The Distant Chase

by Cap Daniels

  The dim red lights inside the cabin of the helicopter cast an eerie glow onto everything, especially our faces. Norikova was still scowling from the interaction with the border guard, and Clark wore an inquisitive look. I watched him peer into the cockpit and then back at his watch.

  His eyes met mine, and we leaned toward each other with Norikova between us. Just loud enough for Norikova and me to hear, he said, “Ich denke, wir sollten sie jetzt töten.”

  Clark had said “I think we should kill her now” in German. If she had understood, there would’ve been some involuntary reaction in her expression. We’d discovered a new method of private communication.

  “Something’s not right,” Clark said in German. “I don’t like how this feels.”

  I peered into the cockpit, but I couldn’t see the instruments well enough to piece anything together. In English, I asked Norikova, “What did that guard say to you?”

  In perfect German, she said, “He said he will do things to me worse than death before I see sun again.”

  So much for our private method of communication.

  Clark groaned. “I knew it. We walked right into a trap, and we’re headed northeast.”

  Ruhnu was southwest. There was nothing to the northeast except millions of square miles of frozen Finnish countryside.

  I leaned toward Norikova. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘lesser of two evils’?”

  She slowly nodded.

  “It’s time for you to make a choice. I might make you pee in a bucket, but I’m not going to do whatever that Finn has in mind. Help us get out of this, or we all end up frozen to death.”

  “I will do what is better for me,” she said. “Until something changes, I am better with you than with them.”

  Anya’s chances of ever getting out of the prison were fading quickly, and I had no idea what the Finn had against Norikova, but whatever it was made her nervous enough to temporarily change sides. Perhaps Sun Tzu was right when he said, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Or some craziness like that.

  One of the pilots climbed out of his seat, stuck his head and shoulders into the cabin, and yelled in Finnish. Recognizing that none of us spoke that language, he tried again in Russian. “Get some rest, and we will be on Ruhnu in about ninety minutes.”

  “Spasibo,” I said, hoping he couldn’t detect my suspicion. “Okay, Geography Boy, what’s ninety minutes northeast of Helsinki in a Huey?”

  Before Clark could get a word in, Norikova said, “Tuohisaari.”

  “What’s Tuohisaari?” we asked.

  “Is island and secret training area of the Special Jaeger Battalion.”

  Clark closed his eyes and sighed.

  I was lost. “What’s the Jaeger Battalion?”

  “Finnish Special Forces,” he said, “and they’re no joke.”

  Things were going from bad to worse with every passing minute, but the beginning of a plan was coming together in my head.

  “Okay, listen up,” I said. “It’s too much risk to try to take the chopper while we’re in the air, so we have to take the fight to the ground.”

  Clark and Norikova leaned in.

  “They think we believe we’re still going to Ruhnu, so they won’t be expecting a fight from us when we hit the ground. Do you think they’ll hit us as soon as we land?”

  “That’s what I’d do—take full advantage of the element of surprise.”

  “They will not,” said Norikova. “They own only two helicopters in all of Border Guard service. They will not take chance of hurting this one.”

  “How do you know?” Clark asked.

  “It is, for me, job to know these things.”

  “Okay,” I said, “so that will give us a small window of opportunity to disable any ground forces we encounter and take the chopper. Are the pilots armed?”

  “The right seater has a pistol,” Clark said, “but the left seater didn’t appear to be strapped. Though I can’t say if they have anything stashed in the cockpit.”

  “They have to assume we’re armed.”

  “Probably not,” he said. “They would’ve asked for our weapons if they thought we had any.”

  Norikova moved uncomfortably in her restraints. “I agree with him.”

  “Ekaterina, listen very closely to me. I’m going to uncuff you, but if you run, I swear to you I will kill you, and you’ll never see Mother Russia again. Is that clear?”

  Chapter 16

  Kat Nap

  The red glow of the bulb above Norikova’s head cast strange shadows across her perfect features.

  “Kat,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I would like for you to call me Kat. I will not run. I will fight, but I will fight for my life and not for yours.”

