AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Colgan’s telephone rang quietly, and he pushed the button to answer. “Colgan,” he said.
“This is Jones in Qatar.”
“What have you got for us, Mr. Jones? We are nearly out in the open here. We need to do something quick.”
“In ten minutes three trucks are due to arrive to pick up the containers,” Jones said. “The trucks all have GPS locators attached to the rear of the cabs. The locators are about the size of a pack of cigarettes and are secured by a magnet. Have three of your men act as lot workers helping the trucks hook up. Have the men remove the locators as the trucks back in, otherwise you’ll be tracked.”
“Okay,” Colgan said.
“Tell the three men with the locators to attach them to an uncontaminated container, then have them jump into another truck and catch a ride to Mecca. The people tracking the shipment should just think that the trucks are following close behind each other.”
“What should my men do when they reach Mecca?”
“Jump out of the trucks before they reach the unloading terminal and discard the locators in the first trash cans they see. Then they need to catch a bus down to Jeddah and make their way to the port area. Once there, they will find a shore launch marked Akbar II. Have them board the boat and they will be transported offshore.”
“Akbar II,” Colgan repeated.
“Now the five of you that remain will have to overpower the drivers and take the trucks yourselves. Bind and gag the drivers and place them on the passenger side on the floor. Then simply drive through the gate, and when you reach the main road, go east instead of west. Your ultimate destination is Bahrain.”
“Okay,” Colgan said.
“Now,” Jones said, “since after the three leave for Mecca you still have five men, you’ll be crowded in two of the trucks—your driver and passenger, plus the bound-and-gagged one you’ve overpowered. Make sure your extra man ducks under the blanket when you pull from the gate so they don’t notice.”
“Won’t they stop and check us?” Colgan asked.
“We’ve had someone watching the gate today,” Jones said. “They check for the correct truck on the way in, then they just mark down the container number as it passes loaded through the gate.”
“But what happens when the cargo is missing and they find the locators?” Colgan asked. “Won’t they start looking for us then?”
“The trip from Riyadh to Mecca takes six hours,” Jones said. “It’s only four to Bahrain. Once they figure out the containers are missing, you’ll be on a cargo ship bound for Qatar.”
“And you’re sure we can make it through the border checkpoint into Bahrain?”
“It’s all been taken care of.”
“Sweet plan,” Colgan said.
“Good luck.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Colgan and the four other men bound for Bahrain made it safely out of the cargo terminal and started down the road. Seven minutes after that, a Coast Guard petty officer named Perkins, along with two others, attached the locators to three trucks in a six-truck convoy, then climbed inside the last truck.
The truck was filled with bottles of water, so at least they would not be thirsty on the six-hour haul to Mecca. If only the truck had had a pallet of M&M’s aboard, the ride would have been more enjoyable.
IT WAS ALMOST noon when Adams, Cabrillo and the CIA agent handling Abraham’s Stone landed at the first fuel stop at Al Ghardaqah, Egypt, at the mouth of Khalij as-Suways on the entrance to the Red Sea.
Overholt not only had the promised fuel, but food, water, coffee and a U.S. Army helicopter mechanic to check the R-44. The mechanic added half a can of oil to the piston engine and did a quick check of the craft, then pronounced the Robinson fit as a fiddle. The three men made a quick bathroom stop then took off again.
The next leg of the flight, some two hundred miles to Aswan, was made in less than two hours at a speed of 125 miles per hour. The helicopter was fueled and checked again and the trio set off.
Aswan to Ras Abu Shagara, the dangling peninsula of land that jutted into the Red Sea across from Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, was the longest leg of the flight. Some 350 miles in length, the flight would take nearly three hours.
The Robinson was thirty minutes out of Aswan high above the desert when Adams spoke. “Sirs,” he said, “it will be a couple of hours until the next stop. If you want to get some sleep it’s okay by me.”
The CIA agent in the rear seat nodded, crouched down and pulled his hat down over his eyes.
“You okay, George?” Cabrillo asked. “You’ve been flying a lot lately—how are you holding up?”
“I’m ten by ten, boss,” Adams said, smiling. “I’ll take us down to the Sudan, then across the Red Sea and drop you—once I’m back in Sudan I’ll get some shut-eye.”
