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Back Balance of Power Save as PDF
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

"Let me join you," Serrador said urgently. "I am Basque. Those other men, the Catalonians-they never wanted me to be part of their plan. I was convenient because of my position. I was an expediter, not an equal. Let me work with you."

"There is no place for you," Amadori said coldly.

"There must be. I'm well connected. Powerful."

Amadori straightened and tugged down the hem of his jacket. He nodded toward the tape player. "You were," he said.

Serrador looked at the machine. Perspiration collected under his arms and along his upper lip. He jabbed a thick finger at the PLAY button.

"What of the driver in Madrid?" he heard someone say. It sounded like Carlos Saura, head of Banco Moderno. "Is he leaving Spain as well?"

"No. The driver works for Deputy Serrador." That was Esteban Ramirez, the bastard. Serrador listened for a few moments more as the men on the tape talked about the car and about the deputy being a Basque. An ambitious Basque and willing to do anything to further the cause and himself.

The stupid, careless bastard, Serrador thought. He stopped the machine and folded his hands. He looked up at Amadori. "This is nothing," Serrador said. "Don't you see? This is designed to discredit me because of my heritage. It's blackmail."

"The men did not know they were being taped," Amadori informed him. "And your driver has already confessed to his part in exchange for immunity from prosecution."

"Then he lies," Serrador said dismissively. A plug of something caught in his throat. He swallowed it. "I still have a strong and loyal constituency. I'll beat this."

Amadori's smile returned. "No, you won't."

"You unremarkable pig!" Serrador flushed as fear shaded to indignation. "Who are you?" It was a slur, not a question. "You bring me here late at night and you force me to listen to a tape recording of questionable merit. Then you call me a traitor. I will fight for my life and for my honor. You won't win this."

Amadori smirked. "But I already have won." He stepped back, drew his own gun, and held his arm out straight. The pistol was pointed down at Serrador's forehead.

"What are you talking about?" Serrador demanded. His stomach was liquid. Sweat glistened across his forehead now.

"You took the gun from me," Amadori said. "You threatened me with it."

"What?" Serrador looked at the gun. And then he realized what had happened, why he had been brought here.