BooksBarbecue
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

There were three people inside. One man was inside a soundproof booth and two people, a man and a woman, were seated at a control panel. As planned, Martín sought out the fuse box. He found it quickly and killed the electricity. The station died before the announcer could report what was happening. Under the brilliance of two battery-powered emergency lights mounted on the ceiling, Juan and Sancho ran over to the technicians. They clubbed each one hard across the collarbone. They fell to the ground, the woman moaning and the man shrieking. While Ferdinand covered them, Juan entered the booth. He walked calmly toward the announcer.

"I want to know who gave you the tape you played earlier," Juan said.

The slender young man, bearded and indignant, moved back on the rolling chair.

"I'll ask you one more time," Juan said, raising the crowbar. "Who gave you the tape recording?"

"I don't know who he was," the man said. His voice was high and squeaky. He cleared his throat. "I don't know."

Juan swung the crowbar against the man's left tricep. The man grabbed his arm as his mouth dropped open and let out air, like a furnace. Tears formed in his wide eyes.

"Who gave you the tape?" Juan repeated.

The man tried to close his mouth. It didn't seem to want to work. The chair thumped up against the wall and stopped.

Juan continued toward him. He looked at the fingers of the man's right hand. They were wrapped around his upper arm. He swung the crowbar again, at the fingers.

The iron bar smashed the back of his hand, just below the lower knuckles. There was an audible crack, like the snap of dry chicken bones. The hand dropped onto the man's lap. Blood pooled and caused the skin to bulge at once. This time the victim was able to scream.

"Adolfo!" he shouted from that wide, open mouth.

"Who?" Juan repeated.

"Adolfo Alcazar! The fisherman!" The man provided Juan with the address and Juan thanked him. Then he swung the crowbar one more time, just hard enough to break the man's jaw. Juan looked out at Martin and Sancho, who did likewise. There wasn't time to check for cellular phones and he didn't want them calling ahead to warn the fisherman.

Five minutes later the four familia members were driving back down the road toward San Sebastián.

SIXTEEN

Monday, 8:15 p.m.

Washington, D.C.

When Hood called home, neither Sharon nor the kids picked up the phone. The answering machine message came on after four rings; it was Harleigh's from the day before.

"Hi. You've reached the Hood family. We're not home right now. But we're not going to tell you to leave a message because if you don't know that, we don't want to talk to you."