Asad Khalil smiled again, but did not reply.

Satherwaite got on the radio and called MacArthur Tower. " Long Island Tower, Apache Six-Four Poppa is ten miles to the south at one thousand feet, VFR, landing at MacArthur." Satherwaite listened to the radioed reply from the Tower, then acknowledged receipt of the landing instructions.

A few minutes later, a large airport appeared to their front, and Satherwaite banked the aircraft and lined it up on Runway Twenty-four.

Khalil could see the main terminal building in the distance to his left, and to his right a group of hangars, near which were parked small aircraft. The airport was surrounded by trees, suburban housing, and highways.

According to his information, this airport was 75 kilometers east of Kennedy Airport, and because there were no international flights, the security was not excessive. In any case, he was flying in a private aircraft now and would be flying in a private jet later, and the security at the private end of the airport, as with all American private flying, was non-existent.

In fact, he thought, there was an irony here, and it was this: at least fifteen years before, according to his intelligence briefing, the American government had put commercial airports on a Security Level One status, and that high level of security had never been lifted. Therefore, private aircraft carrying unscreened passengers and crew could no longer taxi to a commercial terminal, as they had been able to do many years ago. Now, private aircraft were required to taxi to the place called General Aviation, where there was no security.

As a consequence, the very people that the Americans were concerned about-saboteurs, drug traffickers, freedom fighters, and lunatics-could fly about the country freely, so long as they flew in private aircraft and landed at private airfields-or as today, the private end of a commercial airport. No one, including this idiot pilot, would question why a passenger who needed to rent a car or take a taxi or was scheduled to fly a commercial aircraft would want to land so far from the main terminal; it simply wasn't allowed.

Asad Khalil murmured a word of thanks to the stupid bureaucrats who had made his mission easier.

The Apache settled smoothly and touched down. Khalil was surprised at how gentle the landing was, considering the apparent mental deterioration of the pilot.

Satherwaite said, "See? You're alive and well."

Khalil made no reply.

Satherwaite rolled out to the end of the runway and exited onto a taxiway. They proceeded toward the private hangars he had seen from the air.

The sun had set and the airport was dark, except for the lights of the runways and the General Aviation buildings in the distance.

The Apache stopped near the cluster of buildings and hangars, far from the main terminal.

Khalil looked out the dirty plexiglass for any signs of danger, any trap set for him. He was prepared to pull his pistol and order the pilot to take off again, but there seemed to be only normal activity around the hangars.

Satherwaite taxied up to the parking ramp and cut the engines. He said, "Okay, let's get out of this flying coffin." He laughed.

Both men unbuckled their flight harnesses and retrieved their overnight bags. Khalil Unlatched the door and got out on the wing, his right hand in the jacket pocket that held the Glock. At the first sign that something was wrong, he would put a bullet in the head of Bill Satherwaite, regretting only the missed opportunity to discuss with ex-Lieutenant Satherwaite the reason why he was about to die.

Khalil was no longer looking for danger, but was now trying to sense danger. He stood absolutely motionless, like a lion, sniffing the air.

Satherwaite said, "Hey. You okay? Just jump. Your feet are closer to the ground than your eyes. Jump."

Khalil looked around one last time and was satisfied that all was well. He jumped to the ground.

Satherwaite followed, stretched and yawned. He observed, "Nice and cool here." He said to Khalil, "I'll get a ramp attendant to run us over to the terminal. You can stay here."

"I will walk with you."

"Whatever."

They walked toward a nearby hangar and intercepted a ramp agent. Satherwaite said, "Hey, can you get us a ride to the terminal?"

The ramp agent replied, "That white van is heading to the terminal now."

"Terrific. Hey, I'll be overnight, leaving mid-morning, maybe later. Can you refuel me and paint the plane?" He laughed.

The ramp agent replied, "That thing needs more than paint, pal. Is your parking brake off?"

"Yeah."

"I'll tow it to a tie-down spot and refuel it there."

"All six tanks. Thanks."

Khalil and Satherwaite hurried over to the van. Satherwaite spoke to the driver, and they got in the rear. In the middle seats were a young man and an attractive blond woman.

Asad Khalil was not comfortable with this arrangement, but he knew from his training that he never would have gotten as far as the van if this were a trap. Still, he kept his hand in his pocket with his Glock.

The driver put the van in gear and began moving. Khalil could see the main terminal lit up about a kilometer away across the flat terrain.

They exited the airport, and Khalil asked the driver, "Where are you going?"

The driver replied, "The General Aviation and commercial end of the airport are separate. You can't cut across."

Khalil didn't reply.

No one spoke for a while, but then Satherwaite said to the couple in front of him, "You guys just fly in?"

The man turned his head and looked first at Khalil. Their eyes met, but in the darkness of the van, Khalil knew his features were not visible.

The man looked at Satherwaite and replied, "Yes, just got in from Atlantic City."

Satherwaite asked, "You get lucky?" He nodded toward the blonde, winked and smiled.

The man forced a smile in return and replied, "Luck has nothing to do with it." He turned back toward the front, and they continued in silence along a dark road.

The van re-entered the airport and pulled up to the main terminal. The young couple got out and walked toward the taxi stand.

Khalil said to the driver, "Excuse me, but I see that I have an automobile rental with Hertz, and it is Gold Card Service. So, I believe I can go directly to the Hertz parking."

"Yeah. Okay." The driver moved off and within a minute was in the small exclusive area reserved for Hertz Gold Card customers.

There were twenty numbered parking places beneath a long, illuminated metal canopy, and at each space was a name in lights. One of the light signs said BADR, and he walked toward it.

Satherwaite followed.

They got to the automobile, a black Lincoln Town Car, and Khalil opened the rear door and placed his bag on the seat.

Satherwaite said, "Is this your rental?"

"Yes. B-A-D-R is the company name."

"Oh… don't have to sign some papers or something?"

"It is a special service. It avoids long queues at the rental counter."

"Long what?"

"Lines. Please get in."

Satherwaite shrugged, opened the front passenger door, and slid in, throwing his overnight bag into the rear seat.

The keys were in the ignition, and Khalil started the car and turned on the headlights. He said to Satherwaite, "Please retrieve the papers from the glove box."

Satherwaite opened the compartment and took out the papers as Khalil drove toward the exit.

A woman at the exit booth opened her window and said, "May I see your rental agreement and driver's license, sir?"

Khalil took the rental papers from Satherwaite and handed them to the woman, who glanced at them. She peeled off one of the copies, and Khalil then handed her his Egyptian driver's license and his international driver's license. She studied them for a few seconds, took a quick look at Khalil, then handed them back with his copy of the rental papers. "Okay."