“Take off,” he yelled to Hali. “Now!”
Hali jerked his canopy off the ground, and he and Belasco swiveled around. With a couple of running steps, they leaped into the air.
Despite several more shots from MacD, the three assailants fired back from behind some rocks.
MacD couldn’t wait any longer. He shoved the pistol into his waistband and yanked the suspension lines up. The canopy caught the wind and billowed fully.
He noticed several holes had appeared in the nylon, but all he could do was hope they didn’t become larger.
He turned and ran forward until his feet left the ground. As soon as he cleared the cliff, he bled lift from the canopy and sank out of sight of the people shooting at him.
He saw Hali and Belasco in front of him, but something looked wrong. Belasco was hanging much lower than she should have been.
“Hali, is she hit?”
“No,” Hali replied, the strain evident in his voice. “But one of the rounds cut part of her harness. She’s hanging by a thread.”
“Can you make it?”
“I think so, even though it’s throwing off my balance. But we’ve got a bigger problem.”
“Bigger than nearly falling out of the harness?” MacD asked in amazement.
“I think we’ve got interceptors headed our way.”
Hali pointed in the direction of the large yacht that Juan’s Alpha team had infiltrated.
At first MacD didn’t see anything, but then several dots resolved against the blue sky, and he knew Hali was right. They did have bigger problems.
Four large quadcopter drones were headed straight for them.
16
Raven and Linc had planned to race down the broad boulevards that led straight to the long highway bridge connecting Rio to the city of Niterói on the other side of Guanabara Bay. But with little traffic to provide a means of escaping their pursuers, they had to come up with an alternative route. The men on the Ducatis were gaining. The bikes were faster than the BMWs, and it didn’t help that Raven had an additional rider with her.
“How are you doing back there, López?” she asked her passenger.
“I’ll make it,” he said, but his voice was weak, as was his grip around her waist. She didn’t want to drive too wildly for fear that he would fall off.
“Name’s Raven. Just save your strength and hold on.”
“Okay.”
Linc was behind Raven, occasionally firing shots in an attempt to ward off the pursuers. It didn’t seem to be working. She glanced in the mirror and saw the two Ducatis, followed closely by the Porsche SUV.
She keyed the molar mic with her tongue. “Omega, this is Beta team. We have an injured man, and we’ve got a bunch of angry drug dealers on our tail. Need a little help with directions.”
“I’ve got our resident guide on the line,” Juan said on the other end, meaning Mark Murphy. “What can we do?”
“How about a traffic tie-up?”
“You’re clear all the way to the bridge,” Murph said.
“No, I want to find a traffic tie-up,” Raven said. “We can at least lose the SUV that way.”
“Gotcha,” Murph said. “No jams near you on the main roads.”
“Then get us onto a side road. A narrow one.”
Raven knew Murph was monitoring their position using the GPS on their phones.
“I’ve got a new route,” he said. “At the next street, turn right.”
“Turning,” she replied. As she leaned into the turn, a bullet ricocheted off the BMW’s fender, barely missing the tire. Linc was right behind her and fired off three shots in return.
“Getting low on ammo,” he said.
“At the end of this street,” Murph said, “there is a canal perpendicular to you. You’re going to cross it.”
“How does that help?” Raven asked.
“It’s a pedestrian bridge. Too small for the SUV. It’s only ten feet wide and has steel barrier posts, according to the online street view. Do you have the backpack on?”
“Ready to deploy,” Linc said.
“After you cross the pedestrian bridge, you can turn left and it’s a straight shot to the Rio–Niterói.”
“Got it,” Raven said.
She could see the pedestrian bridge ahead. There were five steps up to it.
“Hold on,” she yelled to López. He tried to tighten his grip, but his arm was weak.
She jerked the handlebars back, gunned the engine, and popped up on her rear wheel to climb the stairs.
Linc followed, and they raced across the thankfully empty bridge.
“Deploying,” Linc said.
That meant he was releasing the drawstring on his backpack like a ripcord on a parachute. The pack was filled with four hundred caltrops. Shaped like jacks, the small steel weapons had four needle-sharp spikes, one of which poked straight up no matter how the caltrop landed. During the time of the Roman Empire, they’d been used to hobble horses and camels. Now they worked just as effectively on pneumatic tires.
When Linc pulled the ripcord, the caltrops spilled out and scattered across the pedestrian bridge behind him.
As Raven turned, she glanced to the side and saw the motorcyclists launch themselves up the steps. They ignored the tiny items falling onto the bridge surface and roared across.
The moment the tires hit the spikes, they blew out. One rider went tumbling across the remaining caltrops while the other flipped his bike into the canal.
The Porsche SUV skidded to a stop at the metal barriers, but it wasn’t giving up. It backed up and began to follow them on the other side of the canal.
Raven gunned her engine. She and Linc accelerated much more quickly than the SUV could and left it trailing far behind.
