“I’m not much for trust,” Lassiter said, “but you must be.”
“I can assure you,” Hickman said, “you’ll be paid.”
“Where’s the meteorite headed?” Lassiter asked.
Hickman wondered if he should answer. “The Kaaba,” he said quickly.
“You’re rotten to the core,” Lassiter said, rising, “but then again, so am I.”
Lassiter walked from the office and out the front door. And as Lassiter climbed into the Daimler, Reyes secretly took photographs.
WALKING ONTO THE mill floor carrying the meteorite, Hickman saw two of the men from the trucks approaching from the back of the building. They met halfway across the expanse.
“Did you see the shipping containers?” Hickman asked.
“The three by the door?” one of the men asked.
“Yes,” Hickman said, walking closer to the docks with the men now following. “After I prep them, I want you to load them on the trucks and take them to Heathrow.”
Hickman was almost at the rear door now.
“Here’s the coating you ordered,” one of the men said, holding it aloft.
“Perfect,” Hickman said, reaching the milling machine. “Hand it to me.”
One of the men lifted a sack off the floor, started shaking it, and handed it over.
44
CABRILLO AND HIS team were waiting in the borrowed Range Rover at the Battersea heliport when Fleming reached him by cellular telephone. Adams was just descending over the Thames and making his turn to land.
“Juan,” Fleming said, “we just learned something you’re going to find interesting—it pertains to your meteorite. Call it repayment for helping us with the bomb.”
The sound of the approaching helicopter grew louder. “What is it, sir?” Cabrillo shouted.
“This comes from our lead agent in Saudi Arabia,” Fleming said. “The actual spot that Muslims pray to five times a day in Mecca is named the Kaaba. It’s a special temple that houses an interesting artifact.”
“What’s the artifact?” Cabrillo asked.
“A black meteorite supposedly recovered by Abraham. The site is the very heart of the Islamic faith.”
Cabrillo sat in stunned silence.
“Thanks for alerting me,” Cabrillo said. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
“I thought you should know,” Fleming said. “Be sure to call MI5 if we can help. We owe you one.”
HALPERT REACHED INTO a backpack he’d brought from the
Once he was again safely hidden, he whispered into the radio.
“Tom,” he said, “what’s your status?”
Reyes and Barrett had attached a similar microphone near the front glass doors. They had just returned to safety behind a wall around the edge of the parking lot.
“We’re wired,” he whispered back.
“Now we just wait and listen,” Halpert said.
HICKMAN’S TEAM WAS working in silence. After using the portable paint sprayer to make an airtight seal over the containers with a liquid plastic, one of the men drilled a pair of small holes directly through the metal sides of the containers. One hole was near the top, about chest high, the other farther down at about ankle height.
Next, the holes were threaded and small pipes installed.
Once that was done, Hickman spoke. “Masks,” was all he said.
Reaching into bags they’d brought along, the five men placed gas masks over their mouths and noses. Then one of the men attached an air pump to the pipe on the bottom of the container and started it up. Air started to be sucked from the interior of the container. Making two marks on the vial of poison to divide it into thirds, Hickman poured the liquid into a small stainless steel holding tank that screwed into the upper fitting. Carefully watching his wristwatch, he timed the introduction of the virus into the container, then removed the holding tank and screwed an airtight cap on the end.
Leaving the air pump running for another thirty seconds to create a slight vacuum, he removed the pump and capped the end off. While he moved down to the next container, one of the men sprayed the pair of end caps with the liquid plastic to make sure they were airtight. At the same time Hickman was spraying the poison into the containers, another member of the team sprayed the meteorite with a second layer of specialized coating on the floor of the mill. He rotated the orb to reach all the sides, and when he finished he lifted it and placed it in the box.
Hickman was just finishing with the containers. Taking the empty vial away from the area they were in, he found an empty spot on the floor. Sprinkling the vial with gasoline, he lit a match and tossed it on the floor. Flames burst out.
Back at the containers, the remaining four men removed small butane torches like those used by plumbers to sweat pipes together. They lit them, turned the flames on high and waved them through the air for a full five minutes.
“Okay,” Hickman said, “open the doors but keep the masks on.”
One of the men walked over to the overhead doors and pushed the electric lifts on all three bays. Then the
