Sacred Stone

by Clive Cussler

  Peering from the cockpit window, the pilot watched as a black limousine wheeled onto the runway and pulled up alongside the ramp. He watched as four people filed out from the rear. Two of them quickly climbed the steps as the other two scanned the airport grounds to see if anyone was watching. Finding it clear, they quickly climbed up the ramp and closed the door to the jet.

  The attendant unhooked the APUs, then backed the ramp away and stood quietly while the pilot started the engines. After calling the tower for clearance, he taxied out to the runway and lined up for takeoff. With a refueling stop in Spain, they'd reach their destination fourteen hours from now.

  As soon as the 737 left the runway, the attendant bent down and spoke into a microphone clipped onto his parka near the hood.

  "They're away," was all he said.

  "Acknowledged," Hanley answered.

  SINCE HIS CONVERSATION with Hanley, Cabrillo had been steering the Thiokol uphill for nearly an hour. He stopped, fastened his parka tight, and climbed out. Adjusting the lights so he could scan the mountain, he walked around to the front to knock ice from the grille. He was just about ready to climb back inside when he heard a thumping sound in the distance. Reaching into the cab, he twisted the key and shut the Thiokol's engine off. Then he listened again.

  The noise floated on the wind, ebbing and flowing like the tide. Finally, Cabrillo identified the sound, and he climbed back inside the snow­cat and reached for the telephone.

  "Max," he said quickly, "I hear a helicopter approaching. Did you send someone out?"

  "No, boss," Hanley said. "We're still working on that."

  "Can you find out what's going on?"

  "I'll try to link onto a DOD satellite and figure out who it is, but it might take fifteen to twenty minutes."

  "I'd like to know who's crashing my party," Cabrillo said.

  "One thing we found out is that there's an unmanned U.S. Air Force radar site nearby," Hanley said. "Maybe the antennas are still being used and the Air Force is flying someone there for repairs or whatever."

  "You find out for me," Cabrillo said as he twisted the key and started the engine. "I think I'm almost at the cave."

  "Will do," Hanley said.

  USING A SLED to pack down the snow and a dozen packets of Kool-Aid, Ackerman had managed to create a nice landing spot marked with an X on a small mesa only seventy yards from the lower opening of the cave. He stared at the spot with pride. The helicopter should be able to land without the rotor blade striking the mountain. It was precarious, but it was the best he could do on the side of a mountain.

  He retreated back into the mouth of the cave and waited as the helicopter approached the landing pad then hovered and set down. The rotor blade slowed, then stopped, and a man climbed from the passenger side.

  CABRILLO HEARD THE helicopter land through his open window, but through the snow and darkness he had not been able to see it touch down. He was close—he could sense that. He attached nylon gaiters around his down-filled pants and removed a pair of snowshoes from the rear bed. Sliding his boots into the bindings, he fastened them tight. Then he reached in back and removed the cardboard box holding the decoy that Nixon had made.

  Now all he had to do was slip into the cave undetected and make the switch.

  "THE BOSS SENT me," Hughes said to Ackerman after climbing up the hill to the mouth of the cave, "to check out your find."

  Ackerman smiled proudly. "She's a peach," he said, "possibly the most important archaeological find of this century."

  "So I hear," Hughes said, edging farther into the cave. "And he sent me to make sure you get what you deserve."

  Ackerman grabbed an already lit lantern and started to lead Hughes down the passage.

  "So you're in public relations?"

  "That and other duties," Hughes said, stopping at the opening in the ceiling. A few days ago Ackerman had brought a wooden ladder from inside the upper cave and dropped it down the hole. It made going between the two shafts a lot easier.

  "We'll climb up and I'll give you the grand tour," Ackerman said.

  The two men climbed the ladder into the upper cave.

  Hughes played along as Ackerman rattled off what he had found, but truly there was only one thing he'd come for. And as soon as he had that, he was leaving.

