‘Who I’m most worried about is the person driving Muldoon. Seeing that Muldoon felt it necessary to use an acrostic, there’s got to be a possibility this person is an Order member. And it seems plausible that after dropping Muldoon off, this driver will hang around. But even if he does, I still have to fancy my chances of pulling it off… it’s only one person…’
Mort narrowed his eyes and gave a slow nod. I knew precisely what he was going to ask next. But before he could, he was interrupted by Dotman on the walkie-talkie.
‘The black sedan has just entered Glenview via the East Gate on Lehigh Avenue. I’m going to park up on Tanglewood Drive – it’s a road parallel to the gate, a half-mile off, from where I should be able to watch the gate through binoculars without arousing suspicions.’
‘Keep us updated,’ I replied.
As soon as I lowered the walkie-talkie, Mort recommenced his interrogation.
‘And how do you plan to get on the plane?’ he asked.
‘Well, the distance between Chicago and Sana’a is about 6,500 nautical miles so, regardless of where Drexler actually intends to go, he’d have had to organize an aircraft capable of covering the distance for the sake of the ruse. This means he’s almost certainly organized a Gulfstream C-37b, the only model of small aircraft the US military has, aside from the two presidential Boeing VC-25s, capable of covering that distance. Obviously, entering via the ordinary passenger entrance is out of the question. But to the rear of the C-37b is a baggage hold, about eight cubic yards in size, which is accessible from the exterior of the plane and the cabin. If I can get myself in there, it should do the trick – provided that Drexler hasn’t put the cash in there.’
Again, Mort narrowed his eyes and nodded. He could see that what I was planning was possible but also that there was plenty that could go wrong.
‘And then once the plane’s in the air, Drexler and Samuel will coerce the pilots at gunpoint… Is that what you’re thinking?’
‘Something like that,’ I replied.
Again, Dotman’s voice came through the walkie-talkie:
‘I have the East Gate under observation. Will keep you updated.’
‘Thanks, Dotman,’ I replied.
Mort turned and looked at me hard.
‘So, working on the assumption that Muldoon can’t yet be there because Drexler would’ve organized to get there first, we have to hope that Muldoon doesn’t turn up until we’re extremely close.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. I glanced at the dashboard clock. ‘The time now is 11:43, and we’ve covered about five miles. Twenty-five to go.’
After five minutes, and only another three or four miles, we got a scare as the walkie-talkie crackled to life. But it wasn’t Dotman – it was Rodriguez with good news: Liam’s vest had been disabled. However, this didn’t change our mood as we knew it’d mean nothing if Muldoon arrived too soon. Yet with each mile that crawled by, there was an increase in optimism. And though the increase that came with each mile was small, very gradually it began to mount and by the time Rodriguez contacted us again – twenty minutes after his previous message – to say that Haddad’s vest had also been disabled, we’d covered almost twenty-five miles, and were starting to believe that maybe we might actually make it…
Then, before we knew it, we were approaching our exit, still without word from Dotman. And it wasn’t until 12:15, by which point we were on a residential road just round the corner from Glenview, that Dotman finally delivered the news:
‘A blue Crown Victoria has just entered via the East Gate. I couldn’t make-out who they were, but there were definitely two men inside… I reckon it was probably the Director.’ ‘We’re heading over to you now,’ I replied. ‘I’m going to drop Mort off, then proceed to the East Gate alone.’
Barely had I said this than I ripped the sling, bandages, and splint off my left arm. I knew that approaching a gate at a Naval Air Force Base looking completely wrecked wasn’t a possibility. I had to look calm, normal, professional. And by the time I’d coaxed my arm into the jacket sleeve, and made sure I was looking as presentable as I possibly could under the circumstances, Mort had pulled up behind Dotman’s car.
Mort got out of the car and I shifted into the driver’s seat. Then, after double checking that my Glock, Ka-bar, and ID were all on me, I set off once more, using my right hand to both steer and work the gears.
