  at him. He shouted for the priest to stop.

  The priest shouted back that he would not. He pointed

  toward the palace, where there were still the sounds of

  gunfire and clouds of yellow smoke.

  He said he was going to see if he could be of any

  assistance.

  The sergeant warned him that there was danger.

  The priest said he didn't care.

  So that was what the debate was all about,

  McKaskey thought. The priest's safety.

  Never assume.

  McCaskey didn't want to stand there while Luis

  bled. Cradling him gently to his chest, he turned

  and started walking toward the arches. The soldier let

  him go. McCaskey turned and saw him attending

  to the wounded captain.

  McCaskey returned to the arch. Carefully, he

  set

  BALANCE OF POWER 401

  Luis down beside Maria. He looked back. The

  priest was kneeling beside the captain. He turned

  back to the injured man.

  "Poor Luis," Maria said. She set the gun

  down and touched his cheek.

  McCaskey felt a pinch of jealousy. Not for

  Maria's touch but for the concern he saw in her eyes.

  The look came from deep inside her, pushing aside

  her own pain. He had been such a damn fool

  to lose her. He noticed, now, how pale

  she looked as well. He had to get help for her.

  McCaskey unbuttoned his cuff and
ripped off the

  bottom of his sleeve. He lay the cloth on

  Luis's wound.

  "You both need medical help," McCaskey

  announced. "I'm going to try and get to a

  telephone- call for an ambulance. As soon as

  I do that, I'll look for your friend Juan."

  Maria shook her head. "It may be too late-was

  She tried to get up. McCaskey pushed down

  firmly on her shoulders.

  "Maria-was

  "Stop it!" she shouted.

  "Maria,

  listen

  to me," McCaskey said. "Give me just a little

  time. With any luck this assault will make it unnecessary

  to rescue Juan or anyone else from General

  Amadori's thugs."

  "I don't believe in luck," Maria said. She

  used her free hand to push aside his arms. "I

  believe in the lousiness of people. And so far I've never

  been disappointed. Amadori may execute his

  prisoners just to

  402 OP-CENTER

  keep them from talking about what he's been doing-""

  Maria stopped. She glanced past McCaskey.

  As she did, her eyes widened.

  "What is it?" McCaskey asked, turning around.

  "I

  know

  that man," she said.

  McCaskey gazed into the courtyard. The priest was

  hurrying toward them. He slowed as he neared. He

  obviously recognized her as well.

  "Maria," the priest said as he reached the arch.

  "Father Norberto," she replied. "What are you

  doing here?"

  "It was strange fortune brought me," he said. He

  squatted and touched her head comfortingly. Then he

  looked at her wound. "My poor girl."

  "I'll live," she said.

  "You've lost a lot of blood," Norberto said.

  He glanced at Luis. "So has this man. Has

  a doctor been summoned?"

  "I'm going now," McCaskey said.

  "No!" Maria shouted.

  "It's all right," Norberto said, "I'll stay with

  you."

  "It isn't that," Maria said. "There's a

  prisoner- he must be helped!"

  "Where?" Norberto asked.

  "He's in a room over there," she said. She

  pointed toward the doorway along the palace wall.

  "I'm afraid they'll kill him."

  Norberto took her hand. He patted it as he

  rose. "I will go to him, Maria," he said. "You

  stay here and try not to move."

  Maria looked from the priest to McCaskey. The

  BALANCE OF POWER 403

  concern McCaskey had seen in the woman's eyes

  was gone, replaced by contempt. His heart shattered,

  McCaskey left without a word. He was followed

  closely by Father Norberto.

  The men entered the doorway together, McCaskey going

 

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