  CABRILLO TRAIPSED AROUND the side of the mountain until he came upon a spot of melted snow. Bending over, he could see that there was a small opening in the mountainside marked by rocks laying in the snow, as if they had been tossed out from inside the mountain. Warm air from in­side the mountain was filtering out, melting the snow around the opening. Clearing away enough of the debris so that he could climb inside, he slid through the opening into the upper cave, then dragged the cardboard box inside.

  Once he was through the opening, he found he could stand.

  He walked down the shaft to see where it went.

  EVEN WITH A heart of stone, Hughes was finding the cave and its inner sanctum impressive. Ackerman was standing alongside the meteorite on its altar with his arm outstretched like a prize lady on a game show.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Ackerman gushed.

  Hughes nodded then removed a portable Geiger counter from his pocket. Flicking it on, he scanned the meteorite. The readings were off the scale. A couple of hours of exposure and he'd quickly start to suffer from radiation poisoning. He realized he'd need to shield it carefully for the trip back to Kangerlussuaq.

  "You spent much time close to this?" Hughes asked Ackerman.

  "I've examined it from every angle," Ackerman told him.

  "Have you been feeling poorly? Noticed any physical changes in yourself lately?"

  "I've been having nosebleeds," Ackerman said. "I figured it was just the dry air."

  "I think you have radiation sickness," Hughes said. "I'm going to need to go back to the helicopter and get something to shield this."

  CABRILLO HURRIED DOWN the shaft toward the sound of the voices. Hiding behind a rock, he listened to the two men.

  "I'm going to need to go back to the helicopter and get something to shield this," one said. He listened as the two men walked off and the cavern grew dark. He waited to see what would happen next.

  "WAIT HERE," HUGHES said when they reached the mouth of the lower cave.

  Ackerman watched as Hughes walked down the hill, approached the helicopter, and opened the rear door.

  "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said to Neilsen as he removed a box from the rear, "then we can go."

  "Sounds good," Neilsen said, staring out at the weather.

  Hughes started back up the hill with the box. When he entered the cave he looked at Ackerman. "I brought something that will ease your suffering," he said. "I'll give it to you in a few minutes."

  CABRILLO WAITED A minute until he was sure he was alone, then reached into his pocket and removed a plastic bag and ripped off the top. Removing the chemical light bar inside, he bent it in half like he was trying to break a bread stick and the tube started glowing green. Using the light to illuminate his way, he started to walk toward the meteorite. He was just approaching the altar when he heard a shot ring out.

  Quickly reaching into his pocket, he removed a foil packet, tore off the top with his teeth and sprinkled the contents onto the meteorite. Then, with the sounds of footsteps quickly approaching, he slid off to the side behind some rocks and placed the green light in his pocket.

  A tall man carrying a lantern walked over to the altar, scooped up the meteorite and placed it in a box. Cabrillo had left the rifle in the Thiokol, so there was little he could do right now. Cabrillo would need to intercept the meteorite farther down into the cave.

  Gripping the metal hoop from the lantern in his mouth, the man carried the box out.

  Cabrillo waited, until the light from the lantern petered out, then slowly walked down the cave with his chemical light held in front. He figured the men would be examining the meteorite somewhere else, and when he found them he'd make h
is move.

  Then he bumped into the ladder and nearly fell down the hole.

  Listening carefully to see if they'd heard the noise, Cabrillo waited and, when nothing happened, climbed down the ladder. At the bottom he stepped on Ackerman's body.

  Chapter 16

  AS SOON AS Hanley received confirmation that no Icelandic civilian or military helicopters had been in the air at the time of the emir's abduction, it was child's play to coordinate this information with the port records to see what ships had come and gone close to the time.

  It didn't take him long to settle on the Akbar as their primary target.

  Accessing satellite records, he determined that the Akbar was steaming up the Denmark Strait between Iceland and Greenland. Immediately leaving port, he ordered the magnetohydrodynamic drives engaged as soon as they were clear of land. The Oregon was cruising at thirty knots and weaved through the icebergs like a slalom skier down an icy slope. He tried Cabrillo's telephone again but there was no answer.

