I patted the emergency hook knife on my harness and said, 'I can cut you loose.'
She continued, patiently going over a few other small details having to do mostly with safety and not dying.
Kate, I understood, was very brave to jump with a novice. New guys caused accidents. Accidents caused certain death. I assured her, 'I got it. I got it.'
We both retreated into silence as the aircraft continued climbing.
I glanced at the digital altimeter on my left wrist. Ten thousand feet.
How the hell did I get here? Well, I went to skydiving school, which was my first mistake.
That was last November, after Kate and I had successfully resolved the curious case of Bain Madox-the previously mentioned evil genius-who wanted to start a nuclear war, but who was otherwise a pleasant man.
Our bosses at the ATTF had suggested we take a few weeks' leave time as a token of their appreciation for us saving the planet from nuclear annihilation. Also, this was a very sensitive case, so the bosses wanted us out of town and away from the press. Kate suggested Florida, and I started packing my Speedo. Then the thing about skydiving came up, and without getting into that interesting discussion, I soon found myself in a Holiday Inn across the street from a skydiving school in Deland, Florida.
Deland, like everything that has to do with this sport, is in the middle of nowhere, far from the beach and palm trees that I imagined.
Kate took a ten-day refresher course, and I discovered that she actually holds a United States Parachute Association 'C' license, which qualifies her to be a jumpmaster. I wish I'd known this before I slept with her.
As for me, I took a two-week basic course that started, thankfully, in the classroom but progressed rapidly to 14,000 feet and something called the accelerated free fall, which is two big guys named Gordon and Al jumping out alongside me, and the three of us falling through the open sky together with them holding on to my grippers. I got sixty seconds of instruction before they pushed off, waved, and left me falling through space.
I've made maybe a dozen weekend jumps since that wonderful two weeks in Florida, and I've earned my USPA 'A' license, which allows me to make solo skydives and begin some basic relative work with a jumpmaster, who today would be the lucky lady next to me.
The prop engines changed pitch, and I looked at my altimeter. Fourteen thousand feet.
I commented, 'We're at cruising altitude. They'll begin the beverage service soon.'
'We're actually leaving the aircraft soon.'
In fact, the loadmaster shouted for those in the first group to get up and get ready.
There was a flurry of activity in the cabin as about twenty skydivers nearest the exit door stood up and adjusted their equipment, then began their rehearsed shuffle toward the open cargo door.
The aircraft seemed to slow, then with a loud verbal command from their group leader, the first group began to quickly exit the aircraft and disappear silently into the deathly void of space. Or, one could say, they jumped merrily into the clear blue sky. Whatever.
As the aircraft circled back to the drop zone, the second large batch of skydivers jumped to their feet, and the process was repeated until the entire rear two-thirds of the aircraft was empty, except for the loadmaster.
It was kind of weird. I mean, a few minutes ago the plane was full, and now I was looking at empty floor space. Where'd everybody go?
Kate informed me, 'There is a cameraman on the ground, and one in each group.' She said, 'I can't wait to see those jumps on tape.'
Neither could the personal injury lawyers.
We remained seated as the aircraft again began to circle back over the drop zone.
A few minutes later, the loadmaster gave us a two-minute warning, and the last group, who were all solo and small-group jumpers, got to their feet, including me and my jumpmaster.
The loadmaster looked at us and held up one finger, and I was glad it wasn't his middle finger.
There were about ten people in front of us lined up to make their two- or three-person jumps, and behind us were four people who were making solo jumps. We all put on our goggles or lowered our face shields and did a final equipment check.
By now, the two big groups of jumpers were on the ground, gathering their chutes, doing high fives and hugs, and climbing into the buses that would take them back to the airport for jump number two. I had a rare moment of empathy as I stood poised to follow my fellow club pals into the void, and I sincerely hoped that they'd set whatever hook-up record they were trying for, and that they had all landed safely. Even Craig. You hear that, God?
The loadmaster shouted, 'Ready!' Then he shouted, 'Go!'
The skydivers in front of me began to exit in their prearranged groups of two and three with a brief interlude between them.
The couple who'd sat abreast of us on the right side of Row 2 were ahead of Kate and me and were next to jump. I moved closer to the cargo opening, and I could feel the whirling wind and see the green-and-brown field three miles below. What if I got vertigo and fell out of the plane?
The couple ahead of us joined hands and took a step in unison, then literally dove together out of the aircraft-like lovers, I thought, jumping to their… well, jumping into a swimming pool.
I stepped up to the opening, and I could see a few people in free fall, which is a very strange sight. I also saw a few brightly colored chutes deploy, and suddenly I wanted to jump-to fly through the sky at the speed of a diving eagle and then to float gently down to earth.
I was ready to take the plunge, but I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Kate smiling at me, and I smiled back.
I noticed now that the solo jumper directly behind Kate was crowding her more than he really should. He needed to let her clear the airplane before he jumped. Maybe he was nervous.
The loadmaster said something, and I realized I was holding up the show.
I turned back to the cargo door and without thinking too much about what I was about to do-and without yelling 'Geronimo'-I dove face-first, leaving the solid floor of the aircraft behind me. And there I was, falling through the sky.
But my mind was back in the aircraft, and I had two split-second thoughts: one, Kate had yelled something just as my feet left the airplane; two, the guy behind her was the same guy I'd noticed earlier in the black jumpsuit and the full-tinted face shield. He had sat in front of us, so he should have jumped ahead of us. Why was he behind us?
CHAPTER TEN
Even with the helmet covering my ears, the roar from the wind stream sounded like a freight train going through my head.
I forced my body into a medium arch, then extended my arms and legs, and the airstream began to stabilize my fall. I was dropping now at about 110 miles per hour, which was terminal velocity for the position of my body.
I expected to see Kate appear on my right, as we'd planned, but when I didn't see her, I twisted my head to the right and upward but still didn't see her. This move altered the aerodynamics that were steering me, and I began to rotate away from the direction I'd turned. I quickly went back to my fully stabilized position with my body in a medium arch and my arms and legs extended and symmetrical. I began to stabilize again. Where the hell was Kate?
Just as I was about to attempt another look, I saw in my peripheral vision that Kate was catching up to me. This should have happened much sooner, and she should have been much closer to me to do our relative work. I had the feeling that she'd delayed her jump by a second or two. But why?
Kate was about fifty yards off my right shoulder now, and I saw the skydiver in black, who I'd thought was too close to her in the plane, and I realized he was actually hanging on to her. What the hell…?
He had his right arm wrapped around her body, and he appeared to be holding on to the gripper on the left side of her jumpsuit with his left hand. I saw, too, that he had his legs wrapped around hers.
