Mono waved his pistol in her direction. “Quiet!” He looked back at Vanderlock. “You take that up with La Valle. For now you’d better figure out how you’re going to get into the lab.” Mono walked to the ambulance and began a conversation with the workers as they reassembled the inside of the vehicle.
“What the hell do you need a lab for?” Vanderlock said to Emma. “And, I can afford you. Hell, I can afford ten of you.”
Emma shook her head. “Still bragging, I see.”
Vanderlock snorted. “Still stubborn as hell, I see.” He glanced up and took another pull off his cigarette as Mono returned.
“The loading’s finished,” Mono said. “Get it, and her, out of here.” He shoved a piece of paper at Vanderlock.
“What’s this?” Vanderlock said.
“Lab sites. Pick one and get going,” Mono said.
Vanderlock looked back at Emma with amusement in his eyes. “He wants to be rid of you. Imagine that.”
Emma was more than happy to leave Mono behind. She was giddy, almost. Vanderlock had a slippery sense of right and wrong, and she wouldn’t have thought he’d associate with killers on the level of La Valle and his crew, but she trusted him not to harm her. She started toward the Fokker.
“Did you fly this thing all the way from Africa?”
Vanderlock turned his attention to the plane. “That’s another one. I picked this one up used, in Paraguay.”
“Oh great. Does it fly?”
“It’ll get you to your lab and then Chicago.”
Emma reached the plane’s entrance. The plane had two propeller-driven engines and was painted a dirty white. She looked around the landing strip, if that was what it could be called. It was a simple band of asphalt running the length of a field. Dandelions sprouted out of cracks in the pavement, and tall, grasslike weeds swayed on the sides. The setting sun threw shadows that danced in the wake of a breeze, the wind blowing around the branches of the few trees dotting the field. Emma saw no signs of a town or village nearby, but the tall, wheat-type weeds gave her the impression they were somewhere in the prairie part of the middle of America.
“How long to Chicago?” Emma said.
Vanderlock walked up behind her. He bent into her ear. “This guy of La Valle’s hurt you?” He kept his voice low. Emma craned her head back and up to look Vanderlock in the eyes. His expression was grave.
“He tried. I punched him in the groin.”
”Remind me not to piss you off,” Vanderlock said.
“We’d better get into that lab, because I do not want to be left with the guy. He’s psychotic.”
Vanderlock sobered. “I wasn’t joking when I said that your face is all over the news. Every cop from Phoenix to D.C. is looking for you. What the hell is going on?”
Emma started up the stairs. “I’ll tell you in the plane, but do me a favor. Do not, under any circumstances, touch the shipment. It’s diseased.”
Vanderlock put a hand on her elbow to steady her as she climbed into the plane. He followed, and once inside closed the door and the attached stairs behind him. He locked the door and moved to sit in the pilot’s seat.
“Do you have a cell phone? Internet access?” Emma said.
“Nothing,” Vanderlock replied. Emma wasn’t surprised. It appeared as though La Valle’s men confiscated cell phones from all their drug runners.
The rear of the plane had been gutted, with only open spaces where the majority of the rows of seats had been removed. This plane did, however, retain the first three rows of seating, which was unlike the plane that Emma remembered from Somalia. She saw the shipment bricks in the back.
“You saved some room for passengers.” Emma indicated the three rows of seats.
Vanderlock nodded. “I wanted to use it as a modified cargo plane, but keep the ability to fly some paying passengers if I wanted.” He kept his attention on the controls, and Emma saw the propellers begin to turn. “Come on and strap in. We’re taking off.”
Emma sat down in the copilot seat and snapped on the harness. She knew nothing about flying planes, but in her only other experience with Vanderlock he’d flown her hundreds of miles, and she knew him to be a competent pilot.
