“But where the hell are we going to land?” Cade said.
“We?” said Selena. “That’s a trifle presumptuous. Who said you’re coming along?”
Cade grinned. “Aw, c’mon! You’re not going to make my part in this story end right here, are you?”
She sighed. “Very well, I suppose you have your uses.”
“Thanks, man. But what about my question? How the hell are we going to get there first?”
“We might not be able to get there first,” Decker said with a grin, “but I sure know a way to cut some corners.”
“What does that mean?” Selena asked. “Just what are you planning, Mitch Decker?”
His grin broke into a smile. “I’d tell you, but you’d think I was crazy.”
35
New York City
Decker had landed airplanes in a lot of wild places. Rocky Chinese canyons and Indonesian mountain passes. Norwegian fjords and African jungles. Today, he decided to put the Hudson River on his resumé and see how it looked there.
But there were some technical challenges. First, the river was the border between New York and New Jersey and the airspace was busy. Second, to get the best time advantage over the Snake King, he wanted to put her down somewhere in between Union City and Hell’s Kitchen. That way they could pull in and moor near the Hudson River Park and go straight down West 57th Street.
And this was a busy stretch of the river. The busy waterway hosted several tour boat companies and private sailing vessels and even some fishing. By this time of day, the river would already be teeming with life and rife with opportunities for disaster. But the good news was, Decker knew seaplanes landed on the Hudson all the time. He dialled into the frequency of the local tower and started talking.
“Tower, this is Albatross niner-seven-four, requesting permission to land on the Hudson.”
There was a pause. Static filled the speaker as the controller checked their location on the radar.
“Copy that, turn left heading three-one-zero.”
“Three-one-zero.”
Decker banked the Avalon gently to the right and watched the nice, fat river line up in front of the aircraft. It was a clear, sunny day and he had been right about the waterborne traffic. Yachts and sailboats were dotted all over the river, bright white dashes on a blue canvas. No problem. Decker had been flying since he was a teenager. After that he had been trained by and flown for the US Marine Corp. He could land anything anywhere, just so long as the plane was in good working order. He started to relax. No problems here.
A loud explosion rocked the aircraft.
“What the hell was that?” Selena asked.
Decker gave the altimeter a gentle tap and frowned. “Problems. We got problems.”
“What sort of problems? Selena asked urgently. “Can they be fixed?”
“Fixed? She has to be finessed. She’s a yacht of the air!”
“It’s a seaplane, Mitch. It has to be fixed and operated. Fix it and operate it!”
As the aircraft juddered and moaned, Decker huffed out a cynical laugh. “I can see you know nothing about old machinery, especially vintage aircraft. The Avalon has more personality than…” he paused to search for a comparison. “Riley here, for example.”
“I heard that, Cap, and it hurts!” Riley shouted from the main cabin.
Decker pushed on. “You have to treat old machinery with respect, with love. If you do, it will love you right back. Also, technically she's an amphibious flying boat and not a seaplane because she can land on solid ground.”
The starboard engine made a deep belching noise and the plane shuddered.
“Damn it,” Decker said. “What the hell’s the matter with this old pile of…” His voice trailed.
Selena raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what was that last bit, Mitch? I missed it.”
“Fine, sometimes she needs a little more TLC than usual. Now is one of those times. I think the repair I made to the shot-up engine back in the jungle might need a little tweaking. That is all.”
“A little tweaking? Are we safe or not?”
“More or less.”
“More or less!”
“Just take it easy. I’m going to bring her in and land on the river just like we planned. Everything is going to be just fine. You can thank me later.”
Selena looked outside as New Jersey rushed past the portside window. “Thank God.”
“Yeah, just fine,” Decker muttered. “Probably.”
*
The Snake King watched Tarántula and his men fuss around the capstone as they worked to lift the strange, heavy metal pyramid into position high on top of Central Park Tower. Years of patient planning were slowly coming together right before his very own eyes. It was almost impossible to contain his excitement, but he hadn’t reached his full destiny.
Much was left to do, including deleting most of New York City from the map. Only an attack of this magnitude would demonstrate to the American authorities that he had the power to destroy any part of their empire at a whim. After that came the blackmail and then the biggest payoff in history.
“Is it ready, Diaz?” he snapped.
The old Cuban professor fussed around inside the capstone. “Almost.”
“Good. I am impatient to show my devotion to the mighty Huracan.”
He closed his eyes and heard the voices of the ancient past. Maya priests summoning gods, the sound of the frenzied worshippers, and then the roar of the gods themselves. Only the reincarnated souls of the ancient priests could possibly experience such vivid memories. He knew he was such a
