Sacred Stone

minutes later their leader walked back in, wiping snow off his gloves.

“The pod is installed,” he said to Al-Khalifa.

“Have the men come inside and gather around the table.”

The teams of terrorists slid into chairs at the long ornate table. The gathering was a confederacy of killers, a party of thugs. They stared up at Al-Khalifa and waited.

“Allah has blessed us again,” Al-Khalifa began. “As you witnessed, I captured the pro-Western emir that rules my country and have taken him prisoner. Soon I will ascend to the throne. On the second matter, a Western traitor has alerted me to the location of an orb of iridium we can use in conjunction with the bomb that is destined for London. If I can retrieve this iridium, it will magnify the destruction in London at least a hundredfold.”

“Praise be to Allah,” the group shouted spontaneously.

“Right now the Akbar is heading for the east coast of Greenland,” Al-Khalifa said grandly. “In a few hours, when we arrive, I’ll fly the helicopter over and recover the iridium. As soon as I return, we’ll set a course for England and the conclusion of the mission.”

“There is but one, and that one is Allah,” the group shouted.

“For those of you that have your duties finished, I want you to rest up,” Al-Khalifa said. “We will need everyone on their toes once we reach England. Soon those that oppose Allah will feel our wrath.”

“Allah is great,” the group shouted.

The meeting broke up and Al-Khalifa walked from the room and down to his cabin. He would grab a few hours’ sleep. He had no way of knowing that this sleep would be his last until the big one.

15

AT HOTEL KANGERLUSSUAQ, thirteen hundred miles away, Clay Hughes was finishing a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast washed down with a pot of steaming coffee. Michael Neilsen approached his table.

“You ready to go?” Hughes asked, standing up.

“The weather has not improved much,” Neilsen said, “but I’m willing to try if you want. What’s your verdict?”

“We go,” Hughes said.

“If I were you,” Neilsen said, “I’d have the hotel pack some food for the trip—if we go down out there, it’ll be some time before help can arrive.”

“I’ll order a platter of sandwiches and a couple thermoses of coffee,” Hughes said. “Anything else you can think of we might need?”

“Just some luck,” Neilsen said, glancing outside.

“I’ll get the food and meet you at the helicopter.”

“I’ll be ready,” Neilsen said, walking away.

Fifteen minutes later the EC-130B4 lifted from the snow-packed runway and started flying east. A slight tinge of yellow infused the clouds as the scant sunlight tried to penetrate the gloom. Mostly it was dark and dreary, like an omen carried on an evil wind.

The hours passed as the Eurocopter flew high above the snowy terrain.

THE THIOKOL STOPPED and Cabrillo stared at the map. He estimated that he was within an hour of reaching the cave on Mount Forel. Once he had started away from the glacier, he noticed his satellite telephone was receiving signals again. He hit the speed dial and called the Oregon.

“We’ve been trying to reach you,” Hanley said as soon as he answered. “The emir was kidnapped last night.”

“Kidnapped,” Cabrillo said quickly. “I thought we were on top of that situation.”

“They grabbed our guy,” Hanley said, “and we have had no communication with either party since.”

“Do you have an idea where they’ve taken him?”

“We’re working on it.”

“You get our man back,” Cabrillo said.

“Will do.”

“I’m almost at the site,” Cabrillo said. “I’ll wrap this up and get out of here. Meanwhile, you locate me some faster mode of transportation home.”

“Yes, sir,” Hanley said.

Cabrillo disconnected and tossed the telephone on the passenger seat.

AT THE SAME time Cabrillo started up Mount Forel, an attendant at Reykjavik International Airport was sweeping snow from the bottom of a ramp leading up to a privately owned 737. Auxiliary power units were supplying the plane with heat and electricity from both sides. The inside of the jet was lit up like a billboard and it spilled out of the windows into the dim light outside.

Peering from the cockpit window, the pilot watched as a black limousine wheeled onto the runway and pulled up alongside the ramp. He watched as four people filed out from the rear. Two of them quickly climbed the steps as the other two scanned the airport grounds to see if anyone was watching. Finding it clear, they quickly climbed up the ramp and closed the door to the jet.

The attendant unhooked the APUs, then backed the ramp away and stood quietly while the pilot started the engines. After calling the tower for clearance, he taxied out to the runway and lined up for takeoff. With a refueling stop in Spain, they’d reach their destination fourteen hours from now.