by Brian Drake
Arkady grabbed on to the ladder and began the long climb. The chopper dipped as the M-113 left the ground, but Roxana straightened out, compensating for the weight with more power. Both the M-113 and Arkady ascended toward the chopper.
Cavallos watched the three people from the damaged car approach. He fired two bursts, the trio splitting up and rolling for cover. They made no attempt to return fire with their handguns; the chopper was too far.
The motor running the tow cable let out a low moan once they secured the M-113 to the undercarriage, and shortly after, a gasping Arkady climbed into view. Cavallos helped him aboard and slid the side door closed.
Arkady crawled onto a seat, panting.
“Harder than it looks,” the Hawk said.
“Ivanovitch?”
“If Dane and the woman got away, it means he’s dead. Let’s go.”
Roxana already had the CH-47 on course for the Gulf of Mexico. ETA two hours. She didn’t care one bit about the survival of the Russian, really. What she cared about was that somebody was after them. Somebody who threatened the safe harbor she and her husband had been promised by the panting Russian who had yet to catch his breath. She steered the chopper with a grim set to her face. They had to deal with yet another problem, but maybe after, they could find sanctuary.
13
A Drop in the Ocean
DANE, STILL flat on the ground, dirt clinging to the sweat on his face, watched the helicopter vanish into a small speck in the blue sky. Nina and McConn, equally dirty, rejoined him as the other vehicles bringing Trent’s security force arrived and skidded to a stop. More dust drifted around them. As the men piled out, Dane went up to the team leader.
“Does Trent have a chopper?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“At the airport halfway across town.”
TRENT DROVE them in a company car. He drove hard and fast and blew through two red lights just to get to the freeway, and then he drove the next ten miles at twenty over the limit.
He’d called the hangar ahead of time to have the on-site mechanic prep the helicopter for flight.
The hangar used by Trent’s company sat at the western edge of the airport. Trent used a key card to get through the security gate and brought them to the hangar. The Bell chopper sat outside, the mechanic checking the oil. Dane, Nina and McConn followed Trent to the helicopter.
Trent explained that Dane and the other two wanted to give the chopper a quick check ride, as it might be up for sale. The mechanic didn’t seem to care, but he also asked no further questions. He did announce that the Bell was ready. McConn, who would fly, made some cursory checks of his own.
Nina and McConn climbed aboard. Trent grabbed Dane’s arm.
“How are you going to stop them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you coming back? The authorities—”
“If you have trouble, tell me. I know some guys who can pull strings.”
McConn started the motor, and the rotors began a whining rotation as they powered up.
“Good luck,” Dane said.
“To you as well,” said Trent.
Dane hopped in the back and pulled the door shut.
THEY WORE headsets to communicate over the intercom.
Nina studied a map on her iPhone. “Head southeast,” she said. “That will take us out to the gulf.”
“I can’t go above one thousand feet because of other traffic,” McConn said, “so we should get out there in two hours or so.”
“They have a thirty-minute head start,” Dane said.
“Is that enough time to land and unload?”
“Probably,” Dane said. He sat back and looked out the window. The passing scenery held no interest, and Corpus Christi looked like any other U.S. city. He watched it anyway.
Presently he caught himself tapping his right foot. He stopped. The thrill of the chase, the possibility of defeat, turning that defeat into victory, filled him with excitement. Nina was right. He was alive. Once old scores were settled, Dane would only have more of a reason to carry on as is. He could never go back to any official duty, same as he couldn’t stop breathing.
He said into the intercom, “You were right, honey.”
“I usually am.”
“You’re also a bitch.”
She laughed.
“Am I missing something?” McConn said.
“Just fly, Todd,” Dane said.
THE CARGO chopper had gone “feet wet” two hours and ten minutes after leaving Trent’s campus, and Cavallos scanned the ocean water below. The gulf was full of cargo ships, yachts and sailboats. Cavallos ignored the other craft and focused his binoculars on the cargo ships. He wanted one with a clear deck.
Cavallos settled on a ship with an empty deck and French identification, and pointed it out to Arkady. The Hawk took the binoculars for his own examination.
“That’s it,” he said.
Cavallos told Roxana and she turned left, one pass over the ship’s superstructure, announcing her arrival. She continued circling. A flag man on the roof of the superstructure signaled by waving flags that they would have the hold open shortly.
It took some time, but a section of the deck near the bow eventually opened, the hinged cargo hold doors rising upward like a trapdoor in reverse. Roxana watched a second flag man, who stood on the deck, signal with the flags. She had to fight the drift of the chopper and the movement of the ship. Despite its size, the waves still rocked the vessel, with the bow rising and falling.
The flag man finally crossed his arms. Roxana threw the lever that activated the tow cable and slowly lowered the M-113 into the hold. There was plenty of clearance in the opening, so the movement of the ship posed no danger. The M-113 was not going to crash into the side.
But the vehicle did have a specific place in the hold, and Roxana corrected per the flag man’s instructions. When he waved the all clear by whipping both flags to and fro in rapid succession, she disengaged the magnet and retracted the tow cable.
