moving map, which showed them out over the Atlantic, with the tip of Long Island disappearing off the rear edge.
Stone hadn't seen the movie for years, and he enjoyed it as much as the first time he'd experienced it. When the titles came up at the end, Stone checked the moving map, which showed another ninety minutes of flight time to the Azores. Todd and Holly got up from their seats and left the trailer, leaving Stone with Mike.
'Tell me about what's going on with Jack Gunn's business,' Mike said.
'I don't know what's going on there,' Stone said. 'I only know that Jack's wife's sister was murdered a few days ago.' He told Mike about the aborted dinner party, the police investigation, and the people surrounding what had happened. 'I can't prove that Adele's death has anything to do with the business, but I have a bad feeling about it, and I don't want my money there until we know everything about her death. That's why I recommended that you not deposit the proceeds of the sale of the company with Gunn.'
'Should we remove what we have with them now?'
'Do you have any sort of business insurance that would protect your investment?' Stone asked.
'No.'
'Then it can't hurt to move your funds.'
Mike nodded. 'I'll call the office and get the process started.' He picked up a cordless phone from a credenza and called New York.
Stone dozed off in his reclining chair and only woke when the sounds of the airplane changed.
'We're descending into Lajes,' Mike said. 'I'm going to go up and watch our landing.'
Stone followed him and they sat in the jump seats again. Through the pilots' windows he could see an expanse of blue Atlantic, gleaming in the late-afternoon sunlight, and an island came into view. Stone spotted the long runway a few minutes out and watched the pilots as they slowed the airplane's descent, then put in flaps and slats and lowered the landing gear. They landed smoothly and taxied off the runway, where a fuel truck was waiting for them.
'We'll stay on the airplane,' Mike said, 'to avoid having to clear local customs.'
An Air Force contingent did enter the airplane and check passports, though. An hour later they were climbing out of Lajes and heading for Gibraltar and the Mediterranean beyond. Once they were at altitude again, Stone went back to the trailer and lay down on a bunk. Shortly, he was asleep. He woke in time to get a look at Gibraltar, far below, then he had a dinner prepared by a caterer before they left Stewart, along with a glass of wine. Then he went to sleep again.
He didn't wake up until Mike shook him.
'We're landing in fifteen minutes,' he said.
Stone got up, washed his face and brushed his teeth, then went forward to a jump seat. The sun was up, and the airplane was descending at a much steeper angle than when they had landed in the Azores.
Mike spoke up. 'We're making a steep descent into Baghdad International, in order to give insurgents less chance of hitting us with missiles.'
'Missiles?' Stone asked. 'Nobody mentioned missiles.'
'It's less likely than it would have been a year ago, but we have to treat the place as a war zone. We won't get off the airplane here, but I think you'll find it interesting to watch what happens. There are two runways here, one of ten thousand feet and one of thirteen thousand. The airport is about ten miles west of the city.'
Stone couldn't believe how steep the approach was. He tried to find the rate of descent on the instrument panel, but he was too far away to read it. He reckoned that they were falling out of the sky at the rate of at least eight or ten thousand feet a minute, with everything hanging out-landing gear, flaps, speedbrakes, spoilers, if the airplane had them. He had never seen a view of an airport out the pilot's window like the one he could see now.
The airplane touched down, and immediately Stone was thrown against his seat belt as the engines were reversed. Shortly, they were off the runway, and Stone could see a fuel truck ahead of them, waiting. The airplane taxied up to the truck and cut its engines, as the tail ramp came down. Stone got out of his seat and followed Mike into the huge cargo bay. Immediately, forklifts began bringing in pallets of materiel. As soon as they were set down, the forklifts went back for more, and airmen secured each pallet with netting, cables, and rope. It was all incredibly efficient, and by the time the tail ramp had closed, the fuel truck was gone and the engines were starting. Stone noticed that the central area of the cargo bay, behind the Airstream, was empty. He followed Mike back to the jump seats.
'Where are we stopping for the extraction on the way back?' Stone asked Freeman.
'I don't know,' Mike said. 'Todd Bacon will tell us when we're airborne.'
'What's Bacon's story?' Stone asked.
'All I can tell you is, he's one of Lance's people, he's, at least, the titular CEO of Airship Transport, and he's in charge of the extraction.'
'What's Holly here for?' Stone asked.
'I get the impression that she's here to watch Bacon,' Mike replied.
The airplane was already rolling down the runway, using a lot more of it than on previous takeoffs. The pilot rotated, and the airplane began to climb steeply. Stone looked out a side window and saw something flying toward them, leaving a trail of smoke. Before he could speak someone yelled, 'Missile at two o'clock!'
Stone was thrown hard against his seat belt, and the airplane picked up speed and turned first right, then left.
'Clean miss!' the copilot yelled, and they began climbing again.
'Holy shit!' Stone said. 'That's the first time I've ever been shot at in the air!'
'Me too,' Mike said. 'I think 'holy shit' pretty much covers it for me, as well.'
'Are we safe yet?'
'Who knows?' Mike replied.
The airplane continued its steep climb, and gradually Stone's grip on the armrests of his seat relaxed.
Todd Bacon appeared in the cockpit. 'Okay, everybody in the trailer,' he said.
TWENTY-THREE
Stone, Mike, Holly, and Todd Bacon sat in the reclining chairs, and Todd unfolded a map. The first thing that struck Stone was that it was not an aeronautical chart but a Michelin road map.
'All right,' Todd said. 'We're going to land in northern Spain to extract a longtime fugitive and return him to United States jurisdiction.'
'By extract,' Stone said, 'do you mean extradite?'
'Extradition is impossible,' Todd replied.
'How come?' Mike asked.
'All right, I'll tell you the whole story,' Todd said, 'or at least as much of it as I know.'
'We're all ears,' Mike said.
'The man's name is Erwin Gelbhardt, born in Germany sixty-eight years ago, brought to the U.S. at age eight and later naturalized. His father was a German diplomat, and the child grew up as his father served in Egypt, Spain, Saudi Arabia and Iran, and the U.S., where he retired and remained. As a result the boy, who had already displayed an affinity for languages, picked up those four languages, as well as his native German and English. He learned French in school.'
'A bright kid,' Mike said.
'Very bright. He was educated at Choate, Yale, and Harvard Business School, graduating at each school near or at the top of his classes. After getting his MBA he took a little over a million dollars, inherited from his mother, and during the next decade, turned it into more than a hundred million dollars made from various businesses in North, South, and Central America. Wherever he did business he specialized in corrupting local officials, up to and including intelligence officials and heads of state. He had a lot of cash to throw around, since he paid little or no