  At that moment, Michael Halpert entered the control room. "They dummied up the chain of ownership," he said, "that's why we missed the threat."

  "Who is the true owner?" Hanley asked.

  "The Hammadi Group."

  "Al-Khalifa," Hanley said. "We knew he was planning a move on the emir, but if we'd known he had a yacht under his control it might have gone a lot different."

  Eric Stone swiveled around in his seat. "Chief," he said, "I have the link you requested established. The helicopter ident is on the screen. The make is a Eurocopter and the model an EC-130B4. I'm running the registration right now."

  Hanley glanced over at the screen. "Why are there two blips?" Stone stared at the image then enlarged the screen. "That second return just appeared," he said. "Just guessing, I'd say another helicopter is in the area."

  CABRILLO HELD OUT his green light, reached down, and placed his fingers on Ackerman's neck. He felt a faint beat. Then the archaeologist stirred and opened his eyes. His eyes were watery, his skin a ghastly gray, and his lips barely moved. "You're not. . . ," he whispered. "No," Cabrillo said, "I'm not the man who shot you." Pushing Ackerman's coat aside, Cabrillo took a knife from his pocket and cut away Ackerman's shirt. The wound was bad, and arterial blood was pumping out of the opening like a fountain with too large a pump. "Do you have a first-aid kit?" Cabrillo asked. Ackerman motioned to a nylon bag near a folding table a short distance away. Cabrillo ran over, unzipped the bag and removed the kit. Opening the plastic case, he removed some gauze pads and surgical tape. He tore open the packets as he walked back toward Ackerman, then pressed a wad of pads over the wound and taped it in place. Then he reached over and placed Ackerman's hand over the wound. "Keep your hand here," Cabrillo said, "I'll be right back." "The Ghost," Ackerman whispered, "the Ghost did this." Turning on his heels, Cabrillo sprinted toward the entrance to the cave. As he peered out into the gloom he could hear the turbine of the Eurocopter winding up and see the outline of the flashing lights on its fuselage.

  Then a second set of blinking lights appeared in the distance.

  * * *

  AL-KHALIFA WAS AN excellent helicopter pilot. A falsified student visa and $100,000 in fees, as well as a year at the South Florida flight school he had attended, ensured that. Looking through the windshield, he carefully scanned the terrain on Mount Forel. He had just caught sight of an orange snowcat off to the side of the mountain when the other helicopter came into view.

  Fate is funny—five minutes later and he would have missed his chance.

  A second later, Al-Khalifa had assessed the situation and formed his plan.

  CABRILLO SLID CAREFULLY out of the cave and then flopped down behind a rocky outcropping. He needed to make it to the Thiokol and recover his rifle, but the second helicopter was facing him directly. Sliding the satellite telephone from his pocket, he glanced at the readout. Now that he was outside the cave he was receiving a signal again. He hit the speed dial and waited until Hanley answered.

  "It looks like the fall of Saigon up here," Cabrillo said. "I arrived to find a helicopter on site, and now another one has just arrived. Who are these people?"

  "Stony just identified one," Hanley answered. "It's a charter from western Greenland owned by a Michael Neilsen. We ran the owner for ties to any organizations but no hits yet, so I'd guess he's just a pilot for hire."

  "What about the second one?"

  Stone had been furiously typing on the keyboard. "It's a Bell Jet Ranger leased by a Canadian mineral company."

  "The second one's a Bell Jet Rang—" Hanley started to say.

  "I'm staring at it right now," Cabrillo said. "It's not a Jet Ranger, it looks more like a McDonnell Douglas 500 series."

  Stone typed in some more commands and a second later a picture of a wrecked helicopter filled the monitor. "Someone has stolen the registration and ident to avoid detection. Can Mr. Cabrillo see any tail numbers?"

  "Stone says we have a stolen registration," Hanley noted. "Can you see any tail numbers?"

