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“The target just returned from delivering a DC-3 to Port Said, Egypt. He won’t be a problem any longer.”
“I understand,” Overholt said. “You can come home now.”
“I NEED A real-time shot of the airfield at Port Said, Egypt,” Overholt said to the head of the National Security Agency. “We are looking for a DC-3 airplane.”
The head of the NSA shouted instructions to his satellite technicians.
“We’re redirecting,” he said. “Hold on.”
While he waited, Overholt reached in his desk drawer and removed his wooden paddle with the red rubber ball attached and began to furiously bang it back and forth. The wait, which took but a few minutes, seemed to stretch for hours. Finally the NSA head came back on the line.
“Stand by, we’re directing the picture to you.”
Overholt watched his monitor. An image of the airfield from high above filled the screen. Then it started to reduce itself until the DC-3 was visible. The image slowly reduced down and increased in detail. There was a man walking across the runway carrying what looked like a blanket close to his chest. He walked directly toward the DC-3 and, as Overholt watched, he began to open the side door.
“Keep on the DC-3,” Overholt ordered. “If it lifts off, try to track it along.”
“Will do,” the NSA head said, disconnecting.
HANLEY WAS SITTING in the control room with Stone when the telephone rang.
“Here’s where we’re at,” Overholt said quickly. “Ms. Hunt just disclosed to my agents that Hickman used to be a pilot. Two of my men met with the South African weapons broker a few minutes ago and he disclosed that he delivered a DC-3 for Hickman to Port Said yesterday. I have a satellite image up on the screen now that shows a man the approximate size of Hickman and matching the 3-D profile you sent, who is opening the door as we speak.”
“That’s it, then,” Hanley interrupted. “He’s going for the Dome of the Rock.”
“We can’t shoot him down or we lose Abraham’s Stone,” Overholt said. “We have to let him do the drop.”
“Okay, sir,” Hanley said, “let me warn Cabrillo.”
HANLEY HUNG UP with Overholt and radioed out to the Robinson.
“Turn it around,” Cabrillo said to Adams once Hanley explained.
Adams started a wide turn to the left.
“I want everyone but Murphy and Lincoln on the ground and at the Dome of the Rock ASAP,” Cabrillo said. “Have those two start targeting the missile battery.”
“It will be done right away,” Hanley said.
“Call back Overholt and have him keep the Israelis at bay,” Cabrillo said. “I want no planes in the air or any indication to Hickman that we are on to him.”
“Roger.”
“Then have Kevin Nixon call me back ASAP. I want to go over this thing of his one more time.”
“WHERE TO, SIR?” Adams asked.
“Downtown Jerusalem,” Cabrillo said, “the Dome of the Rock.”
Adams punched commands into the GPS as the Robinson came over the coastline again.
THE OPERATIVES ON the Oregon were racing through the halls in preparation as Nixon made his way down the passageway to the control room. He opened the door and slipped inside.
Hanley hit the microphone button and Cabrillo instantly answered.
“I have Nixon here,” Hanley said, handing him the microphone.
“Kevin?” Cabrillo said.
