‘We’re not gonna catch him!’ Eddie warned. The police car’s brake lights flared again, Kroll hurling his vehicle sharply through the entrance to the heliport’s parking lot.
The Nazi might have been inexperienced, but he was also apparently a fast learner, managing to control the skid as he made the turn. A metal gate beside the terminal building restricted access to the pier – but it burst open as the Taurus smashed into it and continued on towards the helipads.
Unable to make the tight turn into the parking lot, the truck instead slithered to a tyre-smoking stop at the entrance. Eddie jumped out and sprinted after the stolen car. ‘Eddie, wait!’ Nina yelled as she fumbled with her seat belt, but he was already gone. Cursing, she scrambled out after him.
A red, white and blue helicopter on a pad halfway down the pier was unloading one group of passengers as it prepared to take on another. Kroll aimed the police car straight for it. The waiting tourists and their ground-crew escort stared in confusion and disbelief as the Taurus charged at them, finally fleeing as he slewed to a stop less than ten feet from the chopper.
The Nazi leapt out, gun in hand. He yanked open the rear door, about to drag Natalia with him, but then saw Eddie clear the terminal building. He spat a German curse, firing a single wild shot that forced the Englishman to duck and swerve, then rushed to the helicopter. It was a Bell LongRanger, a stretched version of the ubiquitous Jet Ranger, with an extra row of seats in its cabin. The port-side hatch to the passenger compartment was still open. Kroll scrambled inside, pulling the door shut.
The startled pilot looked back at his unscheduled passenger. ‘Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on?’ he demanded in a nasal Bronx accent.
Kroll glanced back outside. Eddie was still running towards the helicopter, Nina rounding the terminal behind him. Another muttered obscenity, then the Nazi turned to shout at the pilot: ‘Take off! Take off now!’
‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere—’
‘Fly!’ The high seat backs made it impossible for anyone in the passenger compartment to climb forward, but there was still enough of a gap between the headrests for the Nazi to reach through and jam the muzzle of his gun against the pilot’s temple.
‘Uh, okay, we’re movin’.’ Face filled with fear, the pilot twisted the throttle to full and pulled up the collective control lever. The LongRanger squirmed with the sudden increase in power, then left the pad.
Eddie raced towards the helicopter as it took to the air, squinting into the rotor’s gritty downdraught. Twenty feet away, ten, but it was six feet up and climbing fast. A glimpse of Natalia in the back of the police car as he passed told him that she was frightened but apparently unharmed, though there was no time to check on her. ‘Eddie, stop!’ Nina cried behind him, but to no avail.
He threw himself at the aircraft, arms outstretched—
One hand caught the rear tip of the port-side landing skid as the LongRanger banked away. His shoulder crackled as it took his full weight. He grunted, swinging beneath the fuselage.
The edge of the pier whipped past below him, the surface of the East River rapidly receding as the chopper gained height. Already thinking he had made a huge mistake, Eddie kicked and twisted, trying to bring up his other arm to get a hold on the skid.
The pilot let out a yelp as the cabin rocked, hurriedly adjusting the controls to compensate. ‘What was that?’ demanded Kroll.
‘I think someone just grabbed on to us!’ was the disbelieving reply.
Kroll looked back at the heliport, seeing Nina staring helplessly after the departing aircraft – alone. ‘Der Engländer!’ he snarled, darting to the side of the cabin and looking down through the window. For a moment he saw nothing … then a figure in a black leather jacket swung into view, dangling from the end of the skid.
The Nazi stared angrily at him, then pushed open the sliding panel set into the Perspex rear window. Wind and rotor noise roared into the cabin. He ignored it, slipping his gun through the little opening and taking aim.
Eddie strained to grasp the skid with his other hand, but couldn’t quite reach. The pounding rotor downwash, reeking of hot aviation fuel, made it far more of an effort than he’d expected. Straining to the limit, he bent his other arm to lift himself a few inches higher and snatched at it again. This time his fingertips brushed the metal, but still he wasn’t able to hook his fingers over the landing gear. ‘Come on!’ he gasped, making a final, frantic effort to raise himself further …
His hand clapped down on top of the skid. Another gasp, this time of relief, and he shifted to spread his weight between both shoulders.
