Sacred Stone (Oregon Files 2)

“That’s right about the current location of the meteorite according to the tracking data,” Stone said.

“He’s planning to sprinkle it onto clothes and send them to the Middle East?” Hanley asked.

“I don’t think so, sir,” Halpert said slowly. “The mill has a large order from Saudi Arabia for a shipment of woven prayer mats that has yet to be delivered.”

“So he’s planning to sprinkle the dust on the prayer rugs and infect the Muslims while they pray,” Hanley said. “Diabolically evil.”

“He arrived in London on his jet early this morning,” Halpert said. “I think—”

Right then Hanley’s telephone rang and he motioned to Halpert to wait while he answered. It was Overholt and he got right to the point.

“We have a problem,” Overholt began.

“NO,” THE HEAD of security for Dreamworld said, “I’m calling from my home phone. I don’t think it’s tapped.”

Continuing, he explained about the warrant and the items the detectives had removed.

Hickman listened.

“Where are you now, sir?” the head of security asked. “They would really like to speak to you.”

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Hickman said.

“Is there anything you want us to do?”

“Right now,” Hickman said, “there’s nothing anyone can do but me.”

Disconnecting, Hickman sat back in the chair in the office at Maidenhead Mills.

Someone in the government was hard on his trail. It would not be long until they traced him to his current location. Reaching for the telephone, he dialed.

THE CREWMEN FROM the Free Enterprise that had remained in Calais when the vessel sailed north had arrived in London this morning. There were four men, a skeleton crew really, but they were all Hickman had left. He telephoned them with their orders.

“You will need to steal a trio of trucks,” Hickman said. “Nothing will be available to rent because of the holiday.”

“What type?” their leader asked.

“The cargo are standard forty-foot shipping containers that slide aboard flatbed trailers,” Hickman said. “I called my man at Global Air Cargo and he recommended a few different types of trucks.”

Hickman read off the list to the man.

“Once we have them, where do we go?”

“Look at your map,” Hickman ordered. “There is a town named Maidenhead just north of Windsor.”

“I see it,” the man said.

“Once you’re in Maidenhead, drive to this address,” Hickman said, reading off the mill’s address and general directions.

“How soon do you need us?” the man asked.

“ASAP,” Hickman said. “I have a Global Air Cargo 747 jet waiting at Heathrow for the cargo.”

“How’d you arrange that on New Year’s Eve?” the man blurted.

“I own the company.”

“Give us at least an hour,” the man said.