“Quiet,” he said, and pointed at his headset. Everyone else put their own on.
The vehicles stopped, and they heard several people get out.
“So what do you want to show us?” Xavier Carlton said, his voice faint.
“Over here,” Linc said.
The footsteps came closer to the microphone. As they walked, Eddie said, “Where are we flying to?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” Natalie Taylor said.
In just those few phrases, Eddie and Linc had conveyed valuable information through the mic that they knew was still active and out of sight. Both of them were still alive and in good condition. Carlton and Taylor were with them. And they were going to be flying somewhere today.
The footsteps stopped.
“He was in this trailer,” Linc said.
“Doing what?” Taylor asked.
“I didn’t stop to ask in the middle of our gun battle.”
“He was doing something to my cars?” Carlton said.
“What cars?” Eddie said.
“Open it up and search the cars from top to bottom,” Taylor said.
“If Torkan damaged either of them,” Carlton said, “I’ll kill him myself.”
“Nice cars,” Linc said. “Cadillac Eldorado, right?”
“It’s a 1959 Biarritz convertible,” Carlton said proudly.
“I like the color. Green suits it. And the other one looks like a Bugatti Veyron.”
“Chiron.”
“Are those traveling with you today?” Eddie asked.
“Why?” Carlton said.
“Here’s why,” Taylor said. Juan wished he could see what they were looking at.
“Looks like a bomb,” Eddie said as if he’d heard Juan’s plea.
“We found it near the Cadillac’s gas tank.”
After another thirty seconds, Linc said, “Two bombs.”
“This was mounted on the Bugatti,” Taylor said. “It looks like it has a pressure sensor.”
“So it was meant to go off when we were in the air?” Carlton growled in anger.
“Told you we weren’t with Torkan,” Linc said. “Would we have led you to those if we were?”
“You make a good point. But we still don’t know who you are. Natalie will find out. Take them back to the ship.”
It sounded like they walked away, and MacD was about to say something, but Juan put up his hand to stop him. There weren’t enough footsteps.
Doors slammed, and Carlton spoke again in a more hushed tone.
“They may not be with Torkan, but they’re up to something,” he said.
“I’ll find out what it is,” Taylor said. “It’s surprising how much more information you can get from two people than you can from just one, especially when you begin carving one up in front of the other.”
“Good. No matter what, though, it’s probably not wise to take them all the way to your destination. Toss them out of the plane over the ocean when you have as much as you can get out of them.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“Not now, not after Torkan tried to kill me. I’ll be safer on the Colossus 5 until it’s up and running.”
“What about Lionel Gupta?”
“Stick to the plan. Take him and the two prisoners to the airport by helicopter.”
“And your cars?”
“Search them again, and then lock up the truck for the drive to the plane. I still want them in Australia when you’re done with the other segments of the mission. Oh, and Natalie? Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
One set of footsteps walked away. Then Taylor started giving instructions to the men about the truck.
Juan looked at the others as he thought about what they’d learned.
“If they’re being flown to the airport,” MacD said, “we can’t intercept them en route.”
“Maybe we can take them when they land by the plane,” Raven said.
“I can tell you that would be a suicide mission,” Tiny said. “No way we can get anywhere close to that A380 without drawing attention.”
The three of them looked at Juan, who said, “I think our only option is to get on Carlton’s private jet and rescue them once they’re in the air.”
MacD gaped at him. “How? Tiny doesn’t think we can get near it.”
“Linc and Eddie gave us a way when they told us about the cars.”
He sized up Tiny, who looked back at Juan in confusion. “Me?”
Juan continued. “I can’t fly that thing, so I’m going to need a pilot just in case we can’t persuade them to do what we want. Can you fly it?”
“Sure,” Tiny said. “Not well, but I can get us back on the ground in one piece. The question is, how do we get on in the first place?”
“We drive on,” Juan said. “The 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz is a huge car. There’s plenty of room for both of us in the trunk.”
FORTY-SEVEN
Andreas Ladas drove the truck carrying Xavier Carlton’s cars like his life depended on it. He’d heard about some kind of situation at the dock in the early hours of the morning and he’d been terrified that the billionaire had discovered some kind of damage done during the transportation process. Luckily, it turned out to be something else, but nobody would tell him what had happened.
Both he and Georgios, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had moved cars for Carlton before and knew how demanding he was. If there was even a hint that they’d caused a scratch, they’d both lose their jobs.
Despite his fears, Andreas hoped they wouldn’t have any problems this early in the morning. The traffic was light on the divided A5 highway, and they were making good time.
About halfway to the airport, though, they ran into a section with red and white markers diverting the vehicles down to one lane for repaving work. Cars weren’t backed up very far, but it would take a little longer to get through this stretch. Andreas knew Carlton’s assistant, Natalie Taylor, would be impatiently waiting for them at the airport if they didn’t get there on time. He’d seen a helicopter land on the ship to pick her up at the same time as they were driving away from the dock.
