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Chapters (53)
  1. BALANCE OF POWER
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. About The Creators
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY

Aideen shook her head, though that wasn't entirely true. There was a great deal she wanted to say. One thing Aideen's experiences in Mexico had taught her was to recognize when things weren't right. And something wasn't right here. The thing that had pushed her buttons back in the deputy's office wasn't just the emotional aftermath of Martha's death. It was Serrador's rapid retreat from cooperation to what amounted to obstruction. If Martha's death were an assassination-and her gut told her that it was-was Serrador afraid that they'd target him next? If so, why didn't he take on extra security? Why were the halls leading to his office so empty? And why did he assume-as clearly he did-that simply by calling off the talks word would get back to whoever did this? How could he be so certain that the information would get leaked?

McCaskey rose and went to the phone, which was outside the pulse-radius. As Aideen listened to the quiet hum of the Egg, she looked through the twelfth-floor window at the streetlights off in the distance. Her spirit was too depleted, her emotions too raw for her to try to explore the matter right now. But she was certain of one thing. Though these might be the rules by which the Spanish leaders operated, they'd crossed the line into three of her own rules. First, you don't shoot people who are here to help you. Second, if shooting them is designed to help you, then you're going to run into rule number three: Americans-especially this American-shoot back.

FIVE

Monday, 8:21 p.m.

San Sebastián, Spain

The hull of the small fishing boat was freshly painted. The smell of the paint permeated the cramped, dimly lighted hold. It overpowered the bite of the handrolled cigarette Adolfo Alcazar was smoking as well as the strong, distinctive, damp-rubber odor of the wetsuit that hung on a hook behind the closed door. The paint job was an extravagance the fisherman couldn't really afford but it had been necessary. There might be other missions, and he couldn't afford to be in drydock, replacing rotted boards. When he'd agreed to work with the General, Adolfo knew that the old boat would have to last them for as long as this affair took. And if anything went wrong, that could be a while. One didn't undermine one takeover and orchestrate a counterrevolution in a single night-or with a single strike. Not even with a big strike, which this one would be.

Although the General is going to try, Adolfo thought with deep and heartfelt admiration. And if anyone could pull it off, a one-day coup against a major world government, it was the General.