by Unknown
Then Ethan spotted the plank Jake had used against him. Calmly he walked over, picked it up, came back.
Jake looked up at him. ‘No . . . don’t—’
Ethan broke the plank across his knee with a crack that signalled the end. Enough.
Only apparently Mr Blond wasn’t following the same script, because as Ethan looked down at Jake, he felt huge arms wrap around him from behind. The stink of tobacco breath caught in his nostrils and stubble rasped against the back of his neck as he was lifted bodily off the ground.
Suddenly the arms released him, but Ethan wasn’t given a chance to escape. Two fists pounded into the sides of his neck, dropping him to the ground, where he landed next to Jake.
Ethan turned to see the man spit and smile, crack his knuckles, flex his neck. Then he reached down and picked up Ethan as though he weighed no more than a child. Ethan struggled, but this time it was useless. Mr Blond had him tight, arms pinned.
Jake pushed himself to his feet and wiped blood from his mouth. He held one half of the plank in his hand.
‘Screw Sam and screw you!’ he hissed, and he launched the end of the plank at Ethan’s stomach.
The blow made Ethan retch. He folded up, pain racing through his body, coughed, tasted bile in his throat, felt sick, scared.
Mr Blond refused to let him fall, just held him tight for more of the same.
Jake came in with another blow from the plank. It hurt just as bad. Ethan heard Jake laugh. Then he puked. It stung his throat, and he could see blood in it.
‘Nice.’ Jake laughed as Mr Blond dropped Ethan face down in his own vomit.
Ethan stayed where he was. He knew he was deep in shit and that there was fuck all he could do about it. Moments later, Johnny was thrown to the ground next to him. Johnny looked at him, attempted a smile, but said nothing. Then Ethan saw Jake and his goons looming above them and knew what was coming next.
The screeching of tyres split the night and finally ended the fight. Ethan turned his head to see what was going on and saw headlights burst round the corner of the hangar like fireworks. Gravel and dirt scattered as Sam pulled his Defender up sharp, kicked the door open and hurled himself towards the boys like a raging bull.
‘Another time, Rookie!’ said Jake, and he and the two goons bolted.
Sam skidded to the ground. ‘Ethan? Johnny? You OK?’
Ethan sat up, coughed, shook his head to clear it, then nodded.
‘We’ll live,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, you look like you’ve been shat out of a bear’s arse,’ said Sam. He turned back to Ethan. ‘What’s Jake done?’
Ethan pointed at the open doors to the hangar. ‘They’ve killed the kit, Sam,’ he said. ‘Ruined it.’
Sam stood, ran over to the doors, turned back, face hard. ‘Can you walk?’
In answer, Ethan and Johnny pulled themselves to their feet.
‘What state are they in?’ asked Sam. ‘I saw Jake was bleeding. What about the other two?’
‘Not great,’ said Johnny, stretching his back. ‘Same as us.’
‘Right,’ commanded Sam. ‘Defender. Now.’
He turned, and Ethan and Johnny clambered into the back seats. The engine thrummed into life with a heavy growl.
‘They headed off down there.’ Johnny pointed, leaning over the front seats. ‘Down the grass airstrip. They must’ve cut across the fields to get here or something.’
‘What about the fence that surrounds the place?’ asked Ethan.
‘It’s just a fence,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s not patrolled or anything. Not any more.’
Sam kicked the Defender forward, headlights sweeping the night.
‘There they are!’ yelled Ethan, spotting three figures running ahead.
Sam dropped a gear, accelerated.
Suddenly Ethan spotted something else just in front of Jake and the two men. It was a helicopter. ‘Shit!’
Sam looked at Ethan. ‘What’s up?’
Ethan said nothing; just pointed.
Sam saw the helicopter. ‘You’re kidding me,’ he said.
The blades were just starting to spin.
‘Told you he was a rich kid,’ said Johnny, looking at Ethan. ‘The tosser flew in.’
Sam gunned the Defender.
Ethan gripped the metal rail behind the front seats to stop himself lurching back into Johnny. He could see Jake just ahead, closing in on the helicopter, its blades now a blur.
