As Father Norberto knelt there he felt Death leave- though it did not go very far. The priest forced himself to stop crying. This was not the time to mourn Adolfo or to damn his own failings. There were others who needed comfort or absolution-others who may have acted arrogantly in the bloom of life, only to find humility in the face of eternal damnation.
Father Norberto rose. He made the sign of the cross above Juan Martinez. “May God forgive you,” he said softly.
And may God forgive me.
Father Norberto thought as he turned and left the room. He hated the man who had just died. But in his heart, in the deepest and truest part of him, he hoped that God had heard his repentance.
There had been enough damnation for one day.
FORTY-THREE Tuesday, 12:12 p.m. Madrid, Spain It was the policy of all American elite forces to leave nothing usable behind. In some cases, where the mission was covert-red-meaning that no one could know the forces had even been there-even shell casings were collected. In a covert-green raid like this one it was only necessary that the identities of the operatives never be revealed.
Colonel August was aware that Aideen Marley had peeled off from the group. She had no orders to do so, but he couldn’t fault her initiative. As it stood, if she failed to get General Amadori the mission would be considered a partial success. Striker would have succeeded in flushing out the officer before he was ready. The firefight would force the municipal police and other officials to enter the palace. They’d find the prisoners and learn how they were forced to come here. Amadori might still be in a position to seize power, but this would make it a little more difficult. Certainly he’d find it tough to get support throughout Europe when news of his atrocities got out. Still Colonel August didn’t like partial successes. Aideen had gone off to the southern wing of the palace in pursuit of Amadori. If Striker could keep the army off her back long enough, and if Amadori’s wound kept his mind on escape instead of security, she might be able to finish the job they set out to do.
If she succeeded, they could still spare Spain the months of violent conflict and ruthless purges that would ensue if Amadori survived.
There were approximately three hundred feet between the Strikers and the oncoming Spanish soldiers. Though Amadori’s troops were wearing gas masks, the thick yellow smoke from the grenades had prevented them from proceeding more than a few yards every minute. Striker, meanwhile, had been able to keep up a steady retreat. They’d even helped several of the prisoners get out, those who had been kept in the Hall of the Halberdiers and had managed to make their way through the dissipating gas.
Striker was nearing the grand staircase of the palace.
Behind it was the stairway to the dungeon. To the south was the corridor Amadori and Aideen had taken.
Sidling up to Corporal Prementine, Colonel August instructed him to select one soldier to cover the retreat. Prementine was then to lead the other Strikers out of the palace.
“Sir,” Prementine said, “one soldier won’t be enough to do the job. I’d like to remain behind as well.” “Negative,” August said. “That would make three of us.” “Sir?” “I’ll be here as well,” August said.
“Sir-was “Do it. Corporal,” August said.
“Yes, sir,” Prementine said, saluting.
The corporal informed Private Pupshaw that he’d be staying behind with Colonel August. The burly private responded with an enthusiastic salute and then reported to his commanding officer. August told Pupshaw that when they reached the staircase he was to take up a position just inside the corridor.
August would handle the crossfire from the northern side of the staircase. If either of them were attacked from behind, the other would be in a position to cover him.
Privates Scott and DeVonne left behind their remaining supply of gas grenades. There were only three of them. August figured they would get five strong minutes of defense out of two of those grenades and cover fire. The last grenade would give them another two minutes for their own retreat.
The timetable was snug, but it was doable. He only hoped that Aideen could catch up to her wounded prey, do what needed to be done, and exit cleanly.
Corporal Prementine wished the two men well.
Silently, he and the other Strikers departed.
August thanked him then informed Pupshaw that they were to hold their positions for exactly five minutes from the time they reengaged the Spanish soldiers. At August’s signal they would then follow their fellow Strikers back “down the hole,” Pupshaw retreating first.
August and Pupshaw lay on their bellies and prepared to meet the assault. They would fire low, no higher than the knees. Pupshaw had a grenade ready to roll against the Spaniards. August raised his left arm.
Twenty seconds later the first Spanish soldier appeared through the thinning yellow cloud. August turned his left thumb down.
Pupshaw pulled the pin and rolled the grenade.
FORTY-FOUR Tuesday, 12:17 p.m. Madrid, Spain As he moved down the corridor, Darrell McCaskey felt naked without a weapon. But it had been more important to him that Maria have one. It had been a while since he’d used the aikido skills he’d learned when he joined the FBI, but they would have to suffice.
McCaskey slowed as he neared the next corridor. He stopped at the corner and peeked around stealthily, the way he used to do when he was on stakeouts. He took a mental snapshot of the scene and then withdrew quickly, his heart jumping from slow to hyperactive.
There was a tall man standing part of the way down the corridor. He was a general with Francoesque layers of braid and an array of medals. He was armed with a handgun and he was wearing a gas filter and goggles. He was also bleeding from a wound in his leg.
It had to be Amadori.
The man had been looking behind him as he approached.
McCaskey was sure Amadori hadn’t spotted him. He swore at himself for having left his gun with Maria. He had nothing to use against the man. Nothing except his fists and the fact that Amadori didn’t know he was here.
The FBI had taught McCaskey that if an agent didn’t bring superior firepower to a situation he should back off until he could muster that firepower. A standoff always favored the pursuer.
Failure favored the pursued.
But with everything that was at stake, McCaskey couldn’t take the chance of letting Amadori go.
McCaskey looked up and mustered his resolve.
He listened to the general’s limping footsteps.
Amadori was approximately ten feet away. McCaskey would crouch and swing around, try to pin his legs to the wall, then grab his arm before he could fire.
Just then, McCaskey heard footsteps behind him.
He turned and saw Father Norberto walking toward him. That wasn’t all he saw. Above the music room, McCaskey noticed a red eye looking down from the ceiling.
It was a camera eye. And Amadori was wearing goggles-Remote Surveillance System goggles.
The footsteps stopped. McCaskey swore.
He’d been too damn tired to think this through and now he was at a serious disadvantage. Amadori knew precisely where he was.
There was nothing to do but retreat. He turned and ran toward the door that led to the courtyard.
“What is it?” Father Norberto asked.
McCaskey motioned him back. The priest just stood there, confused.
“Jesus!” McCaskey cried in frustration. He didn’t think Amadori would shoot a member of the clergy. But a Catholic priest would make the perfect hostage.
No one would dare order an attack for fear of hitting the priest.
McCaskey had to get the priest out of here. Reaching Father Norberto, he put his arms around him and tried to move him toward the courtyard door. A moment later he heard a shot and felt a punch in his back and then everything went blindingly red.
FORTY-FIVE Tuesday, 12:21 p.m. Madrid, Spain It was easy for Aideen to follow the trail of blood. The drops were so close together they overlapped in spots. Amadori was losing blood quickly. What she hadn’t anticipated was that the general would be alone when she caught up to him.
Alone and waiting for her.
Amadori fired once as Aideen came around the corner. She jumped back as soon as she saw him and the bullet whizzed by. There was silence after the echo of the gunshot died. Aideen stood there listening, trying to determine if Amadori moved. As she waited, she felt something pressed hard against the small of her back. She turned around and saw a man step the rest of the way from a doorway. It was the major general. He was holding a gun on her.
Aideen cursed under her breath. The officer was wearing his RSS goggles. He must have been tuned in to the cameras behind them and spotted her. They’d separated and now she’d been snared.