Balance of Power (Tom Clancy's Op-Center, Book 5)
Tom Clancy
Language: English
Pages: 464
ISBN: 0425165566
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Spain is a nation poised to suffer its worst internal strife in centuries. Certain well-placed Spanish diplomats sense it. Op-Center intelligence corroborates it. All the United States and Spain have to do is find a way to avert it. Before they can, an Op-Center representative is assassinated in Madrid on her way to a top secret meeting. Now all fears are confirmed. Someone very powerful wants another Spanish civil war--no matter what the cost.
least there was one benefit to constant pain, like a broken rib or a nonlethal bullet wound. The mind had the ability to block that pain out, even when it was severe. It was the jab of recurring or steadily increasing pain that was difficult to deal with. Now, standing beside the jamb, Aideen suddenly had another mission. The wounded Amadori had disappeared around the turn in the corridor to the east. At that moment she was the only team member who was still on her feet. From the western end of
going with you,” McCaskey said. “I can’t leave María.” “Darrell, you heard what Amadori said,” Aideen declared. “More soldiers are on the way.” “I know,” McCaskey said. He smiled faintly. “All the more reason I can’t leave her.” “He won’t be alone,” Father Norberto told her. “I’ll stay with him.” Aideen regarded them both through her mask. “There isn’t time to argue. I’ll get the word out. You three take care.” McCaskey thanked her. As she turned and ran toward the grand staircase, McCaskey
no room for incompetency. Adolfo guided the boat swiftly toward shore, his right hand on the wheel and his left hand holding the well-worn string of the old bell that hung outside the wheelhouse. He’d fished these waters since he was a small boy working on his father’s vessel. The low, foggy sound of that bell was one of the two things that brought those days back to him vividly. The other was the smell of the harbor whenever he drew near. The ocean smell intensified the closer Adolfo came to
coded messages or phone numbers. He called the number with the S next to it. Serrador answered—whoever that was. The man was indignant, brusque, and in trouble, judging from the sounds Juan heard over the telephone. He decided to hang up before the call could be traced. He remained behind the desk in the large second-floor office. He looked out the bank of windows at the large yacht factory. Esteban Ramirez had been good to him for many years. Juan hadn’t been an intimate but he was a member of
the priests. They crossed themselves as he offered a benediction. Then he walked toward them slowly, his long, dark patrician face with its pale eyes turned toward the heavens. “Forgive us, O Lord,” he said, “for this day was the first day in over one thousand years that the doors of this cathedral have been barred from the inside.” He regarded the priests. “In just a moment I am going to open those doors. I must leave, but Father Francisco will assign each of you to a different section of the