by David Wood
Bowers forgot about his gun, forgot about everything except the desperate need to breath. Both of his hands went to his throat, clutching it in a futile effort to draw a breath. Stone knew that he had only bruised the man’s windpipe and that the effects would last a few minutes at most, so he deftly unholstered the pistol and slammed it against the side of the man’s head. Bowers went limp.
Stone methodically untied the unconscious man’s boots and drew them off, and then took his trousers as well. A search of the pockets produced a bundle of zip-ties held together with a rubber band, and he used one to secure Bowers’ wrists behind his back.
Only then did he open his left hand to reveal the tiny flesh-colored lump of plastic that Tam passed over to him along with the cigarette lighter. He rolled it between his fingers for a moment, then pushed it into his right ear canal.
“Slick move with the cigarettes,” he whispered. “Turns out, they were bad for his health.”
“Nice.” The electronically reproduced voice was tinny in his ear. Female. Youngish. Trace of a So Cal accent. Clipped consonants. Asian-American, but not first generation. Definitely not Tam Broderick. “Listen up. If you want to make it out of here alive, you need to do exactly as I tell you.”
“Who are you?”
“Go outside. Now.”
He glanced down at his feet, which were shod in cheap rubber flip-flops. “Can I at least put on—”
“No. No more questions. The surveillance cameras are recording everything you say and do. If you keep talking, they’ll know you’re getting help. Now get moving. I’ll explain everything once you’re out of that room.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.
He opened the door a crack and peered out into the darkness. He couldn’t make out Tam and Sievers, but there was no mistaking the noise of a helicopter turbine engine coming to life. The aircraft would be ready for take-off in a minute, perhaps less. Somehow he would have to get past Sievers and—
“Don’t worry about the helicopter,” the voice told him. “Head for the woods to the south.”
“South?” He stared up at the night sky, trying to find Polaris.
“Turn left out the door. Go! Now.”
The turbine noise built to a fever pitch, and then the sound of the rotor blades beating the air joined the tumult. A stiff breeze raced through the compound, pushing a flurry of loose snow. The helicopter was taking off.
Stone hesitated. Blind faith did not come easy to him. He relied on his observations, on patterns of predictable behavior that were far more reliable indicators of trustworthiness than vague promises of assistance. It wasn’t that he did not trust the voice coming from the ear bud. The woman was clearly working with Tam, and Stone trusted Tam implicitly. The problem was that he had no clear sense about whether or not his mysterious guide could deliver on the promise of freedom.
A total of eight men were assigned to the secret detention facility. Two of them worked primarily in an administrative capacity while the others, including both Sievers and Bowers, functioned as all-purpose muscle. The latter group worked a rotating schedule which meant that, at this late hour, everyone else was probably in bed.
Asleep? Impossible to say. The helicopter’s arrival might have awakened some of them, but the twice-weekly flights were a routine occurrence, hardly worth getting up for.
Once Sievers realized that Stone had overpowered Bowers and made a run for it, the alarm would sound, and it would be only a matter of seconds before the entire camp started hunting him. They would find his tracks in the snow….
The breeze from the rotors would hide his footprints, at least as far as the edge of the woods.
He took off running, ignoring the snow that intruded between his toes. He reached the treeline just as the helicopter’s take-off noise reached a climax and began to subside.
“I see you. Keep going. I’m fifty yards from you.”
Fifty yards? The tree boughs blocked out the scant illumination of starlight. He could not see five yards, much less fifty. She’s got night vision.
“Keep going. Getting warmer, warmer.” She coaxed him onward like they were kids on the playground.
“Warmer? Seriously?” Stone’s toes were already numb, and the ache of cold was rising up his ankles. “You do realize I’m practically barefoot.”
“The sooner you get here,” the woman replied, without a trace of sympathy, “the sooner you can warm up. I’m at your eleven o’clock. Twenty yards. Hurry.”
He adjusted course and started counting his paces. When he got to eighteen, the same voice issued from out of the darkness. “Stop. I’m right beside you. Hold out your hand.”
He did and a moment later felt something in his outstretched palm. “Night vision goggles,” she explained. “Put them on and this will go a lot faster.”
His cold fingers fumbled with the device, but after a few seconds he succeeded in donning the goggles and switching them on. There was a flare of green light and then his surroundings lit up. The ground was strangely dark, the cold earth giving up precious little infrared light, but he could now easily distinguish the surrounding forest, as well as the petite form of his guide, though that was about all he could see of her since she was dressed head-to-toe in black.
“Here.” She thrust a dark bundle in his direction. “Put this on.”
He unfurled the bundle and saw what appeared to be a pair of insulated coveralls. He slid into them without further urging, and immediately felt warmth radiate through his limbs. It was like wearing an electric blanket.
“Battery operated heater,” the woman said, handing him a pair of insulated boot liners. “These, too. Now maybe you’ll stop griping about how cold your little piggies are.”
“Thanks.” Stone was grateful enough that her sarcasm did not even bother him. The radiant heat from the boot liners felt like hot needles stabbing through his nearly frozen feet, but he ignored the sensation. Coping with pain was a skill he had mastered during his time at the black site. “I’m Gavin Stone, by the way. But I guess you already knew that.”
