Stone Barrington: The Short Forever Part 43

Forty-five minutes later, Lance spoke again. "Descend to five hundred feet." He spoke into the microphone. "It's me; you there?"

"I'm here," Ali's voice said.

"Wind?"

"One eight zero, light. I'm already parked."

"Switch on your headlights, and put them on bright; turn them on and off, once a second." Lance scanned the horizon.

"Five hundred feet," the pilot reported.

"We're five miles out," Lance said. "Look for headlights, flas.h.i.+ng on and off, and land into them, on a heading of one eight zero."

The pilot leaned forward and searched the ground ahead of him.

"Four miles," Lance called out.

"I don't see anything."

"They're there. Three miles."

"Nothing."

"Dead ahead, see them?"

"Got them!"

"A mile and a half; get lined up; can you see the tree line?"

"Yes, the moonlight is good."

"Just miss the trees and aim for the car. You should have a soft touchdown."

The pilot punched off the autopilot, swung right, then back left, lining up on the headlights. He put in full flaps and reduced power.

"Minimum speed, and for G.o.d's sake, don't hit the trees," Lance said.

The pilot switched on both the landing and taxi lights, faintly illuminating the gra.s.s beyond the trees. He floated over the treeline, chopped the throttle, and put the airplane firmly down on the field, standing on the brakes. He swung around in front of the car and stopped.

"Keep the engine running," Lance said, reaching behind him for the catalogue case. He got out, opened the door to the luggage compartment, and started handing bags to Ali. "Tell Sheila to turn off the headlights," he said.

Ali went to the car, and a moment later, the lights went off.

Lance leaned into the airplane. "Wind's light," he said to the pilot; "you should be able to take off due north. Keep it low all the way."

The pilot nodded. "Good luck," he said.

"Enjoy the bike," Lance replied. "The registration's in the saddlebags." He closed the door and watched as the pilot ran the engine up to full power, then released the brakes. Lance winced, thinking he might not make the trees, but then the little airplane was off the ground and climbing steeply. He ran back to the car and got into the pa.s.senger seat, while Ali got into the rear.

Sheila put the car in gear and drove slowly off the field. When she was into the trees, she switched on the headlights and found the track through the woods.

"How long until we hit the autoroute?" Lance asked.

"Less than half an hour. Driving at a steady eighty we should be at the Swiss border before dawn."

"Got the pa.s.sports?" he asked Ali.

Ali handed the three forward, and Lance inspected them. "Good," he said.

Ali handed him a small leather case. "Here's your makeup and beard," he said.

He had tried out the makeup and beard when they had taken the pa.s.sport photographs. He'd apply it after they were on the smooth autoroute. Then he would be Herr Schmidt.

"Meine damen und herren," he said, "mach schnell!"

Sheila joined the paved road, put her foot down, and the car roared off into the European night.

57.

MORGAN PARKED HIS CAR IN THE short-term lot at Heathrow, fastened his luggage to a folding hand trolley, and walked into terminal four. He found a men's room, let himself into the handicapped toilet stall, then took off his hat, got out of the raincoat, and began unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. He opened his small suitcase, took out a loud Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt and put it on, followed by a tweed cap and sungla.s.ses with heavy black rims. He wadded up his s.h.i.+rt and wrapped it in the raincoat, then stuffed the bundle behind the toilet. He left the stall, dug into his bag, and found a small bottle of pills marked VALIUM 5MG. He took one, then looked at himself in the mirror. "Keep calm," he said. He grabbed his luggage cart, left the men's room, and walked to the ticket counters.

From the departure board, he chose a flight, and, a minute later, he was standing in a ticket line. Then it occurred to him that he was going to have to go through security, and that the money in his valise might be discovered. As he stepped up to the counter, he made a snap decision. "Check everything," he said to the ticket agent.

"Of course, sir," she replied. "You're going to have to hurry; your flight leaves in twenty-five minutes, and it's already boarding."

"I'll hurry," Morgan replied, accepting his ticket and boarding pa.s.s.

Dino screeched to a halt in front of terminal four. Before Stone could open his door, a man clutching a handheld radio opened it for him.

"My name's Bartlett," he said. "Heathrow security."

Stone introduced himself and Dino, then showed him the photograph of Morgan.

"I've already circulated it," Bartlett said.

"He's shaved the mustache, and he's wearing a raincoat and a trilby hat," he said. "And he'll be carrying a canvas valise, I'm sure of that. He's calling himself Sir William Mallory, and he has a British pa.s.sport in that name."

Bartlett used his radio, pa.s.sing on the new description. "Let's go," he said to Stone.