Soon enough, I was on Lehigh Avenue. And as I closed in on my destination, Vannevar’s voice came through the walkie-talkie.
‘The final vest has been disabled.’
With that, I pocketed the walkie-talkie. Then, taking a sharp left, I arrived at the East Gate of Glenview NAS.
Chapter 49
Monday, March 4, 2013. 12:20 p.m. CST. – Glenview NAS.
There were two guards at the gate, both carrying Heckler & Koch MP5s. Beyond the gate was a line of trees, concealing the runway from view.
One of the guards came to my window. Then, before he said anything, he looked at me interrogatively. I’d expected as much – despite my attempt to fix myself up, I was still looking battered, bruised, far from professional – but a moment later, his face relaxed, and it was clear he wasn’t going to push the issue.
‘Identification,’ he demanded brusquely.
I handed him my ID. He looked it over, then swiftly handed it back with a nod.
‘Code-word?’ he probed.
‘Saturn,’ I replied with nothing in my voice.
He gave me another nod. Then he nodded at the other guard, who promptly opened the gate.
I drove through, doing my best to make the one-handed driving look like nonchalance, after which, I followed the road as it weaved its way through the trees. To my relief, when I came out the other side there was nobody there to spot me entering the runway’s vicinity. And the reason for this was simple: although the runway was directly at the end of the stretch of road I was on – running at right angles to it – the start of the runway, which was to the right, was hidden behind a huge hangar, three times the size of Drexler’s warehouse. I had no doubt the aircraft was on the other side of this hangar.
But aside from concealing me as I entered the vicinity, it was clear this hangar was also going to provide me with a place to abandon my car. Because while the hangar faced onto the runway, its rear-wall doubled-up as a large car-park, and was filled with many hundreds of vehicles, both civilian and military, meaning if I left my car there, nobody was going to notice it as not having been there before.
With these thoughts running through my mind, I rolled the car the 350 yards between the trees and the car-park – coasting in order to make as silent an approach as possible – then pulled into a bay, and got out. Then I hurried along the remainder of the rear-wall, and along the right-hand side of the hangar, until finally I reached the front right corner. There I paused, and poked my head round the corner.
Sure enough, at the start of the runway sat a Gulfstream C-37b. It was a beautiful and diminutive machine – it was 96’5” long, had a wingspan of just 93’6”, and on either side of its aerodynamic, sleek white body, was a Rolls Royce BR710 C4-11 turbofan engine – and it was facing down the runway, with its engine idling. Its tail end, where the baggage hold was located, was about 150 yards from where I stood. And as I took in the surrounding scene, two things caught my attention.
Firstly, there was the profile of Francis Bindle’s head in the second of the seven small windows lining the aircraft’s body, which told me both he and the Director were on board, since I couldn’t imagine Bindle would’ve boarded without Muldoon. Secondly, there was the Crown Victoria parked alongside the aircraft, also facing down the runway, with the guy who’d driven Muldoon sitting behind the wheel. This told me, just as I’d expected, that the main obstacle in entering the aircraft would be this individual. And now the exact nature of the situation was clear: the final 150 yards between myself and the plane, plus the tail-end of the plane itself, were both within his field of vision whi
ch meant I had to both cover this distance and haul myself into the baggage hold without him once looking in his rear-mirror.
It’d take me fifteen seconds to cover the distance, and maybe fifteen more to get myself inside the baggage hold and attempting it was a big risk. But I had no choice.
Breathing deeply, I fixed my eye on the back of the driver’s head, waiting for my chance. Then, fifteen seconds later, I got it – he looked down at something in his lap – and no sooner had he done so than I started bolting across the runway at full-pelt, my eyes glued on my destination, my heart thumping painfully in my chest. The next thing I knew, I was underneath the opening to the baggage hold. Without losing a second, I reached up with my good hand and slid open the portal. Then, clutching the edge of the opening with the same hand, I hoisted myself into the thankfully empty baggage hold at which point, I hastily pulled the portal shut once more.
