Knife Point

by Jim Heskett

  He came upon the two crates sitting in the grass, with a deflated parachute trailing them. But, they appeared unopened, untouched, in perfect shape. What had happened to the explosives? Without blowing the dam, the poison would have much less effect. It wouldn’t spread as far or as fast.

  It would have to do.

  Near the top of a hill, he looked around to make sure there weren’t any morning hikers about who might cause problems. His head cocked when he noted a woman who stood out, mostly because she was holding a pistol with a noise suppressor in one hand. She was below Farhad, a thousand meters down the slope of the hill. Skulking around, her eyes down, hunting through the tall grass. Dark skin, attractive. For a moment, he thought it was Mariana. But it was not her. Mariana was supposed to have gone to the motel to take care of Serena and Harry, Layne’s two associates, and then gone on to Farhad’s house to wait for him.

  So, this woman at the bottom of the hill had to be Serena Rojas. And that meant Mariana was likely dead or captured. Also, Layne was probably nearby as well.

  Had Farhad been too arrogant and self-assured by letting Layne live?

  He gritted his teeth. These sorts of complications were the last thing he needed right now. But, this close to the end, he supposed it didn’t matter. Not as long as he could get the chopper in the air soon.

  He picked up the two crates, not too heavy to carry. One on each shoulder, he hustled back toward the helicopter. He heard the whirring of the blades before he could see it, and his heart soared. So close now. Almost there.

  Farhad put the crates into their spots and tied them down. Once secured, he joined Arash in the cockpit and slipped on a headset. His heart banged against his ribcage. The excitement rose through him like the swirl of a tornado. He thought of Omar, and he thought of his son, and he realized that all the pain of his life would now have meaning in the next few minutes.

  Seatbelt buckled, Farhad gave Arash the thumbs up. They were ready to finish the job and begin the war.

  45

  Layne eyed Jonah as they hiked toward the top of the hill. "You okay?"

  Jonah nodded, pausing to take a deep breath. "Feeling better every second.”

  Layne tapped his earpiece. “Harry? Serena?”

  Nothing came back. Too many hills around.

  Jonah pointed to the east. “You wanna try that way? I’m not seeing anything here.“

  “Sure, in just a minute. We need to clear something up first.”

  Jonah raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  “At the hotel the other day, you said you felt bad about what we did in New Orleans.”

  “I did. I think about that apartment and what we found there all the time. I think about Satori dying in the kitchen while we went through his things.”

  “But,” Layne said, “you also were talking about what you did to me. It sounded like it was separate from what happened during the New Orleans op. What was that all about?”

  Jonah stared up at the blue sky with his hands on his hips. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you everything. I promise. You’re going to have to trust me when I say it’s better if we don’t do this right now.” When he finished speaking, he swooned on his feet.

  “You sure you’re good to go?”

  “Don't worry about me, I'll be right-as-rain.”

  Layne wasn't so sure, but he didn't have the time to argue about it. After everything he’d been through, Layne had to figure Jonah knew himself well enough to know if he couldn’t go on. And, whatever Jonah was keeping from him, it could wait another hour or so.

  They’d both maintained their share of secrets. They would keep a little longer.

  “We’re going to stop him,” Layne said.

  “I hope so. I’m getting less sure by the minute. But do you think—”

  Layne held up a hand when something changed in the air. Subtle, from somewhere he couldn’t quite name.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Jonah frowned. “I hear something.”

  And then, the sound solidified, coming from the west. Jonah turned his head in that direction, too.

  "That sound like helicopter blades to you?"

  "Sure does."

  “Can you still fly?”

  Jonah nodded. “I can do it. From the sound of that, we need to hurry, though.”

  And off they ran. Jonah lagged behind, clearly suffering. But, he did everything he could to keep up. Layne didn't wait for him. Down the next small valley and up the hill to the west, as the sound of the chopper grew louder and louder. Layne’s legs screamed at him as he pushed up the hill, weary and aching. The brute Conner on the rooftop had left Layne with injuries he’d found hard to shrug off.