  I squinted against the red glow. “I think it’s safe to say our lives are inextricably linked right now. We probably can’t overcome whatever is waiting for us without your help, and you’ll never survive the night without ours. So, Kat, don’t make me shoot you.”

  I pulled the two keys from my pocket and handed one to Clark. After unlocking Kat’s shackles and handcuffs, she rubbed at her wrists and stretched her legs. To create the illusion that she was still bound, we laced the restraints loosely back around her ankles and wrists, taking every advantage we could get.

  We’d been in the air for almost ninety minutes. I wasn’t afraid of a fight, but I didn’t like walking into an ambush outmanned, outgunned, and with no support. That’s when it occurred to me that we weren’t completely without backup—Skipper and Ginger were just a sat-phone call away.

  Ensuring the pilots couldn’t see what I was doing, I powered up my phone, and just like E.T., I phoned home. It would take several seconds for the call to go through, but Ginger would immediately know we weren’t on a boat when she tracked the call. No boat on the Baltic Sea would be traveling at two miles per minute like our helicopter, and it certainly wouldn’t be headed through the Finnish wilderness.

  After pressing the call button, I felt the chopper begin to descend, and I shoved the phone deep into the interior pocket of my coat. Ginger and Skipper wouldn’t be able to hear what was happening, but they could track my position as long as the battery lasted.

  The skids of the chopper touched the ground, and the rotors spun to a stop. One of the pilots removed his helmet. “Dobro pozhalovat’ v Ruhnu.”

  Welcoming us to Ruhnu was a nice addition to the charade, but I doubted the pilot expected us to believe he’d taken us where we wanted to be.

  “Spasibo,” I said as I unbuckled my shoulder harness and reached for the door.

  “No!” he yelled, and I retracted my hand.

  Our arrival was about to turn into a fireworks show, and I hoped us going up in flames wasn’t the grand finale.

  I saw Clark reach inside his coat, obviously gearing up for the coming gunfight, so I did the same. The left and right doors of the chopper opened simultaneously, and four men lunged into the cabin, two on each side. Before we could react, Clark and I were in their grasps. One of the men yelled in Finnish, and the second pilot leapt from the cockpit with his pistol trained on Kat’s face, though I didn’t have time to worry about her; I was about to be in the fight of my life.

  I heard Clark’s boot make contact with an attacker’s chest, and an instant later, I heard the man hit the ground. I wanted to see what was happening, but my hands were full on my side of the chopper.

  The first of my abductors quickly wrapped me in a bear hug, and the second grabbed my ankles. I was outside the chopper in an instant and breathing in the frigid Nordic air. I twisted with all my strength, hoping to break his grasp, but the first man wasn’t only strong, he was enormous. He outweighed me, and judging by the length of his arms, he was at least six foot six. Overpowering him wasn’t possible; I would have to outwit him. I tried to force a glance back into the chopper to see if Kat had revealed her freedom, but I couldn’t turn my head far enough to see.

  The man
holding my feet stumbled slightly as he backed through the darkness, and I took full advantage of my enemy’s mistake by yanking my right foot as hard as possible, attempting to free it from his vice-like grip. It almost worked, but the giant recognized what I was doing and lunged forward, giving his partner the chance to reclaim his grasp on my ankles. These two had obviously practiced their teamwork for years. I was in far bigger trouble than I wanted to admit.

  I took inventory of my situation and resources and realized the two men weren’t trying to kill me—they were trying to get me away from the helicopter. I hoped the same was true on Clark’s side of the chopper. I decided to stop resisting long enough to gather my wits and come up with a plan. My eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness because of the dim red light under which I’d spent the last hour and a half of my life. My captors stopped, threw me down, and rolled me facedown. The ground was covered with a couple inches of frozen snow, but it felt like I’d been shoved onto concrete.

