Sir Arnold’s eyes suddenly narrowed in his leathery face. “Do you know something the rest of us don’t, Roland?”
Roland la Porte met his gaze. “I know nothing more than you, Sir Arnold, and I’m insulted you’d even raise the question. If anyone would know more, it’d be you. We French do not have a ‘special relationship’ with the Americans, unlike you English. But yesterday’s invasion of the American energy networks could have easily been far worse, which certainly underlines my point.”
General Moore stared at La Porte a full thirty seconds more. Then he seemed to think of something else. He relaxed, smiled, and stood up. “I believe our business here is over. As for the fate and future of Europe, we in Britain consider it tied permanently to that of the United States, whether we like it or not.”
“Ah, yes.” La Porte smiled a humorless smile. “The concept of your George Orwell, I believe.”
General Moore, the Englishman, flushed a livid red, locked eyes again with La Porte, then turned on his heel and marched out of the conference room.
“What was that all about?” General Inzaghi wanted to know, his black marble eyes suspicious.
Otto Bittrich said grimly, “The English novel 1984. In it, England was Air Strip One for a Pan-American and British Commonwealth entity called Oceania, united happily forever. At the same time, Europe and Russia were joined together and formed Eurasia. What was left over was called EastasiaChina, India, Central Asia, and all the Oriental countries. Personally, I’d say Britain already is America’s Air Strip One, and we must proceed without them.”
“Exactly how do we proceed?” Gonzalez asked.
La Porte had the answer: “We must each convince our nations and EU delegates that a future European military is the only way to protect Europe’s identity. And our greatness. In fact, that is our destiny.”
“You are speaking about the principle of such an army, General La Porte, yes?” General Gonzalez said.
“Of course, Valentin.” General La Porte’s eyes were dreamy. “I’m an idealist, it’s true. But it’s a principle we must start to work toward now. If the Americans can’t protect their own utility systems, how can they continue to protect ours? We must grow up, be on our own.”
Captain Darius Bonnard stood out of the night wind as the last of the five generals’ helicoptersGeneral Inzaghi’srose up against the night sky. The salty Mediterranean air was crisp, invigorating, and he breathed deeply as he listened to the loud chop of the blades.
The big bird flew north, in the direction of the Italian coast. Once it was safely out of range, the Charles de Gaulle altered course, sliding quietly through the sea in a long arc as it headed back to the French coast and Toulon. Still, the Frenchman continued to watch the Italian helicopter as its lights faded, the roar of its rotors dimmed.
But he was not so much watching as mulling over the meeting of the generals, which had been instructive. He had sat at the back of the room, quiet and unobtrusive, where he had missed nothing. General La Porte’s compelling arguments for a European military had pleased him, as had discovering that most of the other generals were already thinking along the same lines. But the general’s implication that he knew more about the recent breakdowns in American electronic systems than was common knowledge had worried him.
Bonnard sensed trouble on the horizon. He pulled meditatively on his lower lip as he thought about the British general, Sir Arnold Moore. The English bulldog was stubborn, obviously an American pawn, and altogether too paranoid. What La Porte had said had alarmed his English sensibilities, and he would soon be reporting possible plots to his prime minister, the War Office, and MI6. Measures would have to be taken, and quickly.
Again the captain looked out to sea, where the retreating helicopters formed four tiny dots. Sir Arnold Moore would be handled. He smiled. There were only three more days. Just three days to control all aspects. Not long at all, but in other ways, perhaps, an eternity.
Chapter Fifteen
Toledo, Spain
As Smith watched through the barred window, Emile Chambord tenderly pressed his wrinkled cheek down onto the top of his daughter’s head, closed his eyes, and murmured something, a prayer perhaps. Theacute;regrave;se clung to him as if he had come back from the dead, and in a way he had. He kissed her hair and turned furious eyes onto the short, stout man who had entered the room first.
Smith could hear Chambord clearly through the window glass as he snarled, “You damned monster!”
“I’m truly hurt. Dr. Chambord,” the other man said, his round face pleasant. “I thought you’d welcome your daughter’s company, since you’ll be with us for some time. You seemed so lonely that I feared your emotions were causing you to take your mind off your work. That’d be unfortunate for all of us.”
“Get out of here, Mauritania! Have the decency at least to leave me alone with my daughter!”
So that was what Mauritania meant. It was the name of this soft-looking man, who smiled but did not mean it, who was fueled by some kind of iridescent vision.
Mauritania shrugged. “As you wish. I’m sure the lady is hungry. She’s forgotten to eat tonight again.” He glanced at the untouched meal on the wooden tray. “We’ll have a quick dinner soon, now that our business here is finished, and you can both join us.” He bowed in polite farewell and left, closing the door behind him. Smith heard it lock.
Emile Chambord threw one more angry look over his shoulder and then stepped back from Theacute;regrave;se, his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Let me look at you, daughter. Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you? If they did, I’ll”‘
He stopped as a burst of gunshots sounded. A violent fusillade by small arms somewhere outdoors, near the front of the house. Inside, running feet hammered, and doors crashed open. In the barred room, Dr. Chambord and Theacute;regrave;se stared first at the door and then at each other. Theacute;regrave;se’s face was frightened, while Dr. Chambord appeared more concerned than scared. He frowned at the door. A tough old man.
Smith had no idea what was happening, but this was a distraction he could not lose. Now that he had found them both alive, he must get them out. They had been through enough, and without Emile Chambord, the DNA machine might be useless to the terrorists. He did not know whether Chambord had been forced to operate his molecular computer for them, or perhaps they had another expert and had kidnapped Chambord to keep him from duplicating his triumph.
Whatever the truth, Smith needed to get the Chambords out of their hands. As he pulled on the window’s iron bars to see whether any were loose, Theacute;regrave;se caught sight of him.
“Jon! What are you doing here?” She ran to the window and tried to raise the glass. As she struggled, she turned back to her father. “It’s Dr. Jon Smith, an American. He’s a friend of your new collaborator, Dr. Zellerbach.” She studied the window, and her eyes grew large and appalled. “The wood part of it’s nailed shut, Jon. I can’t open it.”
Bursts of gunfire continued to crackle in the distance as Smith gave up on the bars. They were set firmly in an iron frame. “I’ll explain everything later. Theacute;regrave;se. Where’s the DNA computer?”
“I don’t know!”
Chambord growled, “It’s not here. What are you”
There was no more time for talk. “Stand back!” He held up his Sig Sauer. “I’ve got to shoot the frame loose.”
Theacute;regrave;se stared at the weapon. She looked from it to Jon’s face and then back at the gun. She nodded and ran back out of the way.
But before Jon could fire, the door to the room flung open, and the short, heavy man known as Mauritania stood there. “What’s all this shouting?” His gaze froze at the window. On Smith. They looked into each other’s eyes. Mauritania drew a pistol, fell flat onto his belly, fired, and bellowed, “Abu Auda! I need you!”
Smith peeled away just in time. The bullet smashed through the glass. He burned to return fire, but if he shot blindly into the room, he might hit one of the Chambords. Clenching his jaw, he waited until another bullet blasted through the window, and then he quickly raised up, Sig Sauer first, one eye peering into the room, ready to shoot.
But it was empty, and the door was wide open, showing an equally empty hall. Emile and Theacute;regrave;se Chambord were gone. As quickly as he had found them, they had disappeared.
Smith ran toward the third window. Perhaps they had been moved to this room. But just as he reached the window and discovered an empty office inside, the tall Fulani in the long white robes, who had patrolled earlier, appeared from around the back of the farmhouse, gun up and ready. Right behind him came three more armed men, and all had that alert look of soldiers at war.