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"I was wrong," Herbert said. "They're not just ghouls. They're shallow freakin' ghouls."

"Everybody's something," Ann said.

Herbert scrunched his brow at that but Hood understood. His own integrity had taken a few good hits over the last few hours.

"All right," Hood said. "Go with it. But contain it, Ann. I don't want the whereabouts of Darrell or Aideen found out. Tell the press that they're being brought back here under very tight security."

"I will," she said. "What do I say about a successor to Martha? Someone's bound to ask."

"Tell them that Ronald Plummer is Acting Political and Economics Officer," Hood said without hesitation.

Plummer thanked him with his eyes. Acknowledging that in an official statement, without attaching another name to the office, was a vote of confidence in Plummer. The job was his to lose.

Ann thanked Hood and left. He didn't watch her go. He turned to Herbert.

"So what's your crapstorm?" he asked.

"Riots," Herbert said. "They're bustin' out everywhere." He hesitated. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You look faraway."

"I'm fine, thanks. Bob. What's the overview?"

Herbert gave him a you-ain't-foolin'-me look and moved on. "The riots are no longer contained in the Ávila, Segovia, and Soria corridor of Castile," Herbert said. "Ron, you've got the latest."

"This just came via fax from the U.S. consulate in the city," Plummer said, "though I'm sure several news services must be on it by now. Word of the Barcelona soccer cancellation got out-not surprising when the German players quietly tried to skip town. Angry fans actually blockaded the motorway with their cars as the bus headed to the El Prat airport. The policía nacional, Spain's state troopers, came to try and rescue them. When the policía were hit with rocks, the Mossos d'Escuadra were called to help them."

"They're the autonomous police of Catalonia," Herbert said. "They're mostly responsible for government buildings and have a take-no-prisoners attitude."

"Except that prisoners were taken," Plummer said. "Over twenty. When the Mossos d'Escuadra contingent brought them in, the police station was attacked by a mob. Martial law is about to be declared in the city, which is where we're at right now."

"Now, Barcelona's about two hundred miles from San Sebastián," Herbert said, "and it's an urban center as opposed to a resort. I'm not worried that the rioting is going to spread there quickly." He hunched forward and folded his hands. "But I am worried, Paul, that when martial law is declared it's going to have a very, very strong impact on the collective Spanish conscience."

"How so?" Hood asked.

"One word," Herbert replied. "Franco. There are strong and bitter memories of his militant, fascist Falange party. The first time government sponsored militancy surfaces in nearly a quarter of a century, you can bet there's going to be very fierce resistance."

"The irony," said Plummer, "is that the Germans helped Franco win the Spanish Civil War. Having Germans as a flashpoint here is going to make the resentment even tougher to put down."

"What does this have to do with our people?" Hood asked. "Are you saying they should lay low until we see what happens?"

Herbert shook his head. "I'm saying that you should get them out, recall Striker, and urge the President to evacuate all nonessential American personnel. Those who stay in Spain should button up tight."

Hood regarded him for a long moment. Herbert was not a man prone to overreaction. "How bad do you think it's going to get?" Hood asked.

"Bad," Herbert said. "Some major political fault lines have been activated here. I think we may be looking at the next Soviet Union or Yugoslavia."

Hood looked at Plummer. "Ron?"

Plummer folded the fax and creased it sharply with his fingertips. "I'm afraid I'm with Bob on this one, Paul," he said. "The nation of Spain is probably going to come apart."

* * *

SEVENTEEN

Tuesday, 3:27 a.m.

San Sebastián, Spain

Adolfo