Chasing Gold

by David Leadbeater

  “Not to mention…” Russo gestured ahead. “Terri.”

  Alicia finally came to a place where there were no more obstructions between them and the terrorists. They were huddled about twenty meters ahead, slowing now as they waited and gestured furiously toward the oncoming helicopters, urging them to greater speeds.

  “Time to pay the ferryman, boys.” She lined up the first shot.

  And found they had already anticipated it. She cursed as, in traditional terrorist manner, they shoved Crouch and Terri to the outer side of the pack and took shelter behind the two hostages. Alicia could still see arms, shoulders and even heads, but wouldn’t dare risk the shot at this distance.

  She jogged closer still.

  Russo swore too. The choppers were just drifting in off the starboard side. They were huge now, large black behemoths that pounded the ears with an angry roar and threw out a rotor wash that hit the deck and rushed at them so powerfully they were forced to slow to retain balance.

  Two helicopters hovered and maneuvered for airspace at the ship’s prow. Ricci shouted and rope ladders were unfurled, swinging in the air and tapping against the front rail. Within two seconds he had caught one and ordered two men up, guns already poised. The second chopper was treated similarly. Alicia sighted on the highest terrorist.

  “Hey!”

  Her attention was drawn to the deck, where Crouch and Terri kneeled, guns to their heads.

  “If you shoot, they die,”

  “If they die, you die!” she countered.

  “But we don’t care.”

  She’d heard it before, and knew they meant it. Life was but a pivotal step to these fanatics, and they believed they were being blessed for their actions. Crouch and Terri were dragged toward the ropes.

  “This can’t go on,” she said. “We have to stop this. I mean, where will it end?”

  “Depends where they’re going. Look, they’re dragging the banner up now.”

  Alicia watched as the banner was locked into a cradle and hauled up alongside the ladder. Ricci climbed with it, keeping it all flowing.

  The men holding Crouch and Terri ordered them up next and kept their guns aimed the whole way. From inside the chopper, more guns protruded. Alicia fought to stay motionless in the face of the rotor wash, covering her head and eyes as one of the helicopters lost altitude and then powered back upward. To the port side she saw Caitlyn and Austin and their agents creeping forward.

  Two terrorists remained on board. The coastguard vessel was alongside, bellowing orders at the tanker through a tannoy. Men were on deck, dressed in military fatigues and ready to jump into action. The police choppers were filling the skies to the right. The entire might of the authorities was converging on the oil tanker.

  The last terrorists then started climbing. A rogue agent must have lined one of the men up and not realized what was at stake because, right then, he opened fire. The terrorist screamed and fell backward off the ladder, striking the deck and leaking blood.

  He lay unmoving.

  Alicia cringed, prepared to run and fire and hope for the best. Ricci leaned out of the lead bird, face livid. He had Crouch by the neck and dragged him until he was halfway out of the chopper, the upper part of his body sticking out, held up by Ricci’s grip. The powerful terrorist held a revolver to the top of Crouch’s head.

  “You were fucking warned!”

  “No!” Alicia set off at a sprint.

  “I warned you. Shoot one of us and we shoot one of you. This is your fault.”

  It always is…

  Ricci squeezed the trigger of his gun. Alicia saw Crouch’s face twist in agony, barely breathing, unmoving, but his body didn’t jerk with an impact, and his face didn’t spasm as Ricci hauled him back in.

  “Next one won’t miss.”

  Alicia heaved a sigh of utter relief. Her knuckles had been squeezed into pure white fists, her heart pounding as if she’d run a marathon. Ricci threw Crouch down on the floor and disappeared. By now, all the remaining terrorists were on board.

  The choppers roared as if preparing to swoop away.

  Alicia saw the end coming. What could they do now?

  Then it did come. But not in a way she could ever have imagined.

  Michael Crouch heaved his pain-wracked, bruised and battered body once more through the doorway of the first chopper, hanging on with one hand, and screamed out a terrible warning:

  “They rigged it to blow! The whole fucking tanker! Move! Move now!”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  That terrible cry and those hellish words changed everything.

