“Give me your position!”
“We’re in Budapest, north end of Margaret Island, flying south along the river.”
“Which side of the river?”
“East.”
“Standby,” Calvin replied. “No matter what—stay with her.”
“We’re trying,” He could picture Calvin in one of the sophisticated Defense Intelligence Agency control rooms. Donovan had been in one years ago. There were a dozen high-definition flat screen panels around a central control station. The room was kept cold to keep the solid-state computer equipment from over-heating. There were direct links to the National Reconnaissance Office, as well as the Pentagon. Calvin would be calling out orders and the half dozen analysts, and technicians, most of them friends of Lauren, would be doing everything they could. Donovan braced himself with his feet as Trevor banked sharply to the left and cut between two buildings no more than twenty feet above the ground. Trevor then banked to the right and shot between two apartment buildings and crossed the thoroughfare just behind the speeding BMWs.
“We’re getting assets moved into position,” Calvin said. “Stay with her, we’ll never find her without you acting as a spotter.”
“Calvin,” Donovan said. They’ve got surface-to-air missiles and they’ve already shot down one helicopter.”
In a sudden maneuver, Trevor whipped the helicopter around and dropped down toward the road. They built speed and shot the gap between two more concrete high-rises, using the structures to block any kind of a clear missile shot from the X5s. Trevor climbed until they were just above roof level of a series of six-story brick buildings, leapfrogging from roof to roof while keeping the vehicles in sight.
Michael pointed out something to Trevor. Without his headphones, Donovan had no idea what he meant, but straining to look, Donovan spotted the concern. The sunroof on the tail vehicle was open. Trevor accelerated past the SUVs, dived back to street level, hovered between two glass-clad structures, and waited for the vehicles to pass. When they did, he started forward as if he were going to follow, then he pivoted the helicopter and darted back behind the closest building.
Donovan saw the flash from the missile followed by an explosion along the side of the building. Fragments from the building’s heavy plate glass peppered the side of the helicopter like a shotgun. Trevor banked steeply around the corner and climbed.
“Are you still there?” Calvin asked.
“Yes, what’s happening?”
“We’re re-tasking an asset, but it’s going to take some time.”
“She doesn’t have time.” Donovan knew that re-tasking meant they had to make adjustments to a satellite. “If they split up, we’re going to have to make a choice, and I don’t want to be wrong.”
“I need six minutes,” Calvin said.
Donovan understood that six minutes was quick in terms of reorienting a satellite, but as Trevor darted from one building to another, six minutes seemed like an eternity.
Trevor made a steep banking turn around a tall antenna, narrowly missing the guy wires that stretched down to the ground. By manipulating their speed and altitude, Trevor also banked the helicopter left and right, giving the guy with the missile launcher nothing more than a fleeting target. A steeple flashed past. Trevor flew up and over a building, and then Donovan realized that ahead of them was an open area and they were about to be exposed. Instantly, Trevor banked hard and cut directly over the top of the speeding SUVs, heading for the safety of a series of concrete-and-steel structures on the other side of the thoroughfare. As they neared a narrow gap, Trevor was forced to slow, or they’d overshoot, and run the risk of their rotor blades clipping a wall.
Donovan turned as the man in the BMW shouldered the Stinger missile launcher, swung it in their direction, and fired. In the close confines between the structures, the missile couldn’t maneuver with the helicopter and impacted the edge of the building behind them, exploding huge chunks out of the masonry which tumbled to the sidewalk below.
Trevor climbed, reached the roofline, then banked hard to parallel the road. He then eased the helicopter over slightly until they could all see the road to try to reacquire the vehicles.
“We saw that one,” Calvin said. “The satellite’s infrared systems become effective before the optics. We’re trying to use the heat signature from the missile’s exhaust to pinpoint the source, the more missiles, the better.”
Trevor set his jaw, nosed the helicopter down, and made an abrupt turn to the right and cut diagonally over the vehicles. As the helicopter flashed overhead, both SUVs made an abrupt left turn away from them down an alley.
