by S. T. Boston
Oriyanna fired a look his way that made him think twice about saying the rest. Sam was sure that Adam must be thinking the same thing, they could already be carrying the virus, without even knowing. One thing was certain, in the next few hours they'd know for sure.
“So do you have any idea where we are going?” asked Oriyanna, deliberately changing the subject.
“Nope, not a clue,” Sam replied, trying to sound lighthearted. He scanned the packed parking lot until he saw what he was after. “One sec, I'll be right back,” he added. Boldly, he strode over to a parked BMW and rammed his elbow through the window, the sound of smashing glass echoing across the car park. Not caring who was watching, he reaching into the BMW and grabbed a Garmin SatNav from the windscreen before walking hurriedly back. “Now I do,” he smiled, tossing the device to Adam.
“Is getting arrested part of the plan then?” growled Adam, holding the SatNav as if it were poisonous.
“We're already driving a stolen car, I figured one more theft wouldn't matter. Besides, it's for the greater good.”
“Yeah well, I'm not sure the local police department would accept or believe your mitigating circumstances,” Adam replied as they reached the VW. Sam jumped into the driver's seat and rammed his screwdriver key into the ignition, bringing the engine to life.
“According to this it's just under three hundred and eighty miles,” said Adam, fixing the device to the windscreen. “How long do we have to get there?”
“Five and a half hours at most,” Oriyanna replied from the back seat. “The flight from New York leaves at six; Xavier said we need to be there no later than five o'clock.”
Sam swung the Golf out onto the road and sped away from the scene of his latest crime. “I'd best put my foot down then,” he replied, following the monotone female voice on the SatNav as it directed them toward the interstate. “And pray we don't get pulled over.” Sam manoeuvred the little VW around a fuel tanker and just managed to clear a set of traffic lights as they turned red. “I don't even want to think about how you're going to get on that plane without a passport,” he called back to Oriyanna, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Let me worry about that,” said Oriyanna, leaning forward and raising her voice in order to be heard over the screaming engine. “I got you those guns, didn't I?”
Chapter 18
Annie Martin made three mistakes. Two of them occurred the moment she arrived at Albuquerque Airport; the third wasn't really her fault. Ultimately, all three combined into some strange act of fate which ultimately saved her life. Annie's first mistake was leaving her handbag attached to the hanger on the luggage trolley while she sat waiting for her friend, Sue, to come out of the ladies' toilets. The second mistake was leaving her handbag unzipped with her passport clearly on display. The third mistake, and the one that was no one's fault – except maybe her parents – was the fact that she was a blonde, twenty-nine-year-old female who bore a very small resemblance to Oriyanna, who in turn was in desperate need of a passport, something authentic that she could use. The fact that side by side the two girls looked different didn't matter, Oriyanna could make the officials see whatever she wanted; however, the more the document appeared to be hers, the easier the job would be.
With the dexterity usually more akin to the most talented of pickpockets, Oriyanna walked past the bag and palmed the passport straight into her pocket. Annie, who sat with her back to the trolley, wasn't even aware she was there. Even the elderly couple waiting to check in for their flight home to Miami didn't notice, despite the fact they were both looking directly at Oriyanna as she committed the crime. Nervously, Adam watched on from across the check-in hall, worrying that the theft of the girl's passport was just another crime to add to the growing list of offences they had racked up in the past few hours. Watching Oriyanna slip the document into her pocket and make good her escape, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief; whether or not she could actually use it was another matter. Her ability to mess with peoples' minds had worked a treat back in Colorado Springs; trying get out of the country on a stolen identity was a completely different kettle of fish.
Thanks to Sam's heavy right foot and the good fortune of not seeing a single police cruiser on their side of the interstate for over three hundred miles, they'd covered the distance in just over five hours, which included one speedy pit stop at a service station for fuel. Pulling into the short stay parking lot next to the terminal building, Sam had transferred a few essential items of clothing from both their cases into his hiking pack before tossing the rest of their stuff into a large recycling bin; the guns also suffered a similar fate. There was no way they could get the weapons on board the plane, even with Oriyanna's talents. This left them with a major problem, not only did they have no idea what they were walking into once they arrived in Egypt, but they'd also be unarmed. Sam had a contact in Gaza from his close protection work, but with his phone smashed and abandoned on the road back in Colorado, there was no chance of him being able to arrange anything.