After a few minutes the propellers reached a speed that seemed to satisfy him and he turned the aircraft in a slow circle on the ground until it lined up with the runway. He engaged the throttle and the plane started to taxi. Right when Emma thought they’d fall off the end of the tarmac, the plane lifted, almost magically, into the air. They pulsed higher, and Emma was once again struck by the power and beauty of flying when experienced from the perspective of a pilot seat. Her breath caught at the sheer beauty and breadth of the sky, and the image of the ground below growing farther away. Once they reached altitude, Vanderlock turned to her.
“So tell me what kind of mess you’re in now.”
“I was collecting plants for Pure Chemistry in the desert in Arizona near the border of Mexico and I came upon one of La Valle’s coyotes running some illegals into the U.S.”
Vanderlock shook his head. “How the hell do you get into these situations?”
Emma rubbed at her eyes. “I was also asked to record any observable trails that the cartels were using to transport their cargo. Just three weeks before, there was a shootout between two rival factions when they crossed each other’s paths in the desert. Over twenty people died. The information that I was asked to collect would be useful in the effort to secure the border.”
Vanderlock frowned. “Asked by whom?”
“Edward Banner of Darkview.”
Vanderlock groaned. “I should have known that he’d be involved in this somehow. If there’s a buck to be made in any hot spot in the world, Banner’s making it.”
Emma bristled. “Darkview pays its personnel well, and not one mission that Darkview has undertaken in Mexico has resulted in civilian deaths. That’s saying a lot. Besides, you’re here doing something a heck of a lot less reputable. When did you become a drug runner for La Valle? At least in Somalia the drug you ran was legal.”
Vanderlock put up a hand in a placating manner. “Calm down. And to answer your question, I got blackmailed into making this run. I was seeing a certain woman in Paraguay . . .” Vanderlock slid his eyes sideways to gauge her reaction.
“So now you’re blaming a woman?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. She was great. I just didn’t realize that she was related to La Valle. A cousin or so, I never got the exact information on the family tree. Anyway, next thing I know he’s up in my grill claiming that she was engaged to someone else and I had convinced her not to marry him.”
Emma couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “How did you convince her? Or does that fall under ‘too much information’?”
Vanderlock smiled. “Wasn’t me. She broke off the engagement herself. I had nothing to do with it. But La Valle was furious and she warned me that he was arranging a hit.” Vanderlock’s expression turned grim. “I don’t have to tell you that La Valle is no one to mess around with. Rather than wait for the day that my car blew up, or my plane exploded on takeoff, I went to him. Offered to fly one shipment into the States, and in return he would leave me alone. He agreed, and here I am.”
The story was so close to Oz’s that Emma thought it was possibly true. What she did not believe was that Vanderlock had actually fallen for any assurances of La Valle’s. Vanderlock was light-years more savvy than Oz.
“Do you believe he’ll let you go after you deliver the shipment?”
Vanderlock shook his head. “La Valle always lies. He’ll let me live only as long as he wants me to, and not a minute more. That’s why I’m going to help him keep his promise and be back in the air and gone the second the plane is unloaded.”
“Back to Africa?” Emma said. Vanderlock was a South African.
He shrugged. “Maybe. But you haven’t told me why you need a lab.”
Emma ran down the facts. Vanderlock stayed quiet, but when
she was finished, he blew out a long, low whistle.
“Any idea at all how this disease is being transmitted?”
Emma leaned back in the seat. “Clearly smoking the leaves causes the most catastrophic result. From what I can tell, Oz, Serena, and Raoul have the slow-moving version.”
Vanderlock shook his head. “There’s nothing slow about dying in a matter of days, but I see your point. What kind of equipment do you need?”
Emma sighed. “I wish I knew. I would love access to the Internet in order to search reports of any diseases like this one. La Valle has refused. He’s afraid I’ll send an e-mail asking for help.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?”
Emma reached behind Vanderlock and flipped open a small cooler nestled against the back of his seat. She found cans of soda and a bottle of whiskey. She removed a soda and popped it open.
“Of course I would. As long as it wouldn’t mean the death of a hostage. I’d tell you right now to fly to Chicago and I’d go straight to the FBI if I could. But I can’t. La Valle’s men are threatening to kill two people if I get out of line.”