  Alicia felt bombarded, stunned. For a moment the world turned, and people screamed but she couldn’t think of anything to do. The terrorist choppers were already swooping away. The police choppers were drifting in. The coastguard vessel was alongside.

  Agents were standing all over the deck.

  She couldn’t imagine how bad it would be.

  We’ve always been a step behind. This leader, this Ricci, has planned every last detail; even the ones that may go wrong.

  After so much chasing… it would end so hard.

  Vino was already on the airwaves, warning the choppers and the coastguard. It was the abrupt change in the helicopter’s engines that spurred Alicia’s brain into action. That, and Russo’s shouting in her ear and, more importantly than any of that; the shocking, unprecedented slap on the ass that Russo suddenly dealt out.

  “Earth to Alicia! Get a fucking move on!”

  On any other day she’d have taken pleasure in breaking the offender in two, but today she understood immediately why Russo had done what he did. He knew it would get through to her, simple as that. He knew her rather well.

  They raced for the closest railing and peered over. Alicia took the time to check on Caitlyn and Austin, saw them balancing already on the second rail of the three-rail safety barrier. Agents were leaping to the left and right of them, arms outstretched in the air.

  Russo paused at the edge. “That’s a long bloody way down.”

  “Think yourself lucky it’s not a proper tanker. They’re twice as high.”

  “Still it’s… a hundred feet?”

  “Who gives a fuck? Jump, Robster, jump!”

  She barely slowed, running at and then leaping onto the second rail, seeing the choppers swooping low and away to her right and the coastguard ship desperately coming about and speeding away. She vaulted from the second rung and, still running, sprang out into thin air.

  Russo was a second behind.

  Falling fast, she made sure to tuck her feet and arms in and to angle her body for the best entry. Hopefully, Russo would remember to protect his nuts. If not… well, it was not like he used them anyway.

  With these thoughts Alicia slammed into the ocean; the impact jouncing every bone in her body. The breath whooshed out of her; pain slammed in from all directions. The water rushed up her nose and flooded her mouth. As soon as she could, she rolled and scissored her way back to the surface.

  Took a huge breath.

  Time to get the hell away…

  And then the tanker exploded in dramatic fashion. Muffled reports came from deep inside, distant at first but gradually growing closer. There was a moment’s stillness before a far heavier explosion appeared to split the vessel in half. The front end lifted; fire belched out of the tears in the metal, and then the rear end fell away, wrenched apart. Fire detonated up through the deck toward the still-bright skies. The front end settled suddenly, displacing an incredible volume of water and then started to sink.

  Alicia saw most of it and then ducked under the Pacific, swimming strongly away. She hadn’t seen Russo and hoped he’d landed well. A surge of water pushed past her as if someone had shoved her roughly in the back, making her lose momentum and curl up in the water.

  Russo?

  Kicking her way to the surface, Alicia remained acutely wary of what might be up there. Slowly, she breached the waves and looked around. The tanker w
as listing at the back, sinking at the front. Flames licked the air all around it. Some spillage had entered the water and was pooling away, burning at the same time. Debris littered the area for miles around.

  She didn’t see Russo. She took a moment, turned a full circle, and waited a little longer. Still — no Russo.

  “Shit.”

  Taking her best approximation of where the big man had entered the water, she swam back and then dived underneath. It was clear for some distance under here, a sapphire and green shade. Not knowing how deep it was, she swam powerfully toward the bottom.

  A minute passed, and she saw him. Russo was unconscious, drifting lower and lower. She kicked her legs strongly, sweeping down and down, the water parting in front of her eyes. When she reached Russo, she saw his eyes were closed. She put her shoulders under him and heaved, propelling him back toward the surface. The going was hard and slow. Several pieces of heavy wreckage sank around them, luckily not close enough to impede her progress. Russo lay heavily against her upper torso but finally she managed to break the surface.