Adam checked the departure board above the ticket desk, where Sam stood waiting for their documents to be printed. The American Airlines flight to JFK was on time, and as Oriyanna approached she gave him a sly wink, patting her hand on the pocket containing the passport triumphantly.
“Nice work,” he said as Sam approached them, clutching the tickets. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“No problem,” Oriyanna replied, a little more confidently than she actually felt. “Let's have a quick look at my new name.” She removed the passport as boldly as if it was her very own, “Annie Martin,” she read aloud, raising her eyebrows. “Not too bad!”
“Well, at least the hair colour and age are about right,” said Adam, looking at the girl's picture.” You do know you've just ruined her day?”
“Ready to get this done then?” Sam chipped in before she had a chance to do more than shrug her shoulders in a never mind fashion. He handed them both a small cardboard travel document folder. “The good news is we check in now for the flight to Cairo as well. Once they check your tickets and passport here that's it, until immigration in Egypt.”
“So how does this all work?” asked Oriyanna, looking at the desk. The final check-in call for their flight to JFK had just been announced over the tinny PA system.
“It's quite simple,” began Adam, “when you get to the desk the lady will ask for your tickets and passport, she'll check you in and confirm your seat for the next flight as well.” He took the ticket folder from her and removed the documents – the name 'Oriyanna Summers' was printed boldly on the front of both tickets. Her lack of second name had forced Xavier to invent one; the booking wouldn't process without it. “Be aware, though, that the name on the ticket and the name in your passport are different, so just do what you need to do – okay?”
“Don't worry,” she replied, taking the tickets off him, “I can do this. Adam, you come with me, I might need you.” She reached down and took hold of his hand, her touch had its usual effect and instantly he felt as relaxed as someone sunbathing on a tropical beach.
Hand in hand they approached the desk as Sam followed a few paces behind; without the luxury of Oriyanna's calming touch it felt as if his heart was going to hammer its way out of his chest – everything came down to the next few minutes. Reaching the desk, he watched as she draped her arm over Adam like a love-struck teenager. Whatever she was planning, was in full swing.
The aging female check-in clerk who looked as if she'd fallen face first into a makeup counter greeted them with a wide, beaming smile. “Good afternoon, how many are checking in today?” she asked politely.
“Three,” replied Oriyanna confidently. “My fiancé, myself and the best man,” she turned to Sam, taking his passport and tickets which were poised ready in his hand. “We are going to Egypt to get married,” she chirped, treating Adam to an affectionate squeeze. “I can't wait to see the Pyramids and ride on a camel.” Oriyanna handed her the documents, putting
her own to the bottom on purpose. The check-in clerk began sifting through them individually, carefully matching up Sam and Adam's passports to their tickets.
“Sounds wonderful,” the clerk replied, glancing up from the desk, “I've always wanted to go there.” She turned her attention to Oriyanna's ticket, glancing over the details and as she opened the passport, Sam held his breath.
“Oh, please excuse my photo,” he heard her say. Daring to look, he saw her hand was on the clerk's, covering her perfectly manicured nails. “I was having a really bad day, and now I'm stuck with it, but I guess it's fine, isn't it? I mean, to be honest there's nothing wrong with it, is there? It's just fine! Besides, I can get it redone when I become Mrs. Annie Fisher, I never really liked Martin anyway. It's a boy's name.”
“It's not that bad,” the clerk replied, as if she were having a perfectly normal conversation, but there was a hint of distance to her voice which told Sam she wasn't quite as lucid as she'd been a few minutes ago. He watched Oriyanna remove her hand, and instantly there was clarity again in the woman's eyes. Oriyanna was obviously satisfied the job had been done. “Are you checking any bags?” she concluded.
“No, thanks,” Oriyanna replied.
