strike.”
“They can have that weapon. The president has already volunteered to turn it over to the Atomic Energy people.”
“It’s the other one I’m talking about, General. Don’t even think of showing it to them.” Babin reached for his crutches. “Do you mind if I move around a little? My back is in knots.”
Tucume gave him a hand, supporting him while he found his balance. For just that moment, Babin felt sorry for the general and wished the circumstances were different. But their courses were set.
“After the election, any difficulties will be swept away,” said Tucume. “You’ll see. The Americans will not dare to move against me then — it will be like declaring war on the country.”
Babin crutched his way around the room slowly, bending his neck to stretch his muscles, as this sometimes helped relieve the pain farther down.
“You’re sure your opponents will allow a fair result?” said Babin. He had to force the words through his teeth; even the muscles in his mouth were knotting.
“The army will guarantee it,” said Tucume. “And with UN observers, the process will be fair.”
Had he not been in so much pain, Babin might have laughed at the irony of someone who was trying to steal the election calling it fair. He maneuvered himself so his back was against the wall, then pushed his head to flex the muscles. The pain relented ever so slightly, then surged up his spine, cramping his shoulders.
He would endure. Only a few more days. Then it would be gone forever.
85
Dean kept his hand clamped over Lia’s mouth as two guerrillas ran up the path in front of the houses and turned toward the back, going in the direction they thought she had taken. They shouted back and forth. Someone on the other side of the buildings apparently thought he saw something and began firing.
“You all right?” asked Dean, letting her go.
“I’m fine.”
“Where are your shoes?”
“I left them in the shower.”
“Get on my back,” he told her. “I’ll carry you.”
“No.”
“You are the most stubborn human being in the world.”
“My feet are fine,” insisted Lia.
“Then come on, for cryin’ out loud. Before they figure out which way you went.”
86
“They’re out of the camp,” Telach told Rubens as soon as he entered the Art Room. “Lia saw a chance and she took it. She’s with Charlie. We’ve launched the helicopters.”
Rubens nodded.
“You still want Servico, the
“Yes,” said Rubens — and then immediately he second-guessed himself, realizing that he hadn’t entirely considered the situation before speaking.
He’d told the president that he could get Servico, and now Rubens didn’t want to disappoint him. His prestige would be dented, or at a minimum he would be losing a chance to enhance it.
It was ego. And it was more than that — it was chits to become national security adviser.
Was that going to color every decision he made now? That is not who I am, Rubens told himself. I am above those sorts of political games. I have no need for them.
Would he be above petty politics if he were national security adviser?
The pressure would be worse.
“Just one second, Ms. Telach, as I reconsider this,” he said. “Can Servico be retrieved without further endangering our people?”
“We planned it that way.” Her cheeks, never plump, had pulled tight and hollow. Her upper body was stiff with tension. “The helicopters are nineteen minutes away.”
Would it be safer for all concerned to concentrate on simply picking up Dean and Lia?
Absolutely.
Was the risk worth it?
Yes, because snatching Servico might give them more information about any possible rebel connection to the bomb — or more likely, rule it out. And he might be of use in dealing with Peru.
“Lia’s safety is paramount,” said Rubens.
“I understand that,” said Telach.
He didn’t have to be pure — no one could entirely divorce himself from all possible influences. But he did have to make a decision.
“I want Lia safe,” he told Telach. “Beyond that, if there is an opportunity to snatch Servico, who is wanted by the British government as well as Peru, then do so.”
“Yes, sir.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she looked less like an enraged scarecrow.
“Where is Mr. Karr?”
“Making his way back to the river. I have Fashona on his way there.”
“Have him move into position to make the switch with the voter card at Nevas. If possible, Lia can meet him. Or, if necessary, he can proceed alone.”
“Yes, Mr. Rubens.”
87
Dean led Lia to a spot about three hundred yards from the camp where a pair of fallen tree trunks gave them cover and a vantage point to watch for guards.
“We’re at the trunks I told you about,” he told Rockman.
“Good. Helicopters are sixteen minutes away,” said Rockman. “One group is going to take out Servico. The other will meet you at LZ One.”
“You’re taking Servico?” said Lia.
“Yes. He’s wanted by the British as well as the Peruvians, and we want to talk to him about the bomb.”
“All right. Tell the landing team we’ll locate him for them,” said Lia, sliding off the tree.
“Hey, hold on,” said Dean, grabbing her. “We just got out of there.”
“
“Lia, Charlie? Just relax a second,” said Telach. “There are two helicopters of paramilitaries on their way. You’ll hear them shortly.”
“So will the guerrillas,” said Lia. “Servico will get away.”
Dean recognized the defiant look in her eye, the look he called
“There’s only six of them. They’re mostly kids. They’re not very well trained,” Lia said. “Do you really think we need to wait for help?”
“All right, let’s do it,” said Dean, taking the lead.
By the time Lia caught up to Dean, he was crouched a few yards from the point where she’d come into the
