by Alton Gansky
It took only two minutes to load the back compartment.
“Now, back off,” Alex said. “I’ve got less than three minutes to make the call. I don’t think you want me to spend it talking to you.”
Perry doubted the thief’s words, but he couldn’t risk challenging him on it. The man’s plan was smart. Fly in, limit the amount of time available to Perry, then fly off.
One thing was certain: He was as smart as he was devious. He was getting his way without outside help and without guns. Perry could do nothing but watch as the suited man entered the craft and expertly lifted it from the ground, mindful of the helicopter’s altitude. A moment later he disappeared over the hills.
“I don’t care how good a pilot I was,” Jack said, “I’d never try that.”
“He’s showing off,” Perry said. “His kind aren’t happy without making some display. You ready?”
“Absolutely. I hope Gleason made all the necessary contacts.”
“Me too.” Perry raced to his Ford Explorer. “Call Gleason on the radio. Tell him things are in motion.” Perry started the car and slammed down the accelerator.
Jack picked up the microphone and keyed it as Perry directed the big SUV toward the dirt road then up the hill to the place he had first set foot on the site, the place his helicopter had set down a few days before.
Stopping at the landing area, he and Jack sprang from the front seat. “We should hear . . . there it is.”
More thumping of a rotor, then another helicopter appeared. This time it was the Augusta A109 that had brought Perry from Lindberg field in San Diego to the Tehachapi Mountains. Perry watched as the pilot landed on the flat ground at the top of the hill. Before the pilot could slow the engine, Perry and Jack were in the passenger compartment snapping their seat belts.
Perry slipped on the headset. “Hit it,” he ordered.
The engine whined and the craft took off fifteen seconds later with enough vertical acceleration to press Perry into his seat and make his stomach drop to his feet. “North-by-northwest. A white Robinson R44.”
“I saw it on the way in,” the pilot said.
“Did he see you?”
“I doubt it. I took a very wide approach from the Tejon community airfield. He looked like he was headed toward Bakersfield.”
“See if you can find him, but stay out of his line of sight.” Perry said.
“Gleason said this was an emergency,” the pilot said. “Is that true?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good,” the pilot replied. “I hate to think I was breaking all these rules for nothing.” He banked the helicopter. “I’m supposed to tell you that Gleason made the contact you asked for. General somebody-or-the-other.”
“Hitchcock,” Perry said. “General Hitchcock. We did some work for him at Edwards Air Force base in the Mojave Desert. He liked what we did and said I could call on him if I needed anything. He probably meant if I needed a personal reference or something. I doubt he expected this. Can I contact him?”
“On the seat next to you is a cell phone. See it? Just push ‘send’ and it will dial his number.”
“It won’t mess up your instruments if I use it now?” Perry asked.
“Not enough to bother me. Make your call.”
Perry did and heard exactly what he hoped to hear: General Hitchcock was tracking the helicopter through several military and civilian sites. “I had to call in a lot of favors,” the general said. “You can’t tell me what’s going on?”
“Not now, but I promise to give you a blow-by-blow account later.”
“You’d better. I could lose my stars over this.”
“We can always use a good man at Sachs Engineering.”
“That’s good to know . . . Hang on . . . your man is landing at the Bakersfield airport.”
“I bet he’ll be leaving from there too, and soon.”
Perry asked the pilot to slow. “We have Sachs Engineering painted all over the side. I don’t want our man to see us.”
The pilot did as instructed and slowed the craft.
“Now the cat and mouse game begins,” Perry said to Jack.
“I just hope we’re the cat.”
Chapter 23
THE SACHS ENGINEERING helicopter slid sideways in the stiff wind, but Perry’s eyes remained fixed upon the small form of the other copter half a mile in front of them.
The distance between the two helicopters grew steadily. That was fine with Perry. His pilot was doing an admirable job of staying behind and above the other one, thereby staying securely in the blind spot.
“He’s not in a big rush,” the pilot said. Since Perry and Jack were in the passenger compartment behind the pilot, he had to take his word for it. Perry could only catch glimpses of the aircraft they were pursuing.
“He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself,” Perry said. His mind was working at high speed. Despite little sleep, despite long hours of physical labor, despite the crushing weight of concern, his thinking processed like a Swiss watch. He could be weary later. Now he had to use his mind, his heart, and his faith to achieve two things: the rescue of Claire and Joseph and the recovery of the world’s most precious objects.
The fact that Alex was landing at the airport in Bakersfield failed to surprise Perry. The R44 had a limited range. He could have flown several hundred miles, but not much more. That might have been enough if his destination was in Southern California, but Perry doubted that it was. Even if it was true, he knew that Perry and Jack had seen the helicopter and could identify it later. Like an experienced bank robber, a change in getaway vehicles would be needed.
The question was, what kind of vehicle?
The thief could land at the airport, offload his stolen cargo into a van, a rental truck, or another aircraft. Since he was headed to an airport instead of some secluded landing area, Perry assumed the latter.
