Free The Lion's Game by Nelson DeMille Page B

our guys here, and keep the gate free.”
    I said to my colleagues, “Let’s get out to the aircraft.”
    George Foster, our fearless team leader, replied, “The aircraft is surrounded by Emergency Service. Plus, we have two people on board. They don’t need us there. The less that changes, the better.”
    Ted Nash, as usual, stayed aloof, resisting the temptation to disagree with me.
    Kate concurred with George, so I was the odd man out, as usual. I mean, if a situation is going down at Point A, why stand around at Point B?
    Foster took out his cell phone and dialed one of the FBI guys on the tarmac. He said, “Jim, this is George. Small change in plans. The aircraft has a problem on the runway, so a Port Authority car will bring Phil, Peter, and the subject to this gate. Call me when they get there, and we’ll come down. Okay. Right.”
    I said to George, “Call Nancy and see if she’s heard from Phil or Peter.”
    “I was just going to do that, John. Thank you.” Foster dialed the Conquistador Club and got Nancy Tate on the phone. “Have you heard from Phil or Peter?” He listened and said, “No, the aircraft is still on the runway. Give me Phil’s and Peter’s phone numbers.” He listened and signed off, then dialed. He held the phone out to us, and we could hear the recorded message telling us our party was unavailable or out of the calling area. George then dialed the other number and again got the same message. He said to us, “They probably have their phones off.”
    That didn’t get any salutes, so George added, “You have to shut off the cell phones in flight. Even on the ground. But maybe one of them will break the rules and call the Conquistador Club. Nancy will call us.”
    I thought about this. If I got worried every time I couldn’t complete a cell phone call, I’d have ulcers by now. Cell phones and beepers suck anyway.
    I considered the situation as an academic problem thrown at me by an instructor. At the Police Academy, they teach you to stick to your post or stick to the plan until ordered to do otherwise by a superior. But they also tell you to use good judgment and personal initiative if the situation changes. The trick is to know when to stick and when to move. By all objective standards, this was a time to stay put. But my instincts said to move. I used to trust my instincts more, but I was out of my element here, new to the job, and I had to assume these people knew what they were doing, which was nothing. Sometimes, nothing is the right thing.
    Debra Del Vecchio’s walkie-talkie squawked, and she held it to her ear, then said, “Okay, thanks.” She said to us, “Now they tell me that Air Traffic Control called Trans-Continental operations a while ago and reported that Flight One-Seven-Five was NO-RAD.”
    “No rat?”
    “NO-
RAD
. No radio.”
    “We already know that,” I said. “Does this happen often? NO-RAD?”
    “I don’t know ...”
    “Why is the plane sitting on the end of the runway?”
    She shrugged. “Maybe the pilot needs someone to give him instructions. You know—what taxiways to use.” She added, “I thought you said it was a VIP on board. Not a fugitive.”
    “It’s a fugitive VIP.”
    So, we stood there, waiting for the Port Authority cops to collect Hundry, Gorman, and Khalil and bring them to the NYPD and Port Authority escort vehicles outside this gate, whereupon Agent Jim Somebody would call us, and we’d go down to the tarmac, get in the vehicles, and drive to the Conquistador Club. I looked at my watch. I was going to give this fifteen minutes. Maybe ten.

CHAPTER 8
    Andy McGill heard the blast of his truck’s horn and moved quickly back to his vehicle and jumped on the running board. Sorentino said to him, “Stavros called. He said to enter the aircraft. Some Federal types called him, and there’s a fugitive on board, in the dome. The perp is cuffed and escorted. Take him and his two escorts out and turn him over to one of the patrol