As my heart continued to hammer, and I gulped in breath, I waited tensely, knowing that if I’d been seen, it was within these next few minutes that I’d be confronted. But the minutes passed, and there was no confrontation. And then the plane started to taxi, and it was clear – I’d made it onboard unseen.
Then, as the plane continued taxiing, I quickly regained my composure, and, thinking back to a C-37b I’d been on years ago with Parkes, coolly recreated the floor-plan in my head. The cabin space as a whole was just under 44 feet long, just over 6 feet high, and 7 feet wide. Behind the cockpit and the bathroom at the front of the plane, there was the main cabin, furnished with a handful of seats, and a sofa or two. Beyond this, there was a second, smaller cabin. Then, finally, there was a galley, which led to a second, larger bathroom, at the back of which was a hatch by which you could access the baggage hold.
This hatch was just above my head.
Having seen where Francis was sitting, I knew he and Muldoon were in the main cabin. And my guess was that the money was in the second cabin, and that Samuel and Drexler were either also in this second cabin, or in the galley.
However, it was also possible that they were in the bathroom, immediately on the other side of the hatch. But I simply had to hope they weren’t. Because as soon as we took off, I had no choice but to get out of the hold and enter the bathroom, since from where I was, it was impossible to get a visual on Samuel and Drexler… And it was crucial that I did get a visual, because I needed to know when they set about hijacking the plane, and when Drexler started making his video.
But Drexler and Samuel not being inside the bathroom wasn’t the only thing I had to hope for. I also had to hope that in hijacking the plane, Samuel and Drexler didn’t kill the pilots… The last thing that was needed was further loss of innocent life.
I was abruptly distracted from these thoughts as the plane started accelerating down the runway. Then, all at once, it lifted off the ground. And as it did so, I suddenly felt emotions rising in my chest – a mix of feelings that came from being just yards away from the man I’d been so desperately hunting and the son I’d been so desperately trying to save. But immediately I squashed them. If I was going to succeed, I had to think of both men in cold, calculated terms.
Drexler was the one I was going to kill.
Samuel was the one I was going to take alive.
I repeated this to myself a couple of times. Then, after taking a long minute to clear my head, I withdrew the Ka-Bar, took a deep breath, and burst silently through the hatch.
Chapter 50
To my relief, the bathroom was empty.
I quietly closed the hatch behind me. Then immediately I spotted what I was after: just above the door leading to the galley, which was closed, there was a small air vent in the wall. I crept over and put my eye to it. And though, because of the shape of the vent, I couldn’t see through it straight away, after patiently adjusting my angle of observation I eventually found one which allowed me to see the left-hand side of the galley.
Crouching there, not five feet from me, was Drexler. In one of his hands was a Beretta, and in the other was a small electrical device which was undoubtedly the detonator. Propped up next to him was a tripod with a small camera on top.
I adjusted my angle of observation again. Soon I found one which allowed me to see the right-hand side of the galley. Crouching there, opposite Drexler, was my son. In one of his hands was, likewise, a Beretta. In the other was a sap.
His face looked stern, unfamiliar.
I had the two men under observation. Now all I had to do was wait for them to make their move. And that’s exactly what I proceeded to do, changing which of the men I had in my sights every few minutes, and holding myself at the ready to make a move of my own.
I was aware it could be hours before they took action. But I was unfazed. I felt patient, calm, focused.
In the end, I didn’t have to wait long. Twenty-five minutes later, Drexler gave Samuel a nod. In response, Samuel stood, and moved towards the front of the aircraft, out of my line of sight. Then Drexler followed suit.
It was go-time.
I eased open the bathroom door. Then, without pause, I darted through the galley and poked my head round the door at the end.
The room beyond, which was the secondary cabin, was devoid of life – the two men had already passed through. But it wasn’t empty: secured with cables against the far-side wall were neat, shrink-wrapped piles of cash, just where I’d predicted they’d be.
I entered this room and started moving quickly and quietly through it. When I got half way, I could hear – through the door to the main cabin which had been left inches ajar – Drexler address Muldoon and Francis. His voice was icy and mellifluous.