Still, it had to be obvious to their pursuers where they were headed. The entrance to the Rio–Niterói Bridge was only a mile ahead.
They were doing over a hundred miles per hour by the time they got on the bridge, one of the longest causeways in the world. Because cargo and cruise ships crossed beneath it into the port, the bridge rose to two hundred thirty-six feet at its highest point over the water.
“How long will it take us to get to our rendezvous point?” López asked in Raven’s ear. Every word sounded like it took supreme effort.
She gauged the distance on the eight-mile-long bridge that stretched out before her. “Ninety seconds.”
“Ninety seconds?” He must have done the mental calculation because he coughed and said, “The middle of the bridge?”
“Right. We’re going to jump off.”
“At this height? We’ll kill ourselves!” His yell produced another coughing fit.
“No we won’t. We’re going bungee jumping.”
Raven slowed when she saw the orange paint they’d sprayed on the railing the night before. It was nearly at the highest section, carefully chosen for that reason and for the distance between pilings.
She screeched to a halt in the right lane beside the paint marker and got off the bike. She removed a flare from the side case, lit it, and threw it behind the motorcycle so they wouldn’t get run over. Linc, who pulled to a stop next to her, did the same.
The guardrail was designed like a series of three-foot-high concrete benches abutted end to end.
“We’re at the rendezvous,” Linc said.
“We’re prepared to catch you,” Juan replied. “I’ve got a medical team standing by.”
López pulled himself off the bike. He looked woozy and pale. His lower torso was soaked in blood.
“You people are nuts.”
“It’s a living,” Raven said, pulling three harnesses from her other side case. Linc had the bungee cords they would attach to them. The orange marker told him where to connect the cords to the bridge, at intervals twenty feet apar
t, so they wouldn’t slam into each other on the way down. The bungee lengths had been precisely measured to match the height of the bridge at this spot and according to their respective weights.
Raven eased López into his harness and was impressed that he didn’t cry out in pain. Maybe he was in shock. She slipped on her own, and handed the last one to Linc, before attaching herself and López to the bungees.
“Ever done this?” she asked him as she kept an eye on the road behind them. She was expecting either the Porsche or the cops to show up at any moment.
“Been skydiving twice,” López said. His teeth were starting to chatter.
“Same thing. Don’t think about it. Just jump.”
“Our friends are back,” Linc said, pointing down the road. The black SUV was weaving through cars, trying to get to them faster. Blue lights flashed farther behind them. “If we can get over the side before they arrive, we’ll be safe. No way they’ll stop to tangle with the police.”
They escorted López over to the railing and helped him climb up so that he was sitting with his feet dangling two hundred feet above the water.
“This is going to hurt,” Raven said.
“I know,” López said. “Push me.”
Raven didn’t have time to ask him if he was serious. She gave him a shove.
Then she went over to her own spot and jumped.
For a couple of seconds she floated weightlessly, enough time to wonder if the bungee was going to hold or if she would just plunge straight into the water at a speed that would render the surface as hard as cement.
But she started to feel a gentle tug as the cord began to stretch. She slowly came to a stop three feet above the water and then snapped back until she was halfway up to the bridge deck. She turned her head to see Linc and López rebounding just like her.
After several bounces, they all came to rest, dangling from the bridge like marionettes. Below her and to the side, she saw the Gator. The hatch slid open, and Juan pulled himself out.
Raven activated the quick release on her harness and dove into the water. She surfaced, and Juan pulled her aboard the Gator. Linc quickly followed.
López remained hanging where he was. He was unconscious.
Juan yelled down the hatch, “Move us over to get him.”
The Gator maneuvered until it was directly under him. While Juan and Linc held López, Raven unlatched his bungee cord. The CIA agent fell into their arms.
They lowered him into the Gator, then followed him down.
Juan closed the hatch and ordered the Gator to move at top speed without submerging. Two med techs from the Oregon treated López while Raven and Linc slumped into seats, drained from the chase. Gomez Adams was prepping two drones as if he were getting ready to launch them.
“What are those for?” Linc asked.
The Chairman looked at López’s inert form and shook his head in disgust and rage. Raven had never seen him so angry.
“MacD and Hali are in trouble,” Juan said. “And we’re not losing anybody else today.”
17
Hali struggled to keep the paraglider in the air. Jessica Belasco’s right harness strap had been severed by a bullet, so she had her hand looped through his harness to keep from falling all the way out. But in doing so, she was shifting more of her weight to the right, which made it difficult for him to maintain a straight flight path. If they went into a stall, he’d have to throw out their reserve chute or they’d plunge into the water from a thousand feet up.
Making an uncontrolled landing like that in the water in a tandem harness might drown them, so Hali told Belasco to remain calm and keep her grip steady.
All she could do was nod in terror. Hali was scared as well, but he had something to focus on. Still, his heart was hammering in his chest, and he had to remind himself to breathe slowly and smoothly, just like he had to handle the paraglider.