“Travelling a little light, aren't you, if you're getting married? There was a hint of suspicion in the woman's voice, “None of you have any bags?” She took their boarding passes out of the printer but kept them securely in her hand.
“We did – I mean, we do,” cut in Adam. “Last year we flew to London to visit my sister and BA lost all of our luggage. Since then, Annie refuses to let an airline take our bags.” He rolled his eyes. “We sent it all via UPS a few days ago, it's already waiting at our hotel in Cairo. What with the transfer and all, well, if the wedding dress went missing I'd never hear the end of it! We just have this one bag to carry on.” He reluctantly let go of Oriyanna and took the bag off Sam, holding it up for the clerk to see.
The woman nodded her head in understanding as he placed his arm around Oriyanna's waist. “No problem,” she said, her suspicion giving way to a wide, helpful smile as she started tucking the boarding passes into their passports. “Your boarding cards for both flights are here, so make sure you don't lose them. You can go straight down to your gate; they'll be boarding soon.”
“Thanks,” beamed Oriyanna enthusiastically as she took them from her. “Have a good day.” She handed Sam and Adam their documents as they left the counter. “See, I told you it wouldn't be a problem,” she whispered to Adam. “Although it will be much easier when you eventually do away with your strict border controls – it's all very primitive.”
* * *
Gritting his teeth against the uncomfortable, ripping pain caused by the blunt razor, Finch gingerly dragged the metal blade down his cheek, trying his best to see what he was doing in the small, steamed up mirror. The shower and washroom facilities aboard the Gulfstream jet were no bigger than you'd find in a modest sized motorhome. Finch didn't really care, having been devoid of any kind of personal hygiene for over a day, even a wash in a toilet bowl would have been acceptable. Tapping the clogged razor into the small china sink, he turned his attention to the goatee beard they'd given him back in Allentown; he didn't care much for it. Taking a small pair of nail scissors from the grooming pack he'd found on board, he set about cutting it back to a length the razor might be able to handle. After another five minutes and a few shaving cuts that would now have to heal in their own good time, his clean shaven face stared back at him once again. Even without the beard, he still looked significantly different to the man he'd been back in Malaysia, but now they were so close to the end it didn't really matter. In the next few hours the virus was going to hit the Earth with a sucker punch. He couldn't wait to see how humanity would react; the thought of the chaos that would undoubtedly follow excited him. Having taken off from Colorado Springs, Buer had explained that as soon as they activated the Tabut, an EMP would instantly fry every electrical circuit on the planet. It would add nicely to the chaos caused by the outbreak, and make it even harder to control.
A slight popping in his ears told Finch they were starting to descend into Caracas, Venezuela. The small, sixteen-seater jet only had a range of just over five thousand miles, consequently the trip to Cairo would be a three stage journey. Once refueled, they would cross the Atlantic to Lisbon, Portugal, and from there they would fly on to Egypt. Finch quickly changed into a pair of lightweight, beige combat style trousers and a plain white tee-shirt that he'd picked up at the airport in Colorado Springs. Suitably dressed, he made his way through to the luxurious main cabin which looked more like a strange, elongated living room than an aircraft fuselage.
“There have been no transactions on either Becker's or Fisher's accounts since the fuel purchase,” said Mitchell, as Finch sat down and clipped his lap belt on. Buer was sitting opposite the technician as he worked on a laptop. “It looks as if they're well and truly off the radar, sir, the last mobile phone location we had was five miles south west of the lodge.”
“Okay, keep an eye on it for me,” Buer replied. “If we have learned one thing over the last few hours, it's that we can't underestimate any of them. It seems Oriyanna got very lucky when she stumbled across those two. I don't think for a second that she will just leave it alone now; she knows what we are going to do. Now there is a threat to Arkkadia as well, she will be even more determined. One thing I am sure of is that we are a good few steps ahead of them, they won't have had the benefit of a jet at their beck and call. They'll be using the airlines.”
“I'll run a check of outward passengers, but with no clue as to where they'll be flying from, it might take some time,” said Mitchell, as a small pocket of turbulence shook the cabin.