  At the top of the hill, Layne saw the helicopter. Blades whirring in a blur. The machine was a little larger than a civilian helicopter but not as large as something military issue. Layne wasn't familiar enough with helicopters to name the model. Big enough to seat a pilot, copilot, and three or four people in the back. One side was open, with a sliding door, like military choppers.

  The blades formed a circle, the tall grass around the clearing waving like rippling water. Layne could feel the intensity of the air pushing against him as he approached it. And he ran with everything in him, because the helicopter lifted, now hovering six inches in the air.

  Farhad slammed the door shut and then sat in the copilot seat, not having seen Layne and Jonah sprinting toward them. There was one other person on board, an unknown man piloting the craft. He was short and stubby, with a similar complexion as Farhad. Thick beard.

  Layne set his sights on the landing skids. If he could grab hold of one while it was still less than four or five feet off the ground, he would be in business.

  The helicopter ascended, the skids now three feet off the ground. Layne leaped. He wrapped an arm around one. As soon as he did, he felt a hand on his back. Jonah. He pushed himself up off Layne’s waistband and also grabbed the skids.

  Jonah said something, but Layne lost the words under the deafening force of air coming off the blades. The helicopter soared into the blue. Layne told himself not to look down as he hurtled toward the sky.

  Gravity pushed him down as Layne tried to lift himself up to the door latch. He felt like he was fighting against a thousand pounds of force. But, his fingers slid inside the door latch, and Layne jerked his arm back, roaring with the effort. Jonah held on next to him, his eyes shut tight, and his hands clasped together. His legs swung free, kicking the open air. Layne could now see the lake below, blue water rippling in the light breeze down there.

  The door flung open, making the chopper tilt. Layne used his momentum to pull himself up. He turned and offered a hand to Jonah. A hesitant arm shot up and Layne jerked him inside the chopper.

  A small space, maybe six feet wide and ten feet from the cockpit to the rear. There were two crates tied down in the back, instead of a second row of seating. One for poison, one for explosives? Or had Farhad already planted the explosives at the dam? Layne didn’t know and couldn’t tell from the evidence here. But, if he could put a bullet in Farhad right now, none of those things would matter.

  The copilot turned around. Farhad. Mouth dropping open. He said something to the pilot then removed his headset.

  Farhad drew a CZ 75B pistol and then grabbed hold of a bar on the ceiling to stand to his full height.

  He aimed the pistol and took a shot, but it pinged off the metal to the right of Layne’s head. Layne had been reaching for the door to pull it shut, but he jumped back toward the other side. With all the metal surfaces in here, ricochets could be deadly.

  Jonah lunged forward. The helicopter took a hard left, and Farhad smacked against the right side of the cockpit. Jonah rushed past him and drew his gun. He pointed it at the head of the pilot, shouting. Layne couldn’t hear what he was saying, and the pilot probably couldn’t either.

  But, Layne didn’t concern himself too much with Jonah, because Farhad regained his balance and rushed
forward. View of the cockpit blocked by Farhad’s frame, bearing down on Layne. He didn’t raise the gun, because Farhad probably realized that shooting inside a helicopter filled with dangerous materials wouldn’t be the smartest plan.

  Layne and Farhad met in the middle of the helicopter as Farhad shoved his gun in the front of his waistband. The chopper banked right this time, and Layne lost his balance. Farhad’s hands went around Layne’s throat. Layne slugged Farhad in the chest with a closed fist. And again. Farhad didn’t let go. The pressure increased, and a throbbing headache formed at the back of Layne’s eyes. He tried to heave a breath, but it wouldn’t come.

  Layne pulled his SIG Sauer from the back of his waistband, but the helicopter made a hard bank again to the left, and it slipped from his hand. It flew through the air and out the open side of the chopper. Probably it would smack some random hiker in the head.

  For a brief instant, Farhad was distracted.