A part of Perry wanted to let the man go. After all, he had what he came for. Maybe he would simply release Claire and Joseph, but the logic was clearly flawed. This crook and his cronies stood to lose too much if Claire could identify the location of her captivity or the people who abducted her. He was certain they would kill his friends—if they hadn’t done so already.
The last thought made Perry’s heart quake. Claire was a simple woman who loved her special son. Neither deserved the treatment they had received. Perry had to see this through, even though he had little idea of what he would do next.
“Airplane?” Jack asked. “It’s what I’d do.”
“I think so,” Perry said, “but what kind? Not that it matters. We’re going to have trouble keeping up with a fixed-wing craft.”
“The guy has money,” Jack said. “The suit he wears comes at a price. He may have a private jet waiting for him. If he does, we’ll be left in his exhaust.”
“General Hitchcock can track him, but not on the ground. Once he touches down, we lose him. We’re going to have to change horses.”
“To what?” Jack asked. “The company jet is back in Seattle. I suppose we could charter one, but that may take time.”
Perry frowned. Jack was right on both counts. Perry hit “send” on the cell phone, and Hitchcock picked up immediately. “General, I have another favor to ask.”
“Why do I feel nervous?” the general asked.
“I’m going to owe you big time, General.”
“You’ve got that right. When this is all said and done, I want all the details. Got it?”
“That’s fair.”
“What else do you need?”
Perry told him, listened, then rang off. He pulled the headset’s microphone to his lips and spoke to the pilot. “We think he’s going to switch aircraft. Once we’re sure of that, I want you to pull off and head east.”
“To where?”
“Edwards Air Force Base.”
“I can’t fly there, Mr. Sachs. That’s restricted airspace. They take that seriously.”
“I’ve made arra
ngements.”
“They better be good ones,” the pilot said.
EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE was a sprawling affair laid out on the flat, near featureless land of the Mojave Desert—home to not only the Air Force but also Dryden Flight Research Center, an arm of NASA. While certain areas were open to the public and school children were often led on tours, much of what went on in the beige buildings was secret. It was here that test pilots risked their lives to fly the newest aircraft. It had also been home to many historical aircraft including the X-1, X-15, and others. And it was the alternate landing site for the space shuttle. Private aircraft were not welcome unless invited. Fortunately, General Hitchcock had opened the door.
He had done something else. Throwing the weight of his stars around, he’d been able to get the municipal airport in Bakersfield to cough up much-needed information that meant that Perry’s copter was relieved of following the thief’s all the way to landing—something that would be hard to miss. Once the thief was on the ground, it would be impossible to follow his actions without being observed themselves.
Perry’s pilot set the A109 down gently on a concrete helicopter pad. Perry and Jack were out the door one second later. Hitchcock was there to greet them.
“You boys been playing in the dirt?” the general asked, tracing their soiled work clothes with his eyes. He was a stout man with gray temples whose brusque manner made him seem taller than this five-foot-eight-inch frame.
“We had a little time on our hands,” Perry said, shaking the general’s hand. “This is our lead project manager, Jack Dyson.” The men exchanged nods.
“This way,” Hitchcock said. “Your chariot awaits. We can talk as we walk. According to the tower people at Bakersfield airport, there was only one business jet on the ground, a Citation X. They were able to give me the registration number. I called back fifteen minutes later and was informed that the craft had departed two minutes before.”
“The timing fits,” Jack said. “The cargo was small and fairly light, even crated. A strong man could move it himself, if need be. Throw in a hand-truck, and it would be a piece of cake.”
“Well, we know he’s a strong man,” Perry said, remembering the beating he and Jack had taken at the hands of the man they were now tracking. “You said you have the registration number?”
“I did,” Hitchcock replied. “I even called a couple of folks I know in the FAA. The jet belongs to a pharmaceutical firm: RS BioDynamics. Get this:They’re headquartered in your stomping grounds.”
“Seattle?”
“That’s right. How’s that for irony?” The general led the men from the helicopter to an aircraft parked on the tarmac. “Here’s your ride. My fanny is on the line for this, so I want it back in better shape than it leaves in.”
Before Perry stood a sleek white Lear Jet. Blue letters on the tail fin read NASA. “The space boys made this available?”
“We exchange favors now and again,” Hitchcock replied. “There was a fee. I asked. They said yes. You will be billed for the air time and the fuel.”
“What, no stewardesses?” Jack said.
Hitchcock gave an icy stare. “Two pilots have been provided. They know that we’re tracking another aircraft and will take directions from the ground. I’ll stay on the project until your man touches down. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Thank you, General,” Perry said. “If this weren’t life and death, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Glad to help. Just keep it to yourself and give your father my best.”
“I will.”
Once inside, Perry took his seat, snapped on his seat belt, and activated his cell phone.
“Who you calling now?” Jack asked as he settled in.
“Karen Brant.”
“Your administrative assistant? The office is closed, you know.”
“That’s why I’m calling her at home.” Karen Brant had been Perry’s assistant for twelve years, and her organizational skills and freethinking intellect made her invaluable.
