Tom Clancy's Op-center Balance of Power - Tom Clancy [42]
So much for communication. Hood thought cynically as he picked up the phone. "Yes, Bob?"
"Paul," he said urgently, "we've got something."
"Go ahead."
"We picked this recording up from a small commercial radio station in Tolosa. I'm sending it over on the Vee-Bee. We haven't been able to verify the authenticity of the tape you're about to hear, though we'll be able to do that in about an hour. We're getting sound bites of the speaker from a Spanish television station here in order to compare the voices. My gut tells me they're real but we'll know for sure in an hour or so.
"The first voice you're going to hear is the local radio announcer introducing the tape," Herbert went on. "The second voice is from the tape itself. I'm emailing the translation over as well."
Hood acknowledged as he closed the Serrador file and brought up Herbert's e-mail. Then he hit the VeeBee key on the keyboard. The Vee-Bee, or Voice Box, was the equivalent of audio e-mail. The sounds were digitally scanned and cleaned by one of "Miracle" Matt Stoll's computer programs. The audio delivered by the Vee-Bee simulator was as close to real life as possible. Thanks to the digital encoding, the listener could even isolate background or foreground sounds and play them separately.
Ann came around the desk and leaned over Hood's shoulder. Her warmth, her closeness were comforting. He concentrated on reading the translation as the message played.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening," said the announcer. "We interrupt the supper club troubador to report about further developments in the explosion of the yacht tonight in La Concha Bay. A few minutes ago, a tape recording was delivered to our studio. It was brought by a man who represented himself as a member of the First People of Spain. This recording is reportedly of a conversation which took place onboard the yacht, identified as the Veridico, moments before it blew up. With the delivery of this tape, the FPS claims responsibility for the attack. They also declare Spain as the province of Spaniards, not of the elite of Catalonia. We will play the recording in its entirety."
A parenthetical comment from Herbert read: The FPS is a group of Castilian pure-bloods. They've been publishing broadsides and recruiting members for two years. They've also claimed responsibility for two acts of terrorism against Catalonian and Andalusian targets. Their size and the identity of their leader(s) is unknown.
His jaw tightening. Hood continued reading the transcript as the recording began to play. He listened to the cool, quiet voice of Esteban Ramirez as he spoke about the Catalonian plans for Spain and boasted about the involvement of his group in the murder of Martha Mackall. His group-with the help of Congressional Deputy Isidro Serrador.
"Lord Jesus," Hood said through his teeth. "Bob-is this possible?"
"Not only is it possible," Herbert said, "but it explains Serrador's unwillingness to continue the talks with Darrell and Aideen. That son of a bitch set us up, Paul."
Hood looked at Ann. He'd seen many of her darker moods during their nearly two years together but he'd never seen anything like the way she looked now. The compassion had faded completely from her face. Her lips were pressed tightly together and he could hear her breathing through her nostrils. Her eyes were hard and her cheeks were flushed.
"What do you want to do, Paul?" Herbert asked Hood. "And before you answer, keep in mind that the Spanish courts are not going to throw the book at a leading political figure because of an illegal tape recording made by someone whose hands are probably as dirty if not dirtier than Serrador's. They'll have a long, tough talk with him and investigate the hell out of him. But if he's got friends-and I'm sure he has-they're going to say he was framed. They'll do everything they can to stall the machinery of justice."
"I know," Hood said.
"I know you know," Herbert replied. "But they could let him plea-bargain, just to keep his constituents happy. Or they may let him off. Or they may let him 'escape'