"You must release your captive, Father Bradbury," she replied.
"What if that is not possible?" Seronga asked.
"Everything is possible," Maria replied.
"But your cooperation depends upon that?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she answered.
"Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to promise what you say is possible," Seronga informed her.
"Then get it," she said.
"That isn't going to be easy," Seronga said.
"If political upheaval were easy, everyone would do it," Maria replied. "Without my help, your movement will die within days."
"You're certain of that," he said.
"Yes." Maria looked at him. "Whoever ordered the death of the bishop wants that. Assassinating an American prelate is a harsh opening move. I can only imagine what will follow if they do not get their way."
"And you say you have no idea who they are?" Seronga said.
"None," she replied.
"Would you tell me if you did know?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted.
Seronga sat back. He gazed out the passenger-side window. A thin coat of pale mud made the moon a featureless blur. That was fitting. Nothing was in clear focus right now. Except the woman. She had the confidence of a cheetah. He turned back to her.
"What do you know about our movement?" Seronga asked.
Maria shrugged. "Not much."
"Then let me tell you," Seronga said.
"Why?" Maria asked.
"You may be swayed by the righteousness of what we are doing," he said. "I was."
"Mr. Seronga, I am from Madrid," Maria said. "I have listened to the arguments of Basque separatists and monarchists from Castile, all of it very passionate and at times persuasive. But when they break the law, I don't care what they have to say. I take them down." She looked at him. "I'm here to secure the release of Father Bradbury. That is my righteous cause. I won't be stopped. If you want my help, that is the price."
"What if cooperating with us is the only way you will survive the night?" Seronga asked. He did not like being ordered around by someone he did not yet respect.
The woman looked ahead. A moment later, she jammed her left foot on top of the driver's foot. The accelerator was crushed to the floor and the truck sped ahead. Njo Finn's shouts filled the cab as he struggled to steer. At the same time, Maria thrust her long thumbnail into the small of Seronga's throat. The nail rested just above the sternum. Seronga tried to push her back, but she used her free arm to brace herself against the driver's shoulder. That action also pinned Njo Finn against the door. The harder Seronga pushed, the more Finn was pinned. Finn could not interfere with her and steer at the same time.
Maria pushed harder on Seronga's throat. He gagged. He could feel her long nail break through his flesh.
The Brush Viper raised his hands. Maria released both men. She raised her foot from the accelerator.
"That was madness!" yelled Finn. "I almost ran into a tree!"
Pavant pounded on the back of the cab. "What happened? Is everything all right?"
"Everything is under control!" Finn shouted back. He looked at Seronga. "Isn't it?"
Seronga nodded.
Finn looked at Maria. She did not answer.
"I'll take that to be a 'yes' from the lady," Finn said.
The three sat in silence. Seronga raised his right hand slowly. He did not want to alarm her by moving quickly. He touched a finger to his throat. There was blood. He lowered his hand to his side.
"Mr. Seronga, a killer for afamilia in Spain once asked me the same question you did," Maria said. "He posed a threat veiled as a question. Well, I am here. He is with the devil."
The tone of Maria's voice was unchanged from before. This woman was as cool a warrior as Leon Seronga had ever encountered. But Seronga had been a soldier for a long time. He had nothing to prove to her or to himself. He had underestimated her. She had impulsively, foolishly put him on notice. He would not give her that kind of freedom again.
The Brush Viper had slid his right hand into the leather pouch on the door. That was where Njo Finn kept an automatic. Seronga wanted to make certain the weapon was there. It was.
Seronga relaxed and looked ahead. In a few minutes, he would call base camp for instructions.
He believed that this woman might be able to help them. He did not want to jeopardize that or hurt her. But there was too much at risk to let her determine policy.
He had already killed in the name of the faith. He had slain the two deacon missionaries.
If necessary, he would kill again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
"Edgar, Paul Hood just arrived," Bob Herbert said.
Herbert was talking into the speakerphone on the desk of the conference room, which was familiarly known as the Tank. The Tank was surrounded by walls of electronic waves that generated static to anyone trying to listen in with bugs or external dishes.
"Good afternoon, Paul," Kline said.
"Hello," Hood said. He strode behind Herbert and stopped there. Mike Rodgers, Darrell McCaskey, and Lowell Coffey were also in attendance. The men looked grave.
There was a thin monitor built into the arm of Herbert's wheelchair. When he was in the Tank, he jacked his computer and phone into a land line. He angled the monitor toward Hood and pointed toward the screen. There was a photograph of a small airplane. Herbert typed on the keyboard, "Just in from Maun. Assassin's getaway plane. Tracing number now."
Hood patted Herbert's shoulder.
"Paul, I was just telling Mike and the others that the Vatican wants to move against the people who are holding Father Bradbury," Kline said. "We are under a lot of pressure to take action."
"Your office or the Vatican?" Hood asked.
"My office," Kline replied. "Officially, the Vatican is calling for patience and a peaceful resolution to the crisis. Unofficially, they want the assassins caught, Father Bradbury released or rescued as quickly possible, and his captors apprehended and tried."
"I can understand why," Hood said.
"We found the driver who took the two 'deacons' to Maun," Kline said. "His description pretty much confirmed what we suspected. They were not affiliated with Father Bradbury's church. We are looking into the whereabouts of all the deacons who serve or have served in Botswana, though we are relatively certain these men will not be among them. It looks like your agent may have been right. They could very well be Brush Viper imposters."
"Could they have stolen vestments from one of the church residences?" Hood asked.
"Easily," Kline replied. "We may have more information soon, however. The driver did tell us where he dropped them. The entire Spanish unit is converging on the area. The driver also put us in touch with the man who brought your agent to Maun. He won't tell us anything."
"Maybe he doesn't know anything," Hood pointed out.
"I don't believe that," Kline said frankly. "He won't even tell us where he dropped your agent. Surely he knows that."
"I can't answer for what he does or doesn't know," Hood said. "Maybe he doesn't want to be involved in this. He could be afraid." That would not surprise Hood. Either Maria had terrified the driver or charmed him. Either way, he would not be talking.
"Paul, I gave you access to that church to use as a data drop," Kline said. "I have told you what we know. As I was just telling Mr. Herbert, I thought we were cooperating on this."
"Mister?" Herbert muttered. He scrunched his face.
"Edgar, we are cooperating," Hood said.
"Then I'll ask you the same thing the other members of your staff refused to answer, Paul," Kline said. "Where is your agent now? Is she still in Maun, or has she followed the two Brush Vipers?"
Hood looked at Rodgers.