The flight to Madrid took just under fifty minutes. Though the prisoners' wounds were dressed, none of the captives spoke and none of the soldiers addressed them. As she sat in the twenty-four-seater, staring out at the bright patchwork of farms and cities, María played scenarios out in her mind. She would talk to no one but Amadori, who would see her-she hoped-because she could tell him how much the world intelligence fraternity knew about his crimes. Perhaps an arrangement could be reached wherein he would restrict his ambitions to becoming part of a new government.

She also imagined the general not caring what anyone knew or thought. Whether he wanted to rule an independent Castile or all of Spain, he had the guns and he had the momentum. He also had familia members not just to interrogate but to hold as hostages if he wished.

There was another consideration. The very real possibility that simply by talking to Amadori María might fuel his ambition. The hint of a threat, of a challenge, could cause him to become defensive, even more aggressive. After all, he too was a proud Spanish man.

The airplane taxied to a deserted corner of the airport-ironically, to a spot not far from where she had departed earlier in the day. Two large canvas-backed trucks were waiting to meet the plane. In the distance, María could see busy pockets of jeeps, helicopters, and soldiers. Since she and Aideen had left here seven hours before, portions of Barajas Airport seemed to have been turned into a staging area for other raids. That made tactical sense. From here, every part of Spain was less than an hour away.

María had a sick feeling deep in her belly. A feeling that whatever had been set in motion could not be stopped. Not without shutting down the brain behind it. In that case, the question María had to ask was Could General Amadori be stopped? And if so, how?

The eight prisoners sat in facing rows of benches and the trucks headed into the heart of the city. Four guards watched over them, two at each end of the truck. They were armed with pistols and truncheons. Traffic was unusually light on the highway, though the nearer they got to the center of Madrid the thicker the military activity became. María could see the trucks and jeeps through the front window. As they entered the city proper the traffic was heaviest near key government buildings and communications centers. María wondered if the soldiers were there to keep people out or to keep them in.