Sacred Stone

The orderly simply smiled. Then the door opened and Dr. Berg walked into the sick bay. He was clutching a valise. He walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands. Thompson strained to see the man but he was tightly bound and could barely move his neck. The sound of the running water was like a knife to Thompson’s heart.

THE THREE TRUCKS pulled into the parking lot of Maidenhead Mills and then drove around to the rear of the buildings, where the loading docks were located. Backing up to the bay doors, the men shut off the engines and climbed out.

Halpert and Hornsby were assigned to the rear of the building, with Barrett and Reyes watching the front. Other than a Rolls-Royce and a Daimler sedan in the parking lot near the front door, the mill appeared deserted. Halpert waited until the men went inside the mill and then whispered into his radio.

“We’re moving closer,” he said, “to see what we can see.”

“We’ll move on the front,” Reyes replied.

INSIDE THE MILL, Roger Lassiter was sitting in the front office, staring at Hickman. “Of course, because of the holiday I couldn’t verify the funds being transferred.”

“You knew that when you took the job,” Hickman said. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

The box containing the meteorite was sitting on the desk between the two men.

“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 Oregon and attached locators to all three trucks. Then he attached a microphone to the bottom of the wall near the overhead door. Motioning to Hornsby, the two men retreated back to the tree line.

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.