Sam swung the Defender round, trying to block Jake’s route.
Jake dodged, and before Sam could make another pass, he’d reached the helicopter.
Sam rammed the gearstick forward and made to go after Jake. ‘Too late, Sam,’ said Johnny. ‘Look.’
Leaning from the open door of the helicopter, Jake waved a one-fingered salute.
And from the Defender, the three of them returned the gesture.
Back in the office, Sam quizzed Johnny and Ethan on what had happened. They explained everything – from Jake’s phone call, through discovering what was going on, to the moment when their plan went to shit and they got their arses kicked.
‘Lucky I turned up when I did,’ said Sam.
They nodded.
‘And I’m to understand that neither of you started the pushing and shoving, right?’
Ethan and Johnny nodded again.
‘Why didn’t you just bolt? Fighting isn’t clever or glamorous. Most of the time it’s best to just hit hard and run away. How did it get out of hand so quickly?’
‘They grabbed me first,’ said Johnny, ‘before I could do anything about it. Ethan just jumped in to help. I don’t think they were expecting it. Then it all kicked off.’
Sam turned to Ethan. ‘So Jake phoned you and you decided to come over here, but you weren’t looking for a fight?’
‘No,’ said Ethan firmly, slowly realizing that he was in an awful lot of pain. ‘I just wanted to stop him doing whatever he was doing. I figured that whatever it was couldn’t be good. Didn’t figure he’d have two other blokes with him.’
‘That was your first mistake,’ said Sam. ‘Always plan for what might happen if everything goes to shit. That way, when it does, you might be able to get out of it.’
Ethan felt this was suspiciously like getting a bollocking – which didn’t seem very fair, considering he and Johnny had done their best to save the rigs.
‘Can you remember where your bike is, Ethan?’
Sam’s question pulled Ethan from his thoughts and he simply nodded.
‘Good. I’ll give you a lift. You both did well tonight. Thank you.’
Ethan looked at Johnny. Had they really just heard that?
Sam got up from behind his desk. ‘Move it, you two. I’ve a busy day tomorrow. Even more so now that I’ve got to sort out the damage done by Jake and his pals.’
As they headed for the door, Ethan asked, ‘What are you going to do? Call the police?’
‘That’s for me to think about, not you,’ said Sam. ‘And for now we keep this in the team. I’ll find my own way of dealing with Jake. In my own time. Now shift it.’
16
Johnny came over to Ethan, sat down, grabbed the Coke can from his hand and took a sip.
‘Help yourself,’ said Ethan.
‘Thanks, I will,’ said Johnny, taking another swig before handing it back.
They were both sitting outside the hangar, rigged up and ready for another jump, their second of the day. FreeFall was busy, business was good. It was a couple of weeks since the run-in with Jake, and despite the damage to the rigs, Sam had managed to call in a few favours and everything was running smoothly. Nothing about Jake’s unwelcome visit had been mentioned since. They had cobbled together a believable cover story to explain their bruises – a run-in between a tree and Johnny’s motorbike.
Ethan’s final two consolidation jumps had gone by so quickly and smoothly he’d hardly noticed them. He was now diving solo and getting in at least one jump a day, depending o
n the weather and how busy things were at FreeFall. He’d even had the chance to fly a Raider, which had been scary as hell but a total blast. Luke had laid it on thick with the instructions for flying such a responsive canopy. Ethan had listened carefully, and it had paid off because the thing had handled amazingly – like it was hardwired to the wind; you directed it, it didn’t hesitate. And it was tiny – no bigger than a fashionable daysack when it was packed up, little larger than a power kite when deployed. And, as Johnny had said back when Ethan had met him on his first day at FreeFall, small, fast and scary.
A shadow fell across Ethan and Johnny and they looked up to find Sam standing over them, binoculars in his hand.
‘Another good jump, Ethan,’ he said. ‘Well done.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ethan to Sam’s back as he headed off to his office.
‘A man of few words,’ said Johnny, and Ethan nodded. ‘Incidentally, are you trying to make a habit of impressing him?’
Ethan turned at Johnny’s question. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, just look at you. It’s like you belong here or something. From tandem rookie to skydiver in just a few weeks. It’s pretty impressive.’
