“When do we move?”

“In forty-five minutes out of Dulles. The rest of the team is already here.”

“Thanks for the short notice. I’ll be lucky if I can grab my toothbrush and still get there on time.”

“Don’t grab anything. Not even your passport. Everything will be provided en route. United Airlines is flying us in on identical equipment so we can know it inside out by the time we touch down. Come around through ‘general aviation.’ Tell them you’re with the Wright brothers party, and an agent will bring you to the maintenance hangar where the plane is.”

The Wright brothers? Classic, thought Harvath. “Fine. I am on my way, but, Ricky?”

“What?” snapped Morrell, obviously eager to get off the phone.

“Don’t even think about leaving without me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Scot was ready to say, “Bullshit,” but Morrell hung up before he could.

Forty-five minutes to get to Dulles? It was bullshit. Obviously Morrell had timed it so it would be impossible for Scot to get there before they took off. It was also obvious that Morrell and the rest of his group had no intention of fully cooperating with him. They were going to do the bare minimum to cover their asses and to hell with Scot Harvath. Well, they had another thing coming.

Harvath dialed Gary Lawlor’s office at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in D.C. and crossed his fingers that the man was at his desk. He was and answered on the first ring, “Lawlor.”

“Gary, it’s Scot Harvath.”

“What’s up?”

“It looks like we’ve got a lead on Abu, Jr.”

“So, I heard. Where are you?”

“At my apartment.”

“Your apartment? Why the hell aren’t you scrambled and out at Dulles already?”

“I just got the call.”

“You what?”

“Morrell just called me.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am very serious. Listen, I need your help. It’s obvious these guys are not playing ball with us. Morrell called me at the very last minute, knowing I wouldn’t be able to make it to Dulles before they took off. He’ll say he called me as soon as he could, but you and I both know that’s BS. I need to be on that flight, Gary. If they’re going to take this guy down, I have to be there.”

“Hold on a second,” said Lawlor, who withdrew a chart from the credenza behind him. “Do you know Inova Hospital in Alexandria?”

“Yeah, it’s on Seminary about four blocks west of I-395. Why?”

“How long would it take you to get there?”

“I could probably be there within fifteen minutes.”

“Hold the line again,” said Lawlor as he put Scot on hold and made another call. When he came back on just over a minute later, he had good news. “I called Mitch Norberg at Quantico. They’re going to fly in a Sikorsky S-76 to the hospital helipad. It’s made up to look like a Life Flight bird. It’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Gary. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just nail that bastard. And remember what I said before about getting along with Morrell? Forget it. We might all be on the same team, but that doesn’t seem to mean much to these people. Keep your eye on them. I wouldn’t trust Morrell or his boss further than I could bowl them.”

The look on Rick Morrell’s face when Harvath walked into the United Airlines maintenance hangar with ten minutes to spare was priceless.

“What the hell’s he doing here?” said one of the SAS men. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to make it.”

Harvath looked around at the assembled crew. “Well, the gang sure seems to be all here. Sleazy, Slimy, Drippy, Dopey, and even…hey, what’s up, Doc?”

The man who had been taking Harvath’s blood pressure on the plane back from Jerusalem and whose eye Scot had dotted was still sporting two butterfly bandages. Now, he simply gave Harvath the finger and walked away.

“Now that we’re all reacquainted,” Morrell broke in, “let’s get on with it.”

The United Airlines security, maintenance, and engineering staff, as well as several representatives from Boeing, finished touring the group, explaining everything they could about the specially modified 747-400. The aircraft was identical to the one that had been hijacked.

In an attempt to keep up with the growing competition from Richard Branson’s Virgin Atlantic Airways, United had decided to outfit their planes with numerous perks for business and first-class travelers. Besides the standards of video-on-demand, high-speed Internet access, massages, facials and manicures, there was an upper-deck lounge complete with a fully stocked bar and short-order kitchen, as well as a workout facility with showers on the lower-deck level. It seemed the hotter the competition, the more passenger friendly the “Friendly Skies” became.

When the tour was complete, Harvath, Morrell, and the rest of the team buckled into the overstuffed leather seats inside the lounge behind the flight deck, and the 747-400 was towed out of the hangar and onto the tarmac.

The engines growled to life, and minutes later the enormous craft was cleared and roaring down the runway. Harvath glanced at the 747-400 fact sheet he had been given when he arrived late on the tour and was awed by the statistics. The tail height of the 747-400 was six stories, each wing weighed 28,000 pounds and measured 5,600 square feet-an area large enough to park forty-five medium-sized cars. The “flexible” cabin layout allowed for changes in class and seating configuration in only eight hours and changes of lavatory and galley locations in forty-eight. The Wright brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk could have been performed within the 150-foot economy-class section.

After the aircraft had leveled off at its cruising altitude of 35,000 feet and the captain had turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, Rick Morrell called his twelve-man team to order.

“We’ve got a long way to go and we’ll be getting there in a short amount of time, so listen up. According to our flight plan, we should be touching down in Cairo at approximately oh three-thirty. We’ll be landing at the old airport and will be choppered to Mubarak International. Sunrise on site occurs at oh six-twelve. The U.S. has a Combat Applications Group team in country working with the Egyptians, and they are already on-site-”

“‘Combat Applications Group’?” broke in Harvath. “What is it with you and all the fancy terminology? Why don’t you just call them Delta Force like everybody else?”

“Gentlemen,” responded Morrell as he gestured toward Harvath, “I’m sure you all remember our docile charge from Jerusalem, Agent Scot Harvath of the U.S. Secret Service. As I mentioned to you before, by order of the president, he is now officially part of our operation. Let’s give him a warm welcome to the team, shall we?”

The upper deck lounge of the 747-400 was completely silent.

“Good,” said Morrell. “Now that we have that out of the way, we can continue. As I was saying, there’s already a Combat Applications Group team in country and on-site. As far as the Egyptians are concerned, we are CAG members also and will be there to assist the current CAG team. There are duffels with your names on them in the overhead compartments. You’ll find your uniforms in there.

“Here’s the scenario. As United Airlines flight 7755 was taxiing to its gate at Mubarak International Airport at approximately fourteen hundred hours local Cairo time, an armed group of hijackers took control of the plane. This was United’s first nonstop flight from Chicago to Cairo and carried a host of dignitaries and VIPs including United’s CEO and the mayor of Chicago.”

“The mayor? You mean James Fellinger?” asked Harvath.

“You know him?” queried Morrell.

“I met him once with the president when we passed through Chicago for a fund-raiser. He’s a decent guy. They say he’s a shoo-in for Illinois governor in the next race and will probably make a serious bid for the White House eventually.”