Balance of Power

Chapter Twelve

SWEENEY, GLORIA P.

B. 1955, BILOXI, MISS.

ATTENDANCE, FARMINGTON CO. ELEMENTARY OCC: NONE

INCARCERATION: MISS. STATE PENITENTIARY, 1973-76

SUB (1) INCARCERATION

MANSLAUGHTER, DEGREE 1, 15 YRS.-LIFE, COMMUTED WHEN SUBJECT SUBMITTED TO VOLUNTARY WORK PROGRAM IN PUERTA DEL REY, HISPANIA, 1978

Harold W. Smith stopped the printout. "I think I've found her," he said into the phone. "Hold on, Remo."

He keyed in:

SUB (2) VOLUNTARY WORK PROGRAM, PUERTA DEL REY.

INSTITUTED 1978 BY ESTOMAGO, GEN, ROBAR S.,

CHIEF, NATL SECURITY COUNCIL,

CURR. AMBASSADOR TO U.S. VOL. WORK PROGRAM FOR

FEMALE PRISON INMATES IN LIEU

OF MAXIMUM SENTENCE. NATURE

OF WORK: DOMESTIC. NUMBER:

"That's odd," Smith said, stopping the machine.

"What's odd?" Remo asked. "Look, I don't have all day to hang on the phone while you play tunes on your computer. There's still the business of Denise Daniels and some kind of map on Gloria Sweeney's wall and some mosque somewhere..."

"The mosque is at 128-26 West 114th Street," Smith said. "If Denise Daniels was Barney's wife, that's nothing to worry about," he muttered offhandedly. "Just a personal matter. Naturally, he would have been concerned by her death, so he would have opened the envelope with the bomb in it, since it carried her name on the return address. It was obviously intended for Daniels, although Max Snodgrass beat him to it. But in itself, this Denise Daniels is really... nothing..." He trailed off as his eye caught the last line of the printout. "Remo, when Daniels was talking, did he say anything about seeing a lot of American women on the island?"

"Only Gloria Sweeney."

"Funny. The CIA doesn't have any records about them, either. According to this printout, there are at least 120 female American prison inmates in Puerta del Rey."

"I didn't know there were prisons in Puerta del Rey. I thought they shot criminals first and tried them later."

"That's not far from the truth," Smith said. "Nevertheless, Gloria Sweeney was sent to Hispania as a prisoner serving a life sentence. She's back in the States now, illegally. My guess is that she's involved with Estomago, the Hispanian ambassador."

"Then why all the black freedom business, and the Peaches of Mecca and all that? And why did she have Calder Raisin killed? And what about the map Daniels keeps hollering about?"

"I have a theory or two, but nothing substantial. You find that out," Smith said. "I have to scan some prison records. Remo?"

"What?"

"Be quick about it." He hung up.

It could be nothing. All of the information gathered so far through Smith's records and Barney's delirious testimony, might mean nothing more than that the leadership of a dissatisfied banana republic decided to make America uncomfortable by stirring up its black population. Just another case of the mouse chewing between the elephant's toes.

But some of the printouts Smith had pulled from the CURE computer banks late the night before didn't sit well. Like the three bulletins from American air surveillance over the Atlantic confirming the presence of Russian freighters heading toward Cuba. Or the flutter of activity on banana boats between Hispania and Cuba. There had been too many incidences of Hispanian boats getting lost in Cuban waters for Smith to accept, especially since neither Hispania nor Cuba needed to trade bananas with one another.

There was nothing definite, nothing to cause anything more than idle speculation on the part of Dr. Harold W. Smith.

Idle speculation, Smith repeated to himself as he keyed in the code for penitentiary inmate files. Still, time should not be wasted. He made a point of accelerating his typing speed from forty words a minute to forty-three.