“They’ll not only kill them, they’ll do it slowly and horribly. Don’t get out of line until you’re sure what you attempt will work,” Vanderlock said. He sat up, all his attention focused on the screen in front of him. “Who the hell is that?”
Emma looked around. “Who?”
“The guy coming straight at us.” Vanderlock turned the plane to the left, and Emma saw another aircraft, this one sleek and newer-looking, coming at them head-on.
Chapter 31
Vanderlock put on a headset. Emma watched his expression change as he listened.
“Damn!” he said. “It’s the Air Tunnel guys. Why the hell don’t they just give up already?”
Vanderlock listened a moment, then snorted in disbelief. “Guy’s hailing me. He’s telling me to follow him and he’ll direct me to a runway where I can land. Presumably to be taken into custody. He’s crazy if he thinks I’ll just fly into the net. Hold on.”
The entire plane banked far left, and Emma slid sideways, stopping only when the seat belt held her in place. Now the sky tilted in front of her, and she felt her stomach starting to rebel at the severe angle at which they flew. Vanderlock corrected and turned to the right, seesawing the plane. Emma’s stomach barely had time to register this new angle, when Vanderlock repeated the maneuver. Emma watched as the tracking plane kept with them easily. She heard a bang from the rear and glanced back.
“The shipment is shifting. Do you have any gloves or a towel? Anything to cover my hands? I’ll need to secure it again. The last thing we want is one of them to break free and open up,” Emma said.
Vanderlock jerked his chin to the left. “Look in that toolbox. The one strapped against the wall. Damn, this guy can fly.”
Emma unhooked her seat belt and rose up. Vanderlock jerked the controls and the plane banked once again. She lost her balance and fell against him. He didn’t react, continuing his laser focus on the task in front of him.
“Sorry, let me get out of your way before you do that again.” She made it to the toolbox and opened it. Two rifles and several boxes of ammunition filled the narrow steel case. On top of all the armament was a pair of work gloves. Emma put them on. They were far too large for her, but they covered her hands to the wrist, which was all she cared about. She worked her way to the rear of the jet, grasping whatever she could in order to steady herself. Vanderlock continued to rock the plane from side to side, which caused several of the shipment bricks to become dislodged from the bungee cords that had been used to secure them. The plane suddenly nosedived, and Emma fell forward. She grabbed on to one of the lines to keep on her feet. One of the bricks skittered across the floor, heading straight for her. She lifted a foot off the ground to allow it to slide past. Once the plane righted again, she bent over and grabbed the brick before it could travel all the way to Vanderlock. She held it far in front of her as she made her way to the rear of the plane. Once she reached the stack of bricks, she applied herself to securing them once again.
“Hey Caldridge, this guy just said if I don’t land immediately he’s authorized to open fire on me.” Vanderlock’s voice held a mix of incredulity and anger. “Who does this guy think he is? He can’t just blow me out of the air. This is America. I’ve got rights!”
Emma snorted. “You’re South African, for God’s sake. You don’t have any rights in America. If the guy says he can fire on you, then he can. Listen, I know someone who works for the ATD, and I’m pretty sure they can fire on any suspicious aircraft arriving over international waters. Perhaps they can do the same domestically. I don’t think you should assume he’s lying.” Emma began making her way back to the copilot seat. The plane bucked and banked. She slammed against the side wall, then tumbled forward when Vanderlock pointed the nose of the plane into another deep dive. She grabbed at some cage netting strapped to the side wall and swung around and hit the wall with her shoulder. When the plane righted, she made a lunge for the copilot seat and sat down, snapping the seat belt closed. “Tell him you’ll land.”
Vanderlock shook his head. “No way. I’m going to outmaneuver him and get back under radar.”
“Forget it! Tell him you’ll land, before he starts shooting at us.” A roar came from Emma’s right, and she flinched when the pursuing airplane passed too close to them. She caught a glimpse of the plane through the windshield, and then he was in front of them. He pulled up, and Emma watched the plane track higher, gaining altitude. It left her field of vision.