“Do it, with any luck they'll close the airports down before they even get there.” Buer shifted in his seat and switched his attention to Finch. “Feeling better now, Robert?” he asked.
“A little.” Finch was in no real mood to maintain niceties with Buer, from the moment he'd helped him up off the floor he'd been acting as if nothing had happened.
“I hope you're not still brooding over what happened back at the lodge,” Buer smirked at him from across the aircraft.
“No, not at all,” he lied. “I think I just need to rest, it's been a long couple of days.” Finch watched as the jet swept through some light cloud, revealing the sparkling blue waters of the South Atlantic. The jet continued its fast descent as they sped along the Venezuelan coast.
“Once we're back in the air I'd get some rest, it's going to be a busy day. I have General Stone and a few men from Allentown en route as well, they'll be meeting us in Cairo. I'm not taking any chances in regard to our three friends. I thought it best to pull Stone from his cover now, once things start to develop with the virus, the military are going to be all hands to the pump.”
“Sir,” Mitchell interrupted, “I ran a search for their names on all outgoing flights from U.S airports in a five-hundred-mile radius of where you last saw them.”
“And?”
“Samuel Becker and Adam Fisher checked in for a flight from Albuquerque to JFK two hours ago, they also have an advanced check-in for a connecting flight to Cairo. Sir, they'll be in the air now!”
“Just the two of them?” asked Buer, looking out of the window as if he expected the two men to swoop in and destroy him like some bird of prey.
“I have a female passenger who checked in with them under the name of Annie Martin.”
“Clever girl,” Buer muttered to himself. “She's using a fake or stolen passport; I'd guess stolen, as it's not in her name and she wouldn't have had time to get one made.”
Mitchell went back to work on his laptop, quickly tapping away at the keys. “I've just checked the flights they're on, and without delays we'll be on the ground four hours ahead of them,” he concluded.
Buer smiled to himself as the jet dropped the last few feet and hit the runway with a jolt, shaking them all in their seats. �
��Well, Robert,” he began, “it looks like you just might get the chance to dish out a little payback. Hopefully, this time you won't fuck things up!”
Chapter 19
The aircraft on the map crept along at a painfully slow pace. Adam had been transfixed by it for the last half an hour or so, watching intently as they drew ever closer to the Egyptian border. Sam and Oriyanna had both been asleep for the majority of the twelve-and-a-half-hour flight, Oriyanna's head pillowed against his shoulder for the last few hours. Although it had caused a little pain to develop in his neck, he didn't want to wake her. Sleep had been a luxury Adam hadn't been lucky enough to benefit from. He'd managed the odd half an hour here and there, but had never dropped off properly, always aware of the usual background noises experienced during air travel. The constant drone of the jet engines, the low murmuring chatter of passengers and cabin crew as they went about their business. Rolling up the sleeve of his jumper for what seemed like the hundredth time, careful not to wake her, he rubbed and scratched at the blotchy rash which had sprung up on his arm. The constant urge to give it attention had done nothing but make it redder and angrier as time passed. To make matters worse, a similar patch had started to blossom on his upper thigh. Adam couldn't see it, but the nagging, itchy pain beneath his cargo trousers felt exactly the same as his arm had, when it first drew his attention a few hours after leaving New York. It felt as if something was crawling all over the affected area of skin.
Leaning forward he freed the tepid bottle of mineral water from the netted pocket of the seat in front, unscrewed the cap and took a swig. As the dull pain from his head injury finally began to subside, another headache started, almost in conjunction with the rash. It felt like the ones he always got when he was working in a warm country, if he failed to take on enough fluids. The empty bottle in Adam's hand was the third one he'd drunk on the flight, but so far, it hadn't shifted the pain at all. Trying to take his mind off the ailments, Adam slid the window blind up halfway, immediately bathing their line of seats in the strong afternoon sun. Far below the blue, jewel-like waters of the Mediterranean stretched out away from the desert. The small aircraft on the map was obviously far from on scale, if it were to be believed, half of the 747 was now over the coast of Libya whilst the first class seats and the pilot were in Egypt. It made Adam think of a riddle-like problem someone had once told him.