She circled the ship again as the deck doors swung closed. Then the flag man waved another set of signals: cleared to land. Roxana set the chopper down on the deck and shut off the motor as deckhands secured the helicopter to the deck with ropes and chains.
Arkady stepped out a happy man.
Cavallos and his wife had their own reason to be happy as well.
Captain Sokolov—sixtyish, a short man with dark hair and a face weathered by decades of sun and salt water—welcomed them aboard and then led the trio below decks. He said they’d begin steaming for home immediately.
Cavallos liked the sound of the word “home.”
THE CAPTAIN showed them to their quarters first, then to the cantina. Arkady wanted coffee right away, while Cavallos and Roxana needed to change and shower.
Cavallos stretched out on the narrow bed while Roxana splashed in the tiny shower. Their room was small and the ceiling low, but they were on the way to something better. Sanctuary.
“Hey,” Roxana called from the shower. “We have limited hot water.”
“So?”
“By the time I’m done, you won’t have any.”
Cavallos sighed. “Wouldn’t that be a shame.” He stood up and went in to join her.
“WE’RE GONNA have a gas problem, Steve,” McConn said.
“How long before we absolutely positively have to turn back?”
“Thirty-two minutes.”
“I appreciate the precision.”
Dane wasn’t surprised. They had only just cleared the coast. They were over U.S. waters, with Dane and Nina scanning the ocean. McConn had to stay low, since they had no binoculars.
Dane noted that the cargo ships were all loaded, decks stacked with rectangular containers.
“Our ship won’t have containers on deck,” he said. “Look for bare decks.”
“With a chopper,” Nina added.
The water rushed below, McConn holding steady at
the controls. He maneuvered throughout the gulf traffic, but none of the cargo ships matched what they sought.
“Could they have made Cuba?” McConn said.
“Who knows?” Nina said. “Maybe they weren’t as close to the coast as we thought.”
“We can talk in circles and it’s not going to help us,” Dane said. The three of them fell silent again. McConn headed for the open ocean.
DANE’S PHONE chirped. He looked at the text message. A set of coordinates and the words “Number One” at the end. Dane showed the text to McConn.
“Can you use these?”
McConn took the phone. “Yup.”
McConn set the coordinates on the dash GPS and guided the helicopter in a long left turn. When he finally leveled out, he passed back the phone. “Clock ticking on gas.”
“We’ll get there in time.”
Dane took out the Detonics Scoremaster and checked it, moving two spare magazines from his shoulder harness to the right pocket of his jacket.
“Tally ho!” McConn shouted.
Dane and Nina looked ahead. The dark dot of the enemy ship lay ahead.
“What’s the plan?”
“Land on the deck,” Dane said.
“We only have pistols,” Nina said.
Dane mashed his teeth together. There was no good way to handle this.
“We have to try,” Dane said.
“Let’s not get killed before we finish that other business,” Nina said.
“We can’t let them go.”
Nina gave him a look that Dane ignored.
He could at least get a picture and send it to President Cross. Let the Navy take over.
McConn held the chopper on course. The ship grew larger as they neared. McConn dropped low and zoomed over the deck. He turned back. Dane popped open his door. The force of the air outside tried to press it closed, but he twisted in the seat to push it open enough to aim the .45. He fired at the deck hands rushing up from below. They carried automatic weapons and shot at the chopper.
“Around again,” Dane said. “I want to get a picture and we’ll go back.”
“We have two minutes,” McConn said.
McConn aimed the helicopter at the back of the superstructure. He closed the distance quickly. As the chopper flew the length of the deck, Dane set his pistol aside, stuck out his phone and took pictures, focusing on the hull ID and name of the ship.
A burst of automatic weapon fire from the deck punched through the chopper’s floor. Nina screamed. Dane saw blood spatter on her face. But it wasn’t her blood. The bullet had hit McConn; one of the slugs coming through the floor had split open his right leg.
Dane shifted and leaned between the two front seats to see the damage when the chopper lurched left, McConn’s hand slipping from the controls as he raced to right the helicopter.
The lurch flung the unsecured Dane backward into the door. The still-unlatched door opened as his weight struck it, and he fell through the air toward the cold ocean below.
Dane rolled over in mid-air, taking a diving form; the impact would hurt. He slammed into the water hard, the cold shock pummeling his system, but he followed through on the dive and arced upward, breaking the surface a few yards from the ship’s hull. Deck hands were already on the edge of the top rail pointing at him.
A wave washed over Dane’s head and he went under for a moment before springing back up to the surface. He treaded water wondering what to do now. And then the deck hands started lowering a lifeboat into the water, two men with weapons aboard. The outboard motor rumbled and the boat steered Dane’s way.
14
Along With the Cavalry
“CAN YOU still fly?” Nina said.
McConn grimaced, blood spurting from the hole in his leg. More of the blood had spilled onto the floor, and the seat itself, McConn sliding forward and pushing himself back.
