started walking through the drifts toward the front door. He paused on

the stoop before knocking.

10

HICKMAN STARED AT the records from the Saudi Arabian Office of

Procurement that his hackers had lifted from a database. The records

had been translated from Arabic into English but the translation was far

from perfect. Scanning the lists, he made notes alongside the columns.

One entry stood out. It was for woven wool kneeling pads and the supplier

was located in Maidenhead, England. Reaching for his intercom,

he buzzed his secretary.

"There's a Mr. Whalid that works for me at the Nevada hotel. I think

he's an assistant food and beverage director."

"Yes, sir," the secretary said.

"Have him call me at once," Hickman said. "I have a question for

him."

A few minutes later his telephone rang.

"This is Abdul Whalid," the voice said. "I was told to call you."

"Yes," Hickman said. "Call this company in England for me"-he

rattled off the telephone number-"pretend you're a Saudi Arabian official

or something. They have a multimillion-dollar order for woven

56 CLIVE CUSSLER

wool kneeling pads, and I want to know what exactly that means, woven

wool kneeling pads."

"Can I ask you why, sir?"

"I own mills," Hickman lied. "I'd like to know what these items

are, because if we can make them, I'd like to know why my guys didn't

bid on the job."

That made sense to Whalid. "Very good, sir. I'll call them and call

you right back."

"Excellent." Hickman returned to staring at the picture of the meteorite.

Ten minutes later, Whalid phoned again.

"Sir," Whalid said, "they are prayer rugs. The order is so large because

the country is replacing the entire inventory used at Mecca. Apparently

they do this every ten years or thereabouts."

"Hmm, so we missed an opportunity that won't be around again for

a while. That's not good."

"I'm sorry, sir," Whalid said. "I don't know if you are aware that I ran

a mill in my own country before the overthrow. I'd be very interested-"

Hickman cut him off rudely. His mind was racing. "Send me a resume,

Whalid," he said, "and I'll see it goes to the proper person."

"I understand, sir," Whalid said meekly.

Hickman hung up the telephone without as much as a goodbye.

PIETER VANDERWALD ANSWERED his cellular telephone as he was

driving down the road just outside of Palm Springs, California.

"It's me," the voice said.

"This is not a secure line," Vanderwald said, "so speak in generalities

and let's keep the call to less than three minutes."

"The substance we spoke about," the man said, "can it be applied in

an aerosol form?"

"That's one way it could be used. It would then transfer by air or get

distributed along a human chain by touch or coughing."

"Would the substance then transfer from person to person if it was

on their clothing?"

SACRED STONE 57

Vanderwald stared at the digital clock on the radio of his rental car.