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 status of your team?” “We’re awaiting word,” Hood said. “Striker should be arriving at the target any mo-was…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?” “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 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.
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 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.” “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 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 himself. To the contrary. He was disgusted by his eagerness to tear down Amadori as payback for Martha Mackall-even though it was someone else who had planned and carried out her murder. It was all part of the same inhuman tableau.