  I expected to feel the giant kneel on my back and pin me to the ground, but what happened next was much worse. Each of the men placed a booted foot on the inside of my elbows, effectively pinning me to the ground and eliminating any chance of me using my hands or arms. I tried to remain calm and listen for signs of a struggle. If Clark were able to overpower his abductors and get free, he’d be coming for me within seconds. I could faintly hear him cursing and struggling against the men, but it was obvious he wasn’t winning the fight.

  The sounds of the struggle continued and grew closer, and I heard the men trying to catch their breath while wrestling with Clark. He was clearly giving them more fight than they’d expected. If I could get just one of my captors to believe I’d surrendered, he might rush to the aid of his buddies to help subdue Clark. That would give me the window I needed to get my pistol out of its holster. I didn’t care if I could aim. I just wanted to point the muzzle toward anybody who wasn’t Clark or Kat and squeeze off a few rounds.

  Since I couldn’t speak their language, I let out an audible sigh and let every muscle of my body relax, hoping they’d recognize the physical signs of surrender. They were either too well trained to fall for my trick, or they had faith that their comrades didn’t need their help.

  Clark’s struggle continued to draw nearer and louder until I heard the unmistakable sound of a baton being extended. The combination of the swoosh and click of the weapon is one of the most ominous sounds imaginable during a fight in the dark. I dreaded the next sound I knew I’d hear.

  The sickening thud of the weapon finding its mark against Clark’s skull silenced the struggle. Did the blow kill him or just render him unconscious? Either way, he was no longer capable of being involved in the rest of the fight.

  Clark’s body came to rest on the ground near me, and I listened closely, hoping to hear him breathe. The men chatted incessantly with their teammates, and I made a mental note to learn Finnish if I survived the night.

  After their breathing returned to normal, the men lifted Clark from the ground and hefted his body onto a metallic surface. I tried to focus in the dark to determine what was happening as I waited for my window to fight.

  Four hands grabbed me—one at each elbow and ankle—and I was amazed they hadn’t searched me for a weapon or taken my sat-phone yet. They were brutes to be sure, but they weren’t particularly thorough in their tactics. They hurled me into the darkness, and I landed against Clark’s body in what must have been the bed of a truck.

  I heard the shaft of the baton tap the edge of the truck bed several times before I felt it connect with the back of my skull.

  * * *

  When I returned from the spirit world, I heard six or seven shots. I assumed it was pistol fire, but I couldn’t be certain. My head was pounding, and what little vision I had in the dark was too blurry to make out any distinct objects. I felt for Clark and found him still prone and motionless. I grabbed at his neck and held my breath, hoping to feel his pulse. The regular, slow rhythm of the blood still pumping through the veins in his neck was one of the most welcome feelings I’d ever experienced. He wouldn’t be much help, but he wasn’t dead.

  I tried to shake off the spiderwebs from my brain and take in my environment. It appeared that no one was guarding us. When I sat up, I saw the outlines of two bodies running away from us and toward the helicopter. Clark stirred beside me, but I had more important concerns. With my pistol drawn, I tried to focus enough to put a bullet in at least one of the running men, but Clark’s hand fell limply against my wrist.

  In a groggy, pain-filled voice, he said, “No. That’s our only way out of here.”

  He was right. If I put a bullet through the turbine engine of the chopper, we’d never make it out of Finland. As I lowered my pistol, the engines of the helicopter whistled to life, and I saw the blur of the spinning blades.

  “Dammit, they’re going to get away with Kat.” I brought my pistol back to bear on the helicopter.

  The skids left the ground, and the nose of the chopper turned abruptly toward us. The searchlight hanging beneath the helicopter burst to life, filling the air with blinding white light. The two men who’d been running raised their arms to shield their eyes from the assaulting light, but little did they know the light would be the least of their concerns.

  Seconds later, the silhouettes of their headless bodies tumbled across the frozen ground, and the nose of the chopper rose until the light was trained directly on Clark and me. I immediately threw my body back to the bed of the truck, hoping the tips of the blades didn’t hold the same treatment for me as they had for the two Finns.

