off in the wrong direction.”
Hood looked at the high-resolution photograph of the troops in the courtyard. There were at least two hundred of them, broken into small groups. The soldiers looked as though they were drilling — perhaps to defend the compound, perhaps to serve as firing squads. In any case, it reminded Hood of the pictures he’d seen of Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guards drilling in front of
Amadori had to be there.
“Mike,” Hood said, “we’re responsible for Maria being in on this. She’s got no backup. I can’t have that.”
Rodgers was silent for a moment. “I don’t disagree. But we’ve been over these photographs and we’re going through floor plans of the palace now. Getting in there isn’t going to be easy.”
“They don’t have to go in,” Hood said. “I just want some firepower in the area. Darrell can be in touch with them through Ishi Honda.”
“That’s right,” Rodgers said. “But the mission is still Amadori and we don’t know for sure that he’s there. We haven’t been able to pick up any ELINT yet. It’ll be another hour or so before we can start getting that.”
Hood was not getting impatient with Rodgers. The general was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Pointing out options and possible pitfalls.
“If Amadori’s somewhere else we’ll pull Striker off,” Hood said. “And who knows? Maybe the son of a bitch will decide to show himself and save us the trouble of going in.”
Rodgers exhaled audibly. “That’s not likely, Paul. But I’ll tell Brett to move out. I also want to remind you that, while we brought Maria into this, she acted without orders,” Rodgers said. “She put herself in this situation. And not for our benefit, but for the benefit of her country. I will not be in favor of risking team lives to evacuate her.”
“Noted,” Hood said. “And thanks.”
Rodgers clicked off and Hood hung up. He dumped the photos from the monitor and turned off the desk lamp. He shut his eyes.
It made no sense; none at all. Clinging to a job that by its very nature left you alone, cut off from your family and often cut off from subordinates. Maybe that’s why he felt drawn to Maria’s situation. She was alone too.
No, Hood wouldn’t forget the mission. And he wouldn’t forget what Mike Rodgers had been too respectful to point out: that the Strikers had lives and loved ones, just like Maria.
But Hood also couldn’t forget Martha Mackall. And he’d be damned if he did nothing while another unarmed colleague faced danger in the bloody streets of Madrid.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Maria followed the young captain into the corridor, confident that she could trust the officer to bring her to Amadori. Neither the captain nor the general had anything to gain by tricking her. They had to be curious about the information she said she possessed. And if he didn’t trust her, he wouldn’t be in front of her. He’d be behind her, with a gun.
Nonetheless, she was startled by the relative ease with which she’d been able to bully the captain. Either he was inexperienced or far more clever than she gave him credit for.
He turned to the left. Maria stopped.
“I thought we were going to see the general,” she said.
“We are,” the captain replied. He extended his arm down the hallway — away from the Hall of Halberdiers.
“Isn’t he in the throne room?” she asked.
“The throne room?” The captain laughed loudly. “Wouldn’t that be somewhat presumptuous?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Isn’t being in this palace somewhat presumptuous?”
“Not when the king returns to Madrid and we need to protect him,” the captain said. “We intend to secure both of the royal palaces.”
“But there were guards—”
“Protecting the chamber from the prisoners.” The captain bowed his head in the direction of his outstretched hand. “The general is in the state dining room with his advisors.”
Maria looked at him. She didn’t believe him. She didn’t know why; she just didn’t.
“But the question is not where the general is located,” the captain continued. “The question is whether you have something to tell him or not. Are you coming, Senorita Corneja?”
Maria looked down. For now, she had no choice but to do what she was told. “I’m coming,” she said, and walked toward the captain.
The officer turned and strode briskly along the brightly lit corridor, and then around the corner. Maria walked a little slower, remaining several steps behind him. Other soldiers moved quickly along the corridor. Some of them had prisoners, others were on field phones. A few were carrying computer equipment into rooms. None of them was paying her any attention.
This didn’t feel right but Maria had to play it out. Yes, she was coming — but not without precautions.
“Would you like a cigarette?” she asked the captain. She was already reaching into the breast pocket of her blouse. She removed the pack and took one of the cigarettes out. She tore a match from the book of matches.
“Thank you, no,” said the captain. “Actually, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t smoke here. So many treasures. A careless flick—”
“I understand,” she said.
The captain had said exactly what Maria had expected him to say. She began to replace the pack but first palmed the cigarette. Because the captain was facing forward he didn’t see her poke the match into the tobacco of the palmed cigarette. Then she put the cigarette down the front of her pants, into the crotch, and put the pack back in her blouse pocket.
Now, at least, she had a weapon.
The state dining room was on the other side of the music room overlooking the Plaza Incognita. On the other side of the plaza was the Campo del Moro, the Camp of the Moors. The park marked the site where the troops of the powerful emir Ali bin-Yusuf camped in the eleventh century during the Moorish attempt to conquer Spain.
They reached the door of the music room and the captain knocked. He looked at Maria and smiled. She reached his side but she didn’t return his smile. The door opened.
The captain extended a hand inside. “After you,” he said.
Maria took a step toward it and looked in.
The windowless room was dark and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Something moved toward her from the shadows to the right. She backed away only to bump into the captain, who was standing directly and solidly behind her. Suddenly, he pushed her inside. At the same time, two pairs of hands grabbed her forearms. She was pulled off her feet and landed facedown on the floor. Boots were planted firmly on her shoulder blades.
A light came on, casting a soft amber glow throughout the room. Maria looked out at a pastoral mural as a third set of hands groped her legs, waist, arms, and chest, searching for concealed weapons. Her belt and watch were removed and they took the pack of cigarettes.
When the search was finished, the extra set of hands suddenly pulled back on Maria’s hair. The tug was rough and she found herself looking up. With her shoulders pushed down and her head drawn back, the pain in her neck was intense.
The captain walked over and looked down at her. He smirked and put the hard heel of his boot against her forehead. He leaned into it and her head went back further.
“You asked me if I were sure 1 would get the information in time,” the captain said. He grinned cruelly. “Yes,
Maria’s vocal cord strained against the tightening flesh of her throat. Thick cables of pain twisted along her
