“Now,” Yassasin said. “Le Gérant has given me instructions to thank you for your generous and impressive offer of five million dollars to the Union. The territories you control are profitable.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Espada said. “However, I do hope that Le Gérant realizes the tremendous risks I take to keep operations going. South America and Mexico are still quite new and require a lot of payoffs. Law enforcement is particularly strong when one gets near America. The drugs are doing well, but I’ve lost several men. Some were arrested, others killed by the police. It’s becoming more difficult.”
“We can all appreciate that,” Yassasin said. “It’s time to discuss your proposal.”
Espada brightened. “So Le Gérant has agreed to help me? Is he committing Union resources to my cause? I thought he said it was a ‘suicide mission.’ ”
“He still believes that, but … that’s where I come in.”
“Oh?”
“Le Gérant has taken into consideration your generous offer, your enthusiasm, and the opportunity for the Union to even the score with an enemy. So, yes, the Union will become involved in the Gibraltar project.”
“That’s very good news.” Espada lifted his glass and finished the wine.
“There are some conditions.”
“What are they?”
“Le Gérant will supply the necessary manpower to accomplish your goals. The North African district will be employed, under my supervision. You will be in charge of the Spanish district, but you must follow a plan that I have formulated.”
“You? What plan?”
“These are Le Gérant’s specific instructions. We will go into the details after dinner. Suffice it to say that my plan will accomplish much more than the siege of Gibraltar. You want to be the first Spanish governor of Gibraltar in over two hundred years? The only way you will see that happen is if you follow my orders to the letter.”
Espada’s eyes narrowed. No one ever talked to him in this manner.
“Why should I?” he asked. “I could still do this without the Union.”
“Domingo,” Margareta said gently, putting a hand on his arm.
“That wouldn’t be advisable,” Yassasin said. “Turning your back on the Union after we’ve offered to help is not very … sporting. You should know that.”
Espada grumbled, calming down. “I don’t like taking orders from someone else. No offense, Nadir. I know you’re supposed to be a brilliant planner, but I’ve always gone my own way.”
“This is Le Gérant’s condition. Take it or leave it. Why don’t you hold off on your answer until you hear what the plan is. It is … risky … but very clever, if I do say so myself.”
“All right. But before we eat, give me a hint. What happens? How does it end? I like to know the result before the setup.”
Yassasin smiled and said, “When the operation is completed, Gibraltar will be the property of Spain. You will be the new governor. The British governorwill be dead, along with the British Prime Minister.”
“The Prime Minister? We’re going to kill him?”
“That’s part of Le Gérant’s revenge against the United Kingdom for their interference in our previous major project.”
“Sounds dangerous …” Espada rubbed his chin and looked at Yassasin with doubt in his eyes. Then he grinned broadly. “I love it already! Yes! Let me hear what you have to say after dinner.”
“Very well. The important thing now is for you to build up your group to intimidating proportions. One of our concerns is how the government in Madrid will react to your revolution. They may strike you down.”
“They wouldn’t dare. They may be putting up a good face with Britain over Gibraltar, but they want it back as much as I do. I think they’ll let me get away with it.”
“And if Great Britain declares war on Spain?”
Espada rubbed his hands with glee. “What could be more exciting? Two NATO powers going at it, mano a mano! What a way to start the new millennium!”
“You could be killed, Domingo,” Margareta said.
Espada shrugged. “I have been prepared for that for a long time.
I’m sixty-two years old. If I can make a difference in the history books … if I can take Gibraltar for just one day … then I will die fulfilled.”
“I take it, then, you agree to the plan? I have full control?” Yassasin asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m happy to tell you that the plan has already been put into effect, and in less than a week it will all be over. I am here to set up command central at your home, for it will all culminate here. My lieutenant is in Britain as we speak, keeping watch on things as they progress. His name is Jimmy Powers, an American.”
“Command Central? Here? What the hell? What if I had said no?”
Espada asked, incredulous.
“You don’t want to ask that, Señor Espada.”
Espada was silent a moment, then eyed Yassasin and said, “If I did not know you and have respect for your reputation, Nadir, I would have killed you just now. But I know enough about you to trust that you know what you’re doing. Le Gérant must have a good deal of faith in this thing as well. All right, I agree. Let’s hear your brilliant plan.”
“After dinner,” Margareta said, pulling on Espada’s arm.
Much later, after a luxurious dinner and a tense two-hour meeting, Yassasin was put up in a guest room and Espada retired to his study. Espada liked time alone in this room, which also served as a library of sorts and a place in which he could display the many trophies, posters, and photographs from his bullfighting days. He also enjoyed putting on a costume, red-and-black traditional matador garb, the traje de luces, or “suit of lights”; although it wasn’t the same one he had worn when he was younger. This one had been made especially for a man who had gained a bit of weight since that time, even though he was physically fit and in good shape. Agustin had laid the clothes on a long wooden table, each item in placed in the requisite order.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Agustin entered the room and saw that his boss was back in the past once again. He had pledged undying loyalty to Domingo Espada, but he did think that his benefactor lost touch with reality every now and then. Once a torero retired from the bullring, he was never supposed to put on the costume again. Not Espada … he could not let go of his past and still longed for the cries of “Olé!” and the exhilarating feeling of being carried out of the ring on the shoulders of his friends and relatives after a successful corrida.
Some nights, Agustin would find Espada alone in the study, dressed in the costume, standing and staring at the stuffed bull heads that were mounted on the walls as trophies. They were all missing at least one ear, signifying the reward Espada had received after the fight. One ear was cut off for a good fight, two ears for a better one, and both ears and the tail were for the best. Espada had collected more ears and tails than he could count. He had kept some of them, but most of the time he had thrown the trophies to fans in the audience—usually beautiful señoritas who he knew would accompany him to his hotel or villa for the night.
This evening, Espada stood in the center of the room, holding the estoque, the thin sword used to thrust into the bull’s withers and through the vital organs for, hopefully, a quick kill. Espada extended the sword at one of the bull heads, his arm straight, concentrating, as if he were readying himself for the moment of truth.