Tom Clancy's Op-center Balance of Power - Tom Clancy [4]
Dog droppings. Ana had casually scooped them off the street and flung them at the toughs who were following them. Then she'd rubbed some on her arms to make sure no one grabbed them. Ana said there wasn't an attacker she'd ever encountered who stuck around after that. Certainly the three "street extortionists" in Madrid had not.
Martha and Aideen walked in silence toward the towering white columns of the Palacio de las Cortes. Built in 1842, the palace was the seat of the Congreso de los Diputados; along with the Senado, the Senate, it comprised the two houses of the Spanish parliament. Though the sun had set, spotlights illuminated two larger-than-life bronze lions. Each lion rested a paw atop a cannonball. The statues had been cast using guns taken from the enemies of Spain. They flanked the stone steps that led to a high metal door, a door used only for ceremonies. To the left of the main entrance was a very tall iron fence, which was spiked along the top. Beside the fence gate stood a small guardhouse with bulletproof windows. This was where the deputies entered the halls of parliament.
Neither woman spoke as they walked past the imposing granite facade of the palace. Though Aideen had only worked at Op-Center a short while, she knew that in spirit her boss was already at the meeting. Martha was quietly reviewing things she'd want to say to Serrador. Aideen's own role was to draw on her experience with Mexican insurrectionists and her knowledge of the Spanish language to make sure nothing was misstated or misinterpreted.
If only we'd had a little more time to prepare, Aideen thought as they walked around snapping pictures, acting like tourists as they slowly made their way to the gate. Op-Center had barely had time to catch its breath from the hostage situation in the Bekaa Valley when this matter had been relayed to them from the U.S. Embassy in Madrid. Relayed so quietly that only Deputy Serrador, Ambassador Neville, President Michael Lawrence and his closest advisors, and the top people at Op-Center knew about it. And they would keep quiet. If Deputy Serrador were correct, tens of thousands of lives were at risk.
A church bell rang in the distance. To Aideen, it somehow sounded holier in Spain than it did in Washington. She counted out the tolls. It was six o'clock. Martha and Aideen made their way to the guardhouse.
Nosotros aqui para un viaje todo comprendido, Aideen said through the grate in the glass. "We're here for a tour." Completing the picture of the excited tourist, she added that a mutual friend had arranged for a private tour of the building.
The young guard, tall and unsmiling, asked for their names.
Seńorita Temblón y Seńorita Serafico, Aideen replied, giving him their cover identities. Before leaving Washington Aideen had worked these out with Serrador's office. Everything, from the airplane tickets to the hotel reservations, was in those names.
The guard turned and checked a list on a clipboard. As he did, Aideen looked around. There was a courtyard behind the fence, the sky a beautiful blue-black above it. At the rear of the courtyard was a small stone building where auxiliary governmental services were located. Behind that was a new glass-covered building, which housed the offices of the deputies. It was an impressive complex that reminded Aideen just how far the Spanish had come since the death in 1975 of El Caudillo, "the leader," Francisco Franco. The nation was now a constitutional monarchy, with a prime minister