The Hadrian Memorandum - Allan Folsom [191]
“His name is Conor White. Former SAS colonel. Victoria Cross,” Branco told the brigade commander directly. “Now a professional mercenary working out of Equatorial Guinea and involved with the civil war there. He’s the one you’re looking for in the murders outside of Madrid. He followed a U.S. congressman here in an attempt to kill him, the man your people were escorting to the U.S. Embassy when they were shot down. If you kill him it will raise all sorts of questions as to why he was here and what he was doing. The inquiry will be public and potentially embarrassing to a number of countries. If we do it, the government can say he was caught by unknown gunmen who shadowed him to Lisbon, killed him, and then disappeared, apparently an act of reprisal that had to do with the situation in Equatorial Guinea. Then it becomes an incident having to do with that country and not Portugal, Spain, or the U.S.”
The commander said he understood but that there were many citizens in harm’s way and he couldn’t stand by while more were killed.
Branco shared his concern then said the public might be better served by a four-man plainclothes team than an overwhelming force of uniformed GOE. “Cut off the power and secure the area,” he said. “Then let me contact White and let us go in.”
“You can get in touch with him now?”
“Yes.”
The commander had studied him and walked off. Branco saw him speak into a microphone at his collar. Thirty seconds later he came back.
“Alright” had been the commander’s one-word response.
“One thing more,” Branco said. “You’re going to have more media crowded outside this station than you’ve ever seen. Clear two stations down the line. Then I want an automated Metro car brought in. White has two men with him. We’re going to take them out in that car. At the end we’ll hand them over to you. No media. No gang of police. Just a handful of your men and a couple of waiting ambulances.”
The commander stared at him, then finally nodded. “Done,” he said.
Conor White was pushed back in the darkness against the tunnel wall, his eyes, his senses, trying to feel out where Marten was, when he felt his cell phone vibrate. That the phone system worked this far underground startled him, and for a moment he did nothing. Finally he slid it from his belt and looked at it. In an instant he knew who was calling and clicked on.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I’m with GOE,” Branco said. “Where are the rabbits?”
“Anne and Ryder got away on the last train out. The RSO is dead. So is Irish Jack. Patrice is with me.”
“Where is Marten?”
“Somewhere here in the dark.”
“I’ve made a deal with the police. I’m going to get you out. But I can’t do that with all the people there. I want you to let them go.”
“Branco, they’re our protection. Hostages if we need them.”
“The police know we’re in touch. Once the people are out, they’ll send in an automated Metro car. They’re clearing two stations. They’re expecting I’ll bring you out at the second. We’ll go out at the first. I want to tell them you’ve agreed to let the people go. Once they see they are out they’ll pull back. We’ll come in and they’ll send the rail car.”
“Just you.”
“Yes. Altogether there are four of us.”
“What about the lights?”
“What do you want?”
“Marten’s here. I want him myself. You understand? I want him. Not you, not your men. Not even Patrice. Turn the lights on, get the people out, then turn them back off. ”
“I understand.”
“No! Not just understand. I want your word on it.”
“You have it.”
“Tell the GOE they can have their citizens.”
122
Marten was crouched by the rails near the platform when the lights suddenly came back on. The unexpected