  To my relief and surprise, the chopper came to rest fifty feet behind the truck, and the searchlight went dark. The outline of a form was coming toward us through the darkness, and I raised my pistol in defense until, over the whine of the turbine engines, I heard Kat’s voice cut through the cold night air. “Come now! Get in helicopter!”

  I helped Clark to his feet, and we stumbled toward the idling chopper. Kat helped me put Clark in the cabin and then buckled herself into the right seat. She brought the throttle to one hundred percent, and in seconds, we were climbing out of Tuohisaari and heading south.

  “Kat, I can’t read Finnish, so I won’t be much help on the instruments.”

  “Is okay. I do not need your help. Go to Clark. He is hurt.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay up here alone?”

  “Yes, I am very good pilot.”

  I pulled off my headset and crawled from the cockpit into the cabin. “How you doing back here, old man?”

  Clark rubbed at his neck. “I took a pretty nasty shot to the noggin, but I think I’ll be okay. Where’s she taking us?”

  I turned around, and Kat was standing in the cabin pointing my pistol at us. “Sit beside him and put shackles on ankles. One on you, one on him, and chain through seat frame. Do it now!”

  She must have lifted my pistol when she helped me put Clark in the cabin. I could only assume she’d set the autopilot for Saint Petersburg.

  I followed her instructions, knowing she’d shoot us both if we didn’t comply.

  “Now also handcuffs. Same.”

  We did as she ordered and cuffed our wrists together.

  “Good, now give to me satellite telephone.”

  I reached into my coat to retrieve the sat-phone as she extended her hand toward me. Clark lunged forward, and with every ounce of strength that remained in his battered body, clamped her wrist with his free hand and pulled her thin frame. She stumbled forward, and I thrust my free hand behind her neck, pulling her face into the bulkhead between Clark and me. Blood exploded from her nose, and she let out a painful groan as her body collapsed between us and my pistol fell from her grip.

  I swiped the gun from the floor and held it tightly as Clark retrieved the shackle key. After releasing the bindings from our ankles, he replaced the shackles on Norikova’s feet and positioned her limp body on the seat.

  There was no sign of the handc
uff key in my pockets, and I questioned the decision to have shackles and cuffs without matching keys. I considered shooting the cuffs off, but the risk was too high, so I set about searching for anything to use as a pick.

  Clark pulled a sheaf of papers from a packet hanging behind the cockpit and removed a paperclip. “Give this a try.”

  I straightened the clip and fed it into the keyhole, struggling with the simple mechanism for far longer than I should have, but it finally surrendered, and the cuff fell from Clark’s wrist. I went to work on mine and soon had myself free. Clark cuffed Norikova’s wrists to the seat and tried to stop the blood flowing from her nose. The beautiful woman she’d been only minutes before would soon be well hidden behind a badly broken nose and two black eyes.

  Clark rubbed at his neck while occasionally digging his knuckles into his temples. We climbed into the cockpit, Clark on the left, and me on the right.

  “Everything is in Finnish,” I said, “but I think we can figure it out enough to get back to Helsinki.”

  “To hell with Helsinki,” he said. “I never want to see that place again. Do we have the gas to make Ruhnu?”

  I fumbled with the GPS, wishing I’d learned Finnish in my spare time. “It looks like it’s just over five hundred kilometers, and we’ve got about twelve hundred liters of fuel. How’s your grasp of the metric system?”

  Clark was still wincing from the pain in his head. “There are two kinds of countries on Earth: those who’ve never lost a war, and those who use the metric system. You’re the college boy. You figure it out. In the meantime, I’m going to point us toward that little island.”

  After five minutes of struggling with the conversion, I said, “Okay, I think we can make it, but it’s going to be close.”

  “In that case, it sounds like we’ll either make it, run out of gas over the Gulf of Riga, or get shot down over Estonia. One out of three ain’t bad.”

  Clark set the autopilot, and I began taking notes, calculating our fuel burn against our distance remaining to Ruhnu. With every liter we burned, I lost a little more faith in our ability to make it.