Mike recited a number. “Call that when you’re an hour out. You’ll be met, and there’ll be fuel, a weather forecast, and a flight plan filed for tomorrow morning. I’m assuming you’ll be stopping in Newfoundland.”

“Yes, St. John’s.”

“Shall I call Joan and have your man meet you at Teterboro?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ve just gotten a forecast. The Atlantic weather is gorgeous, you’ll have severe clear all the way. Don’t tarry in New York for long.”

“Thanks, Mommy.” Stone hung up.

Gala came out of the bathroom. “Anything new?”

“Yes, on advice of counsel, we’re leaving for the States. You’ve got an hour to pack.”

“Are things that bad here?”

“It’s the best advice I can get.”

“Where in the States?”

“We’ll stop in New York for a day or so, then continue to Santa Fe and hunker down there, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s perfect for me. All this English greenery is getting on my nerves.”

Bob came trotting in. “I think Bob will like it, too.”

40

They took off from the Windward strip and made Santa Maria, Azores, in four hours. Stone spotted a man wearing an orange slicker and holding up two lighted plastic sticks and aimed for him. He shut down the engines and switched off power, while Gala got the cabin door open. Bob bounded down the stairs as if the lineman was an old friend to be greeted.

Another man in a leather jacket and a fedora stepped up. “Mr. Barrington? My name’s Fernando. I’m a friend of Mike Freeman. Let’s grab your bags and get moving.”

They did so and got into an elderly Land Rover. “There’ll be a man guarding your airplane all night, and you’ll be ready to taxi at seven AM.”

“Are you expecting any opposition?” Stone asked.

“Let’s just say we’ll be ready for it.”

He drove them inland to a stone cottage on a hill. It was well-furnished and comfortable. “My wife is in the kitchen preparing dinner,” Fernando said.

They dined on local fish and fresh vegetables, with a bottle of Pico Branca served as well. By nine o’clock they were asleep.

—

They were wakened at five-thirty and told that breakfast would be ready in half an hour. After a quick shower, they sat down to omelets, orange juice, and strong coffee. At the airport, Stone signed for the fuel, looked over the forecast, and checked his fuel. Half an hour later they rotated and lifted off, headed northwest. Two hours later, Stone was startled by the ringing of his satphone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Mike. Everything okay?”

“So far.”

“I don’t like the look of things at St. John’s,” he said. “We’re diverting you to Gander.” Gander was an old military base on the north of the island, half an hour from St. John’s.