  He had watched Layne’s pistol fly away, so his eyes were in that direction. Layne swiped at Farhad’s gun, snatching it from his waistband. But, Layne’s opponent reacted quickly and tried to grab for it. In the scrum, Farhad knocked it loose from Layne’s hand, and it skittered to the grated floor. Layne reached down and grabbed it, but the jerky motion of the helicopter made him tumble and somersault toward the cockpit.

  Without Farhad’s hands around his throat, Layne could breathe again. He looked over Farhad’s shoulder to the cockpit to see Jonah and the pilot wrestling for control of the pistol. And, with no one operating the chopper, it started to spin.

  Layne punched Farhad in the face once, then as he tried again, the shifting of the chopper made them both fly into the air for a moment. He let go of Farhad as his body smacked into the back of the chopper. They were on their way down, the ground rushing up to meet them.

  46

  Serena turned around when she heard the blades whirring. “Harry, can you see anything?”

  She waited, standing in the tall grass. Harry didn’t respond. The sound of the helicopter grew louder, but it echoed off the hills. It didn’t sound like it was coming from the same location she had left a few minutes ago. Then, she saw the grass and trees to the south waving, and she remembered how to get back to it.

  Serena ran. She pushed her legs toward the sound, shuffling through the tall grass. Her feet swished, her arms flew. Top speed. A minute later, she crested the hill where she could hear the helicopter. The two men she’d killed were both there, in the grass. Still as dead as they had been.

  But, the helicopter was gone. It was now up in the air, soaring toward the lake. The side door of the chopper was open, and she could see inside. Layne and Jonah were both there, both scrambling toward the cockpit. She couldn’t see who was up front, but she had to assume Farhad, and maybe also a pilot.

  The helicopter careened toward the lake. A sinking feeling pulled at the pit of her stomach when she realized there was nothing she could do on the ground. She had to assume Farhad had found the missing crates of poison, or he wouldn’t be headed toward his destination.

  There was no point in shooting the assault rifle she’d taken from the dead Iranians. Even if she had an RPG, could she take the shot? Could she kill Layne and Jonah and also risk releasing whatever the payload was?

  Maybe there was a way to remotely take over the helicopter’s functions and force it to land. Harry would know.

  “K-Books, do you read me?”

  No answer. She held a hand over the receiver in her ear and repeated his name several times. Each plea was met with silence. He should have answered immediately.

  Something was wrong. She could be back to Harry and the van in two minutes. Her feet pointed down the hill, back toward the road.

  And she ran, pleading with Harry to respond. Nothing came through her earpiece. Not a sound.

  She rounded a bend to see the van still parked next to the dirt road, with a woman standing next to it, dragging Harry by the arms. The same woman from the motel. Mariana.

  Serena felt a pang of guilt for not killing this woman when she’d had the chance. At the time, the sirens had told her locals were inbound. It hadn’t seemed like an urgent threat.

  How had she gotten out of the duct tape and escaped so easily? Who was this woman?

  Harry was limp, his eyes closed, as Mariana yanked him with her hands locked under his armpits. His head tilted to the side. His body jiggled as it moved over the dirt, but Serena couldn’t tell if that was a dead body flopping, or if he was still alive.

  “Drop him!” Serena shouted. She’d hoped to startle Mariana so she would let go of Harry and Serena could take a clear shot. But, Mariana was too professional for that. She didn’t seem surprised at all to have been interrupted.

  Instead of a reaction, she crouched next to the van’s front passenger tire, using Harry’s body as a shield. She lifted a pistol and rested her arm on Harry’s shoulder. Aiming right at Serena.

  She ducked to the left as a barrage of bullets sped in her direction. Mariana had all the advantage. No way could Serena take a shot over an open field on a downslope hillside with Harry between them. So, Serena had to change the angle. She needed cover of her own.

  Gripping her new assault rifle, she took a hard left and headed for the van. If she could put that large object between her and Mariana, she could create opportunities.

  In three more seconds, she rounded the side of the van. The bullets had stopped, suggesting her opponent needed to insert a fresh magazine. Serena’s first impulse told her to keep circling around and come up behind Mariana, but Mariana would likely be expecting that move. She would simply pivot Harry’s body to continue using him as a shield.

