Empire of Gold

been pulled away from the cave mouth. Eddie checked the rope. Brightly coloured marine line, strong and hard- wearing.

He looked back outside. De Quesada was returning to the cockpit.

Eddie unhooked the rope from the tarp, then switched on the winch, reversing it to unspool the line. He looked back through the opening. Below, the Colombian climbed into the plane. ‘Come on, come on!’ he snarled, tugging at the rope. He needed more slack—

The engine revved. Out of time.

Pulling the line after him, Eddie leapt from the crevice, aiming to land on the fuselage—

The rope pulled tight, stopping him short. He hit the wing’s trailing edge and fell backwards, landing hard on the tail of the port pontoon.

De Quesada, startled by the unexpected impact, turned and saw the stowaway. He jammed the throttle forward, the propeller screaming to full power as he steered the plane down the channel.

Eddie flailed, about to slip off the float . . .

His foot caught the rearmost strut connecting the pontoon to the bottom of the fuselage. He used the tenuous hold as leverage to sit up. The winch was still unspooling the rope – there was just enough slack for him to reach the support.

He lunged, clanking the hook on to the strut—

The line went taut again with a whipcrack. The plane jolted, but didn’t slow – it was now unwinding the rope from the winch reel. Eddie dropped to keep his head clear of it. If his plan worked, when the line ran out it would either bring the plane to a stop, or rip out the strut, making it too dangerous for de Quesada to risk taking off.

The Skyhawk headed for the open ocean beyond the cliffs on each side. It picked up speed—

The reel reached its end.

For an instant it held . . . then the entire winch was torn from the wall, flying out of the crack and splashing down in the water.

The plane lurched, pitching Eddie into the sea.

Churning wake filled his nostrils, choking him. The Cessna surged away. He kicked, trying to get his head above the surface.

Something brushed his legs.

The rope—

A loop closed round his ankle, the weight of the winch pulling it tight – and he was dragged along by the plane, bouncing helplessly through the waves.

28

Nina watched in horror as her husband was hauled along behind the floatplane. The Seahawk accelerated, but was still a long way short of its sixty-four knot takeoff speed in the confined channel.

It had to be stopped. But how?

The waterway narrowed just before its end . . .

She ran back to the trucks and scrambled into the lead SUV. The key was in the ignition; she turned it, the big V8 roaring in response. Into drive, apply the gas—

The Expedition surged forward, flattening bushes and saplings as Nina turned to follow the plane. A small tree tumbled with a crack of shattering wood – and she was at the cliff, the drop looming. She swerved to drive along it, the right front wheel thumping over the ragged edge before finding solid ground. Craning her neck, she saw the floatplane was ahead of her – with Eddie skittering in its wake.

She accelerated. Past thirty – and gaining. The Expedition crashed over rocks and roots, slamming her against the door. Ignoring the pain, Nina stayed focused on the cliff ahead – and the plane below. She was almost level with the aircraft. Forty, and the 4?4 was airborne for a moment as it hit a bump, smashing down more shrubs as it landed.

Past the plane, but the end of the channel was just ahead—

Nina opened the door and jammed the steering wheel hard to the right as she threw herself out.

The Expedition shot over the edge and plunged towards the water.

De Quesada adjusted the rudder to keep the Cessna in the centre of the channel. The cliffs were far enough apart to accommodate the Skyhawk’s ten metre wingspan, but after having someone jump on his plane, he didn’t need any more close calls—

An SUV fell from the sky directly ahead and hit the water with a colossal eruption of spray.

‘Mierda!’ he shrieked, yanking back the throttle and applying full rudder to swing round it. But the vehicle was buried nose-down in the mud beneath the shallow water, blocking his escape route.

The only way out was back the way he had come. Keeping the rudder hard over, he reapplied power in pulses, swinging the plane around to reverse course.

A man was in the water, directly in his path.

Eddie gasped for breath, shaking water from his eyes. The rope was still looped round his leg, coils bobbing on the surface around him. He reached down to untangle it, looking for the plane.

It was powering towards him.