Covert-ONE 02 - The Cassandra Compact by Ludlum Robert

Author:Ludlum, Robert [Ludlum, Robert]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-21T03:00:00+00:00

"I need your help," he said urgently, displaying his military ID. "There was a passenger onboard 1710. Can you find out if he's cleared customs yet? The name is Adam Treloar."

The agent turned to his terminal. "Got him right here. Treloar. Went through about two minutes ago. Do you want---?"

Smith was already on the move, heading out of the restricted area toward the concourse, dialing Klein's number as he ran.

"Klein here."

"Sir, it's Smith. The guy with Beria is American. Dr. Adam Treloar. He's a NASA scientist and he was on the London-to-Washington flight."

"Can you find him?" Klein demanded urgently.

"He has a two-minute start on me, sir. I might be able to run him down before he leaves the terminal."

"Jon, I'm at Camp David with the president. Hold on, please."

Smith kept threading his way through the traffic in the concourse as he waited for Klein to come back on the line.

"Jon, listen to me. A FIREWALL alert was issued earlier, for Beria. But he slipped through it. Now that we know who he was seen with it's imperative that you find Treloar. We have FBI agents in the area---"

"No good, sir. It'll take too long to bring them up to speed. I think I have the best shot."

"Then take it."

Smith raced down the tunnel. He knew the layout of Dulles intimately. After clearing customs and immigration, passengers walked through the arrivals area to other gates, or, if D.C. was their final destination, to the area where the specially built transit buses waited. These vehicles could raise their platforms to reach the boarding area. Once the passengers were on, the chassis was lowered and the buses would go across the airport to the main terminal. There, the docking process would be repeated, and the passengers would disembark and head for the exits.

Smith ran past the shops and newsstands, darting among travelers, straining to catch a glimpse of Treloar. Reaching the end of the concourse, he found himself in a large holding area. Along one wall were elevator-style glass doors that passengers went through to get on the buses. Only one bus was parked at the dock. Smith shouldered his way through the crowd of twenty-odd travelers who were in the process of boarding.

Ignoring the shouts,of protest, Smith elbowed his way onto the bus, his eyes flitting from face to face. He checked every passenger. Treloar wasn't there.

Smith rapped hard on the partition separating the cabin from the driver's compartment. A startled, black face looked back at him and the ID he jammed against the glass.

"Did another bus just leave here?" he shouted.

The driver nodded and gestured at a bus that was better than halfway between the arrivals area and the main terminal.

Smith turned and cut his way through the growing crowd in the bus. He spotted an emergency exit and dashed toward it. Alarms sounded as he threw open the door with the large red warning sign stenciled across its face.

Flying down the ramp that led to gate aprons, Smith spotted an airport supervisor's sedan idling next to a string of baggage carts.

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