by Ian Jones
John hadn’t spoken. He sat there, perfectly calm, watching Cane.
This was getting interesting he thought.
He wasn’t worried, he just couldn’t work out what was going on. It was just him, Cane and the pilot. They were heading away from Gray Rock quickly, so nobody else was joining them. And Cane offered no threat at all, despite the gun.
He smiled at Cane and sat back, looking out of the window. Soon the army base came into view far below them. They were still climbing and moving fast, so wherever they were going, they were in a hurry.
Cane sat very still watching Smith, and now they were underway he started to doubt what he was doing. Smith wasn’t concerned at all, he didn’t show the least discomfort, hadn’t said a single word, and hadn’t tried to appeal, or run even when they were still on the ground. Nothing at all, he had just done as he was told and now it looked as if he was enjoying the ride. The realisation that he may have made a big mistake began to solidify in Cane’s mind.
John could see Cane was way out of his comfort zone. The Colt was an original, which is a big gun with a long barrel. Probably late 1930s. It fires a big bullet, with a hefty kick. It looked in reasonable condition, and John could see the shells visible in the revolving chamber. So it was loaded, and more than likely to fire. If it came down to it, he would have no chance. But what was Cane thinking?
They carried on, still climbing.
John looked around him. He had spent a lot of time in helicopters over the years, many, many hours. But nothing like this. Here, it was all leather, walnut finish, plenty of comfort and soundproofing. Helicopters are noisy and move around a lot, but this thing was reasonably quiet and steady. Two rows of plush seats facing each other in the back and the usual two for the crew in the front. The pilot was staring out the windscreen, no need for him to look around. The boss was here and he had a gun, so he didn’t have to get involved. John looked back at Cane. It was quiet enough they could probably have a conversation, it would need to be loud, but probably not shouted, which was another first for him in a helicopter.
May as well try, he thought.
‘So, where are we going? I only ask because I’m due to meet someone later,’ he called out.
Cane’s eyes flicked around. He didn’t know what to say. How was it possible that Smith was so calm?
‘You’ll see,’ was all he could think of.
John nodded, and smiled again. Cane was sweating hard. The other factor is that the Colt is a heavy weapon, particularly fully loaded, and Cane was sitting awkwardly with the gun held out in front of him, no arm support. The hand and wrist were shaking. John was suddenly concerned he might drop the gun, which could be disastrous.
‘So tell me Mr Cane. Or should I say Mr Cage? No matter. Anyway, what’s the plan? Throw me out somewhere? We’re what, three thousand feet up, maybe a bit more. And not much for me to hit down there right? Miles and miles of nothing. I wouldn’t be found for months probably. So, not a bad idea. But there is a problem. I’m not doing it.’
‘You’ll do what I say,’ Cane replied licking dry lips, voice straining.
John shook his head.
‘Nope. Doesn’t work. I’m not doing it.’
‘I’ve got the gun.’
‘Yeah you have. So you’ll have to shoot me because you ain’t never gonna be able to throw me out unless you do.’
‘No, that’s not the plan,’ Cane said, having to shout.
‘Great. That’s good for all of us. So what is?’
Cane glanced at the pilot.
‘Won’t work,’ John told him. ‘Not with those headsets. Listen, I am very impressed, it’s like being in a Rolls Royce in this thing compared with the helicopters I’ve had to put up with. But he can’t hear a fucking word, trust me. It’s just you and me.’
Cane wiped his brow. The gun hand was shaking badly now. He said nothing.
‘And here’s the thing. You haven’t thought this through Mr Cane. You see, you got the gun. We both know that. You’re in charge. And what a gun! You pull that trigger and its game over for me, that is for sure. But there is a problem, and really, you should have considered it. That thing is a fucking cannon. Gut shot, chest, head, wherever that bullet ain’t stopping. Through and through we call it. Hole in the front and a big old gaping chunk out the back. Which is a serious problem. Not for me, I’m dead. But helicopters are complicated things. I’m sitting right in front of the tail section. There are hundreds, probably thousands of God knows what back there. Right behind me, every single bit really important. Cables, hydraulics, electronics, you name it. All about to be destroyed. And what’s Elvis gonna do?’
