Page 20 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
It was simply a statement of fact. A terrible fact.
Because Project Q was their only lasting hope.
?
“What about the Iranians?” Narcisco asked. “Can’t they do something?”
A Quds Force fighting unit had set up a training camp in Panama under La Liga’s paid protection. Fierro wanted to scream. He wondered if his El Salvadoran friend was high on coke or merely bipolar—or maybe both. How could he be both cunning and stupid all at the same time?
Three divisions of U.S. Marines couldn’t take CECOT. And what did Narcisco think the guards would do if they thought the walls had been breached? Their first order would be to kill all the prisoners. The last thing President Olmedo would want was for forty thousand angry gangsters to be released and set loose upon the country to seek their revenge.
“That’s a great idea, Narcisco. But that kind of operation would take a great deal of planning and I’m worried it will take too long. We need something fast.”
“So you do have a plan?”
“Of course. We must be subtle. And careful.Entiendes?”
“Sí.”
“With any luck, your father will be out by the end of the week. Maybe sooner.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing. Just be patient. I’ll handle everything. Have I ever let you down before?”
“Never. But if you fail, I’ll take matters into my own hands. That’s not a threat,jefe. It’s merely a promise. It’s a matter of honor.”
“You have my word. I will take care of it.”
Vargas pulled to a stop in front of the villa. There was no one at the front door. “Too showy,” Fierro had insisted. But armed guards were located in carefully concealed hides around the property. Fierro opened the door for himself. Vargas followed him in. Fierro was still on the phone.
“I need to get on this, so I’ll let you go now.”
“Thank you, Amador. I’m a patient man. But there is a limit.”
Narcisco killed the call.
“He’s a dangerous dog,” Vargas said, his eyes searching for potential threats beyond the great picture window. “You need to let me put him down.”
“He’s my friend.”
“You have no friends. Only allies who fear you, and enemies who fear you more. Didn’t your father teach you that?”
Fierro grinned. “Of course. But you taughthimthat. Even Machiavelli said it is better to be lovedandfeared. Besides, even a dog has his uses.”
“Until he rips your throat out. He’s willing to risk Project Q to get that carelessviejoout of jail.”
“I know how to handle him. I’ll solve his problem and then he’ll calm down.”
“You are smarter than your father.”
“Better looking, too.”
“If you change your mind…”
?
Fierro poured himself a fine single malt whiskey and took a plush leather chair overlooking his estate. He was lost deep in thought.