He faced forward, bringing up his legs and swinging to hook his ankles over the tubular spar. Pulling himself up, he looked at the cabin door—
And saw the USP pointing at him.
‘Shit!’ he gasped, jerking his feet off the skid and dropping back down to present a smaller target – as Kroll fired.
The bullet whipped past the Yorkshireman’s left arm. The Nazi pulled the trigger again as Eddie swung backwards from the skid’s tail, this round searing past just inches from his chest. The river reeled below him. He looked back up, knowing he was completely helpless …
The third shot didn’t come. Instead, Kroll glowered at him before withdrawing the gun. Eddie realised that the Nazi was down to his last round; unable to look directly down his gun’s sights, and with the blast of the rotor wash throwing off his aim, he didn’t want to waste it.
But the Englishman knew he was far from safe. Kroll retreated slightly, then opened the door. The Nazi pushed it wider with one knee and leaned out, gripping a strap on the cabin wall with his left hand. His right was still holding the gun. He looked down the sights, pointing it straight at Eddie’s head—
The helicopter made a sharp roll to port.
Eddie was sent swinging beneath the skid by the sudden movement – but Kroll was almost pitched out of the cabin, only his grip on the strap keeping him from a long fall. Expression flicking from malevolence to shocked panic in an instant, he scrabbled to brace himself.
The door swung wide, a loud crack of breaking metal coming from the hinges as it hit the limit of its travel. The noise from beside his head made Kroll flinch. He pushed himself back into the cabin, fury returning as he rounded on the pilot.
The Englishman was little better inclined towards the man, even if he had just saved his life. In trying to tip his unwelcome passenger out of the helicopter, the pilot had almost thrown the stowaway after him. Eddie flexed his fingers, managing to re-secure his hold on the skid.
Kroll stabbed his gun against the pilot’s head. ‘If you do that again, I will kill you!’ He glared through the windshield, spotting something off to the right. ‘The building, there!’ he shouted, indicating the expansive flat roof of the South Ferry terminal. ‘Land on it, hard – crush him!’
‘We’ll crash!’ the pilot protested. ‘The skids won’t take—’
‘Do it!’ The Nazi pushed the hot muzzle against his cheek.
The pilot jerked away in pain, then sent the LongRanger swooping down towards the shoreline.
Eddie tried to pull himself back up, but the force of the slipstream as the helicopter gained speed made it impossible, sending him trailing behind it like a banner. All he could do was cling on and hope Kroll didn’t force the pilot to make any wild moves that would throw him off.
That wasn’t what the Nazi had in mind, he realised as the ferry terminal rolled into view. The chopper was heading straight for it – too fast for a landing. Kroll was going to scrape him off against the roof!
People on the ground scattered and ran, thinking the LongRanger was about to crash. For a moment Eddie considered letting go and taking his chances with a splashdown in the river, but it was already too late – he would hit one of the jetties or even a moored ferry. His only option was to hang on and hope the pilot’s survival instincts kicked in.
Which they would have to do very soon—
The helicopter lanced
down at the roof – then abruptly tipped backwards, engine screaming as the pilot desperately tried to flare the aircraft to slow its descent. The edge of the terminal flashed past beneath Eddie’s feet, but he was still too high to survive the fall. Thirty feet up, twenty, the LongRanger’s tail boom now behind him as it reared back still further.
Ten feet, slowing, slowing …
He let go.
The landing was hard – the helicopter was still moving at over twenty miles per hour. He let his legs crumple as he hit the flat surface and rolled to absorb as much of the impact as he could, but it didn’t prevent agony from exploding in his ankles and knees. He bowled along the roof, throwing his arms out to bring himself to a painful stop on his back.
He looked up—
And saw the tail rotor scything at him.
Eddie threw himself sideways just as the decelerating LongRanger hit the roof with a bang, the rear tips of its skids gouging ragged tears in the surface before slamming flat. The whirling saw-blade tips of the rotor shrieked over him, missing by mere inches.