John nodded at the pilot, speaking loudly and slowly.
‘Well, he will try to autorotate, we’re taught how to do that in the army and it does work. A lot of the time anyway. But not from this height, and not in this thing. Way too heavy. It will drop like a stone. So we’re all goners, not that I’m going to be around to enjoy watching it happen. I’ll be honest with you, it all seems a bit pointless to me.’
Cane was sweating worse than ever, and the gun was wavering around all over the place.
Time to end it.
Calmly John reached out. Cane didn’t move. John leaned forward, eyes fixed on the other man and gently plucked the gun out of his hand. Relief washed over Cane’s face, and he just crumpled, tears streaming down his cheeks. John watched concerned, released the hammer back gently to rest on the Colt and then moved across to the front, tapping the pilot on the shoulder. He jumped and turned his head. John pulled the headset clear.
‘Turn around my friend. Drop us down to a thousand feet and start heading for San Antonio, wherever that is.’
The pilot stared back wide eyed.
John leaned over, and patted the man down. No weapon, but why would he? There was nothing else, no bag, no jacket. Obviously going to be a simple job.
‘Just do it, and slow down too. And before you think you can be a hero, I can throw you out the door just like that. I am one guy that you don’t want to be any more upset. And I can fly this thing, so it makes no difference to me at all. Up to you.’
Which was a half-truth. John had a commanding officer once who had decided that special forces soldiers should have helicopter flying instructions in case the pilots were ever disabled. Made it sound like it was for the good of the men but it became clear later it was because choppers were so expensive. John didn’t care, he had been selected along with half a dozen others and spent fourteen weeks at an RAF base in Shropshire, and had enjoyed it. He wasn’t a natural, but had acquired the basics and passed the course. His instructor had been surprised, it just happened that on the day John managed to get it right. This had been a long time ago, and he had never had to fly one for real, never. But he thought he could muddle through, land it somewhere. Probably.
The pilot gaped, and looked at Cane, who was still sobbing. Then he nodded and eased back on the throttle and lowered the collective. The helicopter drone reduced and started to gently move down. The pilot pressed some buttons on a GPS screen and changed direction. John would have to keep an eye on him but he was in no immediate danger, the guy was no hero, he would do as he was told.
He sat back down, right next to Cane.
‘Talk to me.’
Cane shook his head.
‘Mr Cane, we know all about you. You did ten years for Barlow. Ten years without a peep. We’ve been through the Dallas PD records. You didn’t do a damn thing that night, nothing. My guess is that you went there just because Barlow suggested it, without really knowing what it was. Wrong place, wrong time. You probably don’t know this, but Barlow’s prints and DNA were all over that house. But he had people looking out for him right? You probably thought you did too. You and Anthony Collis are virtually the same. And he talked by the way, still is. And he’s got a lot to say.’
Cane looked at him, eyes shining, cheeks wet.
‘You don’t know. You don’t understand.’
Cane covered his face and wept harder. John waited patiently. Eventually Cane looked up.
‘I know. I found out they had killed Rita last night, I told them they shouldn’t have done. But Barlow …’
‘Who killed her?’ John asked forcefully.
‘I don’t know. A couple of Hunter’s men, the Regulators. I don’t know who, really, I don’t. They never tell me anything.’
‘You need to help yourself Mr Cane. Now is the time to stand up.’
A large town was now visible, the pilot turned and shouted something. John moved over.
‘San Antonio,’ the pilot told him.
‘ok, drop down to under a thousand feet and circle, make sure the locals know we are here. We ok for fuel?’
The pilot nodded.
John sat down again and dug out his mobile, he had a signal. He called Patrick.
He explained he was in a helicopter over San Antonio, and he had Mr Cane. He needed to meet. Things had escalated.
