Criminal Mischief

47

As they approached the Sultanate’s airport, Stone stopped about a mile out and looked ahead. “Anybody see any flashing lights?” he asked. It was dark now.

“No,” the other occupants said.

“Open all the windows,” he said, “and listen.” They all listened.

“I hear something,” Brio said.

Stone got out of the car and faced east, and the others followed. “Landing lights,” Stone said pointing ahead of them.

Then a large aircraft flew over them at about five hundred feet, shaking them with the noise, and touched down on the runway, making a lot more noise as it reversed its engines. “That’s a Gulfstream,” Stone said.

“Yes,” Brio said, “but which one?”

“I can’t tell,” Wilcox said.

“Neither can I,” Stone echoed. “Brio, get on your horn and tell all the Jeeps to stay off the runway.”

Brio did as she was asked. “What’s happening?” she asked.

“We’re waiting for the other Gulfstream,” Stone said. “If it lands, it’s ours, because the first one didn’t block the runway.”

They stood in the darkness and waited. A cloud moved, and the moon revealed itself, plump and full.

“That should make driving easier in the dark,” Wilcox said.

Stone got Faith on the satphone. “What’s your location?” he asked.

“Ten minutes out of the Sultanate airfield,” she said.

“Another Gulfstream landed five minutes ago, and it’s at the far end of the field. You perform a short field landing, stop in the center of the runway, do a 180-degree turn, stop, and shut down your engines, but keep the APU running and all lights on.”

“Short field landing, one-eighty turn and stop, engines off, APU and lights on. Leave enough runway length to take off again.”

“Why are you telling her that?” Brio asked.

“I don’t want to end up with the two airplanes nose to nose. There is no reverse gear on an airplane, so they would both be stymied. I want our airplane to be able to take off again, if necessary.”

“Okay, got it,” Brio said.

Wilcox pointed East. “We’ve got lights. Airplane landing. It looks very low, perhaps too low.”

“That’s Faith aiming for the very end of the runway. Normally, she’d aim at the markings farther down, but she wants to stop short.”

The airplane suddenly seemed to lose power.

“She’s cut the engines,” Stone said. “She’s landing dead-stick.”

“What’s ‘dead-stick’?” Brio asked.

“No power. She’s turned a Gulfstream into a glider.”

“How well do they glide?”

“Not well,” Stone said.

The Gulfstream appeared, and set down on the runway, brakes screaming. Then, as it slowed, it swung right, almost stopped, swung left, completed the 180-degree turn, and stopped.

“Brilliant,” Stone said.

“That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen,” Brio said.

“Everybody into the car,” Stone said as he got behind the wheel and started the engine. “Brio, get on the horn and tell the Jeeps to line up across the runway behind our airplane, headlights on. I want them to be sure they’re trapped.”

Brio made the call, and the Jeeps started to move. Stone didn’t join them but aimed at the open hangar across the runway.

“Where are you going?” Brio asked.

“To where they left the Range Rover, where they think the trunk is.”

Brio handed two handguns forward and aimed an M-16 out a window and worked the action. Suddenly, Stone braked.

A lone vehicle sat there in the darkness.

“That’s not a Range Rover,” Wilcox said. “That’s the half-track. They’ve switched to the Range Rover. Look.” He pointed ahead toward the rear of the hangar.

Stone drove toward the rear doors and eased through the narrow opening. Ahead of them was more of the moonlit Arabian Desert than Stone wanted to see. Far ahead, he saw two red lights, which suddenly disappeared. “There they go.”

“Stop,” Wilcox said, getting out his map. “How much fuel do you have left?”

“Less than half a tank.”

“He’s got a full tank in the Range Rover; it’s been driven only from the palace. That’s why they changed vehicles. You’ll have to gas up, before we go after them, and you’d better bring a couple of full jerry cans, as well.

Stone drove around to the FBO office, now dark. He used his pistol to shoot the lock off the door. Inside, they ransacked the drawers, until they found the pump keys. They found some empty jerry cans, too, and filled three of them.

Meantime, Brio was on the horn to her agents. She ordered twelve cars to stay with the airplanes and prevent anyone from moving them and for the other twelve to fill their tanks and wait for further instructions.

Wilcox had a light on a desk and spread out his map. “They’ll be headed west, toward Jeddah, on the Red Sea. Just before that is Makkah, a last-chance-for-fuel stop. There’s nowhere else to go in that direction, and they can get out of Jeddah by boat, plane, or rail.”

The two men changed from their tuxedos into desert clothing, while they waited for some of the Jeeps to refuel. Brio used the ladies’ room to do the same. Stone called Faith and told her to have her crew get some dinner from the galley and to rest up. “We’re headed for Jeddah,” he said. “Flight plan for there and pick an FBO for refueling. You need to beat us there by at least an hour.”

Finally, they were back in their Jeep and set off. What Jeeps had refueled followed them west.

“Now we’re in Lawrence of Arabia country,” Wilcox said.