by Dan Alatorre
“Where?” Twa gripped the control stick, keeping the helicopter in place. “I don’t see anything.”
“The red!” Nicole patted the back of Valentin’s seat. “It is the windbreaker I gave her. Get closer!”
Twa shook his head. “I can’t. The wind shear will push us straight into the cliff wall.”
“She is there!” Nicole shouted. “And there is Solaine!”
“The old fool.” Valentin took out his pistol.
“What are you doing?” Twa’s eyes went wide. “I need that girl. She’s worth a lot of money!”
“Not if she falls and drowns in the ocean.” Valentin opened his ventilator window, pointing his weapon toward the cliff. “Maybe I can persuade her to return to the cabin.”
* * * * *
“I think they’ve seen us,” Solaine shouted. “The helicopter’s not moving. I told you, get that jacket off.”
“I can’t!”
“Then be sure to take it off when you hit the water, or it will bind around you and pull you to the bottom. Now, keep moving.”
A shot rang out. The cliff wall above them burst into a puff of gravel, falling down around them. Constantine shrieked.
“They’re just trying to scare us.” Solaine blinked dirt out of his eyes. “They won’t hurt you—you’re worth too much.”
Constantine gazed at the path ahead. It narrowed for a few feet, then had a two or three foot gap. Sharp edges of broken stone glimmered in the light. “The path! It’s broken off! What do we do?”
“Even your little legs can reach across that.” Solaine took another step. “Hold the wall and stretch out.
* * * * *
Twa leaned down and pulled a small machine gun out from under his seat, handing it to Valentin. “Put away that pea shooter of yours and use this.”
Valentin’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?”
“You wanted to scare them. This will do the job.” Twa pointed at the cliff. “Shoot ahead of them, on the path. These ledges are like glass. They will shatter, leaving them no choice but to retreat.”
Hefting the gun to his shoulder, Valentin closed one eye and took aim. The cliff bounced up and down in his sight. “Try to hold the helicopter steady, sir.”
“It’s impossible—the wind shear. Just don’t hit the girl. We can always find another surgeon.”
* * * * *
The rocks in front of Constantine exploded in a spray of bullets. She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to the wall.
When she opened her eyes again, the gap in the ledge path was ten feet wide.
Another spray of bullets shattered the stone cliff over their heads. Rocks tumbled past them.
Solaine grabbed Constantine by the shoulder, tugging her windbreaker. “I told you, get that red jacket off!”
“Stop!” She screamed. “You’ll make me fall!”
He jerked the windbreaker halfway down her arm. “Take it off!”
He pulled again. The stone wall drifted away from Constantine’s face. She swung her hands out, clawing at the gray wall as it moved farther and farther away. Solaine tugged at her windbreaker again.
As she turned to scream, her feet went out from under her. She dropped a few feet, then jerked to a stop as the old man held her jacket by the collar. She swung out a few feet, then back, slamming into the cliff, then felt a hard tug and saw Solaine’s feet go past her.
The windbreaker jerked again, yanking her into Solaine’s downward path. Her stomach surged as she dropped away from the ledge and plummeted down toward the water.
* * * * *
“Fool!” Twa grabbed the machine gun back from Valentin. “What have you done?”
“Nothing! I didn’t shoot them.” Valentin pressed his face to the window. “They . . . they fell.”
“All the same to my wallet.” Twa scowled. “They could never survive a drop like that!”
“Wait, please,” Nicole begged. “Let us watch. Maybe . . .”
The water pounded the bottom of the cliff, churning it into a white foam. Wave after wave rushed forward, crashing into the stone wall. Only the white foam was visible.
Nicole put her hands to the side of her face. “Oh, no.”
“What?” Twa peered over the water. “What do you see?”
“Look.” Nicole pointed, shaking her head. “There.”
A thin man floated face-down in the water, shoeless as he drifted in the waves. His greasy hair floated outward from his frail old head like seaweed, his shirt torn halfway off his body.
The current dragged his corpse back toward the rocks.