‘Jesus Christ John, it’s never a dull moment! I can’t keep up.’
John listened to a muffled background conversation, he sat patiently, listening to raised voices, then Patrick was back.
‘Shit. Ok, head for Freeman Airfield, it’s a commercial place to the north of the city. Get up there and we’ll meet you ok? We should be about twenty minutes.’
John agreed and hung up, then went back to the pilot and repeated the instructions, who once again went to the GPS. He pressed buttons and turned knobs, then stuck a thumb up.
John sat back down again.
‘Ok, this is what is going to happen. As of right now, as far as I can tell, you have committed no crimes, other than any number as an accessory. The FBI will take you in. You aren’t going back to Gray Rock. My suggestion to you is that you answer all their questions. I don’t understand what hold Barlow has on you, but this is coming to an end.’
Cane nodded.
‘He promised me a new life. He told me I would live like a king.’
‘Yeah, I can imagine. Instead you have to sit and watch all sorts of shit right?’
The helicopter slowed, and started to circle tightly, dropping all the time.
John moved forward again and spoke to the pilot.
‘Let them know who we are. And just to clear up any potential bullshit from your side, we are meeting the FBI here. That is the F.B.I., by the way. I’m fairly sure you have heard of them.’
The pilot’s eyes widened and he nodded, then started talking into the microphone again.
Cane suddenly reached forward and grabbed John’s arm, wild eyed, feverish.
‘It’s worse. Worse than you know. It’s been going on for too long. I hate it. I hate it. Tonight, it’s happening tonight. Again. They’re doing it again. At Brown’s. Tonight. It’s happening again. About eleven.’
John looked at him confused.
‘What’s happening? What’s Brown’s? Where’s Browns?
But Cane clammed up, refusing to say another word. Just sat there weeping, shaking his head and shivering.
They were about a hundred feet up, the pilot was now moving around peering out the side and talking into the microphone. Below them was a large space, with hangars, warehouses, trucks and small airplanes dotted around. Eventually the message was received and they headed toward a clear square with a large white cross painted on it. The pilot lined up quickly dropping to the ground, landing right in the centre, and then shut down.
The silence was deafening.
Chapter Eighteen
John looked out the window. He could see a man carrying a clipboard wandering across approaching the helicopter, in no particular hurry. No sign of the FBI, but Patrick had reckoned on twenty minutes. John looked at Cane, who was now half lying across the seat, head down and weeping. John climbed up over the rear seats and dropped down next to the pilot. He was still holding the Colt, which now seemed a bit ridiculous so he dropped it on the floor in front of the seat.
‘FBI are on their way, so stay cool. I don’t know what your involvement is but you are gonna have some questions to answer,’ John told him.
The pilot wiped his brow.
‘I’m not involved in anything! I swear to God. I just fly this thing,’ he replied.
John glanced back at Cane, who hadn’t moved.
‘So tell me, what were your instructions? Mr Cane says he wasn’t planning on throwing me out the door, which I thought was the idea. Not that I’d have gone along with it.’
The pilot gulped.
‘Look man, I don’t know who the hell you are ok? Or what you’ve done. And I don’t wanna know, believe me. Cane called me. He needed the helicopter and he’s the boss. One of them. I just do what I’m told.’
The man reached the pilot’s side and was looking up expectantly. The pilot opened the door and leaned out.
‘We were told to put down here. The FBI are meeting us, they’re on their way,’ he said quickly.
The man looked across at John. From where he was standing he couldn’t see into the back well and Cane was slumped down anyway.
‘FBI? Well, I guess that’s gonna be ok. You carrying any cargo?’ he asked.
The pilot looked across at John.
‘Nope. It’s just routine I think,’ he replied. The pilot nodded.
‘Well, if you aren’t staying long then I don’t see a problem. You need fuel?’ the man asked hopefully.
The pilot leaned forward and pressed a switch, then shook his head.