“Kasey.” Her abrupt manner was indication enough that there would be no further small talk. She stepped to the side and pointed to something that Stone had initially dismissed as a small tree. He now saw that it was actually a strange contraption that looked a little like a toy helicopter sitting atop tripod legs that looked like they had been salvaged from a collapsible ironing board. “Have a seat.”
Stone stared blankly at the thing, noting a small molded plastic chair, similar to a toddler’s booster seat. “What the hell is that thing?”
“A GEN H-4 personal helicopter,” Kasey replied, impatiently. “And it’s taking off in about thirty seconds, with or without you.”
“Personal? As in one person? There are two of us.”
“It’s rated to carry four hundred and eighty-five pounds. About fifty of that is fuel. So unless your skeleton is made of adamantium, I think it can handle the two of us.”
“Ada…what?”
“Just sit down.”
Stone resignedly sank into the chair. The tubular metal framework flexed and wobbled with the addition of his weight. “Uh, I don’t think this is—”
Kasey abruptly sat on his lap. Weight certainly wasn’t going to be an issue. She was probably ninety pounds, soaking wet, but she plopped down hard enough to silence his protest. She reached down to either side of him and drew up the halves of a long nylon seatbelt which she secured around her midsection, cinching it tight. Stone felt her grind into him even harder.
“And I didn’t even have to buy you a drink,” he remarked.
“Don’t get any ideas. You’re not my type.”
“I don’t think I want to meet your type.”
“When I fire up the engines, they’re going to come running. We have to be off the ground before they get here. You need to stay perfectly still so I can fly this thing, got it?”
“I’ll just shut my eyes and go to my happy place.”
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He did exactly that. The warmth from the heated garments had all but erased the memory of the miserable trek through the snow, and for a few fleeting seconds, he was happier than he had been in a long time.
His tranquility was shattered by a strident mechanical roar. The H-4’s power plant, which was only about eighteen inches above his head, sounded like a leaf-blower giving birth to a Harrier jump jet. The torque from the engine start-up vibrated through the flimsy-looking frame, and if not for the restraints holding him in place, he probably would have bolted.
The twin counter-rotating rotor blades began to cut the air above him, slowly at first, but picking up speed until there was just a single blurry disc. The engine noise grew louder, but for a long time, too long it seemed, nothing else happened. Then, with a violent shudder, the H-4 began to rise. Stone felt a primal panic as the ground beneath him fell away. The aircraft tilted crazily, swinging them back and forth, and it took every ounce of self-control Stone possessed to remain still.
Even though he knew better, Stone glanced down. They were hovering just a few feet above the tree-tops, still bobbing back and forth, as if Kasey was trying to figure out which direction to go. He could see the blocky modules of the detention facility, still too close for his liking, and movement in the trees as his former captors raced to investigate the source of the noise.
Kasey must have seen it too, for, at that instant, she flexed her body, contorting against Stone’s immobilized form and the aircraft and started to move. The forward motion smoothed out the vibrations and Stone felt a rush of frigid air on his face as they swooped over the forest. There was an eruption of noise behind them, multiple gunshots, barely audible over the whine of the engines, but none of the bullets found their mark, and after just a few seconds, they were well out of range.
Stone’s initial terror quickly gave way to something more like the thrill of skiing a black diamond run. The mini-copter had rudimentary controls. Steering, lift, and forward motion relied on the leverage of the pilot to tilt the rotor disk, which meant that flying the machine was more like surfing or hang-gliding than operating a machine. The prospect of crashing was never far from his thoughts, but his fear was tempered by the raw excitement of defying gravity, not to mention the literal freedom from his tormentors.
The latter was, he knew, not a foregone conclusion, but the odds against being recaptured, at least in the near term, were good. There were no roads leading to the black site, which meant no chance of any ground pursuit. Word of his escape would already have gone out, but the questionable legality of the black sites was their Achilles’ Heel. The contractors would not be able to enlist the help of Romanian authorities or involve legitimate American intelligence interests since doing so would expose what was going on. Indeed, they would have a powerful incentive to keep the incident a secret as long as possible, managing the search for the fugitive with their own resources. Moreover, Tam Broderick had a plan, which meant she was already several steps ahead of them.
At least, he hoped so.
Kasey kept the craft low, hugging the terrain. More than once, Stone thought he felt treetops brushing against his boots. A couple times, Kasey threw the mini-helicopter into a sharp bank, narrowly avoiding collisions. The constant peril was enough to keep Stone on the razor’s edge between white-knuckle fear and heart-pounding exhilaration, at least until the battery in his suit heater went dead. After that, he was able to measure the passage of time by the chattering of his teeth.
At least ten more minutes passed before he glimpsed the lights of a city in a distant valley, some fifty miles away. Judging by the rush of wind against his face, Stone guessed they were barely hitting highway speeds. He was mentally bracing himself for an hour of frozen hell when Kasey swung the craft to the south, away from the city. A few minutes later, they began descending, following the slope of the plateau but headed toward no destination that Stone could discern. It wasn’t until they were almost on the ground that Stone saw the clearing, a flat rectangle several hundred feet long, and just wide enough to accommodate a small airplane or a helicopter like the one that sat idle near the middle of the landing strip.
