Sacred Stone

“Here’s what we need,” Hanley said.

Overholt made notes as Hanley explained. “Okay,” he said when Hanley finished, “Al Ghardaqah, Aswan, and Ras Abu Shagara, Sudan. I’ll arrange the clearances and have one-hundred-octane fuel at each stop.”

HANLEY WAS JUST disco

“Blueprints?” Hanley asked. “It was built hundreds of years ago.”

“But enlarged and modernized 1985 through 1992,” Halpert said. “At that time they bored underground tu

Hanley stared at the diagrams for a moment. “Michael,” he said a second later, “I think you nailed it.”

“Remember that,” Halpert said, smiling, “at bonus time.”

Halpert walked out of the control room and Hanley reached for a telephone. While the number was ringing, he turned to Stone. “Pull up a satellite shot of Medina for me.”

Stone began to enter commands into the computer just as the phone was answered.

“YES, SIR,” KASIM said.

“What’s the progress?”

Kasim was standing just off to the side of a crowd of people at the Jeddah bus terminal.

“Both teams made it safely here,” Kasim said. “We stashed the motorcycles in a dry wash outside of Jeddah and made our way into the city. Skutter, who’s heading the Medina operation, and his team have already boarded a bus for the city. My team and I are waiting for ours now.”

“And Skutter has a satellite phone with him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long until his bus arrives?” Hanley asked.

“Four to five hours,” Kasim said.

“I’ll wait until he arrives to call him, but we think we know where the charges were placed at the Prophet’s Mosque.”

The bus was just pulling up.

“My bus is here,” Kasim said. “What do you want us to do?”

“You’ll be met by a CIA contact in Mecca and taken to a safe house,” Hanley said. “I’ll call you there.”

“Got it.”

PETE JONES LOOKED over to the emir of Qatar. “Your Excellency,” he said, “how are your relations with the Bahrainis?”

“Great,” the emir said, “they are dear friends.”

“Can you have trucks waived through customs without any problems?”

“I’m sure I can.”

“Do you have a cargo ship available that can pick them up at the port in Bahrain?”

The emir stared over at his aide, al-Thani.

“I’ll arrange one here or in Bahrain immediately,” al-Thani said.

“We have about six hours before everything needs to be in place,” Jones said.

“It shall be done, Mr. Jones,” the emir said. “It shall be done.”

INSIDE THE FENCED cargo area alongside Riyadh Airport, U.S. Army Warrant Officer Patrick Colgan and his team were still awaiting instructions. They had spent three nights hiding under the containers, eating from their food supplies and drinking their bottled water. Now supplies were ru

Something needed to happen—and happen quickly.

JONES STUDIED THE file taken from Al-Sheik’s PDA, then reached for the telephone.

“Sir,” he said when the phone was answered, “have you received any changes to the shipping time for the cargo containers?”

“No changes,” Hanley said.

“Okay, then,” Jones said, “I’ve got the out.”

Hanley listened while Jones explained.

“I like it,” Hanley said, “simple and sweet.”

“I’m cleared?”

“Do it,” Hanley said.

THE AREA AROUND the three shipping containers where the men were hiding was gradually being cleared. There was still a scattering of containers to the left, but to the right was only bare sand and gravel.

Colgan’s telephone rang quietly, and he pushed the button to answer. “Colgan,” he said.

“This is Jones in Qatar.”

“What have you got for us, Mr. Jones? We are nearly out in the open here. We need to do something quick.”

“In ten minutes three trucks are due to arrive to pick up the containers,” Jones said. “The trucks all have GPS locators attached to the rear of the cabs. The locators are about the size of a pack of cigarettes and are secured by a magnet. Have three of your men act as lot workers helping the trucks hook up. Have the men remove the locators as the trucks back in, otherwise you’ll be tracked.”

“Okay,” Colgan said.

“Tell the three men with the locators to attach them to an uncontaminated container, then have them jump into another truck and catch a ride to Mecca. The people tracking the shipment should just think that the trucks are following close behind each other.”

“What should my men do when they reach Mecca?”

“Jump out of the trucks before they reach the unloading terminal and discard the locators in the first trash cans they see. Then they need to catch a bus down to Jeddah and make their way to the port area. Once there, they will find a shore launch marked Akbar II.Have them board the boat and they will be transported offshore.”

“Akbar II,”Colgan repeated.

“Now the five of you that remain will have to overpower the drivers and take the trucks yourselves. Bind and gag the drivers and place them on the passenger side on the floor. Then simply drive through the gate, and when you reach the main road, go east instead of west. Your ultimate destination is Bahrain.”

“Okay,” Colgan said.

“Now,” Jones said, “since after the three leave for Mecca you still have five men, you’ll be crowded in two of the trucks—your driver and passenger, plus the bound-and-gagged one you’ve overpowered. Make sure your extra man ducks under the blanket when you pull from the gate so they don’t notice.”

“Won’t they stop and check us?” Colgan asked.

“We’ve had someone watching the gate today,” Jones said. “They check for the correct truck on the way in, then they just mark down the container number as it passes loaded through the gate.”

“But what happens when the cargo is missing and they find the locators?” Colgan asked. “Won’t they start looking for us then?”

“The trip from Riyadh to Mecca takes six hours,” Jones said. “It’s only four to Bahrain. Once they figure out the containers are missing, you’ll be on a cargo ship bound for Qatar.”

“And you’re sure we can make it through the border checkpoint into Bahrain?”

“It’s all been taken care of.”

“Sweet plan,” Colgan said.

“Good luck.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Colgan and the four other men bound for Bahrain made it safely out of the cargo terminal and started down the road. Seven minutes after that, a Coast Guard petty officer named Perkins, along with two others, attached the locators to three trucks in a six-truck convoy, then climbed inside the last truck.

The truck was filled with bottles of water, so at least they would not be thirsty on the six-hour haul to Mecca. If only the truck had had a pallet of M&M’s aboard, the ride would have been more enjoyable.

IT WAS ALMOST noon when Adams, Cabrillo and the CIA agent handling Abraham’s Stone landed at the first fuel stop at Al Ghardaqah, Egypt, at the mouth of Khalij as-Suways on the entrance to the Red Sea.

Overholt not only had the promised fuel, but food, water, coffee and a U.S. Army helicopter mechanic to check the R-44. The mechanic added half a can of oil to the piston engine and did a quick check of the craft, then pronounced the Robinson fit as a fiddle. The three men made a quick bathroom stop then took off again.