  No, Serena needed to go up. A surprise appearance. There was a ladder on the back of the van, but she didn’t want to take the chance of Mariana meeting her on that side of the vehicle. Too close to the target. No. Serena couldn’t see through the van’s tinted windows, but the windows themselves gave her an idea.

  Each window had a protruding rim that would provide her a half inch hold.

  Serena grabbed one and walked up the side of the van, then threw her leg over. She snatched the edge of the luggage rack and pulled herself the rest of the way up. Had to hurry. She’d made a lot of noise getting up here. Hopefully, Mariana’s ears were ringing from all the gun blasts.

  Now on top, Serena removed her pistol and raced to the other side. Mariana was there, looking toward the back of the van. Probably expecting Serena to emerge from that side any second now.

  Serena didn’t give Mariana a chance to look up and see her and therefore move out of the way.

  Serena jumped. On the way down, she tensed her ankle to make sure her foot would land squarely on Mariana’s head.

  Mariana looked up a split second before impact, but it was too late.

  Serena thrust her foot down as she hit her target, trying to snap her neck. It didn’t work, but they both toppled to the ground. Mariana landed flat on her back. Serena touched down a few feet away, but with the rifle clutched to her chest, she was able to pop up in firing position. Mariana was no longer next to Harry. A clear shot.

  She put two quick bullets in Mariana’s legs. The woman tried to scoot away, so Serena shot her three more times in the chest, and that put an end to her movements. Serena waited to see her head loll to the side and the blankness in her eyes before she stopped aiming the rifle.

  Then, Serena turned to Harry, slumped against the side of the van. Eyes closed, but his chest was rising and falling.

  Coming up the road behind them, Serena could hear sirens. Local—and hopefully feds—were here now.

  She crawled over to Harry and shook him. “Harry, you okay?”

  He blinked a few times and heaved a breath. “I’m… where’s Layne?”

  Serena looked up into the sky, the helicopter soaring. Then, it started to spin and screech as it plummeted toward the earth.

  47

  Layne grabbed hold of anything he coul
d as the helicopter swirled and sank toward the earth. Up front, the pilot was in his seat, his head lolling back. A hole in his temple from where Jonah must have shot him. With all the chaos, Layne hadn’t even heard the blast of the gun. Between the sound of the blades whirring, the alarms blaring, and the wind rushing in through the still-open side door, Layne couldn’t hear his own thoughts. The copter’s jerky motion through the air made the contents of his stomach swirl. The intensity of gravity wanted him to pass out.

  Farhad’s body soared around the interior of the chopper, his hands desperately trying to find something to grab onto. He’d ceased fighting Layne. Layne knew—and the rest of them had to know—they would hit the ground in about three seconds. Probably, all of them killed in the initial impact. If not, then whenever the containers of poison exploded, or the helicopter’s fuel ignited.

  Layne saw a rubber loop hanging from the opposite side, near the open door of the chopper. Maybe part of a seatbelt. He had seen nothing else that could support his weight. With a roar, he leaped toward it and managed to get three fingers inside the loop. He snatched at it with his other hand and pulled on it, trying to keep himself inside the chopper.

  Layne’s eyes shut. Gravity pulled him down, squeezing his insides. But, he knew if he didn’t hang on tight, he would fly out of the open door.

  The ground grew large. Layne could see the hillside. A brown trail cutting through the tall grass.

  Warning lights flashed in the cockpit. Alarms buzzed. Farhad managed to grab hold of the back of the pilot’s chair. Jonah was still trying to get control of the stick. He was leaning over the pilot’s dead body.

  Layne tried to shout at him, to tell him to grab hold of something solid. But there was no time. He couldn’t yell loud enough.

  The copter crashed into the side of a hill. Layne felt himself compress. Air pressure inside the chopper grew too intense. Like a popping. The sound wailed inside his head, the loudest thing he’d ever heard. His body came free of the rubber loop. Floating in the air.