‘Shit!’ he gasped, rolling on to his front to see the helicopter slither to a halt. Scrambling to his feet, he ran towards it.
The port-side door was still jammed open by its broken hinges. If he could get inside the aircraft before it took off, he might be able to take down its hijacker—
The engine shrilled to full power again, hot exhaust gases blasting him, and the helicopter rose drunkenly from the roof. Eddie ducked as the tail jerked towards him, but then the pilot compensated – overcompensated, the rear rotor pulling the aircraft around clockwise. The open door was now on the far side of the fuselage, out of reach as the LongRanger climbed.
The Yorkshireman made another leap – catching the starboard skid this time. The chopper lurched again as it took his weight. He was able to pull himself up and secure his legs with relative ease.
But Kroll would know he was there …
The blond Nazi staggered as the helicopter swayed. ‘I warned you—’
‘It’s not me!’ the pilot cried as he brought his aircraft clear of the ferry terminal. ‘It must be that guy again!’
Kroll glared at the open door, through which he could see the roof – and the absence of the Englishman, alive or dead – but was unwilling to risk leaning out again. Instead, he looked past the pilot. The helicopter was heading west, Battery Park stretching across Manhattan’s southern tip. ‘Those trees!’ he barked, pointing. ‘Fly through their tops – hit him on them!’ When there was no instant response to his order, he struck the USP’s butt against the pilot’s head, drawing blood and a pained wail. ‘Now!’
Eddie had just managed to haul himself on top of the skid when the helicopter dropped into another steep descent. ‘Oh Christ, what now?’ he gasped.
The answer came as he saw the treetops rushing at him. He closed his eyes, gripping the landing gear as tightly as he could—
Branches lashed him like bullwhips as the aircraft skimmed the trees, the rotor downwash blasting a blizzard of green in his wake. The cracks and snaps of breaking wood were audible even over the howling engines. The tip of a limb ripped through his jeans, drawing a long line of blood down the back of his thigh. Another momentarily snagged his leather jacket, almost tearing him loose before it sheared from the trunk.
The aircraft dropped even lower, heading straight for one tree standing tall above its neighbours …
And pulled up just before impact, the uppermost branches disintegrating as the skids ploughed through them. A last twig slashed at Eddie’s cheek, then he was clear.
‘Did you get him?’ Kroll barked at the pilot.
‘I – I dunno. I think so,’ was the hesitant reply.
The Nazi took a firm hold of the wall strap and braced his feet against the rear seats. ‘Do not try anything,’ he growled, before cautiously leaning out of the open door to peer at the port skid.
There was nobody there.
He allowed himself a moment of sadistic satisfaction. ‘Hab ich ihn,’ he muttered, before drawing back. ‘He is gone. Now, take me over there!’ He pointed across the great expanse of New York Bay, at the shore of New Jersey beyond Liberty Island. Crossing into a different state would slow the response time of law enforcement, giving him a greater chance of escape.
With a nervous glance at his passenger, the pilot brought the LongRanger about, picking up speed over the water.
New spikes of pain jabbing at him from numerous cuts, Eddie balanced atop the starboard skid, using the handle of the rear door to raise himself into a crouch. He deliberately didn’t turn it, wanting to see where Kroll was before making a move. He peeked through the window.
The Nazi was in the centre of the cabin, a knee on one of the rear-facing seats in the middle row. He had his gun to the pilot’s head, having worked his right arm through the gap between the headrest and a bulky support pillar. With the port-side door jammed open, if Eddie moved fast enough, he could throw him out …
If he moved fast enough. He would have to open the starboard door first, and Kroll would almost certainly catch the movement in his peripheral vision. What he needed was a distraction.
There was only one way to create one. Taking a deep breath, and keeping hold of the handle with his left hand, he dropped as low as he could and edged along the skid towards the pilot’s door.