Donovan nearly dropped the phone as Trevor slammed the helicopter into a punishing turn and brought them back around. They raced down a side street to try to intercept the BMWs, but they had vanished.
Marta, leaning in her seat, pointed to her left and spoke rapidly into her microphone. Trevor reacted immediately by pivoting to the right, climbing until the helicopter was skimming the rooftops. He darted away from the safety of one building to take a look below. Both SUVs were speeding south along the river’s edge. The road next to the Danube only gave Trevor one side of the street to negotiate. Trevor swung out in the open and the man with the missile launcher was ready.
Trevor slammed the controls and climbed as the missile exploded directly below them. The sound of the warhead detonating rose above the noise of the beating rotor blades. The shock wave staggered the helicopter as Trevor banked away. He was able to stabilize the helicopter just as another missile arced toward them, flying wide before penetrating the window of a close-by building and exploding inside. Trevor immediately dropped back down to street level and accelerated down a side street, leaving the SUVs behind.
Phone still pressed to his ear, Donovan watched as Trevor came back around to jump ahead of the SUVs. Trevor slowed, cut off traffic by hovering directly in the middle of the three-lane thoroughfare. He descended lower as if intending to land. At the sight of the helicopter, drivers began slamming on their brakes, bringing southbound traffic to a swift halt.
Trevor climbed and Donovan saw both SUVs had come to a stop in the gridlock. Just as quickly, the BMWs wheeled to their right, jumped the curb, and tore across the grassy lawn of a park, scattering pedestrians in their wake. Further down the road Donovan spotted the flashing lights of police cars in pursuit of the BMWs. Donovan could see up ahead. Directly in front of them were the hills on the west side of the Danube. Perched at the top, the sprawling Buda Castle dominated the skyline.
“We’ll be in position in thirty seconds,” Calvin’s voice sounded through the phone. “Give me your exact location.”
Donovan pressed his hand tight over his ear to hear Calvin, as Trevor pivoted sharply above an intersection just as the two SUVs sped through.
“Donovan!” Marta shouted. “I think they’re headed for the tunnel at Castle Hill. It’s where the road off the Chain Bridge funnels traffic underneath the castle.”
“Did you hear any of that?” Donovan asked Calvin. “We’re headed toward the Chain Bridge.”
“Yes, we’re almost in position.”
Trevor skimmed the roofs of the small structures not far from the river’s edge. To their right, the mountain and the castle towered five hundred feet above them, and dead ahead, the Chain Bridge loomed large, its two massive concrete towers, the foundation for the girders and cables, supporting the famous structure.
“We have you, but I don’t see the SUVs,” Calvin said. “We have another problem. There’s a Budapest police helicopter lifting off from their base at the airport. Radio intercepts are telling us that he’s going to direct two military helicopter gunships in an effort to stop the BMWs. Donovan, you need to break off pursuit the moment we lock on to them with the satellite. The gunships will close on you the moment they spot your red helicopter. You’ll lead them straight to Lauren.”
“You think they’ll fire at the BMWs?” Donovan asked.
“As far a
s the Hungarian police are concerned, a prisoner was taken from custody, and fellow officers were killed in the process. Lauren is considered one of them. Make no mistake, they’re going to shoot.”
“Where are they?” Donovan yelled to Montero. “Calvin says we’re going to have company real soon. Gunships are headed this way.”
“They’re on a narrow road between those buildings. We should see them in seconds,” Montero said.
Trevor eased the helicopter into a hover. Donovan could see the large open space, a convergence of the roadways as the cars entered the roundabout before being funneled into the tunnel. The SUVs would be here in seconds, and Trevor had no place to hide.
“Calvin, the two SUVs are just about to arrive at the roundabout on this side of the tunnel,” Donovan repeated. “Give me another option besides abandoning the chase. What if there’s a window to try and save Lauren? We need to be there.”
“There’s no other option,” Calvin said. “She’s dead in ten minutes if the gunships find her. Donovan, listen. The people who have her could have killed her earlier; instead, they kidnapped her. She has value to them.”