“I land and La Valle kills your hostages first, then me, then you. You think of that?”
“You don’t land and that pilot will shoot us down. Either way we die.” Even as she said this she felt her stomach tighten. Vanderlock was right. Landing would get them all killed. She wished she had enough expertise to tell if Vanderlock was good enough to outmaneuver the ATD pilot. Emma craned her neck to look in all directions out the window, but all she could see was empty blue sky. “Where the hell is he?”
“He’s going to come down on us from above. Probably makes us an easier target to shoot,” Vanderlock said. His voice was calm, as if he were discussing a particularly boring subject.
Emma could feel her jaw clench. The combination of the bouncing plane and the stress of knowing that at any minute they might be fired upon was making her stomach turn sour.
“Is the plane outfitted with guns? How will he shoot us?” Emma said.
“He’s got a gun mount,” Vanderlock said. He nosedived again. Emma braced her hands in front of her, doing her best not to inadvertently hit any controls. The plane appeared again. This time it seemed to drop down from the sky, like a spider lowering itself on a web, and it was flying straight at them. Emma closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of the guns to start. Vanderlock banked hard, left, and the aircraft passed below them.
Emma opened her eyes. She glanced at Vanderlock. His attention was focused on the controls in front of him. He checked the window, dashboard, and maneuvered the plane with a calm professionalism.
“Someone’s hailing me on a second frequency,” Vanderlock said.
“More law enforcement?” Emma asked.
“Maybe. The ATD guys are chattering on a different channel. They’re telling the pilot to begin his final hail.”
Emma felt her face go cold and her hands become clammy. She heard the other plane’s engines roaring as he tracked with them, somewhere off to the right.
“Does he have to get close to shoot us?”
Vanderlock shook his head. “That’s the easiest part of his day. He just needs to lock on.”
“If there’s any chance of shaking him, then we should take it. Buy ourselves a little more time. Can you outmaneuver him? Because if not, you are landing.”
“He’s good. Really good. Assuming we continue this way, we could be at a standoff. In that case, the guy with the most fuel wins.”
Emma glanced
at the fuel gauge. “How much?”
Vanderlock banked again, before climbing upward. Emma lost sight of the ATD aircraft, but she assumed it was somewhere behind or above them. Not seeing it was the worst. She hated to think she’d never see the weapon that blew her apart.
“I’m going to fly low. I mean really low. I want him to worry about hitting civilians if he shoots.”
Emma glanced at the ground below them. From their current altitude it appeared to be just an expanse of light and dark green in a patchwork pattern. Vanderlock began his dive, and Emma watched as objects on the ground grew more distinct by the moment. Her ears started to react to the pressure, then popped, and filled again.
She heard a creaking sound, then a snap. Thudding noises came from the back of the plane. A brick hit the cooler strapped behind Vanderlock, followed by another, and then another. Emma scrambled back into the gloves as the bricks shifted and slammed into each other.
“One of the bungee cords snapped.”
Four more bricks hit the cooler, peppering the backs of their chairs. Bits of leaves flew out of the containers and Emma could see dust motes floating in the air. She wished she had a face mask to cover her nose. She stood for a moment to breathe the air above the cloud of dust, but what she saw through the windshield made her gasp, and she felt the particles enter her lungs.
The aircraft was pointed straight at the ground, which was rapidly looming larger. She forgot about the bricks, forgot about the shipment, forgot everything as she watched the ground approach. She flashed on the airplane landing in the Colombian jungle. Memories of the screams of the passengers filled her head and she felt her own fear clog her throat. Vanderlock kept his eyes pinned to the controls, his concentration complete, and oblivious to Emma’s rising distress.
They were over a wide prairie dotted with trees on the edges of cultivated fields planted with corn. When they were so low that Emma thought they’d hit the tops of the tallest trees in a stand, Vanderlock leveled off. Now the area around them was easy to see. Field after field passed under them. The other plane flew alongside on Emma’s side.
The Ninth Day Page 18
