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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

Serrador was right. He could very well have argued that the Catalonians had set him up. That they'd bribed his driver to testify against him. Had he been allowed to defend himself he might have persuaded people that he wasn't involved in the death of the American. With the help of a clever attorney he might have convinced a court that he was being framed. That this was an attempt to turn people against him and his Basque supporters. After all, Ramirez and the others were dead. They couldn't defend themselves.

But that wasn't what Amadori wanted. He needed Serrador to be what he really was: a Basque who had joined with the Catalonians to overthrow the government of Spain. Amadori needed a Basque traitor for his plans.

"Wait a minute-please," Serrador said.

The deputy's frightened eyes turned toward the gun on the table. He had touched it. That was something else the general had needed. His fingerprints on the damn-

The general pulled the trigger. The slightly turned head of Deputy Isidro Serrador snapped back as the bullet pierced his temple. He was dead before his brain could process the pain, before the sound of the blast reached his ears.

The force of the impact knocked Serrador backward onto the floor. Even before the sound of the shot had died, Amadori had picked up the gun from the table, inserted a full clip, and placed it on the floor beside Serrador. He stood for a moment and watched as Serrador's dark blood formed a red halo under his head.

A moment later the general's aides and police officers crowded into the small room. A beefy police inspector stood behind him.

"What happened?" the inspector demanded.

Amadori bolstered his pistol. "The deputy grabbed my gun," he said calmly, pointing to the weapon on the floor. "I was afraid that he might try to take hostages or escape."

The police inspector looked from the body to Amadori. "Sir, this matter will have to be investigated."

Amadori's face was impassive.

"Where will you be-for questioning?" the inspector asked.

"Here," Amadori replied. "In Madrid. With my command."

The inspector turned to the men behind him. "Sergeant Blanco? Telephone the commissioner and let him know what has happened. Tell him I await further instructions. Let his office handle the press. Sergeant Sebares? Notify the coroner. Have him come to handle the body."

Both men saluted and left the room. Amadori turned and walked slowly after them. He was followed by the major general.

He was also followed by the stares of men who clearly feared him, whether they believed his story or not. Men who apparently sensed that they had just witnessed a purge. Men who had watched a military general take the first, bold steps to becoming a military dictator.

FOURTEEN

Tuesday, 2:00 a.m.

Madrid, Spain