Andreas began merging the truck over when a tiny Fiat behind him raced forward, trying to sneak between him and the concrete median.
The car almost made it, but the rear end clipped the front bumper of the truck as it passed. The car spun out in a haze of tire smoke and came to rest against the median backward, blocking the way. Andreas brought the truck to an abrupt stop.
Tires squealed behind him as a van screeched to a halt sideways about ten feet behind the trailer.
A beautiful dark-haired woman leaped out of the Fiat and began cursing in Arabic as she examined the damage to her car. It didn’t seem extensive, just cosmetic, but she was furious.
“I’ll handle her,” Andreas said to Georgios. “You check on the cars. As long as they’re okay, we don’t mention this to Ms. Taylor, understand?”
Georgios nodded and got out.
Andreas climbed down and looked at the front of the truck, which looked undamaged. He approached the woman, who was yelling at him before he even got to her.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said in his native Greek.
“You speak English?” she asked, her eyes blazing.
“A little,” he said.
“Who pays for this?” she shouted, pointing at the scraped fender and crumpled bumper. “Is rental!”
He offered to give her his insurance information, but she started shouting again in Arabic, ignoring the angry honking of horns from cars backed up by the incident. Andreas looked at his watch, impatiently trying to figure out how he could get going as soon as possible.
* * *
—
MacD waited
in the driver’s seat of the van until the truck driver’s companion rounded the end of the trailer and unlocked the door to check the vehicles. When he raised it, MacD jumped out and yelled, “Hey, man, you have a problem with your tire!”
The trucker turned and looked at MacD in confusion.
“What tire? What you mean?”
“On the right side,” MacD said. “Ah saw it when you passed me earlier. This way. Let me show you.”
“Where?”
MacD led him around to the side of the truck, out of sight of the van.
* * *
—
As soon as MacD and the trucker were no longer in view, Juan silently slid open the van’s side door, and he and Tiny sprinted to the trailer, hidden from the eyes of drivers behind them by the angled van.
They jumped into the back of the truck. Juan was ready to pick the lock on the Cadillac’s trunk, but it was unlocked and opened right up. They tossed their equipment bags in the cavernous space and got in. Using a magnetic handhold, Juan pulled the trunk lid closed over them.
“You were right,” Tiny said, practically sprawling across the immense interior. “Lot of room.”
Juan smiled and activated his comm unit, saying to MacD, “We’re in.”
* * *
—
MacD was crouching by one of the trailer’s frontmost tires when he got the word from Juan.
“Sorry, dude,” he said to the guy he’d learned was Georgios. “I thought the tire was flat, but it looks okay.”
Georgios said, “It’s okay. Thank you.”
They walked back to the rear of the truck, and Georgios climbed in while MacD got back in the van. He watched as Georgios inspected the cars’ exteriors and their tie-downs to make sure they hadn’t shifted during the quick stop.
He never even put his hands on the Caddy’s trunk.
Georgios got out and pulled the door down, locking it up again. He went around the truck, saw the driver still arguing with the woman, and yelled something in Greek, waving his hands like they should get going.
“We’re good to go, Raven,” MacD said, and started the van.
* * *
—
As soon as she heard that from MacD, Raven stopped yelling at the truck driver. She instantly changed her tone from anger to remorse, as if she suddenly understood that the accident was her fault, not his.
“You not see me?” she said in broken English.
“No, you drive up fast next to me,” Andreas said. “I don’t see you.”
“Oh, I sorry. Please, no call police.” She made tears well up in her eyes.
He tilted his head back in the Greek gesture for no.
“Is okay,” he said with a grin, and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We go now.”
She thanked him profusely and got back into the rental Fiat. That was about the only thing she hadn’t lied about.
She wheeled the car around and got going again, the truck following behind.
“I’ll meet you at the airport,” she said into her mic.
“Roger that,” MacD replied.
Neither of them mentioned that the most dangerous part of the plan was yet to come, and it was completely out of their hands. All they could do was hope that Taylor didn’t notice the Cadillac was riding a bit lower with the added weight and decide to open its trunk to investigate why.
FORTY-EIGHT
When they reached the international airport in Larnaca, Raven could easily see the towering double-decker A380 from the edge of the short-term lot where she joined MacD in the van. The high-powered binoculars she was using gave her a good view of the fold-out stairway at the front of the plane as well as the ramp extending from the cargo area at the rear. Andreas and Georgios were standing next to the truck waiting for a signal to take the cars out.
“I thought these Airbuses didn’t have loading ramps,” she said, handing the binoculars to MacD, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“The passenger models don’t,” he said. “But Carlton’s plane is a custom job. Supposedly, it’s based on a cargo version Airbus prototype but never put into service. I heard it took a year to install all the special wood and gold finishes.”