The next blue wave picked him up and hurled him forward, rolling and raking him over the rough stone edges. His corpse flopped onto a flat section of rock, facing the sky, until the next wave pummeled forth. As the water receded, it dragged his limp, ragged body over the sharp rocks, where it was picked up by the next wave.
Solaine tumbled back and forth like a rag doll in the mouth of a bulldog, until the pieces were too small to recognize as human.
“See there.” Nicole gasped. “It is her. Is Constantine.”
The red windbreaker floated in the surf, drifting toward the rocks.
“She has drowned. Oh, the poor child.”
Solaine’s body had disappeared. Now, the red windbreaker drifted toward the rocks. The next wave picked it up and carried it over the sharp gray edges, ripping the jacket into pieces.
“They are gone.” Valentin shook his head. “Killed by the fall and finished by the waves. No one could survive that.”
“No!” Twa pounded the dashboard. “My money! The girl was worth a fortune!”
Valentin glanced over his shoulder. “We’d better get out of here. Your troubles at the airport may not be far behind.”
“But my money!” Twa shouted.
“You can make more money!” Valentin grabbed his boss by the arm. “She’s gone. They’re both gone.”
“You don’t understand.” Twa sagged over the control stick. “She was worth—”
A blue and yellow sea plane soared out from behind the far side of the cliff, flying fast and low.
Valentin looked up. “What’s that?”
* * * * *
In the co-pilot’s seat, DeShear gripped the sea plane’s frame as Trinn pulled the aircraft into a wide curve. “That’s them, Hank.”
“Okay.” DeShear glared at the red helicopter. “Can this thing land on one skid?”
“Probably, but it won’t be pretty. Why?”
“Because I want you to drive the other one into Armen Twa’s tail rudder.”
Trinn winced. “What if Constantine is in there?”
“She’s not,” DeShear said. “If she was, he wouldn’t be hanging around. Take him out.”
Muzzle flashes burst from the red helicopter. Bullet holes appeared on the sea plane’s windshield.
“Roger that. Hold on.” She pulled the control stick back and sent the plane into a deep dive, swooped down toward the hovering helicopter.
The shooter fired again as the tail rotor loomed in the little plane’s windshield.
“Hang on,” Trinn shouted, ramming the throttle forward. “Haaaaang onnnn!”
DeShear gritted his teeth, bracing for impact.
The sea plane swiped the rear end of the helicopter, lurching its occupants forward. Alarm signals blared over the aircraft’s cockpit. The plane swayed back and forth.
“Hold on.” Trinn flipped switches and pulled hard on the stick. “This could get rough.”
DeShear glanced out the window. The pontoon skid sailed downward to the water like a vertical torpedo. The helicopter stayed where it was, its splintered tail section dangling from the main chassis.
He pounded the side of the door. “It didn’t work!”
“Easy,” Trinn said. “Give it a second.”
She eased the control stick to the left, turning the plane. The helicopter began to rotate.
“Without the rotor’s counter force,” Trinn sai
d, “the helicopter body will spin—fast.”
The red helicopter rotated faster and faster.
It drifted sideways, losing altitude, as it spun at a dizzying speed. Careening toward the water, the damaged helicopter was a red blur, a nauseating spinning top, hurling toward the rocky cliff.
It crashed into the gray stone wall and plummeted onto the rocks below—and the blue army of waves attacked. The first few swells dragged it over the jagged stone tips; the next dozen waves swallowed it into the sea.
Trinn circled her wobbly aircraft, watching the red wreckage submerge. A few more waves swept forward to the wall, then there was nothing left but bubbles.
She stared into the water. “Hank, we have a little fuel, but . . . I don’t see anything else out here.”
“There!” DeShear pointed. “I see something!”
A tiny blonde head bobbed in the water, swimming toward the next island.
“Put us down!” He shouted. “That’s Constantine!”
DeShear yanked off his headset and unbuckled his seat belt, climbing between the seats toward the hatch.
Trinn jerked the control stick back and forth as the plane wobbled in flight. “Wait for me to land!”
She circled, easing the throttle back and coming in low. DeShear climbed out onto the skid, gripping the wing support, then dived in.
“Constantine!” He swam toward the little blonde head. “Constantine!”
