by Diane Capri
Friday, April 15
7:05 a.m.
Glen Haven, New Mexico
After Vigo left, Kim crawled around the sofa and found Lawton slumped in the chair. He was clammy and in shock, but he opened his eyes and gave her a weak grin.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
His belly wound was still pulsing blood. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, balled it up, and pushed it against his wound. She placed his palm on the sweatshirt.
“Keep as much pressure there as you can. I’ll get you out of here before this place goes up in flames.” She pleaded with him when she saw his face relaxing, “Hang on. Don’t give up.”
She’d seen adrenaline give victims superhuman strength in the past and later, she figured that’s what must have happened to them both.
Somehow, she managed to get Lawton to his feet. Supporting him around his torso, with one of his arms thrown over her shoulder, he staggered and she dragged until they made it to the door and down the front steps.
She whipped her head around in all directions. She saw one SUV gone and Vigo jogging toward the road. Flint was nowhere. He might have put the Ray brothers and Freddie into Vigo’s black SUV and driven them off-site, but she didn’t know.
She and Lawton made it to the gravel parking area before he fainted. She couldn’t carry his dead weight, so she placed him on the grass as far from the burning buildings as possible.
To be heard above the roaring fire, she leaned in toward his ear and said, “Please don’t die, John. Hang on until I get someone here. Can you do that?”
He might have grunted in response. She wasn’t sure.
She turned toward Finlay’s SUV that Flint had parked on the far west side of the barracks. When she got there, it was unoccupied. Wherever he went, he wasn’t here to help now.
She looked into the open space. Vigo’s black SUV was parked in the middle of the garden. Quickly, she ran toward it and opened one of the back doors.
A quick glance inside was all she needed. She saw two dead bodies. Louis and Manny. The cargo section was piled with drugs and guns. On the front passenger seat, she saw a propane tank with a hose and the valve open. A can of Sterno with its cotton strip already burning rested on the floor.
Briefly, she thought Flint was responsible for this. But he hadn’t had enough time.
As soon as the propane filled the cabin, the whole SUV would go up in a bigger blast than any of the others. Both bodies, the drugs, and the weapons would be destroyed. There was nothing she could do but get out of the way.
She turned and ran full out toward Finlay’s SUV and hopped inside.
Kim closed the door and pressed the pushbutton start. When the SUV’s engine fired up, she drove around to the spot where she’d left Lawton.
The continuing explosions had moved closer to the last barracks. The fire was raging out of control. The only thing keeping the fire from the gravel driveway and parking area were the winds flowing softly from the east.
First responders were streaming in from the main road, plowing through the traffic like a slow motion parade.
She made a quick assessment of the traffic and concluded the same thing Vigo must have determined. The only means of escape was due east. Toward the launch site.
Smoke filled the air and covered the awakening sunlight. She put the headlights on and left the SUV running when she jumped out to get Lawton.
He was out of his head with pain, shock, and blood loss, but she managed to get him up off the ground. Together, they staggered the few feet of distance to the SUV’s back seat. Kim tumbled him into the seat and closed the door solidly.
She ran around to the driver’s side just before the first of the propane tanks exploded in the barracks building next door. The window glass blew out onto the gravel drive.
Kim felt the percussion of the massive blast from Vigo’s black SUV in the courtyard as she steered past the buildings and kept driving.
She drove the SUV across the two-track and into the field in a desperate attempt to reach the balloon before Vigo escaped.
She was too late.
The balloon was already lifting into the air.
She pulled the SUV as close to the balloon’s rising basket as she could get. Then she jumped out and ran to the crew.
The balloon was already more than twenty feet into the air, and still rising.
From somewhere, O’Hare had run up to the launch site just ahead of her. He was standing there, head titled back, gaping at the floating gondola.
“Cheryl! Micah!” he yelled over and over. As if they could hear him over the noise of the propane blasting heat into the envelope. Or that they could do anything at all if they had heard.
Kim grabbed O’Hare’s arm and shook him.
She broke his concentration and he looked at her. “Cheryl and Micah are in the basket. Daphne, too. Vigo forced them to take off.”
“Do you know where they’re going?” Kim yelled above the thundering noise of the fires, the sirens, the bystanders, and the flame that heated the balloon’s air for lift.
“There’s only so many places they can land,” he shouted back. “But there’s no way to get them down safely until they’re ready.”
“How far can they travel before they run out of fuel?”
“Depends on weather, wind currents, and stuff. Also which setup they’ve got today. Some of the propane tanks will last about three hundred miles,” O’Hare said.
Kim watched the balloon rise higher as it neared the first set of power lines. Cheryl had told her that the pilots knew the air currents well. They chose the correct currents by raising and lowering the balloon’s altitude. The first set of powerlines were about forty feet off the ground. She needed to raise the balloon twenty-five feet above them to cross safely.
The balloon seemed to be having trouble. It lifted easily, but then it dropped down, as if it had failed to catch the current.
It approached the first set of power lines without sufficient altitude.