‘Gentlemen, how wonderful to see you. Before we get started, let me turn on my camera, I’d hate for something exciting to happen and for us not to have a record of it.’
By the time Drexler finished saying this, I’d reached the door. Because it was ajar, through the gap I could see the left-hand side of the main cabin plus some of the central reservation. And this was where the action was taking place. Francis was sitting nearest to me, maybe six feet away, in a seat facing towards the front of the plane. Opposite him sat Muldoon. And Drexler was standing with his back to the door, behind the camera, keeping his distance. I could see only one leg of the tripod, and his left hand holding the Beretta, but this was enough to gauge where he was.
The Beretta was aimed at Muldoon’s head.
‘Right, we’re rolling,’ said Drexler. ‘Francis, would you do the honors?
At that, Francis stood and fastened Muldoon’s left hand to his armrest with handcuffs. He then frisked Muldoon. Muldoon played his part well – his surprise looked genuine.
‘I’m so sorry, Robin,’ said Francis as he sat back down, his voice trembling. ‘He has Liam in a bomb vest… Ali, too. But he says he’ll let us all live if we comply.’
Drexler laughed a liquid laugh.
‘This is wonderful stuff for our home video. But it’s true: I plan to let you both live – plus Ali and Liam – provided Francis continues to do everything I ask of him. But Robin, you’re very quiet. I trust you know who I am?’
‘Ivan Drexler,’ said Muldoon tonelessly. ‘The architect of The Order of Babylon.’
‘Bravo,’ said Drexler. ‘So now you know for sure it wasn’t poor old Saul Marshall, though that was Saul Marshall’s son you saw pass through just a moment ago, if you’re wondering. He’s one of my disciples. And if you haven’t guessed already, I’ve had the Englewood warehouse under my control for a week now, all thanks to another of my disciples, the young Dennis Ericson.’
My thoughts turned to Samuel. The sap he’d been holding had been encouraging. It told me he’d probably been intending to knock the pilots out as opposed to kill them. But at any rate, I had no doubt the plane was now under his – and Drexler’s – control. Even had Muldoon shouted a warning, the pilots wouldn’t have gotten beyond a puzzled exchange of glances before Samuel was upon them.
‘Now, while it’s true t
hat I’m planning on letting you both live,’ continued Drexler, ‘that’s no reason why we shouldn’t have a little fun. So, Francis, I’ve a request for you – could you please break Robin’s nose?’
Francis looked at him pleadingly. Drexler laughed cruelly.
‘Come now, Francis, it’s not like I’m asking you to kill the guy. It’s just a little fun for the camera… It’s either that, or Liam and Ali get it and I put a bullet through your head for good measure. Your call.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Muldoon calmly. ‘Do as he says.’
Francis sighed hard. Then he got up once more, and quickly connected his fist with Muldoon’s nose. It burst all over his face. Muldoon released an involuntary groan.
‘I’m sorry, Robin,’ said Francis as he sat back down. His apology was barely audible over Drexler’s laughter.
‘That was too much fun,’ said Drexler. ‘I have to see more. How about a couple of black eyes?’
Again, Francis looked at Drexler imploringly.
‘Just get it over with,’ said Muldoon.
Muldoon’s face was calm and stoic, and I was struck by his bravery. Yet what was even more remarkable was his faith. He’d had no confirmation I was on board, but he didn’t once glance around trying to seek me out. He simply seemed to take it on faith I was there.
‘Just get it over with,’ Muldoon repeated with a hardness in his voice.
For the third time, Francis stood. Then, swinging his fists with brutal efficiency, he struck Muldoon twice, once in each eye. Both swelled up to the size of golf-balls.
Again, as Francis sat down, Drexler chuckled.
‘Okay, enough of that,’ said Drexler. ‘I’m satisfied. Now it’s time to get down to business. Just give me a moment while I adjust the camera…’
False Prophet: The gripping breakthrough thriller (A Saul Marshall Thriller 1) Page 30