Choking, Constantine lifted her head from the water and looked around. “Hamilton!” She coughed, lowering her head and swimming hard. The water turned white with splashes.
He swam to her, pulling her up into his arms. “Constantine! I’m so glad you’re safe.”
The little girl panted hard, burying her head in his shoulder. “I held my breath under the water and swam away. I think the doctor helped pull my coat off, for a decoy.”
“It must’ve worked.” DeShear closed his eyes, blinking back a tear. I’m sorry they took you. I just . . . I couldn’t—”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t scared.” She sniffled, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I knew you’d come for me. You said you would.”
He exhaled sharply, her words putting a lump in his throat. Closing his eyes, he held the little girl, rocking back and forth.
The sea plane hobbled toward them, nearly sideways in the water. Trinn cut the engine as she approached, sticking her head out the window. “I had the choice of letting you two drown or landing and probably not getting this thing going again, so . . . I guess we’ll radio for the coast guard.”
As DeShear grabbed the pontoon, Trinn crawled out of the lopsided aircraft, holding the wing support. She smiled at DeShear as he hugged Constantine, and two little arms wrapped around his neck as if they would never let go.
A dark triangle splashed in the water to her right.
“Hey, check it out.” Trinn pointed to the ripples in the water. “Dolphins!
Constantine lifted her head. “Where?”
Grinning, DeShear grabbed the leg of the pontoon and hoisted her on top of the float. With a quick thrust of his feet, he hauled himself up and sat next to her. “Where are they?”
“Right there,” Trinn said, pointing. “Look toward the sunset.”
Sea water dripping from his forehead, DeShear squinted in the bright light. Thirty feet away, a dolphin broke the surface, spinning on its tail and landing with a splash.
Constantine squealed, slipping her tiny hand into DeShear’s. He looked at her, smiling as she peered out over the waves. Shaking his head, he sighed and put his arm around her, pulling her close as he turned to watch the dolphins frolic.
The dolphins disappeared as the hum of an engine approached. Another sea plane, cruising low over the waves, eased its pontoons into the water. As it throttled back and motored toward them, Helena, Ari and Kitt waved from the windows.
“I think I know those people,” Constantine said.
DeShear grinned, waving at the approaching plane. “Think we can hitch a ride?”
Chapter 36
DeShear clung to the side of the four-seater all-terrain vehicle as it bounced over the chilly Virginia countryside.
“What do you think?” President Brantley stopped the vehicle, gazing at a cluster of horses grazing in a nearby meadow, their breath blowing steam as they ate. Massive oak trees dotted the perimeter of the estate. “It’s big, it’s safe, and my place is right next door. And let’s face it, if they can secure a property like this for me, they can secure one for you.”
Shoving her hands into her coat pockets, Trinn leaned forward from the back seat. “Well? What do we think?”
“I don’t know.” DeShear tugged at the collar of his jacket. “Something like this has to be pretty pricey, Mr. President.”
“Geez, Hank.” Trinn slapped his arm. “You have three billion dollars.”
“I don’t. Constantine does.”
“Then let’s ask her.” Jumping from the vehicle, Trinn walked to the large stables. Constantine sat in the doorway of a far stall, wearing a thin sweater and surrounded by Helena and Kitt. “Ladies, Mr. DeShear has a question for Constantine. He’d like to know if—”
“Miss Jaden! Look!” Constantine held up a tiny white rabbit with tiny black spots on its rear end.
Inside the stall, Taylor, the President’s young niece, sat next to a pile of hay and several other small bunnies.
Constantine stroked the rabbit, cradling it like a baby, its ears lowered close to its head and its prominent nose sticking up. “They’re practically babies, and Taylor said I could have one.”
The bunny looked at Trinn and wiggled its nose.
“Well, that little guy is adorable.” Trinn put her hands on her hips. “What do you think, Hank?”
Constantine nuzzled the bunny’s cheek. “I’ve named him Cleo, after a friend I met.” She gazed up at DeShear. “Can I keep him, Hamilton? Please?”
DeShear winced. “A rabbit . . . sounds like a lot of work.”