The two SUVs burst from the side street and careened around the rotary. The man standing up through the sunroof spotted them, turned, shouldered the Stinger missile launcher, tracked them through the sights of the launcher, and fired.
“They’re on the rotary now!” Donovan shouted into the phone just as a jet of smoke poured from the rear of the launcher, and a microsecond later, the missile leapt from the tube. Donovan’s eyes were locked on the accelerating missile when the enormous wall of the Chain Bridge’s west tower filled the windows. Trevor had darted behind the massive structure, and so thick was the edifice, Donovan never saw or heard the explosion of the warhead on the other side.
“We have them both,” Calvin said. “I repeat, we have satellite lock on both vehicles. Suggest you exit the area, low, over the river, and head south.”
“Trevor. Get us out of here.” Donovan relayed Calvin’s instructions. “Low and fast, to the south. There are gunships coming.”
Trevor moved them away from the bridge, pivoted, and accelerated as he dived to wave-top level.
“I promise we won’t lose them,” Calvin replied.
“Thank you, Calvin,” Donovan said. “I want to know exactly what’s happening, when we can make our move. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Can everyone hear me?” Trevor asked. “Like I explained earlier, everyone in bloody Budapest has a smartphone and probably recorded footage of our pursuit. The authorities will be looking for us. We need to lay low, go somewhere and hide for a bit. I also need to check the machine over, make sure there isn’t any damage.”
“I know a spot,” Marta said. “Keep following the river. It’s a little ways, but up ahead, on the left, will be a set of train tracks. Follow the tracks east, they’ll take us to a deserted warehouse amidst the railroad yard. We’ll be safe there.”
Donovan held the phone in his hand, poised to answer it the instant Calvin called. He hoped that Calvin was right, that the fact that whoever it was who had kidnapped Lauren needed her, which might give him time to rescue her. His only hope at this point was that the men in the BMWs would be unaware that they were being tracked by satellite.
Trevor flew just above the water as they roared under three bridges in quick succession, visible only to people in the immediate vicinity. When Marta pointed out the tracks, Trevor banked left and followed the rails as they wound through industrialized Budapest. Up ahead they spotted a freight train, and Trevor slowed to fall in behind the last freight car, the helicopter’s skids barely above the shiny steel tracks.
“I’ll use the racket from the train to mask the noise we’re making,” Trevor announced. “People who live near train tracks generally learn to tune it out.”
They quickly flew into an area of older warehouses, where side tracks held derelict boxcars, and rusted machinery littered the area. Marta pointed toward the building she had in mind, and Trevor slowed, allowing the train to pull away from them. He brought the helicopter to a hover and then inched inside the building through open doors not much wider than the diameter of their rotor blades. He pivoted one hundred eighty degrees so the nose was pointed toward the door, and then descended the last few inches, gently touching the skids to the concrete floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THEY’D DRIVEN FOR what seemed like hours. Leaving Budapest, they’d put a black hood over her head and forced her to stay low and out of sight in the vehicle. Her captors spoke little, and when they did, she couldn’t understand a word. When they finally came to a stop, the hood was removed, as was the bulletproof vest. She blinked, surprised to see the sun low on the horizon.
The driver grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulled her from the BMW, and marched her toward an old farmhouse. All Lauren could see in every direction was plowed ground. She was shepherded through the door into the kitchen and was hit by how musty the house smelled, as if a hundred years of wood smoke clung to the walls around a cast iron stove. The man who had her by the arm took her to a back room and placed her in a chair. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back, and he used zip-ties to secure her ankles to the legs of the sturdy chair. He then walked from the room, closing the door behind him.
