Seronga sat back. He gazed out the passenger-side window. A thin coat of pale mud made the moon a featureless blur. That was fitting. Nothing was in clear focus right now. Except the woman. She had the confidence of a cheetah. He turned back to her.
'What do you know about our movement?' Seronga asked.
Maria shrugged. 'Not much.'
'Then let me tell you,' Seronga said.
'Why?' Maria asked.
'You may be swayed by the righteousness of what we are doing,' he said. 'I was.'
'Mr. Seronga, I am from Madrid,' Maria said. 'I have listened to the arguments of Basque separatists and monarchists from Castile, all of it very passionate and at times persuasive. But when they break the law, I don't care what they have to say. I take them down.' She looked at him. 'I'm here to secure the release of Father Bradbury. That is my righteous cause. I won't be stopped. If you want my help, that is the price.'
'What if cooperating with us is the only way you will survive the night?' Seronga asked. He did not like being ordered around by someone he did not yet respect.
The woman looked ahead. A moment later, she jammed her left foot on top of the driver's foot. The accelerator was crushed to the floor and the truck sped ahead. Njo Finn's shouts filled the cab as he struggled to steer. At the same time, Maria thrust her long thumbnail into the small of Seronga's throat. The nail rested just above the sternum. Seronga tried to push her back, but she used her free arm to brace herself against the driver's shoulder. That action also pinned Njo Finn against the door. The harder Seronga pushed, the more Finn was pinned. Finn could not interfere with her and steer at the same time.
Maria pushed harder on Seronga's throat. He gagged. He could feel her long nail break through his flesh.
The Brush Viper raised his hands. Maria released both men. She raised her foot from the accelerator.
MISSION OF HONOR
301
'That was madness!' yelled Finn. 'I almost ran into a tree!'
Pavant pounded on the back of the cab. 'What happened? Is everything all right?'
'Everything is under control!' Finn shouted back. He looked at Seronga. 'Isn't it?'
Seronga nodded.
Finn looked at Maria. She did not answer.
'I'll take that to be a 'yes' from the lady,' Finn said.
The three sat in silence. Seronga raised his right hand slowly. He did not want to alarm her by moving quickly. He touched a finger to his throat. There was blood. He lowered his hand to his side.
'Mr. Seronga, a killer for afamilia in Spain once asked me the same question you did,' Maria said. 'He posed a threat veiled as a question. Well, I am here. He is with the devil.'
The tone of Maria's voice was unchanged from before. This woman was as cool a warrior as Leon Seronga had ever encountered. But Seronga had been a soldier for a long time. He had nothing to prove to her or to himself. He had underestimated her. She had impulsively, foolishly put him on notice. He would not give her that kind of freedom again.
The Brush Viper had slid his right hand into the leather pouch on the door. That was where Njo Finn kept an automatic. Seronga wanted to make certain the weapon was there. It was.
Seronga relaxed and looked ahead. In a few minutes, he would call base camp for instructions.
He believed that this woman might be able to help them. He did not want to jeopardize that or hurt her. But there was too much at risk to let her determine policy.
He had already killed in the name of the faith. He had slain the two deacon missionaries.
If necessary, he would kill again.
FORTY-NINE
Washington, D.C. Friday, 12:05 P.M.
'Edgar, Paul Hood just arrived,' Bob Herbert said.
Herbert was talking into the speakerphone on the desk of the conference room, which was familiarly known as the Tank. The Tank was surrounded by walls of electronic waves that generated static to anyone trying to listen in with bugs or external dishes.
'Good afternoon, Paul,' Kline said.
'Hello,' Hood said. He strode behind Herbert and stopped there. Mike Rodgers, Darrell McCaskey, and Lowell Coffey were also in attendance. The men looked grave.
There was a thin monitor built into the arm of Herbert's wheelchair. When he was in the Tank, he jacked his computer and phone into a land line. He angled the monitor toward Hood and pointed toward the screen. There was a photograph of a small airplane. Herbert typed on the keyboard, 'Just in from Maun. Assassin's getaway plane. Tracing number now.'
Hood patted Herbert's shoulder.
'Paul, I was just telling Mike and the others that the Vatican wants to move against the people who are holding Father Bradbury,' Kline said. 'We are under a lot of pressure to take action.'
'Your office or the Vatican?' Hood asked.
