The West 30th Street Heliport rested on thebank of the Hudson River. More than thirty blocks away. Traffic wascrazy, due to the tunnel being closed, the subway incident, andpresumably the dead man now lying in the center of 9th Avenue,emergency vehicles everywhere.
I drove like all of our lives depended onit.
The SUV appeared, too soon for my comfort,ten car lengths behind.
We played stop and go, street light to streetlight. Sometimes I gained a few meters. Sometimes the Iranians did.At each red, we watched intently to see if they jumped out of theirvehicle to rush us. So far, so good.
It took ten excruciating minutes to reach49th Street, and I got the hell off of 9th and turned right,heading for 12th Avenue, our pace slightly faster than a snailsurfing on molasses.
“You guys okay back there?” I asked, eyeingmy passengers.
Kirk had distanced himself from Julie as muchas he could, leaning against the passenger side door.
“Never better,” he said, winking at me.
I couldn’t see the SUV behind us anymore, butwasn’t optimistic I’d lost them. This op had been nothing but onebad break after another, and the only thing I was optimistic aboutwas the fact that our luck was terrible.
I blew through a yellow light and swung leftonto the boulevard that was 12th Avenue, the vast blue/black of theriver running parallel to us, filling my nostrils. Coming up on theright was the USS Intrepid, moored there since 1982. The oncemighty aircraft carrier was now a museum, a relic of wars past.
Once again I checked the rearview, eyeingJulie.
The Intrepid was still a sight to behold,over two hundred fifty meters long, weighing thirty thousand tons,armor four inches thick in parts. A fearsome weapon.
But not as fearsome as what I had in my backseat.
Traffic was better on the boulevard. Wepassed the Silver Towers, the sprawling Javits Center, and finallyreached our destination. A long, concrete platform edged the water,enclosed by fencing and a few no-frills trailers, the heliport wasbuilt for function, not fanciness.
Lucky for us it wasn’t built for security,either.
Best yet, a small, sightseeing helicopter saton the helipad, as if waiting for us.
Maybe our luck had begun to change.
I swung the cab into the entrance. We didn’thave much time, and normally I would ram the cab straight throughthe fence instead of risking involving civilians. But consideringJulie’s state, things weren’t so simple. If a flying bit of glassshould cut her or she happened to bump her nose, a city full ofcivilians wouldn’t just be involved—they’d be dead.
I double-parked, and we headed for thetrailer promising helicopter tours of the Big Apple. I took thelead, Kirk hobbling behind me with Julie at his side. Still no signof the Iranians.
The inside of the trailer was about as poshas the outside. Indoor/outdoor carpet, particle board furniture,and the smell of well-aged cigarette smoke from before the recentindoor smoking ban gave the place an ambiance all its own. At leastit was clean.
“Can I help you?”
The young woman behind the counter peeredover her glasses at us. The evening sun streamed through the windowand reflected off the diamond stud in her right nostril.
“We need to take a helicopter.”
“I’m afraid there’s a couple going up rightnow. We prefer you make reservations, but I have some paperworkhere that—”
I met Kirk’s eyes, and we brushed past thedesk and made for the door leading out to the helipad.
“Wait! You can’t—”
But we could, and we did.
Leaving the woman yelling empty threats inour wake, we reached a blue helicopter—a single engineEC120—emblazoned with the tour company’s logo. Smaller than thecorporate craft used by Hawk Nose, this bird offered only onecompartment, forcing the pilot and the passengers to cram togetherin the tiny space. The pilot stood with his back to us, instructingan older, well-dressed couple in how to fasten their harnesses.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t be sightseeingtoday,” I told them.
The tourist couple stared at me as if I wasspeaking another language. The pilot frowned.
“Who are you?”
“Homeland Security. We’re commandeering thisaircraft. Now I need you to get out and return to the trailerimmediately. Oh, and keep your heads down.”
The pilot shook his head. “Can I see somesort of ID?”
Overhead I could hear the whomp, whomp,whomp of chopper blades in the far off distance, the soundbouncing off buildings. I could only hope it was another tourcoming in to land, but I had a bad feeling I was just foolingmyself.
I pulled out the Ruger. “The helicopter. Weneed it. Now.”
The pilot backed away from the door. Thecouple scrambled, almost tripping over each other to get out. Somepart of me registered that this was the third mode oftransportation I’d stolen in the last hour.
I nodded to Julie and Kirk. “Hurry.”
Julie looked as if she’d rather do just aboutanything but go on another helicopter ride, but she stepped up intothe tiny craft anyway.
Behind Kirk, the pilot turned around, and Icaught a gleam in his eye, that little surge of adrenaline peoplefelt just before they were about to do something very stupid.
I opened my mouth to shout a warning.
I needn’t have bothered.
Kirk twisted at the waist, throwing his bodyweight into a well-aimed punch.
The pilot crumpled onto the concrete.
“Nice,” I said.
He cocked his head and shot me a half smile.“I’m a lover, not a fighter. Wait ‘til I show you my realtalents.”
Still no Iranians, but in the distance I sawa chopper heading toward us, still too far to tell if it was HawkNose, or just a tourist craft.
I climbed into the pilot’s seat, Kirkslipping into the seat next to Julie.
Moving fast, I familiarized myself with theinterior: collective control stick, cyclic control stick, rudderpedals, RPM gauge, altimeter, airspeed indicator, manifold pressuregauge, vertical speed indicator, fuel gauge, oil pressure and temp,cylinder head temp.
Then, Kirk: “Above us!”
I was just reaching for the ignition when around crashed through the upper windshield and dug into the maininstrument panel. More bullets peppered the fuselage. I dropped tothe floor.
Apparently Hawk Nose had realized Julie’scorpse was nearly as valuable as taking her alive.
Shitastic.
Julie hunched forward. “Oh my God. Oh myGod.”
“Are you hit?” Kirk