"How many people have you got working right now?" Stone asked, hurrying to keep up.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, but I've pulled every available man and woman off nearly everything else. We're concentrating on the security checkpoint, since every pa.s.senger has to pa.s.s through it."

"Let's start there," Stone said.

With Bartlett leading the way, they made off across the busy terminal.

Morgan reached the security checkpoint, and immediately he was approached by two men in suits, one of whom flashed an ID card.

"Please step over here, sir," one of them said, taking his arm and moving him out of the line.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked, as innocently as he could.

"May I see your pa.s.sport and ticket, please?"

Morgan produced both.

"You are . . ." The officer looked at the pa.s.sport. "Mr. Barry Trevor?"

"That's right," Morgan said. "What's this about?"

"Just a routine security check, sir. And is this your current address?" The officer held up the pa.s.sport.

"Yes, it is, and I've got a plane to catch."

"We won't be a moment, sir. Would you remove your sungla.s.ses, please?"

Morgan took them off and gave the officers a big smile. He knew his security photograph at Eastover made him look dour.

The officers compared him to a photograph one of them produced. They looked at each other; one shook his head. The officer handed back Mr. Barry Trevor's pa.s.sport and ticket. "Thank you, sir; sorry for the inconvenience. Here, let me get you through security." He led Morgan to one side of the checkpoint and signaled to the officer on station, who ran a detector wand over Morgan's clothes, then waved him through.

Morgan headed for the gate. With a little luck, his timing would be perfect.

Stone arrived at the security checkpoint, and Bartlett called two men over.

"Any sightings?" he asked.

"No; we've checked three men, but all seemed okay."

"Any of them carrying a canvas valise?"

"No; one of them had a briefcase, but there were only business doc.u.ments inside."

"Any of them wearing a raincoat and a trilby hat?"

"No, sir."

Bartlett turned to Stone. "Anything else you want to try?"

Stone nodded. "I hear Spain is a favored destination for fugitives."

"That's right; we've no extradition treaty with them."

"Let's go to the gates that have flights departing for anywhere in Spain."

Bartlett looked up at a row of monitors next to the security checkpoint. "Three, no, five flights departing in the next two hours, from three gates." He led the way through the checkpoint, then flagged down an oversized golf cart driven by an airport employee. Bartlett, Stone, and Dino boarded the vehicle, and, on Bartlett's instructions, it began to move down the long corridor.

Morgan walked along the people mover, dodging other travelers who were happy to stand still and ride. He tried to move quickly, without looking as though he was hurrying. He checked his watch; seven minutes to go.

Bartlett was on the radio, summoning officers to the three gates with departing flights to Spain. "I want two men at each gate, scrutinizing every male pa.s.senger even remotely resembling the photograph." He turned to Stone. "If he's bound for Spain, we'll get him at the gate." His radio squawked, and he held it to his ear. "Say again?" He turned back to Stone. "One of my men has found a raincoat, a s.h.i.+rt, and a trilby hat, discarded in a men's room. A British pa.s.sport bearing the name Sir William Mallory was in the raincoat pocket."

"Costume change," Stone said. "This guy is starting to do everything right."

The cart pulled up to a gate, and Stone got out, followed by Dino and Bartlett. The first person he saw was Stan Hedger.

Hedger walked up to him. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?" he demanded.

"It's a public airport; none of your business."

"Have you seen Lance Cabot?"

"Is that why you're here? You're looking for Cabot?"

"That's right."

"So is half the country, from what I hear."

"I thought you had gone back to the States, Stone. Why are you involved in this?"

"It's personal," Stone said. "See you around, Stan."

"Come on," Dino said, "we're wasting time."

Morgan reached his gate two minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off. He went to the counter for a seat a.s.signment.

"You'll have to hurry, Mr. Trevor," the young woman said. "We're about to b.u.t.ton up the airplane."

"I'll hurry," Morgan said, and made for the boarding ramp. There was no line, and a moment later he was strapping himself into a first-cla.s.s seat.

Stone, Dino, and Bartlett made their way quickly from gate to gate, coming up empty-handed at each one.

"That's it," Bartlett said. "We know he's in the airport, but we don't-"

"What are other likely destinations for fugitives?" Stone asked.

Bartlett shrugged. "Could be anywhere. There are more than a hundred international flights taking off in the next two hours; I don't have the manpower to cover them all, and I'm not about to shut down this airport, unless I get a personal call from the Home Secretary."

"s.h.i.+t," Stone said.

"My sentiments exactly," Bartlett replied. "But let's keep looking."

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the flight attendant said. "We are now pus.h.i.+ng back from the gate, and in a few minutes we'll be taking off for our flight to Honolulu. While we're taxiing, we direct your attention to the video, which will explain the emergency procedures for this aircraft."