Page 86
CHAPTER 86
“ AUGUSTE! MARGARET! ”
Poe kept Marple pressed behind him and peeked out around the edge of the cargo container. He saw Holmes bolting down the metal staircase two steps at a time, his hands barely touching the railing. The SWAT team was still circulating upstairs on the catwalk. Quinn held up his walkie. “What’s going on up there?”
“All clear,” came the reply. “Nobody home.”
Poe saw Holmes come around the side of the cargo container, eyes wide, forehead glistening with sweat. “I know who the next victim is!” Holmes whispered hoarsely. “We need to get to Delaware! Now! ”
Marple grabbed his arm. “Your mother?”
Poe stared at Holmes for a second, then made an executive decision. “Follow me!” He led the way to the loading dock at the rear of the building, where one of the massive doors had been forced open. Poe and his partners were now blocked from the main group by the cargo container. “Keep going!” said Poe. “Trust me!”
It was a five-foot drop from the loading dock to the ground. Poe jumped first. Marple next. Then Holmes. Poe led the way around the corner of the warehouse. For a second, he stopped and looked both ways. Then he stared into the middle distance.
There it was.
A concrete platform with an NYPD Bell 206 helicopter sitting on it.
No guards. No pilot.
Holmes was at his side, gripping his shoulder. “Can you fly it?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” said Poe. In his head, he was a lot less confident. He hoped Bell hadn’t updated the controls too radically. He hoped his muscle memory was intact. It had been fifteen years since his last sortie.
Poe shook off his nerves and sprinted toward the platform. He could hear Holmes and Marple right behind him. He vaulted onto the pad and climbed into the right forward seat. The chopper was out of the sight line of most of the assault force, but Poe knew that would only buy him a minute. Maybe less. He strapped in.
Holmes settled into the left-hand seat. Marple slipped onto a cramped bench behind her partners. Poe flicked the battery switch. The cockpit filled with a chorus of loud beeps. The controls lit up. “Full disclosure,” Poe called out above the noise. “I’m skipping some steps here.”
He rolled the throttle to idle and started the engine. The blades started to spin overhead, first in a lazy circle, then in an increasingly fast blur. He looked back toward the staging area. A few officers were paying attention. Some were pointing in his direction.
“Why aren’t we moving?” shouted Holmes as the engine built to a loud whine.
“It’s not an Uber,” Poe shouted back. “It takes a minute.”
His eyes darted across the gauges. He ran through a rudimentary preflight checklist. Generator switch. Hydraulics. Pedal resistance. Altimeter. Fuel level. Good enough. Jesus. He would have been kicked out of flight school for this.
He rolled the throttle to the fly position.
He turned to see a few cops moving in the direction of the pad. He saw arms waving and mouths moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the engine. He clamped his headphones on and signaled Holmes and Marple to do the same. He looked back to make sure the tail rotor was clear. He checked the gauges again. All green. Now or never. He pulled back gently on the stick and feathered the left pedal.
“Go, dammit!” shouted Holmes. “Paul could be there already!”
The aircraft jittered. A few of the cops were running toward the pad now, getting closer and closer. The chopper slid forward, then lifted free, hovering a few yards off the ground.
Poe looked back as the prop wash hit the cops. The next instant, he saw Duff rounding the corner of the warehouse, walkie in his hand, suit jacket flapping. Poe pulled up about fifty feet, turned in a tight circle, and made a pass directly over his head.
He watched as Duff spun and hurled his radio against the warehouse wall.
Poe heard Marple’s voice crackle through his headset. “Too bad,” she said. “We were getting along so well.”
A few seconds later, Poe straightened out and headed south, skirting power lines and rooftops. It was all coming back to him now. He poured on more power and felt the machine come to life. Then he flicked off the transponder.
“How long?” asked Holmes, shifting anxiously in his seat.
Poe checked his gauges again. “About an hour,” he said. “Or until somebody shoots us down.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86 (Reading here)
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96