Criminal Mischief

48

They were back on the road, and a better one than the last. Stone was able to manage eighty mph at times, but he knew the Range Rover could do so as well.

“I wish I could sleep,” Brio said from the rear seat.

“What’s stopping you?” Stone asked, dodging a pothole.

“Ha!”

“That’s okay. When it’s your turn to drive, I won’t be able to sleep, either.”

An hour along Stone saw red lights far ahead. They were flashing, and they weren’t moving.

“What is that?” Wilcox asked.

“There’s a flashing blue light, too,” Stone said, pointing. “It’s got to be a police car. Maybe they’re getting a ticket.”

“What are we going to do, if we catch up to them?” Wilcox asked.

“Capture them or shoot them,” Stone said. “There won’t be another choice.”

Now the stationary car seemed to be rushing at them. Stone slowed and pulled alongside, and Wilcox turned a flashlight on it.

“Two men, apparently dead,” the diplomat said. “The windshield and the front windows are all shot out.”

“I guess they didn’t want to be arrested for speeding,” Stone said, pulling ahead and switching off his headlights.

“Is there enough moonlight to drive this fast?” Brio asked.

“I hope so. Tell your people about the police car and tell them to shut off their headlights. I don’t think we want them to see us coming.”

“Not after that,” Wilcox muttered.

“I wonder,” Stone said, “if they looked for the trunk in the Range Rover when it was in the hangar, or just assumed it was there?”

“They might have assumed it if they were in a big enough hurry,” Brio said.

They blew through the empty streets of a small village.

“Warn your Jeeps,” Stone said to Brio. “We may have woken up some people.”

Brio did as instructed.

Another two hours passed, and a glow appeared in the western sky. “That’s the loom of Jeddah,” Wilcox said, “and about on schedule.”

“Where are we going to look for them once we’re there?” Stone asked.

“The airport?” Wilcox asked. “I doubt if there’ll be much flying this early. That will be true for Zanian’s Gulfstream, too. Most airports don’t open before seven or eight am.”

“Train station?”

“Same there. Not much moving.”

“Waterfront?”

“That’s a better choice, I think. Problem is, they could be in any kind of boat.”

“What are the choices on the Red Sea?”

“Dhows, and plenty of them. Cargo ships. Tankers.”

“Think private,” Stone said. “Motor yachts?”

“There won’t be much of that,” Wilcox said. “Jeddah is more a commercial port than a place for pleasure cruising.”

“If they can find a boat, where would they head for?” Stone asked.

“Alexandria or, more likely, Cairo,” Wilcox replied. “They can get lost there, or Zanian’s airplane can meet them.”

They reached a road that ran along the edge of the Red Sea. Stone turned left and drove along for a few miles, and as he did, boats became scarcer. He made a U-turn.

“This looks more likely,” Wilcox said. “There, there’s a motor yacht.”

“I think Zanian would be looking for something more comfortable,” Stone said. He slowed as shops began to appear along the road. He passed one with a large sign that read: travel agent book passage. charter aircraft and yachts. He looked at his watch. “Seven-thirty,” he said.

“Aircraft taking off over yonder,” Wilcox said, pointing. “Looks like a commercial flight.”

There was a restaurant, a working-class sort of place, a couple doors down from the travel agent. “Let’s get some breakfast while we wait for the travel place to open.”

They parked and went inside, where they found a table and let Wilcox, with his Arabic, order for them. They got eggs and some sort of sausage, and a pot of coffee.

“Suppose Zanian makes Cairo?” Wilcox said. “Where would he likely go from there?”

“He wants to disappear, at least for a while, so not Rome, Paris, or London,” Stone replied.

“How about Sicily?” Wilcox asked.

“Why Sicily?”

“Less crowded than bigger places this time of year. Decent airport, rental houses, a tradition of lawlessness on the part of some of the population.”

“I like it, but it’s a wild pitch,” Stone said. Stone called Faith’s cell phone and couldn’t get connected. He tried the satphone and Faith answered.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Holding at the VOR,” she replied. “Jeddah won’t let us land yet. Maybe another half hour.”

“Is Zanian’s Gulfstream still back at the Sultanate’s airport?”

“Yes, and we’ve got the runway blocked with half a dozen Jeeps, so they’re not going anywhere soon.”

“Call me back when you’ve had a look around the Jeddah airport.”

“Will do.” They both hung up.

“The airport is looking less likely for Zanian,” Stone said. “Faith has got him boxed in, and she’s waiting to land in Jeddah.”

An hour later, the travel agent opened. As they walked into the office a lone woman in Western business clothes was tidying up.

“Good morning,” she said, in English.

“What do you have in the way of a motor yacht charter?” Stone asked.

“Of motor yachts, we have only three,” she said. “One is the Sultan of Saud’s yacht, but that is nearing completion of a refit in a local yard and not ready for sailing yet. Then we have a thirty-foot Italian boat and a sixty-five-foot boat built in Germany.”

“Have you photographs of them?”

She pointed at the wall behind her desk. “There,” she said. “Let me get the files.” She rummaged in a drawer and came up with two file folders.

Stone glanced at the thirty-footer, then moved on to the sixty-five-footer.

“It’s pretty,” Brio said.

“How long a charter?” the woman asked.

“A few days, no more than a week. We’d like to leave the yacht in Cairo.”

She handed him a written description and more photos. “She’s based in Alexandria. Would that be convenient? She’s lying here now.”

“Perhaps.” Stone scanned the description. A crew of four, including a cook.

“She had a thorough refit last year and has been used only twice this year.”

There was a discussion about money. She offered a better deal for cash, in dollars.

“Done,” Stone said. “I’ll get you the cash.”

He and Brio walked out of the office and went to the car. Stone got a fistful of dollars from his valise.

“We’re really going for a cruise?” Brio asked.

“It’s a good way to search the coast. Have you got a better idea?”

“Nope.”

They went back to the office, concluded the deal, and signed the contract. The woman called the yacht’s captain, conversed, and hung up. “She can be ready to sail in an hour.”

“Good,” Stone said.

As they left, Stone turned to Brio. “Tell your agents in the Jeeps about our yacht, and to keep pace with us and look for signs of Zanian ashore.”

Brio did so, and everybody got into the Jeeps. Half an hour later they saw the marina and their charter moored there.

Stone parked. “Tell your people to take our Jeep and meet us in Alexandria.”

“Right.”

Stone went aboard, found the captain, and asked him to send people to the car for their luggage.

Stone’s phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Faith. Zanian isn’t here.”

“All right, make for Cairo, same place we landed last time. Find a good hotel and get some rest. We’ll be three or four days, coming by sea.”

“As you wish.”

Shortly, they were on board and drinking coffee while their luggage was stored.