“What the hell is she doing?” O’Hare said. “She needs to raise the gondola at least another fifty feet in the air. There’s a current there that will carry them up to the next level. Otherwise, she won’t clear the substation.”
The spectators on the ground were watching the fires and the balloon, heads turning side to side, as if they were watching a tennis match. A few had realized that the balloon was flying too low to clear the power lines. Others seemed simply overwhelmed with the entire situation.
A few of the first responders had arrived at Glen Haven. Fire trucks were beginning to fight the blaze, but it seemed like a losing battle. All they could hope to do now was to keep the fire from spreading along the dry landscape.
“Come on.” Kim said to O’Hare before she turned to jog back to the SUV. “I think the balloon is going to hit those power lines. Which either means Cheryl is in trouble or she’s not piloting the balloon. Either way, they’ll need help.”
She reached the SUV half a second before O’Hare. They jumped into the front seat and snugged up their seat belts. Kim engaged the four-wheel drive and headed across the field toward the power lines.
The SUV bounced over the rough terrain. Lawton groaned every time the springs rose and sagged.
“Keep your eye on the balloon,” she said to O’Hare. “I’ve got to navigate around the holes and obstacles in this field.”
Up ahead, the balloon continued to travel at low altitude. From this vantage point, it seemed there was no way Cheryl could miss the power lines. But Kim didn’t trust her own eyes. Perspective was important here. Cheryl simply had a more accurate view. Maybe she saw a path that Kim couldn’t see.
If Cheryl hit the lines with the balloon’s envelope, they might survive. If the gondola hit the lines, the electricity would probably arc and ignite the propane and explode the whole thing.
Either way, the passengers would fall almost three stories to the ground. They could survive a fall like that. Maybe. But the sho
rter the distance, the better.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Friday, April 15
7:35 a.m.
Glen Haven, New Mexico
Vigo looked over the edge of the gondola. The balloon was floating lower than it should have. They were only about fifty feet off the ground.
The first set of power lines were coming up fast. If they didn’t get more altitude, the balloon would hit the wires.
“Cheryl,” he yelled pointing his thumb upward. “Don’t mess with me. Get this thing up. Now!”
Cheryl nodded and added a short blast of heat and the balloon barely lifted. She was an experienced pilot. She knew these wind currents better than she knew the roads around Glen Haven. She was deliberately sabotaging his escape.
Vigo didn’t trust her. Why should he? She’d been feeding information to the feds for weeks. He felt sure she was the mole now.
He grabbed Daphne by the hair and pointed the pistol to her head as he yanked her toward the sidewall of the gondola. The stable gondola rocked as he moved passenger weight to one side.
Daphne screamed.
Vigo shouted to be heard above the roar of the propane. “You don’t believe me?”
He lifted Daphne off the ground by her hair. She screamed and kicked and punched to break free, but Vigo was too strong for her. He lifted her and pushed her over the gondola’s edge.
Cheryl’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened to the size of pie plates as she screamed. Micah yelled, “Aunt Daphne!” and ran to the edge to watch as she plummeted toward the ground.
Daphne’s screams diminished on the way down while Micah’s sobs filled the air.
Whether she’d survived was irrelevant to him. He’d have killed her later anyway. This way, she had a chance. Which was more than Elena and Big Sela had.
His sister was dead. Why should these three live when Maria did not?
Vigo had a bigger problem. Before he threw Daphne out, he’d had three hostages and now he only had two. He couldn’t kill another one too soon.
When Cheryl screamed, she inadvertently released the handle on the propane valve, and the balloon had drifted a little lower, gliding quietly.
The silence inside the gondola was punctuated only by Micah’s sobs and continued shouts to his aunt who was already gone.
Vigo pointed the pistol toward the kid. “Shut up.”
Micah’s tears continued to flow but he closed his mouth and stopped yelling, which helped.
Then Vigo pointed the gun toward Cheryl. “Get this thing up and over those power lines now. Otherwise, the kid goes out next.”
Cheryl opened the valve and blasted the air inside the balloon for several continuous seconds. The balloon rose gracefully as it floated toward the power lines, increasing altitude at a faster pace than before.
Which simply proved Vigo had done the right thing. Cheryl could pilot the balloon safely over the power lines. All she’d needed was motivation.
Vigo had heard enough stories from Bruce and Gavin Ray to know balloon crashes were rare. Fatal balloon crashes were even rarer.
The envelope could sustain significant damage before the gondola crashed.
The problem was the propane, which was actually a liquid. An intact tank itself was unlikely to explode under almost any conditions. But the propane became a gas when it was released and then ignited by the burner. Which was how fires and explosions could kill if the basket hit the wires.
None of that should happen in good weather like this with a pilot as experienced as Cheryl. Vigo wasn’t worried. But he didn’t have any intention of committing suicide, either.
Cheryl blasted the air again. The basket lifted as the envelope caught another level of air current and picked up speed.
Elevation and wind speed pushed the balloon higher and faster. When they reached the power lines, the gondola glided thirty feet above the power lines, easily passing the danger zone.
Vigo nodded. So far, so good.
The next hurdle was the substation. After that, he could fly this thing himself.
