Page 56 of Distant Thunder


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“Of course. I had forgotten that it is a condition of my employment that I never get to go anywhere.”

“I need whatever pounds sterling are in the safe, and some real dollars, too.”

“Sandwiches for travel?”

“Not necessary. Oh, call the Strategic Services hangar and tell them we need the airplane out of the hangar, wheels up in an hour. Oh, and you’d better let Faith know, too, since she’s the pilot and needs to round up a copilot. I can fly right seat, if necessary.”

“Destination?”

“Windward Hall, but don’t tell a soul, except Faith, friendly or unfriendly. Tell Faith to expect to be gone for two weeks. Gotta run.” He hung up. He ran for a shower and his clothes.


To his mildastonishment, Vanessa was standing on the sidewalk with a pile of luggage when they pulled up. Fred made the bags go away, and she got in. “Whew!”

“I am impressed,” Stone said, “to learn that I know a woman who can leave on time.”

“May I know where we’re going, please?”

“You may not, until we arrive.”

“I hate not knowing,” she said plaintively.

“I know you do, but it’s absolute necessary for reasons of security.”

“Whose security? Yours or mine?”

“Ours. You will appreciate it later.”

Fred drove into the Strategic Services hangar at Teterboro and pulled up to the airstairs door of the Gulfstream 500. Faith and another woman in uniform were doing a thorough preflight inspection, and linemen were waiting to load luggage.

“Oh, it’s bigger than I thought,” Vanessa said.

“You’ll be comfortable, I promise,” Stone said, escorting her aboard and to a comfortable seat. A stewardess took their breakfast order and brought them mimosas and theNew York Times.

Faith and her copilot boarded and entered the cockpit. Then the airplane began to be towed to the flight line. Outside, the tug disengaged, and the engines whined softly to life. Shortly, they were rolling again, taxiing to runway one. Without slowing, the Gulfstream turned onto the runway and full power was applied to the engines. Soon, the aircraft lifted off the runway and the landing gear were retracted with a soft thump.

“We are en route,” Stone said.

“To what airport?”

“To no known airport,” Stone replied, as breakfast arrived.

Vanessa looked out the window. “Is that Long Island out there?”

“Probably.”

“So we’re headed east?”

“Don’t count on it,” Stone replied.

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By the timethey passed Montauk Point, Vanessa was asleep under a cashmere blanket, and Stone was halfway through theTimescrossword.

Vanessa stirred. “All right,” she muttered, “where are we going? Is it going to be a dirt track in the middle of nowhere? Somewhere on the frozen tundra of Iceland?”

“None of the above. The runway was built and operated in secret during World War II, to dispatch commando troops and spies. It has since fallen into my hands.”

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