Sacred Stone (Oregon Files 2)

“They grabbed our guy,” Hanley said, “and we have had no communication with either party since.”

“Do you have an idea where they’ve taken him?”

“We’re working on it.”

“You get our man back,” Cabrillo said.

“Will do.”

“I’m almost at the site,” Cabrillo said. “I’ll wrap this up and get out of here. Meanwhile, you locate me some faster mode of transportation home.”

“Yes, sir,” Hanley said.

Cabrillo disconnected and tossed the telephone on the passenger seat.

AT THE SAME time Cabrillo started up Mount Forel, an attendant at Reykjavik International Airport was sweeping snow from the bottom of a ramp leading up to a privately owned 737. Auxiliary power units were supplying the plane with heat and electricity from both sides. The inside of the jet was lit up like a billboard and it spilled out of the windows into the dim light outside.

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.”