The helicopter pilot slowed his forward speed and initiated a hover. The Eurocopter EC-350 that the Corporation had leased was a sweet machine—it hung in the air with little input from the controls. Reaching to the radio on the control panel, the pilot changed the radio frequency.
“I’m waiting,” he said to the
“What do you see?” Hanley asked.
The pilot flicked on his landing lights.
“I have two people carrying a body to the zone,” the pilot said. “Everything else is in place.”
“As soon as they reach the zone, touch down,” Hanley said, “but watch for another party who will be arriving. We’ll need four to get the object aboard.”
“Tom?” Hanley said.
Crabtree’s limousine driver was behind the wheel of the car. He flashed his lights.
“I have a car flashing their lights,” the pilot said.
“Drive onto the lawn and park near the landing zone. Then load the helicopter.”
The lights flashed again and the limousine began moving.
“He heard you,” the pilot said.
Hanley was pacing back and forth. There were several carefully timed actions occurring. As long as everyone followed the plan, the team would be out in a few more minutes. This was what the Corporation called Critical Time. The time when it could all go to hell in seconds.
“Juan’s waving,” one of the operators said, pointing to a monitor.
Just then, Ho wandered over.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Cabrillo turned and smoothed his hair back. “Just checking my hair.”
Ho nodded. “You said you had a megaphone I could use?”
Cabrillo nodded and reached between the seats, removed the megaphone and handed it to Ho.
“It’s battery operated,” he said. “Just flick that switch.”
Ho flicked it on. “Testing.”
It worked. He stared into the van, where the rest of the band members were sprawled across the seats and atop the cases of equipment.
“Where’s Candace?” Ho asked. His head was starting to clear. That was dangerous.
“We are going to meet her around front,” Cabrillo said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Now I need to get my people to the hospital.”
“Tell her she can stay if she wants,” Ho said.
“I’ll mention it,” Cabrillo said as he twisted the key, then placed the van in gear and slowly began to steer through the crowd.
Ho wandered back into the tent. He was thinking clearer now. The megaphone was not that powerful, but if he could find a spot above the crowd they would probably be able to hear his warning. His office—his office was on the top floor.
The helicopter pilot touched down and Truitt opened the rear door.
Then Truitt, Barrett, Reyes and Huxley struggled to slide the crate inside the cargo area. Once the Golden Buddha was safely stowed, they laid Spenser on the floor and helped Crabtree inside. Truitt slid the door closed, then slapped it twice to signal the pilot to lift off. Then they bent over and protected their faces from the rotor wash as the Eurocopter lifted back into the air.
Once the helicopter was safely away, Reyes stood up.
“I’m supposed to give you guys a ride,” he said easily.
At that instant, Reinholt and Pryor had just reached the bottom stair. They opened the front door and walked out onto the driveway. The door had only been shut a few seconds before Ho raced to the first step and headed up to his office.
“What’s the playlist?” Hanley asked an operator.
“The helicopter has Crabtree; the limo contains Reyes, Barrett, Truitt, and Huxley, with Reyes driving. Cabrillo has the band inside the van.” The operator pointed to the screen. “They are just past the end of the tent and will be on the driveway momentarily.”
“Where’s Ross?”
“There, on the grounds,” the operator said, pointing.
The van containing the band was passing and she came into view. A few minutes before, Ross had ordered the waiters to dump all the cups of punch, then she wheeled the cart containing the pitchers outside and tipped it over.
“Linda,” Hanley ordered, “go to your car now! I want you out of there.”
Ross began walking quickly to the front.
“Who else?” Hanley asked.