Lauren was alone for the first time since she’d been arrested by the police. She twisted around to examine the dingy room, finding a narrow bed pushed up against the wall, the mattress ripped and stained. There was one small window, grimy with dirt, but she could see it was growing dark. Lauren tested the handcuffs until the metal bit into her flesh. She strained with each foot to free herself from the zip-ties, and in an uncharacteristic moment of pure frustration, she exploded into a frenzy of pulling and pushing to try to free herself. She attempted to stand, but the chair, fastened to her legs, threw her off balance and she crashed sideways onto the dirty wood floor. She pushed and twisted to no avail, until she lay there, panting, realizing she couldn’t get herself back up. Finally, she gave up trying.
Questions flooded her brain. She thought of the men who had kidnapped her and wondered how they’d known where she was. Where were the police taking her? The American embassy perhaps? Who was in the red helicopter? Was it friend or foe?
She tried to settle her mind, to think clearly, but she knew she didn’t have enough facts. She had no idea what the Budapest police knew about her or whom they might have told about her arrest. As far as she knew, her demands to talk to the embassy had been ignored. As many times as she ran the scenarios in her head, the slim hope that anyone knew where she was seemed improbable.
As if to emphasize the point, if anyone did know, where were they? She felt desperation and fear threaten to take over her logical, scientific mind. She focused on her breathing, in and out, slowly, calmly, but it reminded her of giving birth to Abigail, and the sorrow pounded at her far worse than anything else. A sob escaped her throat and she clamped down, refusing to cry. She was not going to allow these men to think they’d broken her. She would show no weakness.
Lauren swallowed hard as she heard the heavy footfalls approaching and the door to her room opened. Still on the floor, she looked up and tried to mask her fear. It was the man she’d cut with a knife on the tug, the man who’d dragged her by her hair. She’d heard his men call him Aleksander. Judging by his demeanor, he was the man in charge, and because of the bandage on his face, he was easy to spot.
He bent down, put his hands under her arms, and pulled both Lauren and the chair upright. Rubbing his hands together, he moved until he was directly in front of her, then slapped her hard across the face. Lauren was taken by surprise, her cheek stung and then grew warm, her eyes watered from the pain.
“I underestimated you once, and you slashed me with a knife,” he said in accented English.
“I was defending myself,” Lauren said defiantly.
“You also stabbed my colleague, and he bled out on the deck of that tug.” He walk
ed behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, leaned in, and whispered, “Where is Daniel Pope? I hope you know that if your positions were reversed, he would have already told me what I want to know. He’s not very tough.”
“So, you’re the tough one?” Lauren said as she did her best to pull away. “You hit defenseless women.”
He came around and stood in front of her, sliding an object from the pocket of his windbreaker. A simple push of a latch and a blade unfolded and locked into place. He touched the steel to Lauren’s cheek. “Because it’s a war, I’ll do whatever it takes. Now, where is Daniel? Where are the two of you going to rendezvous?”
Lauren was under no illusions. This man would carve her apart piece by piece unless she gave him a reason to spare her. “Daniel was hurt in the crash, it was his ankle, he had trouble putting weight on it to walk. He insisted he was slowing me down, that we needed to split up.”
“You’re lying.” He pressed the point of the knife until blood began to pool in the indentation on Lauren’s cheek. “We searched everywhere.”
“I went downstream, fast and dirty, getting everyone to chase me. He went upstream.”
“What did he tell you about the airplane?”
“Nothing. We picked him up and then we crashed. The debriefing hadn’t gone beyond verifying that he was indeed Daniel Pope. You and your missiles, you’re the one who shot us down, aren’t you?” Lauren felt the pressure from the knife vanish.
“I was following Daniel after he ran.” He showed Lauren the tip of his knife, a single drop of her blood balanced on the point. “He stupidly went straight to the airport and boarded your Learjet. My men were waiting, and we destroyed it after it departed. You’re lucky to have survived.”
“I can take you to him,” Lauren said, as the tip of his knife moved closer to her other cheek.
“Tell me what he did to sabotage the airplane he built, and I’ll kill you now, quickly. Dying the slow way is brutal, even by wartime standards.”
Pegasus Down: A Donovan Nash Thriller (Donovan Nash Thrillers) Page 16
