Sacred Stone

“Is there anything you want us to do?”

“Right now,” Hickman said, “there’s nothing anyone can do but me.”

Disconnecting, Hickman sat back in the chair in the office at Maidenhead Mills.

Someone in the government was hard on his trail. It would not be long until they traced him to his current location. Reaching for the telephone, he dialed.

THE CREWMEN FROM the Free Enterprise that had remained in Calais when the vessel sailed north had arrived in London this morning. There were four men, a skeleton crew really, but they were all Hickman had left. He telephoned them with their orders.

“You will need to steal a trio of trucks,” Hickman said. “Nothing will be available to rent because of the holiday.”

“What type?” their leader asked.

“The cargo are standard forty-foot shipping containers that slide aboard flatbed trailers,” Hickman said. “I called my man at Global Air Cargo and he recommended a few different types of trucks.”

Hickman read off the list to the man.

“Once we have them, where do we go?”

“Look at your map,” Hickman ordered. “There is a town named Maidenhead just north of Windsor.”

“I see it,” the man said.

“Once you’re in Maidenhead, drive to this address,” Hickman said, reading off the mill’s address and general directions.

“How soon do you need us?” the man asked.

“ASAP,” Hickman said. “I have a Global Air Cargo 747 jet waiting at Heathrow for the cargo.”

“How’d you arrange that on New Year’s Eve?” the man blurted.

“I own the company.”

“Give us at least an hour,” the man said.

“The faster the better.”

The noose was closing, but Hickman had yet to feel it tightening around his neck.

JUDY MICHAELS TAXIED the amphibian alongside the Oregon, then turned off the engine and walked back to the cargo door. Waiting for the plane to float forward on the tide, she waited until she saw someone on the deck then tossed up a rope. The deckhand secured the plane to the side and Cliff Hornsby climbed down the ladder.

“Evening, Judy,” he said as he began to take supplies that were being passed down to him, “how’s the weather up high?”

“Snow and sleet,” Michaels said as she too grabbed several of the bags and crates.

Rick Barrett climbed over the side clutching a bag. Once on the deck he turned to Michaels. “There’s some dinner and coffee in there,” he said. “I made it myself.”

“Thanks,” Michaels said, taking the last package.

Halpert and Reyes crossed over.

“Any of you men have any piloting experience?” Michaels asked before going forward to the cockpit.

“I’m taking classes,” Barrett said.

“Chef and a pilot,” Michaels said, “hell of a combination. Come forward then—you can help with radios and navigation.”

“What do you need us to do?” Halpert asked.

“Once the deckhand throws off the rope, use that boat hook to push us away. Then close and latch the door and take seats. I’ll fire her up when you tell me we’re clear.”

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, she waited until Barrett was seated next to her, then turned back to the cargo area. “Ready when you are,” she said.

Hornsby grabbed the rope that was tossed, Halpert pushed them away, and Reyes fastened the door closed. “Fire her up,” Halpert said a moment later.

Michaels turned the key and the engines roared to life. Idling away from the Oregon, she waited until they were fifty yards away and advanced the throttles. The seaplane raced along the water then lifted into the air.

Michaels gained altitude, then made a sweeping left-hand turn.

She was still climbing when they reached the outskirts of London.

HANLEY WATCHED THE amphibian taxi away on the remote cameras, then turned to Stone.

“How are you coming?” he asked.

Halpert had left his notes in the control room. Stone was following up on leads.

“I’m running through Hickman’s companies now,” Stone said.

“I’ll check to see if Hickman’s pilot has filed any other flight plans,” Hanley said.

AT THE HEATHROW Airport air cargo annex, a pair of pilots were sipping tea and watching the television in the lounge at the spacious Global Air Cargo hangar.