Tom Clancy's Op-center Balance of Power - Tom Clancy [90]
Norberto left the church amidst the good wishes and prayers of the parishioners. As he stepped into the warm daylight and headed toward the rectory, he could not help but think how amused Adolfo would have been by what had just happened. That it had been he, a disbeliever, and not Norberto who had inspired and unified a frightened congregation.
Norberto wondered if God had provided this sanctifying grace as a means for Adolfo to overcome his mortal sin. The priest had no reason to believe that, no theological precedent. But as this morning had proved, hope was a powerful beacon.
Perhaps, he thought, that's because sometimes hope is the only beacon.
* * *
TWENTY-FIVE
Tuesday, 8:06 a.m.
Madrid, Spain
Once the soldiers had secured the Ramirez boat factory, they lined up the three dozen surviving employees and checked their ID's. As she watched the soldiers pick out people, María realized that all of the core leaders of the familia were still alive. The factory guard and other informants must have kept careful records, including photographs. Amadori would have the cream of the familia for show-trials. He could show the nation, the world, that ordinary Spaniards were plotting against other Spaniards. That he had brought order to impending chaos. The people who were gunned down were probably not guilty of anything. In life, they could have insisted that they were not members of the familia. In death, they could be whatever Amadori wanted them to be. The care with which he had planned even this relatively small, remote action was chilling.
Those factory workers whose names were on the army's list were brought to the rooftop. One of the helicopters was used to ferry prisoners to the small airport outside of Bilbao. There, fifteen workers plus María were held inside a hangar at gunpoint.
Juan and Ferdinand were among the captives. They were tightly bound. Neither man spoke and neither man looked at her. She hoped they didn't suspect her of having set them up.
María couldn't address that right now. Time and deeds, not protests, would clear her. She was just glad to be here. When she'd surrendered, María still had no idea whether prisoners were being taken at all. She had approached the factory with her arms raised, hoping that the soldiers would hold their fire because she was a woman. María may have had a rocky history where relationships were concerned, but she'd never gone wrong betting on the pride of Spanish men. As soon as she was spotted-halfway across the parking lot-she was ordered to stay where she was. Two soldiers came rushing from inside. One of them frisked her with enthusiasm until she informed them that she had something to tell General Amadori. She wasn't sure what she had to tell him, but she'd think of something. The fact that she knew the general's name seemed to catch the men off guard. They didn't treat her gently after that, but they refrained from abusing her.
The prisoners stood in a bunch quietly, some of them smoking, some of them nursing lacerations, waiting to see whether they were being taken away or whether someone was coming. When a prop plane arrived from Madrid, the group was led onboard.
The flight to Madrid took just under fifty minutes. Though the prisoners' wounds were dressed, none of the captives spoke and none of the soldiers addressed them. As she sat in the twenty-four-seater, staring out at the bright patchwork of farms and cities, María played scenarios out in her mind. She would talk to no one but Amadori, who would see her-she hoped-because she could tell him how much the world intelligence fraternity knew about his crimes. Perhaps an arrangement could be reached wherein he would restrict his ambitions to becoming part of a new government.
She also imagined the general not caring what anyone knew or thought. Whether he wanted to rule an independent Castile or all of Spain, he had the guns and he had the momentum. He also had familia members not just to interrogate