They spiraled down to land about a hundred feet away from the helicopter. Kasey made it look positively easy, reaching out with her toes at the last second to make contact with the ground as easily as stepping off an escalator. She relaxed the throttle, and the H-4’s frame settled with equal grace.
Kasey unbuckled the safety belt and slid off Stone’s lap, freeing him to move. He struggled to rise on rubbery legs, at once grateful to be back on terra firma, and ready for another ride on the crazy little machine.
A light came on inside the helicopter, bright enough that Stone had to remove his night optics. Two figures got out of the larger aircraft and headed to meet them. One was a tall, lean man with dark hair trimmed to a military buzz. Stone got the sense that he was an athlete, probably basketball or track. The other passenger was Tam.
“Enjoy the ride?” she asked when she got closer.
Stone grinned. “You always did have the best toys, Tam. That’s one of the things I always loved about you.”
“Ouch, with the L-word. Okay, introductions all around. You’ve already met Kasey Kim.”
Stone glanced over at Kasey, who had also removed her night vision goggles and was busy disassembling the H-4. As he had surmised, under her short wedge-cut hairstyle, she had Asian features; Korean, judging by her surname.
Tam gestured to Tall Guy, who had gone over to assist Kasey. “That’s Greg Johns, my second-in-command. He’ll be flying us from here to the airport in Bucharest. Once we get there, Kasey will make you look presentable.”
Greg rubbed the bristle on his scalp. “Kasey’s our resident beautician. If she ever leaves the Company, she’ll have to open her own salon.”
Kasey shot Greg a venomous look, but Stone sensed nothing mean-spirited in the exchange.
Tam turned to Kasey. “Any problems?”
Kasey shook her head. “Nope. It handled like a dream.”
“I meant with your passenger.”
Kasey laughed. “You mean other than him being so clingy?” She shook her head. “We got away about as clean as we hoped, but they’re probably already trying to figure out where we went.”
“They won’t give up,” Stone said.
“No,” Tam replied. “I don’t imagine they will. You know, you could save us all a lot of grief by just giving up the data. And don’t give me any bullsh…” She stopped short for just a second, then went on. “About your principles. The data you stole could cause a lot of problems if it ever fell into the wrong hands or went public. Life or death problems. It’s one thing to risk your own life for principles, but there are innocent lives at stake.”
“Trust me, Tam. No one is in any danger. At least not from me. The real danger is how quickly people are willing to give up their freedom in response to fear. Or for the sake of convenience, which is even scarier.”
“I told you not to give me any of that.” Tam shook her head. “But that’s none of my business.”
“No?” Stone stared at her sideways. “Well, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get me this far. What do you want? You know, I could never figure out what’s going on in your mind. That’s a rare thing. It’s the other thing I love about you.”
“You’re gonna really love this, then,” she said, breaking into a grin. “Gavin Stone, you’re under arrest.”
CHAPTER 4
Vienna, Austria
The hotel room looked more like a college dorm room after an all-night cram session than a suite in a luxury hotel on the historic Ringstrasse. The dining table was piled with books, a few tourist guides but mostly historical reference material, as well as trays with the remains of the previous night’s dinner and a litter of empty paper cups.
It was not the European vacation Avery Halsey had always dreamed of, but as often happened when she was deep in a research project, she was too caught up in reli
ving the past to worry about what was going on around her.
A knock at the door brought her back to the twenty-first century, but only just. “It’s unlocked,” she shouted. “Come on in.”
There was a click as the door opened and then another a few seconds later as it closed again. “Avery honey, we’re going to need to have a talk about basic security precautions.”
Avery started at the sound of the unexpected but familiar voice of Tam Broderick. “Sorry. I thought you were room service bringing the coffee I ordered.”
She turned around, somewhat embarrassed at the reproof but mostly relieved that Tam and the others were back, safe and sound after their excursion to Romania. Her mood darkened a little when she realized that there was someone else with them. She did not recognize the tall, thin man with the buzz cut, neatly trimmed beard and generally haggard appearance. His clothes—khaki chinos and a navy blue polo shirt—hung on his gaunt frame, giving him the appearance of a homeless derelict or an Old Testament prophet, cleaned up but still lost in the wilderness of his own mind.
“I see you found him.”
Tam nodded to the man. “Avery, this is Gavin Stone. Stone, Avery Halsey, our resident historian and researcher.”
Stone inclined his head in a sort of bow, then met Avery’s eyes. “Relax, Miss Halsey. Your job is safe. I’m here under duress.”
Avery gaped at him. “How did…” She shook her head in astonishment. Although secretly bothered by Tam’s insistence that they needed to bring in an outsider—even if he was an old acquaintance of Tam’s—she had been careful to hide her displeasure. Had Tam picked up on it anyway?
Tam gave Stone a sidelong glance. “I can take you back if that’s what you really want. I’m sure EmergInt will be more than happy to take you in again.”
Without answering, Stone strode forward and dropped into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Avery. “You said there’s coffee coming? I hope you ordered a whole pot.”
