Sacred Stone

“We’ll dress,” Truitt said. “You tape our wrists and ankles.”

Adams nodded.

“Barrett,” Truitt said, “you sit this one out. The rest of you suit up.”

Eight minutes later, Truitt, Halpert, Hornsby and Reyes were ready. Walking around to the back of the building, they entered from the rear door. Truitt held a chemical detection device in his gloved hand. Almost immediately he got a positive reading.

“Spread out,” Truitt said, “and search everything.”

Hornsby raced for the front door, unlocked the deadbolts and walked out.

THE TRAFFIC HAD loosened as Cabrillo and Jones got farther from central London, and once they reached the M4, Jones accelerated to just over ninety miles an hour. Cabrillo hung up after talking to Fleming and dialed the Oregon again.

“Fleming won’t shut down Heathrow,” Cabrillo said over the speaker phone as soon as Hanley answered. “What’s the closest exit to Global Air Cargo?”

Stone read off the exit number and Cabrillo repeated it to Jones.

“We’re right there, boss,” Jones said as he started to slow and pull off the M4.

“Follow the signs to Global Air Cargo,” Cabrillo said to Jones.

Jones stepped on the gas and raced down the side streets. In a few seconds he could see a large hangar with the name painted on the side in ten-foot-tall letters. A 747 was taxiing away from the building.

“Can you take us any closer?” Cabrillo asked.

Jones looked around but a chain-link fence secured the entire area. “No way, boss,” he said. “They have it secured.”

The 747 was turning to enter the taxiway.

“Drive up there to that spot between the buildings,” Cabrillo said.

Jones accelerated and then pulled to a stop. Cabrillo reached for a pair of binoculars in the side pouch and stared at the cargo plane. Then he read the tail numbers off to Hanley, who quickly wrote them down.

“Have Gunderson follow them in the Gulfstream,” Cabrillo said dejectedly. “That’s all we can do right now.”

“I’ll do it,” Hanley said.

Just then Hornsby radioed in and Stone took the call. After he explained what they had found, Stone wrote it down and handed it to Hanley, who read the notes.

“Mr. Chairman,” Hanley said, “I’m calling up the Challenger 604. I think you’re going to want to travel to Saudi Arabia at once.”

45

AT ROUGHLY THE same time the Global Air Cargo 747 was lifting off the runway at Heathrow, the truck carrying Hickman was stopping at another section of the airport.

“Meet up with the others, ditch the trucks, and disappear,” Hickman said to the driver who was dropping him in front of the private jet terminal. “I’ll reach you if I need you.”

“Good luck, sir,” the driver said as Hickman climbed out.

Hickman waved at the driver, then walked through the front door.

The driver steered the truck out of the parking lot, then reached for his radio. “The big man is clear,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”

Twelve minutes later, the three trucks met up at an abandoned factory on the west side of London where they had stashed their getaway car. Climbing from the trucks, they quickly wiped down any surfaces they had touched with ungloved fingers then climbed into a nondescript British sedan.

Their plan was to drive through the city toward the English Channel, leave the rental car in a lot and board the ferry for Belgium. The plan would go off without a hitch.

“PREPARE THE OREGON to sail,” Cabrillo ordered Hanley as Jones steered into the executive air terminal at Heathrow. “Set a course for the Mediterranean and then through the Suez Canal into the Red Sea. I want the ship as close to Saudi Arabia as possible.”

Hanley sounded an alarm throughout the ship. Cabrillo could hear the whooping sound over the telephone link. “Gunderson and the others are in the air,” he said. “The cargo plane is headed toward Paris.”

“Jones and I are going to board the Challenger 604 in a few minutes,” Cabrillo said quickly. “Have the team at Maidenhead withdraw and board the amphibian. Then have Michaels fly out and meet the Oregon in the English Channel.”

“What about the mill?” Hanley asked.

“Tell Fleming what we found,” Cabrillo said, “and turn it over to him.”

“Sounds like we’re swapping playing fields,” Hanley noted.

“The action,” Cabrillo said, “has switched to Saudi Arabia.”

THE COPILOT OF Hickman’s Hawker 800XP was waiting in the terminal.

“The pilot has fueled, finished the preflight and received the necessary clearances,” the copilot said as he steered Hickman through the terminal and toward the runway. “We can leave now.”

The two men walked out to the Hawker and boarded. Three minutes later they were taxiing toward the north- south runway. Three more minutes and they were airborne. Once they were over the English Channel, the pilot