Balance of Power

FORTY-THREE

It was the policy of all American elite forces to leave nothing usable behind. In some cases, where the mission was covert-red — meaning that no one could know the forces had even been there — even shell casings were collected. In a covert-green raid like this one it was only necessary that the identities of the operatives never be revealed.

Colonel August was aware that Aideen Marley had peeled off from the group. She had no orders to do so, but he couldn’t fault her initiative. As it stood, if she failed to get General Amadori the mission would be considered a partial success. Striker would have succeeded in flushing out the officer before he was ready. The firefight would force the municipal police and other officials to enter the palace. They’d find the prisoners and learn how they were forced to come here. Amadori might still be in a position to seize power, but this would make it a little more difficult. Certainly he’d find it tough to get support throughout Europe when news of his atrocities got out.

Still—

Colonel August didn’t like partial successes. Aideen had gone off to the southern wing of the palace in pursuit of Amadori. If Striker could keep the army off her back long enough, and if Amadori’s wound kept his mind on escape instead of security, she might be able to finish the job they set out to do. If she succeeded, they could still spare Spain the months of violent conflict and ruthless purges that would ensue if Amadori survived.

There were approximately three hundred feet between the Strikers and the oncoming Spanish soldiers. Though Amadori’s troops were wearing gas masks, the thick yellow smoke from the grenades had prevented them from proceeding more than a few yards every minute. Striker, meanwhile, had been able to keep up a steady retreat. They’d even helped several of the prisoners get out, those who had been kept in the Hall of the Halberdiers and had managed to make their way through the dissipating gas.

Striker was nearing the grand staircase of the palace. Behind it was the stairway to the dungeon. To the south was the corridor Amadori and Aideen had taken. Sidling up to Corporal Prementine, Colonel August instructed him to select one soldier to cover the retreat. Prementine was then to lead the other Strikers out of the palace.

“Sir,” Prementine said, “one soldier won’t be enough to do the job. I’d like to remain behind as well.”

“Negative,” August said. “That would make three of us.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll be here as well,” August said.

“Sir—”

“Do it, Corporal,” August said.

“Yes, sir,” Prementine said, saluting.

The corporal informed Private Pupshaw that he’d be staying behind with Colonel August. The burly private responded with an enthusiastic salute and then reported to his commanding officer. August told Pupshaw that when they reached the staircase he was to take up a position just inside the corridor. August would handle the crossfire from the northern side of the staircase. If either of them were attacked from behind, the other would be in a position to cover him.

Privates Scott and DeVonne left behind their remaining supply of gas grenades. There were only three of them. August figured they would get five strong minutes of defense out of two of those grenades and cover fire. The last grenade would give them another two minutes for their own retreat. The timetable was snug, but it was doable. He only hoped that Aideen could catch up to her wounded prey, do what needed to be done, and exit cleanly.

Corporal Prementine wished the two men well. Silently, he and the other Strikers departed.

August thanked him then informed Pupshaw that they were to hold their positions for exactly five minutes from the time they reengaged the Spanish soldiers. At August’s signal they would then follow their fellow Strikers back “down the hole,” Pupshaw retreating first.

August and Pupshaw lay on their bellies and prepared to meet the assault. They would fire low, no higher than the knees. Pupshaw had a grenade ready to roll against the Spaniards. August raised his left arm.

Twenty seconds later the first Spanish soldier appeared through the thinning yellow cloud. August turned his left thumb down.

Pupshaw pulled the pin and rolled the grenade.