Darrell McCaskey had lost Maria once.
He had no intention of losing her again. There was no way in hell that he was going to sit at Interpol headquarters, safe and comfortable, while General Amadori had her executed.
As soon as he’d finished talking with Paul Hood and Mike Rodgers on the secure line in Luis’s office, McCaskey turned to the Interpol director.
Luis was sitting at the radio waiting to hear from Striker. His father was seated beside him. McCaskey informed Luis that he wanted the Interpol chopper.
“For what?” Luis asked. “A rescue attempt?” “We have to try,” McCaskey said as he rose.
“Tell me you disagree.” Luis’s expression indicated that he didn’t-though he didn’t appear comfortable with the prospect.
“Give me a pilot and a marksman,” McCaskey said. “I take full responsibility.” Luis hesitated.
“Luis, please,” McCaskey implored. “We owe this to Maria and there isn’t time to debate it.” Luis turned to his father and spoke briefly in Spanish. When he was finished, he buzzed his assistant and gave him an order. Then he turned back to McCaskey.
“My father will be the liaison with Striker,” Luis said, “and I told Jaime to have the helicopter ready to go in five minutes. Only you won’t need a marksman and you won’t take responsibility.
Those jobs, my friend, are mine.” McCaskey thanked him. Luis left to oversee the preparations while McCaskey lingered in the room for two minutes. That was how long it took for him to make preparations of his own. Then he ran up the stairwell to the rooftop. Luis met him a minute later.
The small, five-person Bell JetRanger rose into the clear late morning sky from the roof of the ten-story building. The Royal Palace was just under two minutes away. The pilot, Pedro, was ordered to fly directly to it. He was patched in to the spotters, who told him exactly where Maria was. The spotters also informed him that it looked as if a five-man firing squad was being marched in her direction. The pilot passed the information on to McCaskey and Luis.
“We’re not going to be able to talk them out of this,” Luis said.
“I know,” McCaskey replied. “And I don’t care. The woman has guts. She deserves our best effort.” “That isn’t what I mean,” Luis said. A small gun rack in the rear held four weapons.
Luis eyed them unhappily. “If we shoot only to chase them off, they’ll return fire. They could bring us down.” “Not if we do it right,” McCaskey said. Off in the distance the high, white engirdling balustrade of the palace, with its statues of Spanish kings, appeared over the surrounding treetops. “We go in as quickly as we can. I don’t think they’ll shoot at us until we’re down. They won’t want to bring a chopper down on their heads. When we touch down, you fire to clear the field. The soldiers will run for cover. When they do, I go and get Maria before they can regroup.” “Just like that,” Luis said doubtfully.
“Just like that,” McCaskey nodded. “The simplest plans always work best. If you cover me and keep the soldiers ducking, I should be able to get in and out in about thirty seconds. The courtyard’s not that big.
If I can’t get back to the chopper, you abort and I’ll try to get her out some other way.” McCaskey sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know this is dangerous, Luis.
But what else can we do? I’d want to do this if any of our people were in trouble. I have to do it because it’s Maria.” Luis took a deep breath, nodded once, then turned to the gun rack. He selected a NATO L96A1 sniper rifle with an integral silencer and a Schmidt and Bender telescope. He handed McCaskey a Star 30 More Parabellum pistol, the standard issue of the Guardia Civil.
“I’ll have Pedro swing over the palace and then come straight down in the courtyard,” Luis said. “As soon as we touch down I’ll try to drive the firing squad back. Maybe I can hold them back without having to kill anyone.” Luis’s face fell slightly. “That’s maybe, Darrell.” “I know,” McCaskey said.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to shoot a Spanish soldier, Darrell,” Luis admitted.
“I honestly don’t know.” “They don’t seem to have a problem with that,” McCaskey pointed out.
“I’m not them,” Luis replied.
“No, you’re not,” McCaskey said apologetically. “For what it’s worth, I’m not sure I could shoot one of my own people either.” Luis shook his head. “How did it ever come to this?” McCaskey checked the clip and sat back. He thought bitterly.
It came to this the way it always does. Through the fierce hate harbored by a few and the complacency displayed by the rest.
There were signs of that in the United States.
McCaskey knew that if Striker succeeded the real work was just beginning- here and elsewhere. People like General Amadori had to be stopped before they got this far. McCaskey wasn’t as versed in aphorisms as Mike Rodgers, but he did remember hearing someone say once that all it took for evil to flourish was for men of conscience to do nothing. If he survived this, Darrell McCaskey vowed that he would not be one of those who did nothing.
They would be passing over the northeastern corner of the palace in approximately fifteen seconds.
There were no military helicopters in the immediate area though trucks and jeeps were coming and going along Calle de Bailen just below them.
McCaskey was calm now after his initial urgency.
Part of that was because he hadn’t slept in over a day. Sitting still allowed a relaxing torpor to wash over him. Though his mind was sharp and his purpose true, the anxious finger-drumming, foot-tapping and cheekbiting that were a part of his impatient nature were missing. Part of his composure was also due to Maria. Relationships can be problematic and mistakes will be made and hindsight is frustrating. McCaskey didn’t punish himself for being human. But it was rare and comforting to have an opportunity like this to set a wrong right. To tell someone you’re sorry and to show them you care. Whatever it cost, whatever it took, McCaskey was determined to get Maria out of the courtyard alive.
While McCaskey sat looking out his window, Luis leaned forward and spoke to Pedro. The pilot nodded, Luis squeezed his shoulder appreciatively, and then sat back.
“Are you ready?” Luis asked McCaskey.
McCaskey nodded once.
The helicopter descended and flew low over the eastern wall of the palace. Then it banked to the south and sped toward the courtyard between the Royal Palace and the Cathedral of the Almudena.
There was a megaphone built into both sides of the chopper. Luis slipped on the headset, adjusted the mouthpiece, then lay the rifle across his lap. He looked outside and tapped McCaskey on the leg.
“There!” Luis said.
McCaskey looked over. He saw Maria being held against a fifteen-foot-tall pedestal, which was supporting four massive columns. The square, grayish pedestal projected about five feet out from the long, unbroken wall to the left. To the right was a short expanse of wall and then a series of arches that swept away from the wall at a right angle. The low, darkly shadowed arches formed the eastern boundary of the courtyard. Beyond them was the eastern wing of the palace which contained the royal bedchamber, the study, and the music room.
There were two soldiers on either side of Maria, clasping her arms. An officer was standing in front of her. About one hundred fifty feet to the south, a line of military vehicles separated the courtyard from the church. There were no civilians in the courtyard and roughly sixty or seventy soldiers. Six of them were walking toward Maria in a line.
“We’ll land with those arches on your side,” Luis said. “They may provide you with cover.” “Right!” “I’m going to try and focus on the officer in front of Maria,” Luis said. “If I can control him, maybe I can control the group.” “Good idea,” McCaskey said. He held the Parabellum in his right hand, pointing upward. He put his left hand on the door handle. Pedro slowed the chopper’s forward motion and they began to descend.
They were less than one hundred feet above the courtyard.
The soldiers were looking up now, including the officer in front of Maria. He wasn’t moving; no one was. As McCaskey had suspected, they weren’t going to shoot at a chopper bearing directly down on them. When they landed, though, he suspected it would be a much different matter. He looked over at Maria. Because there was an iron streetlamp between them and the pedestal, the chopper wouldn’t be able to get as close as McCaskey would have liked. He’d have to cross about thirty feet of open courtyard to get to Maria. At least it didn’t look like she was tied up though it did appear as though she might be hurt.