They reached the anteroom at the end of the trailer at the same time, both coming in from the other direction. Lia was the faster shot — the guard tumbled backward outside. As he did, his finger tightened on the Steyr; bullets sprayed from the rifle.
“Lia?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Helicopter.”
“Finally.”
“Not ours.”
“Damn it.”
Lia got out of the trailer and ran to the side of the building, reloading as she did. She could hear the helicopter approaching, the heavy whomp of its rotors already starting to shake the ground.
“Have you found Charlie?” she asked.
“We’re working on it,” said Telach. “Are you all right? We’re moving backup in.”
“I’m fine.”
“The helicopter’s landing.”
“No kidding. How many people?”
“What?”
“How many in the helicopter?”
“Two, I think. Yeah — hey, Lia, no, that’s too risky. No!”
The helicopter slipped in over the fence, its tail spinning around toward the building as it settled in front of the trailers. Lia bolted as it touched down, ignoring both the dust storm and Rockman’s shouts. As the door to the helicopter opened, she pressed her finger on the trigger, running toward the cockpit at the same time, as if she were pushing the bullets into the man who was just getting out.
Something fell from the helicopter. A body appeared; she pushed more bullets in it.
The man slapped against the door, slid away. Lia threw herself forward, jumping onto the skid of the Bell 212 and. wedging upward.
“You!” she screamed at the pilot. “Take me to the others!”
The man blinked at her. He didn’t have a weapon.
“Take me to them,” said Lia in German as she pushed herself into the seat, then pulled the Mac 11 up so it was very obvious. “Schnell.”
44
“Let her play it as far as she can,” Rubens told the runner in the Art Room. He wouldn’t have ordered her to try taking the helicopter — it was suicidal — but now that she had they might as well take advantage of it. “Have you found Dean?” he asked Telach.
“I’m sure he’s in that tunnel somewhere,” said Telach. “It’s just a matter of waiting. The crash units are ready.”
“Very well.”
“Lia went too far,” said Telach. “She could have been killed there, easily.”
“Yes, that is the problem with Miss DeFrancesca,” said Rubens. “She always goes too far. Nonetheless, she does get results. And at the moment she’s our best line to Dean.”
“All right,” said Telach.
“It’s all right, Marie. I’ll speak with her when the operation is over,” said Rubens.
“If she’s here to speak with,” said Telach.
45
Dean and Hercules stared at each other. The driver was about three feet behind him to the right, the barrel of his pistol just visible in Dean’s peripheral vision.
“Well, Dr. Dean?” asked Hercules.
“I’m not a doctor,” said Dean, holding his hands out in apology. “I don’t have a Ph.D. Remember?”
A faint smile curled at the corner of Hercules’ face. He turned and nodded at the driver.
It was then that Dean struck.
Dean threw his leg hard into the man’s chest, knocking him backward against the wall as the pistol went flying. Hercules reached quickly for his own gun, but Dean threw himself into the scientist, landing on him like a blitzing linebacker taking down an unprotected quarterback. With one hard smack against the floor he knocked Hercules cold; he rolled off and dived for the other gun as the driver came up from the floor. Dean grabbed the weapon with both hands, fumbling before pulling it around to hold it properly.
The driver threw his hands back, surrendering. Dean got up.
“Against the wall,” he told the man. “Spread ’em. Do it.”
The driver got the idea after a few gestures. Dean patted him down, careful about keeping the pistol positioned where the driver couldn’t pull the same trick he had. He found a small revolver strapped to the man’s ankle and slid it into his pocket.
Dean went to Hercules, intending to grab him and pull him with him. But as he hauled him up, the Greek’s head flopped to the side; Dean realized with a shock that his blow had killed the man.
Voices were coming from the other end of the tunnel. Before Dean could react, the driver shouted, then lunged at him.
His first bullet grazed the Austrian’s arm, but the second and third missed and the gun fell away. Dean wrestled with the man; though they were about the same size, the driver was perhaps half Dean’s age. They gripped each other and twisted, stumbling back and forth, neither able to get an advantage. There were more shouts from the tunnel and the sound of three or four men running.
Desperate, Dean screwed up his energy into a final burst, hurling his assailant over his shoulder and then, in a blind fury, kicking him unconscious as the man dropped to the floor.
Dean scooped for the gun but dropped it.
The footsteps were coming. He ran to the door at the left and pulled it open, finding himself in another tunnel, this one lined with concrete. Dean began to run.
46
“It’s a palace just outside the city,” said Telach. “There’s a lot of ground there.”
“It is near where you lost Dean?”
“A mile away.”
“Close enough,” said Lia.
“They wouldn’t land the helicopter there,” replied Telach.
“He’ll land it anywhere I want.”
“My point is that they wouldn’t have planned to go there. It’s filled with tourists during the day. And there’s all sorts of security.”
Lia put her pistol to the pilot’s head.
“Where the hell are you supposed to meet them?” she asked. She’d put on the radio headset to make it easier to speak.
