The Aleppo Code (The Jerusalem Prophecies) (35 page)

Tom peeled his fingers off the dashboard handle he held in a stranglehold and looked left at the driver. “Handles like a sports car, eh?”

Sam Reynolds looked in the right side mirror, then swiveled in his seat to look out the back window. “I don’t see them behind us.”

“No problem,” said the driver, his heavy accent rolling his consonants. “Lots of traffic. And Oskar is slow driver. Don’t worry. He’s slow, but here he’ll get.”

The first van had just pulled up in front of the international terminal when the radio crackled.

“Tobias?”

“What do you want? I need these passengers to unload.”

“Is my tank is empty. There is no petrol out of airport. I stop now and fill.”

Tobias shook his head and looked at the man on his right. “Needs petrol.” He pulled the radio mike off the dashboard hook and pulled it close to his face. “You be better get them here on time or Abner will have your head with schnitzel. Lose this job you can’t afford.”

“Is okay, Tobias. I be there. Don’t be to worry.”

Tobias switched to Yiddish.
“It is working.”
Then switched back to English. “Not to foul this up, okay?”

Tobias hooked the microphone back on the dashboard. “My cousin is good man,” he said, looking at Reynolds. “But sometimes”—he shook his fist—“is not so smart.”

Oskar Tell navigated the ramshackle van past the entrance to the International Departures terminal and continued along the loop that circled the Ben Gurion Airport complex. At the end of the main terminal building, a service road ran alongside a large, gray metal warehouse. Reaching the end of the service road, the van turned right and pulled alongside the commercial aviation terminal … the place where high rollers parked their private and executive jets. Waiting in the crowded parking lot on the side of the commercial terminal was a white panel truck, Excelsior Aircraft Catering lettered on its sides.

Tell steered his vehicle perpendicular, stopping as his van came abreast of the truck, obscuring it from the view of anyone in the commercial terminal. “Quickly … out.” Tom jumped out of the front seat, sliding open the side door, as a tall, thin man came around the white truck and pulled open its rear doors. With the precision of circus acrobats, Joe, Rizzo, Tom, and Annie grabbed their gear from the van and jumped into the back of the catering truck. The doors slammed shut just as Tom remembered he failed to thank their driver.

Reynolds paced back and forth in the exit lounge, looking at his watch with every passing loop. “Never should have let that driver out of my sight without getting his phone number, or his cousin’s.” He held an iPhone to his right ear, waiting for a response from the van rental company. Reynolds stopped. “What do you mean you can’t give me his phone number? I don’t care if it is company policy. You’re the company. Change the policy. This is an emergency. I—”

Deirdre felt badly for Reynolds. He was a nice guy. He was a huge help to Joe and Tom. Almost lost his job. Now he was going to get in trouble again. Too bad. She leaned over and caught Reynolds’s elbow as he passed by on another circuit of the seating area around Gate 21A in the international terminal. He almost lost his balance turning to look in her direction, a question crossing his fretful face.

“They called the flight,” said Deirdre. “Boarding has started.”

Tall, self-assured, calm in crisis, the State Department veteran looked at Deirdre as if she had popcorn blowing out her ears.

“What are we going to do?” asked Deirdre, pointing in the direction of the gate. “Where are they? Could something have happened to them just coming to the airport? In a few minutes, we’ve got to go. Or miss the flight. What do we do?”

Reynolds stood there, iPhone in one hand, watch raised on the other, shaking his head back and forth. “You’ve got to go. I’ve got to find out where they are.” He lifted the mobile phone to his ear once more when Deirdre reached out and held his arm in place.

“You’re not coming with me?” she asked, her eyes opening wide. “Brandon’s on a flight to Ireland. I’m going to be on my own, have no protection, all the way back to New York?”

Reynolds gave Deirdre a look that swung between fury and frustration. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself on an airplane,” he said, “just like you’ve been taking care of me for the last hour, right?”

Reynolds bent over and jerked Deirdre’s carry-on up to his shoulder. “Look, my job is to get you on that plane. So you’re getting on, and then I’m going to find the rest of them and get them on the next plane to New York. And I’m not going anywhere until I get my job completed. So you’re getting on the plane.” Reynolds spun on his heel and marched toward the boarding gate.

A smile on her face, Deirdre followed in Reynolds’s wake as his mutterings drifted back to her. “You’ll be perfectly safe, and all of you will be home soon. Or I’m going to get assigned to a one-man office in Tajikistan.”

It was cold and dark in the back of the refrigerated catering truck and the four of them were perched on the edge of some low shelves that offered minimal comfort. Joe was about to ask a question when the unseen driver slid open a vent and answered it for him.

“We’re crossing the runways, and we’ll be there in thirty seconds. Get your gear ready. I’ll back up to the jet and open the rear doors so we’re close to the fuselage. I’ll come around and grab a case of food and carry it to the open galley door. Don’t do anything until I can look around and make sure it’s safe. Then move quickly and hoist yourselves into the galley.”

The leather seats were soft enough to sleep in, the sound-proofing perfect so the whine of the engines stayed outside. Tom was thinking about a nap when the door to the cockpit opened and Alex Krupp walked down the aisle, his wild red hair a counterpoint to the impeccable gray, pinstriped suit that hung perfectly from his tall frame.

Krupp was a billionaire industrialist, CEO, and heir to the vast Bavarian conglomerate. But he was also Tom Bohannon’s fraternity brother and roommate at Penn State where they formed a lasting bond. And it was Krupp who helped rescue them from under Temple Mount months ago and whose estate in Bavaria was their refuge when they broadcast to the world the existence of the Third Temple of God, hidden for a thousand years.

A broad smile on his face, Krupp stopped in the aisle separating Tom’s and Annie’s seats.

“Yo, Mr. Krupp.” Rizzo hopped off his seat and walked up to Krupp with his hand outstretched. “Thanks for rescuing our sorry butts again but, hey, where’s the beer and the
Fräuleins
?”

Krupp sat on the armrest of a seat and grasped Sammy’s hand in both of his. “Good to see you, too.”

“Alex, what are you doing here?” said Tom.

“What, you think I’m going to let you have all the fun?”