  Cabrillo removed a pair of small binoculars from his pocket and stared through the darkness. "Two things," he said slowly. "The first is that there's a weapons pod hung under the fuselage. The second is that the tail numbers aren't visible, but I can make out letters painted on the side. There is an A, followed by a K, followed by a B. Then the rest are covered in ice. The next is maybe an A, I can't be sure."

  Hanley related to Cabrillo what they had uncovered about the yacht named Akbar.

  "It's that son of a bitch Al-Khalifa?" Cabrillo blurted. "Who's in the other helicopter? Al Capone?"

  NEILSEN HAD THE rotor blade up to speed and he pulled up on the collective, taking the Eurocopter into a hover just as the other helicopter appeared in the windshield.

  "Look there," he said through the headset to Hughes.

  "Take off, now," Hughes shouted.

  "I think we'd better set down and see what's up," Neilsen said.

  With a lightning-fast move, Hughes pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Neilsen's head. "I said take off."

  One look at Hughes and the pistol was enough; Neilsen moved the cyclic and the Eurocopter lurched forward. At that instant a flame erupted from the bottom of the other helicopter and a missile streaked toward where they had been hovering. The missile went wide and veered out into the frozen wasteland.

  STONE BROUGHT UP an image on the monitor in the Oregon's control room. "This is a DOD satellite shot one hour ago," he said quickly. "Helicopter number two came from a location offshore of eastern Greenland on a straight course for Mount Forel."

  Just then Adams walked into the control room. "Our helicopter is armed and ready."

  "Do you have enough range to make it from here and back?" Hanley asked.

  "No," Adams admitted, "we'll be thirty to forty gallons short on the return."

  "What kind of fuel do you burn?"

  "One hundred octane low-lead."

  "Mr. Chairman," Hanley said over the satellite phone, "we have Adams ready to go, but we're short fuel for the return trip. Do you have extra fuel on the snowcat?"

  "I have a hundred gallons or so left," Cabrillo said.

  Hanley looked up at Adams, who had listened to the transmission carefully.

  "If I take along some liquid octane booster, we can bump the gas up so it might work. One way or another, I want to get over there and help the boss."

  "I'll call the mechanical shop and have the booster delivered to the flight deck," Hanley said quickly. "You do your preflight and take off as soon as possible."

  Adams nodded and raced for the door.

  "I'm sending in the cavalry, Juan," Hanley said into the telephone. "He'll be there in a couple of hours."

  Cabrillo watched as the second helicopter lined up on the Eurocopter to take another shot. "That's good," Cabrillo said, "because the helicopter with the fake registration just fired a missile at the chartered ship."

  "You've got to be kidding," Hanley said in amazeme
nt.

  "That's not all, my friend," Cabrillo said. "I haven't had a chance to deliver the really bad news yet."

  "What could be worse?"

  "The meteorite is inside the chartered helicopter," Cabrillo said. "They grabbed it before me."

  * * *

  INSIDE THE EUROCOPTER, Hughes was holding the pistol to Neilsen's head with one hand and a satellite telephone in the other.

  "Fly west toward the coast," he said, "there's been a change in plans."

  Neilsen nodded and made the adjustment.

  At the same time, Hughes pressed a button on the speed dial of the phone arid waited.

  "Sir," he said as Neilsen sped up and raced over the snowy terrain, "I've recovered the object and fired the caretaker, but now there's a snag."

  "What's the problem?" the man said.

  "We're under attack from an unidentified helicopter."

  "You're headed for the coast, right?"

  "Yes, sir, just like we planned."

  "The team is there and waiting," the man said. "If the helicopter follows you out to sea, they can deal with the problem nicely."

  Before Hughes could answer, a second missile struck the tail of the Eurocopter and severed a blade on the tail rotor. Neilsen fought with the controls but the Eurocopter started into a death spiral toward the ground.

  "We're going down," Hughes managed to shout before the centrifugal force of the spinning Eurocopter flung his hand against the side window, cracking the glass and breaking the phone.