and dropped the helicopter below the tree line. He stopped in a hover twenty feet above the slope, looked around for the H-V-C-P Jingaro had mentioned, and flipped it on. The helicopter shuddered slightly, slid sideways, dipped, then settled into a steady hover. The alarms and the flashing lights stopped. Sam tentatively took his hands off the controls and exhaled heavily. In the back, Remi scooted sideways and slid the door shut. The thumping of the rotors faded.Sam turned in his seat and extended his hand between the gap. Remi grabbed his hand and pulled herself toward him. Sam asked, “You okay?”
“Yes. You?”
He nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve fully worn out our welcome.”
CHAPTER 20
BIG SUKUTI ISLAND
THEY HAD JUST CLEARED THE ISLAND’S SOUTHERN COASTLINE when Sam realized Rivera’s gunfire had caused more than cosmetic damage. The rudder pedals felt spongy, and the collective and cyclic were sluggish, responding to his commands with a slight delay.“What do you think?” Remi asked, her face pressed between the seats.
“Hydraulics, maybe.” He scanned the gauges, looking for oil pressure, temperature, revolutions per minute . . . “Engine’s running a little hot, too, and the oil pressure looks dodgy.”“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing good.” “How far to the beach?”
“Three miles, give or take.”
“We should assume Rivera isn’t giving up.”
“I agree. Whether they call someone and how fast they respond is the question.”
“Or how fast they can get the Rinkers working again.”
“True. Let me see if I can get her settled down.”
Carefully Sam worked the controls, dropping both altitude and speed until they were a hundred feet off the water and moving at sixty knots-roughly seventy miles per hour. Below them, the sea was flat, calm, and black save the reflection of the helicopter’s navigation strobes.Remi said, “Sam, they’ll be able to track the lights.”
“Lights or no lights, they’re tracking us through the Big Eyes. Once we cross the beach, I’ll switch them off. Against the backdrop of the land we’ll be invisible.”
“You’re assuming they’ll come after us.”
“Have to.” He did a quick scan of the gauges. “The engine temperature’s come down a little bit. But the oil pressure is still hinky. The controls are still soft.”
“Hydraulics, then.”
“At the very least. Any one of those can put us in the drink. All we need is another four minutes or so.”
“And a non-crash landing,” Remi added.
“And that.”
Slowly through the windshield they could see Africa’s east coast turn from a dark smudge to identifiable bits of landmass: trees, white sand beaches, rolling hills, and rivers and streams zigzagging across the terrain.A half mile from the beach Sam felt the cyclic jerk in his hand, followed by a thump-bang above their heads. The cockpit and cabin began shaking. An alarm shrieked. Yellow and red lights flashed. “That’s a tad ominous,” Remi said with a tight grin.
“Just a tad,” Sam agreed. “Grab ahold of something. It’s going to get bumpy.”
He lifted the collective and dropped the nose, pushing the helicopter past eighty knots. Through the windshield he saw the shoals slip beneath the fuselage, then the beach, then the black-green of the forest. He reached forward and flipped off the navigation strobes.“There’s a big sandbar ahead on the riverbank,” he called. “Think you can manage the bell?”
“Define ‘manage’?”
“Shove it out the door.”
“That, I can do. What’s the plan?”
“I hover. You, the guns, our packs, and the bell get off on the sandbank.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to put down in the river.”
“What? No, Sam-”
“You said it yourself: They’re coming after us. If we can ditch this thing, they’ll have nowhere to start looking.”
“Can you do it?”
“If I can get the rotors shut down quickly enough.”
“More ifs,” Remi replied. “I’m beginning to hate ifs.”
“This’ll be the last one for a while.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before.”
“When you’re on the ground, find the thickest tree trunk around and get behind it. If the rotors don’t spool down enough before she flips over, they’ll tear free and turn into shrapnel.” “Flip over? What do you mean-”
“Helicopters are top-heavy. As soon as she touches the water she’s going to roll.”
“I don’t like this-”
“The sandbar’s coming up. Get ready!”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“I know.”
Remi mumbled a half curse under her breath, then turned around and released the tie-down ratchets around the crate. She crab-walked around it, braced her back against the bulkhead and her legs against the crate, and shoved it across the deck until it bumped up against the door.“Ready,” she called.
Sam bled off airspeed and altitude until they were thirty feet off the sandbar and crawling ahead at fifteen knots. The helicopter was wobbling now; the earlier thump-bang had settled into an ominous three-second cycle that shook the fuselage from stem to stern.“It’s getting worse,” Remi said.
“We’re almost there.”
Sam eased the helicopter downward a foot at a time.
“Check the distance,” he asked.
Remi slid the cabin door halfway open and poked her head out. “Twenty feet . . . fifteen . . . ten . . .”
“Can you make that?” Sam asked.
“I may be well past my gymnastics days, but I can still do ten feet blindfolded.”
Sam flipped on the hover coupler. He took his hands off the controls. The helicopter lurched sideways, quivered, dipped, then steadied itself.
“Okay, go,” Sam called. “Give me a wave when you’re down and safe.”
Remi hunch-walked forward, stuck her head between the seats, kissed him, said “Good luck,” then walked back and shoved the door the rest of the way open.
“Try to miss the skids,” Sam said.
Remi put her shoulder to the crate, took a deep breath, and shoved. The crate tumbled through the opening and disappeared. The guns went next. Remi gave Sam a final glance and jumped out. Ten seconds later Sam spotted her farther up the sandbar. She gave him a thumbs-up and dashed off into the darkness.
Sam counted to sixty to give her time to find cover, then grabbed the collective. He disengaged the hover coupler and seized the cyclic. He dipped the nose slightly and let the rotor blade’s pitch angle ease him across the sandbar and over the river. When he reached a section that was both wide and deep enough for his purposes, he pulled the nose up and worked the collective into a hover.
He took one final look around. Once the helicopter submerged, the interior would be black. With no visual reference points, he’d have to escape by feel alone. He checked his seat belt to ensure he knew how to unhook it, then studied the cabin-door latch, then rehearsed his movements in his mind’s eye.
He lowered the collective ever so slightly and felt the helicopter drop. He pressed his face against the door window. The skids were about five feet off the water. Close enough. Any closer, Sam feared, and he’d have a zero
