Sacred Stone

“We’re not positive yet, but the next train leaving is for London,” Hanley said.

“I’ll call you back,” Overholt said, slamming down the phone.

But a few seconds later another call reached Overholt—and this one was from the president.

THE PILOT OF the amphibian raised Adams on the radio. “Follow me and I’ll lead you right to him.”

“Fly on,” Adams said.

Angling around in a turn, the amphibian lined up over the road and started another pass. The Robinson came in on his tail.

“There,” Shea shouted as his MG came into view.

Adams glanced down. Cabrillo was in front of the old car, walking back.

Adams set the Robinson down in a field across the street, leaving the engine idling. Cabrillo raced over with a thermos and his satellite telephone tucked under his arms. Opening the passenger door, he placed the two items in the back. Shea was fumbling with the seat belt. Cabrillo unfastened it and helped him out.

“The keys are in your car,” he shouted over the noise from the engine and rotor blade, “we’ll be in contact soon to pay you for the rental.”

Then he slid into the passenger seat of the Robinson and closed the door. Shea ducked down and walked out from under the helicopter blade. Once he was clear he crossed the road and approached his treasured MG. He started inspecting the vehicle as Adams lifted off. Other than a nearly empty tank the car appeared fine.

Adams was 150 feet in the air before Cabrillo spoke.

“My phone is dead,” he said over the headset.

“So we gathered,” Adams said. “We think they moved the meteorite onto the train.”

“So this message is unnecessary,” Cabrillo said, ripping off the paper taped to the thermos.

“Is there any coffee in there?” Adams asked. “I could use a cup.”

“Me too,” Cabrillo said as he cracked the top and steam came out.

34

“I UNDERSTAND, MR. Prime Minister,” the president said. “I’ll have them notified immediately.”

He hung up the phone and buzzed his secretary. “Get me Langston Overholt over at the CIA.”

Then he sat back in his chair and waited for the call to be connected.

“Yes, Mr. President,” Overholt said when he came on the line.

“I just spoke to the prime minister,” the president said. “They were none too happy. It seems you and the Corporation have had them running all over their little isle on what the prime minister described as ‘goose chasing and near misses.’ The prime minister ordered the roads leading into two cities in Scotland closed, and now they’ve entered the van you told them contained the meteorite and found it empty. They want the Corporation to back off and let them handle the situation.”

“Sir,” Overholt said, “I believe that would be a grave mistake at this point. Cabrillo and his men have faced a tough situation. In the first place, they’ve stuck to the stolen meteorite like paste on paper. They have not recovered it yet, but they haven’t lost it either. In the second place, they have traced the movement to a London-bound train—Cabrillo is back in the air and preparing to intercept.”

“Turn your information over to MI5,” the president ordered, “and let them handle it.”

Overholt paused for a minute before speaking. “We still have the Ukrainian bomb loose. The Corporation has a team near London searching for it now—can they proceed with that?”

“The Ukrainians hired the Corporation for that job,” the president said, “not agencies of the United States government. I don’t see how it is within our power to order them off.”

“I asked MI5 to cooperate with them,” Overholt said. “In some ways, that gives the Corporation sanction.”

The president thought before answering. “The prime minister didn’t mention the stray nuke specifically,” he said slowly. “He was more concerned about the events in Scotland.”

“Yes, sir,” Overholt said.

“So tell them to continue the search,” the president said finally. “If they can

recover the bomb, the threat of a dirty bomb using the meteorite is nullified.”

“I think I understand what you’re saying, Mr. President.”

“Tread lightly,” the president said, “and have them move quietly.”

“You have my word, Mr. President,” Overholt said as the phone went dead.

ADAMS FLEW ABOVE and to the rear of the number twenty-seven train. He was edging forward to drop Cabrillo on the roof when Hanley reached the men on the radio.

“We’ve been ordered off,” Hanley said. “The British are planning to intercept the train in a remote area along the coast near Middlesbrough.”

“We’re right there, Max,” Cabrillo argued, “another five minutes or so and I’ll be inside the train and searching for the meteorite.”

“It came directly from the president, Juan,” Hanley said. “We defy a presidential order and I have a feeling there won’t be any more work coming our way from the Oval Office. I’m sorry, but from a company standpoint it’s just not worth it right now.”

Adams heard the conversation and started slowing the Robinson. He stayed close to the tracks in case Cabrillo wanted to go ahead. Looking over at Cabrillo, he shrugged his shoulders.