“I’ve been trying to get her to move to my office. I know it’s unethical to steal employees from the boss, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“You stay away from Karen. She makes me look good.”
Perry waited for an answer. When one came, he asked for several things in quick succession. “Can you do that?” he asked. A moment later he said, “You’re the best,” and rang off.
Five minutes after, the Lear Jet lifted off.
HITCHCOCK’S PEOPLE TRACKED the RS BioDynamics craft all the way to the SEATAC airport in Seattle. The Lear Jet touched down thirty minutes later. After thanking the pilots, Perry and Jack stepped from the craft and walked quickly to the terminal.
A gray-haired woman with bright blue eyes and a wide smile met them. She held a long roll of papers in her hand. Karen Brant gave them a once-over and then said, “You guys give up bathing?”
“It’s overrated,” Jack said. “Besides, they have a water shortage in Southern California.”
“They can have some of ours,” she replied. “It’s been raining for the last three days.”
Perry motioned to the roll of papers. “You got them.”
“Of course I got them,” she said. “I also talked a SEATAC customer aide into letting us borrow a meeting room. This way.” She strode off without another word. Perry and Jack followed.
The room was an empty office off one of the wide corridors that ran like arteries through the terminal. A metal desk was situated in the middle and Karen unrolled the papers on it. Perry found himself looking at a set of blueprints.
“Here they are, the blueprints to the RS BioDynamics building. Since the building department was closed,” Karen said, “I got hold of Tim in Information Systems and told him what you needed. He was able to access our firm’s computers from home. He’s a smart one, that Tim. Anyway, since he keeps track of all major construction jobs around the world, he was able to learn who the architects and engineers were. The electrical engineer for the project was Ron Mion. We lucked out on that.”
“We’ve subcontracted some work to him,” Perry said. “So he had a set of plans from his work on the building?”
“Right. I tracked him down, found him at home, and he agreed to meet me at his office. Then voila! You have the plans you requested.”
Perry and Jack both nodded appreciatively.
“As far as the other info you requested,” Karen continued, “I can tell you this: The ‘RS’ in RS BioDynamics stands for Rutherford Straight, the company’s founder. He’s a wunderkind in the field and has made tons of money with innovative pharmaceuticals. He leads the world in selective cloning—that is, where they clone only parts of animals or people. Working from stem cells, they can force a growth process that creates heart cells, muscle cells, skin, and so on.
“I couldn’t get as detailed as I’d like—just not enough time—but I learned that his company has more patents on biological material than any other. He’s been the cover boy for Fortune, Time, Newsweek, Forbes, Money, and at least a dozen other high-end periodicals. They love showing him in his wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair?” Perry asked.
“He has ALS. Apparently he has this gigantic intellect trapped in an ever-weakening body. Like that physicist guy.”
“Stephen Hawking?” Jack said.
“That’s the guy. He’s like him. It’s kinda sad.” Karen drew herself up and looked Perry in the eye. “Now, may I ask what all this is about?”
“Sorry,” Perry said. “For the moment I need to leave you in the dark. I’ll fill you in later.”
“Sure, cast me off like a dirty shirt,” she quipped. “Anything else you boys need?”
“A car,” Perry said. “Could you head over to the rental counter and arrange a car for us? Jack and I’ll stay here and go over the plans.”
“No need,” she said. “Here are my keys. I also put the tool boxes you requested in the trunk.”
“How wil
l you get home?”
“Taxi, of course. I plan on billing the company for it. What would you do without me?” she asked.
“The same things; I just wouldn’t do them nearly as well,” Perry said.
“Coercion through compliments,” Karen said. “It’s devious behavior, but it works. I’ll be back soon.”
“Pharmaceuticals is a competitive and secretive business,” Jack said after Karen left the small office. “I’m betting they have the best security possible.”
“That makes things more difficult,” Perry said.
“Difficult? How about impossible?”
“I don’t believe in the impossible, Jack. Think about what we pulled out of the ground over the last two days: Roman soldiers in California, a woman’s remains with the name Mary Magdalene etched in her coffin, and artifacts from the tomb of Christ. None of that is possible, but you’ve seen and touched it.”
“Point well taken,” Jack said. “So how do we get Claire and Joseph out—and recover the artifacts?”
Perry studied the plans: blue lines on white paper laid out in a complex fashion. It was a substantial building of nineteen floors. The top held offices and conference rooms, the next four floors held laboratories of some kind, and below that were more offices and open space. Most likely, Straight leased the lower floors to pay for the building. It was a common practice. By leasing lower floors to other businesses, the building would pay for itself. Perry studied the first floor and saw what he was looking for.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the lobby on the first floor. “The ground floor was designed to accommodate a restaurant. You can see the kitchen area. Ron calculated higher loads for the equipment. It also shows several other exits. Building codes would require that. Of course,” he added, “it’s a business office. The lobby should be open for employees on the swing shift.”
“Okay, so we can get into the building through the restaurant or lobby, then what?”