“I’m not going to be able to maneuver very well around those drones,” he told MacD. “It’ll be a challenge just getting to Ilha da Laje intact.”
“They aren’t from the Oregon, are they?” MacD asked.
“Not ours,” Juan replied from the Gator. “They came from Ferreira’s yacht. Belasco’s friends must have called him back when she disappeared. The drones may be equipped with explosive devices, so try to stay away from them.”
“Fantastic,” Hali said.
“What is?” Belasco asked.
“We’re on schedule to be picked up,” he said. No need to scare her even further. “But, prepare to hold on if I need to roll quickly.”
“Why? Wait a minute,” she said, pointing with her free hand at the dots that were approaching. “What are those?”
“Drones.”
“That can’t be good.”
“It’s not.”
MacD came up next to him only twenty-five yards away so that they were flying in formation. “Got a plan?”
They were still half a mile away from the island fortress, passing eight hundred feet in altitude.
“When the drones get close, we’ll split and dive. You go right. I’ll go left. We’ll descend in a spiral pattern, which might be hard for them to follow if they’re being flown manually.”
Hali didn’t have to add that they were toast if the drones had automated targeting systems. He knew Gomez had that kind of software in his drones, but he didn’t know if Ferreira’s were similarly outfitted.
When the drones were within a hundred yards, one of them split off while the others hung back.
“They must have a single operator controlling them,” Hali said. “Otherwise, they’d attack all at once.”
How Hali wished they had a shotgun. Pistols were useless against such small maneuverable targets.
“Tell me when to break,” MacD said.
“Not yet.”
Hali kept the paraglider descending straight and true as if they didn’t understand the danger heading their way. When the drone was only fifty yards away and closing fast, he said to MacD, “Break right . . . now!”
Hali pulled down on the handle in his left hand, which yanked the canopy down on that side and sent him and Belasco into a tight turn and descent. She screamed from the stomach-churning drop.
The drone shot right between him and MacD and exploded in midair a hundred feet above them.
Hali felt the heat and concussion from the blast and looked up. The canopy was undamaged. The drones were so small that they could only carry a tiny payload. Unless the explosion happened right next to them, they might live through this.
Hali looked around and saw another drone break from the others. The operator wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
MacD apparently knew that as well. “Strike one for the bad guys. Now what, mister expert flyer?”
“Our best chance is to get down to the island as fast as possible.”
“And the drone?”
“Dodge it,” Hali said.
“Very helpful.”
“I’m out of ideas.”
“Think quick. Here it comes.”
The drone was ignoring MacD and heading right at Hali and Belasco.
Hali pulled the paraglider first one way, then the other, in an attempt to shake it, but the drone was too quick. It would only be a matter of time before it closed within ten yards of them and blew them apart.
“I have an idea,” Gomez said on the comm system.
At that moment, another drone came out of nowhere and slammed into the attacking drone in a kamikaze fashion. The propellers on both drones shattered, and they tumbled toward the water. The operator set off the explosive, but by then it was too far away to have the desired effect.
“Thank you, sir,” Hali shouted. “Nice flying.”
“I’ve only got one more on hand,” Gomez said.
“Make it count.�
��
Hali watched as Gomez flew his second quadcopter into another drone. Both were demolished in the collision.
That left a single attacking drone, and it raced toward them. Hali could see the Gator knifing through the water, but it was too far away for anyone aboard to have a clear shot at the drone. The Oregon was following in the distance, ready to recover them all. Assuming, of course, that they lived through this.
The fortress on Ilha da Laje was now just a few hundred yards away. From above it looked like a flying saucer had landed in the water. The tiny rock poking out of the bay was completely covered by the stronghold that had been built in the eighteenth century to guard the entrance to the harbor. The concrete roof added since then was several feet thick and could withstand almost any assault. A cantilevered steel jetty extended from one side for boats to dock, but the military installation hadn’t been used in decades.
Since MacD had more maneuverability, he was ahead and nearing the island. He dropped quickly and landed in a roll on the fort’s roof.
He quickly detached from the canopy and got to his feet. He drew his pistol and began firing at the drone, but it was useless.
It was up to Hali. He had a plan, but it was almost suicidal. Still, it was their best chance.
He found a thermal coming off the warm bay waters and used it to rise as he approached the island. He had to gain some altitude for this to work.
“Make sure you have a good hold on my harness,” he said to Belasco.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Doubt it. Get ready to fall.”
“What?”
But he didn’t have time to explain. The drone came at them. When it was about to get within lethal range, Hali dumped all the air from the canopy and put them into a stall. They dropped like a boulder.
The drone exploded above them, shredding the canopy.
Just what Hali was expecting. He had his hand on the reserve chute and threw it away from his body.
As they plummeted, the parachute filled with air long enough to bleed off a good chunk of speed before they hit the ground.
Marauder (The Oregon Files) Page 8
