“Yes, that’s right,” Maria added. “Aideen noticed that the guard at the factory was gone when the attack began. He’s former military. He could have pointed the men out to the helicopters.” A tall, muscular officer ran into the dining room.
Luis turned and looked at him. The man shook his head.
“No flight plan was filed for the helicopters,” he said.
“Then this isn’t going through the regular military chain of command,” Luis said into the phone.
“I’m not surprised,” Maria said.
“What do you mean?” Luis asked.
“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
factory. 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 thendamn!”” “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.
“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 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.
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 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