Fifteen minutes later Sutter shut down the engines on the assigned stand and peered out of the cockpit windows towards the approach road. Then he reached for his mobile phone and made a ten-second call.
Petrucci was driving, simply because he spoke the best Arabic. He stopped the Mercedes at the gate leading to the airfield’s technical site while the guards checked his identification and that of the other three men, who were now all wearing white overalls.
They weren’t held up for long. The control tower already knew the Gulfstream had experienced a problem, and Sutter had told them he’d contacted a local maintenance facility on a company frequency, so the van’s appearance at the airfield was expected.
The guard emerged from the building beside the tech site gate and handed back their ‘Cairo Specialist Aviation Services’ identification cards, printed two months earlier in the States. After giving them directions to the hardstanding where the G450 was parked, he recited a very brief list of tech-site driving rules, and finally raised the barrier.
‘There it is,’ O’Hagan said, pointing through the windscreen. Petrucci turned onto the hardstanding and parked.
‘You didn’t get rid of the bodies,’ O’Hagan said, staring at four dead CIA officers, as Sutter emerged from the cockpit to greet them.
‘We couldn’t. We’d planned to dump them in the Med, but this aircraft has integral stairs on the door, so though we could have got it open, we would never have been able to close it again after dropping the stiffs. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. We can get them into the van and bury them somewhere in the desert, right?’
‘As long as we don’t get stopped on our way out it should be OK,’ Petrucci agreed. ‘How many?’
‘These four and another two — the original crew — locked in the john.’
‘Six? Oh, Christ. We’d better make two trips. Maybe three, for safety. We’ll go out once empty and I’ll tell the gate guards we’ve got to go and pick up equipment or something — and if they don’t check the back of the van we’ll do two more trips immediately.’
Transferring the bags and suitcases from the van to the Gulfstream took under three minutes; moving the bodies, however, was clearly going to be more difficult and take longer. Petrucci climbed into the Mercedes and started the engine, O’Hagan joining him. Sutter watched from the door of the Gulfstream as the vehicle drove away.
Wilson and Dawson stripped the bodies of their weapons and holsters, and all identification documents, then removed their watches and rings, because they could be engraved, and even cut the labels from their clothing. They would need the pistols and CIA identification themselves, but it was just as important to ensure that there would be no easy way to identify the bodies once they’d been dumped. They wouldn’t have time to bury them deeply, so the corpses might be discovered within weeks or even days. That didn’t bother them, but it was essential that the bodies were not identified for at least four days.
And then there was nothing they could do but wait for O’Hagan and Petrucci to come back with the Mercedes.
Chapter Thirteen
As the van reappeared beside the Gulfstream ten minutes later, Petrucci opened the doors while O’Hagan climbed the aircraft steps to where the others were waiting.
‘Everything go OK?’ Wilson asked.
‘No problems,’ O’Hagan replied. ‘They’re much more interested in what comes into the tech site than what goes out, so I think we can risk shifting all the stiffs at once. And if they decide to search the van once we get to the gate, it’s only a drop-down barrier so I think we can drive straight through it and then just dump the vehicle somewhere with the bodies inside. That has to be a last resort, of course.’
‘Yeah, but if you do crash the barrier, what then? You have to get yourself back here.’
‘This place isn’t like a major US airport, and security’s pretty lax. I reckon we could sneak over a fence somewhere. We’ll be wearing overalls so we’ll look like we belong.’
It was early morning, with little activity on the hard-standing, but still they took no chances. Petrucci brought up the four tarpaulins from the van and they wrapped them round the corpses. Sutter and O’Hagan left the aircraft and waited by the Mercedes, but almost immediately heard Petrucci call out a warning: ‘Vehicle approaching.’
They watched as a small van drew up beside the Gulfstream, the lettering on the side proclaiming that it came from a ground handling company. Two smartly dressed Arabs stepped out and approached them.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ the first one said, in perfectly fluent English. ‘I see the specialist assistance you requested has arrived. Do you require any services from airfield technical support?’
‘No thanks,’ Sutter replied. ‘We think the problem was instrumentation, but the technicians here need to carry out a few more checks to be certain. If that’s all it is, then we’ll be leaving here later today.’
‘Excellent,’ the Arab said, ‘but just contact us if you do need any further assistance. Do you require any food or drink?’
‘Yes, that would be very welcome.’
‘One of our catering vans will come over. Is there anything else?’
‘Just one thing,’ Sutter said. ‘You have our flight plan details, I believe. Could you please send a message to Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, information Dubai International, advising them that we’ve landed here and that our arrival in Dubai will be delayed by up to ten hours. You’ll be advising both airfields once we get airborne?’
The Arab nodded. ‘Of course. That just leaves your landing fees.’ He pulled a sheet of folded paper from his inside pocket.
‘You’re happy with American dollars?’ Sutter asked, glancing at the sum due before opening his wallet and pulling out a wad of notes.
‘Yes, naturally.’
Sutter returned the invoice and the cash to cover it. The Arab signed it with a flourish at the bottom, tore off the top sheet and handed it back, then they walked to their vehicle and drove away.
‘That wasn’t too bright an idea, was it?’ O’Hagan said. ‘Getting a catering van sent over here, I mean?’
Sutter nodded. ‘Yes, it was, because it’s what he would have expected. With this flight delayed for several hours, and then it’s another three hours to Dubai, we’re going to need food and drink before we get airborne. If we hadn’t accepted his offer, it might have seemed odd, and the last thing we want to do is start them thinking.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ O’Hagan muttered, watching the van drive off the hardstanding. ‘Right, all clear,’ he turned and shouted. ‘Get those stiffs down here. Move it.’
Climbing out of the taxi, Paul Richter wondered how long he’d be spending in Dubai this time. He checked in again, took the elevator back down to the lobby and walked outside. There he pulled out his Enigma and punched in one of the secure numbers at Hammersmith.
‘Where are you this time?’ Simpson demanded.
‘Back in Dubai,’ Richter said. ‘I’ve just got off the flight from Bahrain. You heard about the bomb in Manama?’
‘Yes. The Six duty officer briefed me last night. What’s your take on it?’
Richter described what little evidence they’d found, and added Mazen’s deductions.
‘Terrorists terrorizing terrorists? I like it,’ Simpson said. ‘Have you seen Holden yet?’
‘No, but I plan to interview him today.’
‘Right. Check in with me once you’ve talked to him. Anything else to report?’