‘No, we’re good thanks, more than half a tank.’
The man nodded.
‘Well ok, I guess.’ He made a note on the clipboard. ‘So just let the tower know when you’re ready to leave.’
He wandered away, his work done.
The pilot looked around him and then reluctantly closed the door and sat fidgeting, anxious.
‘So,’ John resumed. ‘You just do what you’re told. So my guess is you have already done whatever this is before, am I right?’
The pilot froze, and then nodded.
‘Which is?’
‘Look I don’t like it ok? But I get paid to fly this thing. Normally just in and out of Dallas or Houston, wherever. I pick up the VIPs and ferry them around. I’m a taxi driver, I guess. But yeah, I done this before. But we never threw anyone out, I swear. I never did that.’
‘Tell me.’
The pilot sighed deeply.
‘I don’t like it,’ he repeated. ‘I never signed up for all this shit. But look I don’t got no choice if I wanna get paid. Look, BRP got a dangerous chemical storage depot, about thirty-odd miles from Galveston. Middle of nowhere. Secure, unmanned. I was going to drop you there, within the compound. No way out. That was it. Yeah, I done this before, couple of times. But not for a long while and nobody got killed.’
John raised his eyebrows.
‘So I’m there and I can’t get out? How is that not gonna kill me?’
‘They have security patrols. You would work it out and flag them down through the gates eventually. Cane just said he needs you out the way. Like I said, I just do what I’m told.’
‘Well your best bet is you should start thinking, because constantly wheeling out that same old bullshit excuse sure as hell is gonna get you nowhere. The FBI are gonna love you. You are in this shit up to your neck, believe me. You got a mobile phone?’
The pilot nodded and dug a smartphone out of the pocket in his cargo pants. He handed it over without looking at it.
There was activity outside, and John looked out to see two dark coloured sedans weaving quickly through the cars and trucks.
‘This is us,’ he said and opened the door.
The first car pulled up sharply and Patrick jumped out. He was grinn
ing but looked strained. Three more agents got out the cars and stood around the helicopter in a rough perimeter. Typical in dark suits and uptight expressions.
Patrick was as always impeccably turned out, with neat grey hair ruffling slightly in the breeze. He looked older, and John suddenly felt guilty. The man was way high up in the FBI but somewhere he had a boss, and explaining, or at least trying to what was going on down here in light of all the grief the bureau had received, would not have been an easy task.
John jumped down out of the helicopter then stepped forward and shook Patrick’s hand and the two men embraced.
‘John, it is good to see you, but Jesus can’t you do anything without a couple of tons of shit flying everywhere?’
‘It seems not, and I apologise but this isn’t over yet.’
‘I guess not. So what we got?’
John walked around and opened the rear door. Cane hadn’t moved.
‘This is William Franklin Cane. And trust me, he has got plenty to say.’
John handed over the Colt and the pilot’s mobile and stepped back. Patrick indicated to two of agents who climbed in. With difficulty they managed to eventually manoeuvre Cane out of the helicopter and into the rear seat of one of the cars.
‘He is ready to talk, believe me. What’s happening with Collis?’ John asked.
Patrick turned away, and then rubbed his eyes.
‘Ah shit. We were too late. We fucked up. I fucked up. The local agent, a man called Harlan Thomas was given the instruction, despite the fact that I specifically said not to.’
‘Ah Jesus,’ John said. He had really wanted to help Collis.
‘Look, he isn’t dead. He got a real bad beating, but one of the guards stepped in. Just in time. It was a setup, for sure. I’m sorry John.’
‘So how is he? Where is he?
‘In the hospital in Midland. He’s in a bad way. Some crazy giant got him, who shouldn’t have been anywhere nearby. But I pulled in Thomas, basically he’s claiming not to know nothing about anything. I suspect he tipped them off. But I got him, and he’ll talk. Look, I hope to Christ Collis makes it, and if he does and he can tell us something, I will make sure he gets something for it. I mean that.’