The helicopter was now holding a steady course, but it was still far from stable. The fuselage felt as if it were swinging beneath the rotor hub like a much-abused punching bag, the pilot constantly making adjustments to compensate for the shifting air currents. The Englishman had ridden in helicopters many times before, sometimes even on the outside of them, though in those latter cases he had simply been hanging on for dear life. This time, he had to negotiate its exterior and attract the attention of one of its occupants … without being seen by the other.
He advanced inch by inch, left arm stretching out behind him – realising with dismay that there were no handholds ahead. The pilot’s door handle would only be reachable if he let go of the rear, and the slightest jolt while he was unsecured would pitch him to his death. All he could do was press his splayed palm against the aluminium bodywork and pray that he had somehow acquired gecko-like suction.
Closer. Another glance into the cabin. Kroll was still watching the view ahead. Eddie hunched down again, shuffling forward until his left arm was extended as far as it would go. He slid his right hand along the fuselage, stretching out towards the window beside the pilot …
His fingertips fell fractionally short. He could reach the rubber seal around the Plexiglas, but not the window itself. For his plan to work, the pilot needed to see him.
He shifted his grip on the rear handle, fingers caterpillar-crawling along the metal until they reached its tip. That give him another couple of precious inches. Leaning forward again, he strained towards the window—
The helicopter lurched.
Eddie gasped in fear, instinctively flattening himself against the door, hard enough to thunk against the aluminium. He froze. Had Kroll heard the noise?
If he had, then the Englishman was dead. Kroll wouldn’t even need to use his last bullet – he only needed to open the door to push him to his doom …
It remained shut. Eddie cautiously craned his neck to look into the helicopter. The Nazi was still fixated on the view through the windscreen. With the other door open, the rotor noise inside the cabin was as loud as it was out on the skid, drowning out everything else.
Almost as if responding to his thought, Kroll took a pair of headphones from a hook and pulled them over his ears to muffle the sound. Eddie lowered his head again. That would reduce the risk of the Nazi hearing him open the door, but he still needed his distraction.
He stretched out his right hand again, this time tipping his head back as far as he dared until he could see the pilot’s right arm and part of his headphones. The man was looking straight ahead, keeping the helicopter on a course towards New Jersey. Eddie
pressed his fingertips against the window and tapped it.
No reaction. He tried again, harder. ‘Come on, listen,’ he growled, continuing his little tattoo on the Plexiglas before turning his hand and banging the window with his knuckles. Liberty Island was quickly approaching, over a thousand feet below. ‘You playing Napalm Death in your earphones? Look around, for fuck’s sake!’ The raps became full-on pounding, but still there was no reaction—
The pilot’s head finally turned towards him.
Eddie knew instantly from the man’s incredulous flinch that he had been seen. He pressed himself against the fuselage so that he could stretch his hand as far forward as it would go, then quickly flashed all his fingers, twice in quick succession. After a short pause, he did it again – this time holding in his little finger on the second flash. Ten, followed by nine. Another brief wait, then he held in his little and ring fingers. Eight. Hoping that he had established the timing, he waved his flattened hand from side to side to suggest rocking the aircraft when the countdown reached zero, then retreated as fast as he could.
He continued the count in his head. Seven. Six. Five. At the rear door, but he still had to get all the way behind it before opening it. Four. Three. His head passed the door handle. Another couple of steps, and he was clear. Two. Kroll was still in the same position but now with an odd look on his face, a dawning recognition that something had changed but unsure what …
Eddie realised at the same moment as the Nazi. The pilot kept glancing down and to his right. He was trying to spot the stowaway, and by looking away from the instruments, he was making it far too obvious. Had he even understood the message?
Kroll opened his mouth to speak, but some sixth sense instead prompted him to turn his head towards the window.
Their eyes met. The Nazi’s widened in surprise—
One!
Eddie yanked the door open. Kroll whipped around, but the gun caught against the headrest as he tried to pull it through the narrow gap.
The former SAS soldier lunged into the cabin – and the pilot slammed the cyclic control stick hard over to port. He had understood the countdown. Kroll reeled towards the open door as Eddie charged at him.
The Last Survivor (A Wilde/Chase Short Story) Page 6
