Criminal Mischief

60

Their transportation arrived, and Stone watched the yacht’s crew load the luggage into a rear compartment. Said appeared by the van and beckoned to them.

The van was quite luxurious inside, much like a private jet, Stone reflected. There were four seats in the rear, two facing two. They took seats as instructed by Said, and Stone found himself facing the rear, directly opposite the general.

“Are you comfortable?” Said asked him.

“Of course,” Stone replied, uncomfortably. He did not like not being able to see where they were going. The driver and another man climbed into the driver’s and front passenger’s seats. The van started and moved away from the yacht.

“Goodbye, Star,” Brio said as they moved away from the dock. “General, what a wonderful yacht!” she said. “Thank you so much for having us aboard.”

“It was my great pleasure,” Said replied. “It would be fun to cruise in the Med sometime, perhaps the Greek Islands?”

“Star is her own island,” Brio said.

Stone watched the marina disappear as they drove away. He had a view of the canal, looking out and aft, and a tanker was headed south.

“Extraordinary feat of engineering, isn’t it?” Said asked.

“ ‘Extraordinary’ is the right word,” Stone said. He suddenly found that he missed his pistol, which was in his briefcase with its holster and silencer, and the case was in the rear of the van with the luggage. Why had Wilcox asked him if he were armed? Was he expecting something Stone had missed?

After half an hour or so, they made a turn and slowed. Apparently, gates were being opened for them. The van made a left turn, then a 180 turn, and stopped. Someone opened the sliding doors next to Stone, and there stood two Gulfstream 500s.

“Which is yours?” Brio asked.

“I don’t know,” Stone said. As if to inform him, Faith appeared in the doorway of the jet to his left and walked down the airstairs to the tarmac.

Stone stepped out of the van and waited for Brio and Wilcox to join him.

Said excused himself. “I shall return with your quarry,” he said. “In the meantime, Stone, you might see your luggage aboard.”

“I need a couple of linemen,” Stone said to nobody in particular.

“How about two FBI special agents?” Brio asked.

“They should do nicely. Faith, ask them to go aft and into the rear luggage compartment.” He walked alongside the airplane in that direction. As he approached the exterior door to the rear luggage compartment, the door slid upward to reveal two men in business suits.

“I’ll need the trunk on the left,” Stone said, pointing, “and that small valise. Then you can receive our luggage from the van and go forward to the door to receive our, ah, guest.”

They handed down the luggage, then took the newly arrived pieces and stowed them.

“Close the hatch as soon as everything is aboard,” Stone said, then watched as they did so. Then he turned around and found himself face-to-face with Viktor Zanian, who looked pale, shrunken, and defeated. He wore shackles, hand and foot, and an armed guard stood on either side of him. Said stood next to them, smiling. “I presume those packages are for me,” he said, indicating the trunk and the valise.

Stone handed him the key to the trunk. “They are. Did you bring something to replace the valise?”

Said held up a canvas carryall bag, and Stone opened the valise and emptied the contents into it. He stepped away from the trunk so that Said could have access to it.

Said knelt beside the trunk, unlocked it, and raised the lid. He smiled more broadly as he riffled through a few of the bound notes and poked around to be sure that their depth went all the way to the bottom. “So, this is what two million dollars looks like,” he said.

“Exactly like that,” Stone said.

Said closed and relocked the trunk and motioned for his people to take it away, then he embraced Stone.

“I hope it will not be too long before I see you again, Stone,” he said.

Stone returned the embrace, then handed Said his card. “My New York address and number,” he said. “I hope you will come and visit me there.”

Said’s two guards were carrying away the trunk. “Excuse me,” the general said, “I must see that they do not carry it too far.” He followed them.

Stone steered Zanian to the airstairs door and turned him over to the FBI agents. One of them held up a small suitcase. “They gave us this.”

“What’s in it?” Stone asked.

“A change of clothes, a toiletry bag, some prescription meds, a hair dryer, and a bottle of cognac.”

“Not a problem. Walk him back to the third cabin, and shackle him to something until we’ve departed. We’re stopping in the Azores for fuel, and you’ll have to reshackle him before we land.”

“Oh, and there was this,” the man said, handing Stone an envelope.

Stone looked inside and found Zanian’s American passport and a diplomatic passport from the Sultanate. “We’ll keep this for customs and immigration,” he said, handing it to Brio. “Faith, can we taxi to the runway from here?”

“Yes, we can. I’ve already got our clearance for Santa Maria. We have only to get permission to taxi.”

“Then let’s start engines and get the hell out of here,” he said.

Everybody boarded and the flight attendant pulled shut the door and locked it. Stone went aft and checked on Zanian and his guards. Everything was as it should be.

He went forward, gave his jacket to the attendant, and buckled in. They were already moving.

“You look less nervous now,” Brio said.

“I can’t believe things went exactly as they were supposed to,” Stone said. “Of course, we’re not off the ground yet. Something could still go wrong.”

“Ever the pessimist.”

They made a turn and began their takeoff roll. Shortly, the aircraft rotated and they left the earth behind.

“Better?” Brio asked.

“Much better,” Stone said, breathing deeply.