“I would brush him every day and feed him plenty of healthy greens—they don’t really like carrots, you know. Just the tops. And—”
“Yeah, but . . .” DeShear shifted on his feet. “See, the thing is, if we get a rabbit, we’d need a place to keep him. Now, President Brantley said we could stay next door at his ranch for a few weeks while we decide what we’re going to do, but after that . . .”
“The President also said this property is for sale, Constantine.” Trinn folded her arms and smiled. “We could buy it and live here—if you wanted to.”
Constantine gasped. “Like a proper family?”
“Something like that.” DeShear squatted next to Constantine, rubbing Cleo’s belly. “We’d need to have a room for me and Miss Jaden, and you—plus a room for Helena, and maybe one for Miss Kitt, if she’s going to stay on and help out.”
“Oh.” Constantine’s face fell. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t buy the house unless it’s got lots of space for everyone. How many bedrooms does it have?”
“Oh, about twenty, if you include the guest house.” DeShear grinned.
“Twenty! Then Cleo could have his own room!”
“I guess he could, yeah.”
She wrapped an arm around him, holding her bunny with one arm and squeezing DeShear with the other. “Can we buy this house, then? Please?”
“Okay.” DeShear stood. “I’ll tell the real estate agent to write it up.”
Constantine squealed, setting Cleo down and hugging DeShear again. Cleo hopped out of the stall, making his way to the stable door.
“Constantine,” Helena said. “Your bunny’s escaping.”
“Oh, no!”
The girls chased the rabbit toward the door. Cleo made a sharp turn and shot to a nearby hibiscus bush as the other rabbits stuck their noses out. One by one, they made their escape into the yard.
DeShear faced President Brantley. “Do we need to worry about that? Like, are there hawks outside?”
“There
are,” Brantley said, “but when we want to round them up, we just shake the treat can.” He handed a plastic tumbler of food pellets to DeShear. “That brings them back pretty quick.” The President turned to his aide. “Belinda, we probably should get going. I shouldn’t keep the Prime Minister waiting.”
Trinn walked with the President. “Which country?”
“Bahamas. He allegedly wants to apologize for allowing a plane full of guns to fly to Hawaii. But his real reason is, he’s apparently got some local Magistrate climbing the walls, thinking he’s about to be assassinated because we took Mr. Hollings into custody. I’m sure we’ll work something out.” He hugged Trinn. “You did good work again, Jaden. And Helena’s new friend Kitt is sharp. Either of you can call me any time. I told Ari Hiles the same thing. You’re friends of the President—well, for a few more months, anyway, until my term expires. But you’ve earned the right to have my direct number, so don’t hesitate to use it. As far as I’m concerned, I still owe you.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
Brantley shook hands with DeShear and departed for his teleconference.
Hank took Trinn’s hand and strolled to the stable door, leaning on the frame. In the yard, Constantine lay on her belly in the grass, nose to nose with Cleo, petting his tiny white head. Helena and Kitt looked on.
“So,” Trinn said. “Kitt is doctor of psychology? It was nice of you to hire her.”
DeShear nodded. “Dr. Kittaleye needs a job, and she minored in parapsychology. Helena thinks that could be very useful for Constantine. So, Kitt will stay in the guest house and we’ll see how it goes.”
Trinn lifted DeShear’s arm and put it around her waist, snuggling close. “Helena says it might be good, huh? What do you think?”
“I think it might not be a bad idea to have a psychologist around. The kid’s been through a lot. Helena, too.”
She put her hand on his chest. “I can’t help but get the feeling you’re nervous about something. Wanna tell me what it is?”
DeShear snorted. “I just agreed to buy a thirty million dollar Virginia estate. What would I be nervous about?”
“Hey.” She looked at him. “It’s me. What’s up?”
“Okay . . .” DeShear shifted his weight. “Maybe I’m a little nervous. I just . . . this is great and all—the house, the area . . . And Brantley’s right, the security professionals can make this place as safe as his next door, just like they do for important senators and dignitaries . . .” He glanced around. “She’ll attend a super secure school where Presidents’ kids go when they’re small. They’ll make sure she gets back and forth to school every day . . .”