Vigo watched the substation seem to grow larger and more menacing as the balloon approached.
A dozen times over the past few months, he’d seen the pilots perform the trick to entertain the tourists. The balloon would dip before the substation and then rise immediately afterward, high enough to clear the towers like a feather floating on the air.
From the launching site view back at Glen Haven, Bruce Ray had explained, it appeared to the guests that the gondola was within a few feet of the substation when the big dip occurred. But inside the gondola, passengers could see the distance was actually well within the safety zone.
If Cheryl did her job, everything would be fine. They’d pass the substation. Then he’d find a parking lot where he could steal another vehicle and get away.
Albuquerque was a relatively small city with limited resources. The metro area was estimated at under a million people. The city didn’t have an infinite number of first responders and other agencies. Most of them would be focused on the disaster at Glen Haven. Long enough for him to flee, anyway.
If Cheryl did her job.
Vigo wasn’t alarmed when the balloon dipped lower as long as the speed kept them moving at a good clip away from Glen Haven.
The FBI would arrive soon to serve their warrants, if they weren’t already there. At some point they’d figure out he was in the gondola and come after him.
The further he was from Glen Haven when that happened, the greater his chances of escape.
He kept looking ahead. A stand of trees filled the open space between the balloon and the substation.
Cheryl had used the currents to steer the balloon directly toward the trees.
Then she decreased the gas feeding the burner.
The gondola dipped too low.
It would brush the tops of the trees. She made no move to heat the air and lift the gondola.
What the hell was she doing?
Vigo grabbed the boy and pointed the gun toward his head. “Cheryl. I’ll kill him. Don’t push me. You know I’ve done worse.”
“I know,” the stupid woman replied. It was the last thing he’d ever hear her say.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Friday, April 15
7:40 a.m.
Glen Haven, New Mexico
Kim drove as fast as she could across the open field, dodging ruts and holes and rocks and bushes and trees along the way, always keeping the balloon in sight. The SUV bucked like an angry stallion. Holding it on course required intense concentration.
O’Hare had cinched his seatbelt tighter and grabbed the handholds to stay upright. He peered out of the windshield, providing a running commentary on the path of the balloon like an annoying sports commentator. She did her best to ignore him.
The first set of powerlines was coming up fast.
O’Hare said quietly, coaching from the sidelines, “Come on, Cheryl. Lift up. You’re too low. Give it some gas.”
Kim flashed a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Lawton wasn’t moving. She thought briefly about stopping the SUV to check on him, but then she rejected the idea.
Vigo was in that gondola with Cheryl and Micah. She could still capture him alive. Or at least, keep him in sight until backup arrived.
When she twisted her gaze back to the path ahead, she saw a pair of trees and a few bushes clustered around them. She turned the steering wheel to the right to avoid the obstruction just as the gondola tilted dangerously.
She saw Vigo’s torso above the gondola’s side as he lifted a passenger over and pushed the person out. From this vantage point, Kim couldn’t see well enough to determine the passenger’s identity.
O’Hare sucked in his breath. “Daphne! He threw Daphne over the side!”
“How do you know it’s her?” Kim asked.
“She’s wearing that bright yellow fleece. The crew wears different colors so we can distinguish between them from our vantage point on the
ground,” he replied.
Then he pointed toward the trees.
“Looks like she might be okay if she landed in those bushes. She knows what to do. She’s got to stay flexible. Try not to land on her head,” O’Hare said, as if he was coaching her now.
“I’ll pull up. You get out and help her. Call 911,” Kim said.
O’Hare shook his head. His nostrils had flared and his eyes were wide with shock. “I have to get Cheryl and Micah.”
“I’ll go after them.” Kim said. “Vigo’s armed and dangerous. I’m better equipped to deal with him than you are.”
“Cheryl will try to bail out of the balloon. She’ll find a place to jump. Like another stand of trees,” O’Hare said.
“Okay. Got it,” Kim replied, giving him a push. “Help Daphne. Go!”
Kim pulled the SUV to a rolling stop near the bushes and O’Hare scrambled out. He closed the door and Kim accelerated again to follow the balloon.
She’d lost ground while slowing and dropping O’Hare off. The balloon was farther ahead now. She accelerated as much as she could to try to make up for it.
Vigo’s demonstration of cruelty must have been enough to persuade Cheryl not to try running into the first set of power lines. The balloon lifted higher, hit an air current and kept going toward the substation.
Kim followed behind in the SUV, watching the balloon and scanning the field. If O’Hare was right, Cheryl would be looking for a good spot to bail out. She might have taken a bigger chance. But with Micah in the gondola, too, she’d be more cautious.
After Cheryl and Micah jumped out, Vigo would be alone in the gondola with the propane and the burner. He’d be armed.
She continued scanning the area for Cheryl’s most likely jumping spot. She wouldn’t try to land the balloon. Vigo would kill her and Micah, too, before he let that happen.
So Cheryl would be looking to fly as low as she could and then bail out. The stand of trees closest to the substation was the spot most likely to break their falls and leave them both alive.
