Half an hour later the plane landed and the New York flight began to disembark.
The passengers all seemed excited-a typical planeload of carefree tourists, traveling salesmen, children, and couples on their honeymoons. Flint was careful to stay out of sight of the exit ramp as he watched the stream of travelers pour into the terminal, and then finally trickle to a stop. He frowned. There was no sign of Diane or Kelly. Flint waited another five minutes, then started to go through the boarding gate.
"Sir, you can't go through here." Flint snapped, "FAA. We have national security information about a package that is hidden in the lavatory of this plane. I was ordered to inspect it immediately." Flint was already moving toward the tarmac. As he reached the plane, the crew was beginning to depart.
A flight attendant asked, "May I help you?" "FAA inspection," Flint said.
He walked up the steps into the plane. There were no passengers in sight.
The flight attendant asked, "Is there a problem?" "Yes. A possible bomb." She watched as Flint strode to the end of the cabin and pulled open the rest-room doors. The rooms were empty. The women had disappeared.
* * *
"THEY WEREN'T ON the plane, Mr. Kingsley." Tanner's voice was dangerously soft. "Mr. Flint, did you see them board the plane?" "Yes, sir." "And were they still aboard when the plane took off?" "Yes, sir." "Then I think we can safely reason that they either jumped out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean without parachutes or that they disembarked in Madrid. Do you agree with that?" "Of course, Mr. Kingsley. But-" "Thank you. So, that means they intend to go from Madrid to France by way of San Sebastian." He paused. "They have four choices: they can take a different flight to Barcelona or get there by train, bus, or car." Tanner was thoughtful for a moment. "They will probably feel that buses, planes, and trains are too confining. Logic tells me that they will drive to the San Sebastian border to get into France." "If?" "Do not interrupt me, Mr. Flint. It should take them about five hours to drive from Madrid to San Sebastian. Here's what I want you to do. Fly to Madrid. Check all the airport rental-car places. Find out what kind of car they rented-color, make, everything." "Yes, sir." "Then I want you to fly back to Barcelona and rent a car-a large one. Lie in wait for them along the highway to San Sebastian. I don't want them to reach the border. And Mr. Flint-" "Yes, sir." "Remember-make it look like an accident."
Chapter Thirty-Five
DIANE AND KELLY were at Barajas, the Madrid airport. They had their choice of renting a car from Hertz, Europe Car, Avis, and others, but they chose Alesa, a more obscure rental agency.
"What is the quickest way to get to San Sebastian?" Diane asked.
"It is very simple, se駉ra. Take the N-l to the French border at Hondarribia, then right to San Sebastian. It is just a four?or five-hour drive." "Gracias." And Kelly and Diane were on their way.
* * *
WHEN THE KIG private jet arrived in Madrid, one hour later, Harry Flint hurried from one rental car booth to another.
"I was supposed to meet my sister and her girlfriend here-the girlfriend is a stunning African-American-and I missed them. They arrived on the Delta nine-twenty from New York.
Did they rent a car here?"
"No, se駉r? No, se駉r?
"No, se駉r?
At the Alesa booth, Flint was in luck.
"Oh, yes, se駉r. I remember them well. They-" "Do you remember what they rented?" "It was a Peugeot." "What color?" "Red. It was our only-" "Do you have the number of the license plate?" "Of course. Just a moment." Flint watched the clerk open a book to look it up.
He gave Flint the number. "I hope you find them." "I will." Ten minutes later, Flint was flying back to Barcelona. He would rent a car, watch for their red Peugeot, follow them to a place in the road where there was no traffic, run them off the road, and make certain that they were dead.
* * *
DIANE AND KELLY were only thirty minutes away from San Sebastian, driving along in a comfortable silence. The highway was un-crowded, and they were making good time.
The countryside was beautiful. Ripe fields and orchards filled the air with the smells of pomegranate, apricot, and orange trees, and off the road were old houses, with walls covered with jasmine vines.
A few minutes out of the little medieval town of Burgos, the scenery began to erupt into the foothills of the Pyrenees.
"We're almost there," Diane said. She looked ahead, frowned, and started to slam on the brakes.
Two hundred feet in front of them was a burning car with a crowd gathered around it. The highway was blocked off by men in uniform.
Diane was puzzled. "What's going on?" "We're in Basque country," Kelly said. "It's a war. The Basques have been fighting the Spanish government for the last fifty years." A man in a green uniform with gold and red trim and a black belt, black shoes, and black beret stepped onto the highway in front of the car and held up his hand. He pointed to the side of the road.
Kelly said under her breath, "It's the ETA. We can't stop, because God knows how long they'll keep us here." The officer walked to the side of the car and approached them. "I am Captain Iradi. You will please get out of the car." Diane looked at him and smiled. "I really would love to help you with your war, but we're busy fighting our own war." She slammed her foot down on the accelerator, drove around the burning car, and sped ahead, the car weaving through the screaming crowd.