  She held him up, swam to face him and then started slapping, holding his nose and breathing into his mouth. The slapping was therapeutic, but not the rest. Water splashed and sluiced up over and between them, making her choke and blink and cough. Minutes passed. Swimming and trying to breathe life into a man was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

  They drifted steadily back toward the stricken tanker, pulled by the waves.

  She took hold of Russo, swam him away for a few seconds and then tried again. Her own reserves were failing, her limbs becoming leaden and chest growing tight. But she’d never give up. Her breath was Russo’s for as long as she had it to give.

  It was the helping hand that shocked her so badly she temporarily lost her grip on Russo. Caitlyn’s voice then filled her ears.

  “Here, over here.”

  Alicia grabbed Russo and then turned in the water. Caitlyn, Austin and four agents had jumped into one of the boats and made their way around the devastated oil tanker. Now two of the agents caught hold of the drenched Russo and hauled him into the boat.

  At last, he fell in, and Alicia followed.

  Crouched in the bottom of the boat, dripping sheets of water, she elbowed away all forms of help and continued to try to resuscitate Russo. He couldn’t go this way — not her big, dumb friend. Jumping off a boat couldn’t be an ending for Rob Russo.

  She neared her limits without success. Men and women shifted all around her. The engine roared as they pulled away from the tanker and drove around the front to check on the escaping terrorist helicopters. Alicia didn’t know what else had happened. She was just… focused… on one…

  Russo heaved a sudden, wracking breath and sat up so quickly he headbutted her right on the nose. Alicia flinched away, seeing stars, but she grinned. Her entire body calmed, and she managed to fall back onto her haunches, shoulders slumped.

  “Did you kiss me whilst I was out?” Russo managed between coughs.

  “Why? Is there a stirring down below?” She wiped blood away.

  “The opposite,” Russo said. “I feel weird. Maybe it wasn’t you. To be honest it felt like a fish was kissing me.”

  She gave him the finger then, feeling strength return to her body, she turned around to evaluate their position.

  “The choppers are headed for the island of Molokai,” Caitlyn told her. “It’s fifteen miles off the coast of Oahu so, subtracting what we’ve already covered, it’s a five-minute flight away for them.”

  “And for us?”

  “A fifteen-minute boat ride.”

  “What’s on Molokai?”

  “Not a great deal. It measures thirty eight by ten miles, so it’s small. Old leper’s colony. There’s a forest reserve, a volcano and the highest sea cliffs in the world. There are a lot of places to hide.”

  “Hide?” Alicia looked up. It didn’t sound right. “Ricci hasn’t hidden once during this entire chase. If you can say one thing about him that isn’t bad, he’s a clever, proactive son of a bitch.”

  “He also wants to record a video,” Caitlyn reminded her.

  “What happened to the…” Alicia surveyed the skies and saw all the police choppers had made it to safety, though two appeared to be in difficulty. They were currently hovering in place, probably trying to decide what to do. Her own radio had suffered water damage, so she couldn’t contact Vino.

  The coastguard ship had taken on a load of water and was being attended to by its crew. Not in danger, but out of the chase.

  “What next?” Austin asked.

  Alicia pointed a finger in the direction of Molokai. “Don’t slow down. Take it to them like we have been doing since DC. They’re running scared, they must be. Molokai’s a friggin’ island. Let’s move and take them down on the beaches.”

  Russo sat upright. “I’m ready for that.”

  All four agents nodded.

  Alicia held on tight as the boat accelerated hard, and Caitlyn thumbed her own radio to inform Vino what they were doing.

  “We’re right behind you,” the agent said.

  Alicia looked to the horizon.

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Alicia stood upright at the prow of the boat, holding onto a metal strut, and surveying all that lay before her. The island of Molokai lay ahead, elongated and dark green, forested and mountainous, enclosed by incredible bright blue waters. She could see bays, sea cliffs and thick forestation. If a person knew where they were going…

  Still, it was an island.