“Gonna be messy but I think so!”
“We can’t just leave him!”
“We’ll all be dead if I don’t get us on the ground!”
Nina took off her jacket and used a pocketknife to slice a strip of fabric. She fashioned a tourniquet for McConn’s leg and tightened it. McConn turned the helicopter back toward land.
Nina said, “We have to do something when we land.”
“He’ll be fine.”
Nina looked back and saw Dane’s phone and gun on the floor. She picked up the phone and found the text message from Number One.
“Let’s see if these three old guys are as good as Steve thinks they are,” she said.
DANE BOBBED up and down with the waves as the lifeboat finally reached him. One of the two on board pointed an automatic rifle at his face. He gestured for Dane to climb aboard, and Dane rolled over the side to fall flat on the floor. The man at the rudder steered the boat back to the ship, where they connected with the lift cables and the crew up top raised the lifeboat.
Dane lay still, gasping, choking on salt water. He rolled over and retched several times. The goons in the boat didn’t bother him. The boat bumped against the hull as it rose; the rush of wind as the boat rose higher felt good against Dane’s wet face. His clothes clung to his body and made it hard to move.
On deck, more guards lifted out Dane. He didn’t help and let them carry his full weight, his feet dragging on the rough deck.
They carried him across the deck to the superstructure at the rear. It loomed larger as they approached. Already Dane had developed a few strategies in mind for sinking the ship. Having Trent’s laser weapon on board might be the ace he needed.
THE DOOR slammed and locked. Dane lay on itchy carpet. The crew apparently used the room for storage, as an abundance of broken chairs and other pieces of discarded furniture sat stacked halfway to the ceiling.
He lay facedown breathing the odd smell of the carpet, his wet clothes dripping, leaving a wet outline of his body. He wouldn’t be moving very fast with those wet clothes. His plan required fast movement.
Dane rolled over, his clothes sloshing, and stared at the ceiling for a while.
DANE DIDN’T bother trying to find a chair to sit on, and his examining much of the junk revealed nothing he could use as a weapon. He found a clear spot on the wall and collapsed. He stared at the door. Eventually he had looked so long that the door opened.
Arkady entered and regarded Dane with a flat expression.
“I must be a cat,” Dane said.
Arkady shook his head. “The Dane wit. Tell me why.”
“Every cat knows that if you stare at a door long enough, somebody will open it.”
“I’m sure somebody is amused by that, Mr. Dane. Not I.”
“What brings you here, Arkady? Sorry I don’t have any refreshments. The place is also a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
Arkady took two more steps forward. He left the door open. An armed guard stood outside near the doorway. Dane made eye contact with the man and smiled. The guard was young. Dane held his eyes. The guard blinked.
Arkady put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.
“I wish I had your lady friend as well.”
“She’ll be along with the cavalry.”
“Nobody is coming to rescue you, Mr. Dane.”
“Who says the cavalry will be official?”
“I forgot, you’re a pirate of sorts. There’s no way a force could be quickly organized to take this ship, and if you had that to begin with, you would not have flown over in a helicopter armed only with handguns. You are on your own this time.”
“Just me and my wit. You’re all doomed.”
“I’m thinking my superior in Moscow would like to know what’s in your head,” Arkady said. “You may have something of value locked in there.”
“You’re not going to torture me? Is that what you’re saying? I’ll be disappointed if I’m not smacked in the balls with a carpet beater. It’s standard practice in these situations.”
“Maybe later.”
“Tal
k about not being prepared, Arkady.”
“Don’t bother thinking of escape. Every deck hand is armed. You are outnumbered and outgunned. You’ll also catch pneumonia in those clothes.”
“If you want me alive, some new threads would be nice.”
“You’ll have to take your chances.”
“Fine, then.”
“Besides, if you are like a cat, you still have a few lives to spare.”
Arkady’s chuckle sounded like a snort as he left the room, closing the door. The lock slammed into place.
A locked door, one guard, no available weapons and wet clothes. As Dane ran down the list, he found little to be hopeful about. Ideas would come. He already knew what to do once he escaped, but he had to get out first.
Was Nina organizing something? A call to The Trust might pay dividends, and show whether or not they were really worthwhile, despite President Cross’s assurances. Dane figured they were his only shot. What he did before they showed up would only make it easier when they did arrive.
First, he needed to get out of his “cell” and take the guard’s weapon.
MCCONN STRUGGLED to keep the chopper aloft, dipping and swaying as he flew toward land. Nina grabbed the co-pilot controls. The chopper pitched left. McConn shouted, “Whoa, careful!” He adjusted the controls and leveled out. Nina softened her grip. As soon as they cleared land, McConn steered for an open space in which to set down. They drifted over the JFK Memorial Causeway and circled over more water to the open fields on Padre Island. McConn set the skids on the ground just beyond Park Road 22, in a dirt lot in a Packery Channel Park near a cluster of buildings.
Nina leaped out and ran around to McConn’s side. He slumped in the chair, legs splayed and arms limp, his head back on the headrest.