“What a waste. That thing must cost tens of thousands of dollars an hour just to fly one guy around.”
“And he’s not even going this time. But with the billions he has, Carlton can afford it.”
The chop of a helicopter’s rotors cut the air. They turned and saw a seven-passenger Agusta extend its landing gear and settle to the tarmac beside the A380.
MacD handed the binoculars back to Raven and she saw Taylor get out with two of her hired thugs. They shielded their weapons from view, but they were clearly ready to use them.
Lionel Gupta was the next one to exit, hoisting his considerable bulk out of the chopper. Then Eddie and Linc got out. Their hands were bound behind their backs, and their legs were loosely tied together to keep them from running.
“How do they look?” MacD asked.
“No injuries as far as I can see.”
“They did say the rough stuff would happen on the plane.”
The guards herded the three prisoners to the stairs and into the jet.
Taylor waited for the helicopter to take off again, then went over to Andreas and Georgios and told them to unload the cars.
“Smart,” MacD said. “Keep the rotor wash from pelting those beauties with pebbles from the tarmac.”
The truckers carefully moved the Cadillac and the Bugatti out onto the asphalt, and Taylor walked around them for a final inspection.
“Think they’ll say anything about the fender bender?” Raven asked.
MacD scoffed. “And risk getting chewed out by Iron Britches? Not a chance.”
Taylor paused at the rear of the Caddy, apparently making a decision.
“Chairman,” Raven said into her mic, “she might be getting ready to open the trunk.”
She didn’t expect an answer. The Chairman and Tiny had to stay absolutely still so they wouldn’t be heard. But they would have their weapons at the ready if the worst happened, and MacD was prepared to drive straight through the security fence to provide support if needed.
Raven’s grip on the binoculars eased when Taylor moved on and waved for Andreas and Georgios to put the cars on the plane.
“Chairman, you’re clear for now,” she said. “Good hunting.”
First, the Caddy went in, then the Bugatti. After they were tied down, the two transporters got back into the truck and drove away. Raven’s last view of Taylor was of her in the cargo bay of the plane pressing the large red button to close the ramp door.
* * *
—
Juan and Tiny didn’t put down their suppressed pistols, keeping them aimed at the trunk lid in case Taylor decided to do a last-minute inspection. They hadn’t bothered bringing assault rifles on board knowing how easily the high-powered rounds could pierce the fuselage and cause an explosive decompression.
They heard Taylor walk past the car and open the door to the elevator alcove. Only when the door shut again did Juan relax.
Still, she was smart, so he didn’t put it past her to try to trick them. Tiny took a deep breath and was about to speak, but Juan stopped him. He used his phone to tap out a message.
Stay quiet until we’re in the air.
Tiny nodded.
The Cadillac vibrated as the plane’s four huge engines started up. Soon, it was rolling toward the runway.
* * *
—
“We won’t know if this works until we hear from them,” Raven said as she watched the A380 taxi away.
“We’ll know one way or the other,” MacD said.
“What do you mean?”
“You know that tracker you got shot into your leg whe
n you joined the Corporation?”
She nodded.
“The ones in their legs should be going hundreds of miles an hour until the plane lands again.”
“And if the trackers stop moving,” Raven said, “we’ll know they aren’t on the plane anymore.”
“Right. But don’t worry. The Chairman’s got the most important element on his side.”
“Guns?”
“I was thinking of surprise,” MacD said with a grin. “But guns are a definite plus.”
The A380 thundered down the runway and took off. A minute later, it disappeared into the clouds over the Mediterranean.
FORTY-NINE
EN ROUTE TO MUMBAI
Eddie was seated next to Linc in the rear of the A380 in what looked like either an entertainment room or a torture chamber. Given their current predicament, maybe it was both.
Each of them had his wrists strapped to a leather chair, but their legs were free. All of the chairs faced the front of the room, which was on the top level of the plane, and it looked like there was a roll-down screen hidden in the ceiling. There was a door leading to the forward part of the plane and a spiral staircase behind them. The walls were covered with antique weapons from many different ages and cultures. Eddie recognized scimitars from Persia, throwing stars from Japan, and a hunga munga from Africa, which looked liked a bladed ampersand.
Taylor was somewhere else with Lionel Gupta, obviously another captive. Two beefy guards stood at the front of the room, their weapons holstered. If Eddie could draw them close, he and Linc might be able to take them by surprise.
“Do you mind giving us a few minutes alone?” Eddie said to them. “My friend is shy around strangers.”
The guards didn’t even look at him.
“Maybe they didn’t hear you,” Linc said.
“I am a quiet guy.” This time, Eddie yelled. “I said we’re very introverted! Can we please have some privacy!”
No response.
“I know what it is,” Linc said. “They don’t speak English.”
Shadow Tyrants--Clive Cussler Page 27