  The helicopters veered around a rocky promontory and then swooped down toward a yellow sand beach. Alicia urged the motorboat’s pilot to greater speeds, but he complained that they were already going flat out. The boat bounced beneath her and spray coated her face and her hair. It began to heel to the right as the pilot took a wide turn into the approaching bay, following the flight of the terrorists.

  She saw them disembarking now; jumping off the still roaring birds like cockroaches. She could see Ricci and then the banner. She saw them making ready.

  The motorboat chased in, skipping over the breakwaters and then skimming the tops of the waves.

  She glanced back, took in the rest of her crew ready to go; faces hard and grim and ready for action. Even Austin was armed, properly attired and standing there with a severe determination in his eyes. Maybe he was a good fit for the team after all.

  She checked her weapons out of habit, re-counted spare clips and other armaments and then made ready to jump.

  As they approached the beach she leapt into the surf, coming down on two feet and bringing her weapon around. The terrorists were in front of their chopper, taking shelter, and began to fire their semi-autos as the boat came within range.

  Running through the waves, the FBI, Russo and the others all fired back.

  Bullets sliced through the balmy air, ripped apart the frothing waters, and thudded into the boat. Alicia was aware that their best line of defense here was attack, and constant gunfire. Keep the enemy pinned down and huddled for cover.

  She fired round after round, ran hard until she splashed through the shallows and then felt muddy sand under her feet. A bullet zinged by. She aimed at the place it originated, quelling that terrorist’s audaciousness.

  “Shoot at me, will you?” she yelled. “Here, have a bit of that!”

  Bullets ripped into the chopper’s sides.

  Terrorists were digging into the sand, using it to disguise their rolling movements as they moved out of shelter for a second to take pot shots. Russo saw it and discouraged one, but they weren’t taking any casualties. Their protection was solid.

  Alicia surveyed the waters. Two more FBI boats were zooming in. Soon, they would have strength in numbers, and the terrorists would be back to hiding behind hostages. She had to find a way around it.

  Thin the herd. But it’s not working.

  Take out Ricci. I wish.

  Force them to make a move. It was
the only option.

  She emptied a clip into the furthest chopper, aiming high, but causing major damage, littering the area with metal and glass. One of the terrorists rolled clear, tried to rise and was shot in the back by one of the FBI agents. That left four, plus Ricci. Shouts went up among them. She recognized Ricci’s voice crying out orders.

  For the moment the only sound beyond gunfire was the muted roar of the approaching boats. It was then that a much louder noise shattered the once-tranquil bay — the noise of big, powerful engines.

  Alicia swerved to the right to get a clearer view; Russo at her side.

  A massive, midnight black Ford F150 Velociraptor burst through the forestation at the top edge of the bay. Alicia gawped. It was a huge, savage machine with enormous tires, a pickup-like bed on the back, and one of the loudest engines she’d ever heard. It was an animal, coming to attack them. It bounced over the hills and valleys from the island’s interior with ease as it made its way toward the terrorists, the driver wrenching the wheel left and right.

  Alicia couldn’t make him out yet. Probably a local they’d paid to spirit them away to some remote cave system where they could lie low. Or… where they could finally burn the banner. Plan B.

  The F150 careened over the landscape, hit the edge of the beach and kept on coming. Rooster tails of sand flew from underneath its tires. Terrorists started taking more chances as they tried to quell the aggressors and engineer themselves a way out.

  If they make it to that car we’ll never catch them.

  She crouched down at the front of a helicopter as the new vehicle flicked its tail out, swerving sideways across the back. From there it would be a relatively easy job to jump on board.

  “Spread out.” Alicia waved to the other agents.

  Austin and Caitlyn skidded to her side. The young driver whistled. “That’s one mighty fine piece of American muscle.”

  Alicia gave him a glare. “Focus, kid. You lose focus on this beach today, you die.”

  Austin nodded quickly. Alicia readied to move. “If it sets off we go for the wheels. Just the wheels. Got it?”