Chapters (53)
- BALANCE OF POWER
- Acknowledgments
- About The Creators
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
"Your friend is in there," Norberto said. There were tears in his eyes as he pointed toward the music room. "He's dead."
"Juan dead? Are you certain?"
"I am certain," Norberto said. "I was with him when he died. I was with him when he confessed his sins. He died absolved of them."
Ferdinand shut his eyes.
Norberto squeezed harder. "Everyone has the right to absolution, my son, whether they have slain one or they have slain millions."
The priest released Ferdinand and turned away. He walked toward McCaskey, who had limped past them and was peering cautiously out the door. McCaskey didn't know what the exchange had been about, but it didn't sound pleasant.
"What should we do?" Norberto asked.
"I'm not sure," McCaskey admitted.
He watched the soldiers as they watched him. The reinforcements were just arriving from an entrance further along the courtyard. It looked to McCaskey as if they were carrying gas filters. They must have been part of the group that went after Striker.
Once again McCaskey felt helpless. The Interpol spotters might not realize that Amadori was dead, that a show of force from local police units might be enough to shut the heart of the revolution down. Especially if it came before the soldiers could rally behind a new leader.
"What if I go and speak with them," Norberto asked. "Tell them that there is no longer any reason to fight."
"I don't think they'd listen," McCaskey said. "You may put some fear in some of them-but not all. Not enough to save us."
"I've got to try," Norberto said.
He stepped around McCaskey and walked out the door. McCaskey didn't try to stop him. He didn't believe the soldiers would hurt the priest. And if he could buy them an extra minute or two, it was worth a try. At this point, he was willing to try anything.
McCaskey had no idea what was going to happen to the movement with Amadori dead. But from the way the three dozen or so soldiers were massing along the southern side of the courtyard, he had a good idea what was going to happen to him and María and all the prisoners who were being kept here.
They would become pawns in one of the most significant and dangerous hostage dramas of this century.
FORTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, 6:50 a.m.
Washington, D.C.
"Incoming from Striker," Bob Herbert said.
He was manning the phone in Hood's office while Hood and Rodgers were on a conference call with National Security head Burkow and Spanish ambassador García Abril in Washington. Attorney Lowell Coffey and Ron Plummer were also in the office.