‘No it’s not,’ said Ethan, shrugging. ‘It’s like most things: do what you’re told to do and do it properly and you’ll probably be OK at it.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ said Johnny. ‘Sam really is impressed. So am I. You remind me of someone brilliant.’
‘Who?’
‘Me.’
Ethan laughed. ‘How do you cope with being you?’
‘It’s hard,’ said Johnny. ‘You wouldn’t be able to hack it. The girls, the glamour; it’s tough.’
‘You bear it well, all things considered.’
Another shadow cast itself over the conversation. This time Ethan and Johnny looked up to see Kat. She too was rigged up.
‘Hey,’ she said, and sat down opposite them.
‘Kat,’ said Johnny. ‘How’s Jake?’
Kat looked at him. ‘Is there ever a moment in your life when you think before you speak?’
‘Never,’ said Johnny. ‘So what was the attraction anyway?’
‘He drove it,’ said Kat, and stalked off.
Ethan went after her, catching up with her in a few strides, racking his brain for a topic of conversation.
‘So you bought one yet, then?’ he came up with, falling into step beside her. ‘You know, one of those fancy skydiving helmets you were talking about?’
‘Yeah. Ordered it yesterday. Arrives at the weekend.’
‘What’s it like?’
Kat stopped and looked round at Ethan. ‘It’s like a helmet, Ethan. You put it on your head.’
The conversation had dropped dead, so he asked, ‘You OK?’
‘What, apart from being boyfriend-less?’
Johnny came up and butted in. ‘You’re better off without a tosser like that, especially after what he did.’
Kat turned on him. ‘He made a mistake,’ she said. ‘That’s all. What, like you’re the perfect skydiver? You’ve never messed up? Not even once?’
‘I’m not talking about the skydive,’ said Johnny.
Ethan looked at him. ‘Sam said he’d deal with it.’
‘She has to know,’ said Johnny, and he turned back to Kat. ‘We found him ruining the rigs. Him and a couple of other blokes built like trolls.’
‘Shut up,’ said Kat.
‘It’s true,’ Ethan told her. ‘They ruined stacks of stuff. Sam was able to sort it out, but the damage was pretty bad. It got a bit rough. Jake must’ve had a fair few bruises on him.’
Kat shook her head. ‘Jake wouldn’t do that,’ she said. ‘And the bruises . . . he said they were from a bar fight he got into. Anyway, he’s all mouth. Doesn’t have the balls.’
‘You believe what you want,’ said Johnny. ‘And then ask Sam.’
For a moment no one said anything. The silence stretched on as Kat scowled at them both.
Again Ethan desperately thought of something to say to break the awkwardness. ‘So how did you get into skydiving exactly?’ he asked Kat.
‘Same as you,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Tandem, then AFF. It’s not that difficult really, you know. Anyone can do it.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Johnny. ‘Ethan’s a natural. Not as good as me, obviously, but still pretty brilliant. Aren’t you, Eth?’ He slapped Ethan hard on the back and Ethan shrugged, looked at Kat, attempted an apologetic smile.
The look Kat returned was cold, her eyes narrow. ‘It takes more than a few jumps and an ego to make a skydiver, Ethan,’ she said flatly. Then she headed for the minibus as it pulled up to ferry the next group of jumpers to the plane. It was pretty clear to Ethan that she wanted him to shut up.
‘Come on, Eth,’ said Johnny. ‘We’re jumping too.’ Then he shouted ahead to Kat, ‘If you want, I’ll go first – show you how it should be done.’
‘You’re so full of shit,’ said Kat without looking back.
Ethan and Johnny watched her walk away.
‘Prickly today, isn’t she?’ said Johnny. ‘Ready?’
‘Sure am,’ said Ethan, and the two of them followed Kat into the minibus.
Ethan found himself alone with her in the back of the plane. They were over the DZ and everyone else had jumped. Johnny had done so in a particularly elaborate fashion, faking being shot and then stumbling backwards out of the open door with a deathly scream that neither Ethan nor Kat could hear because of the wind. Ethan was still laughing about it when Kat stood to go.
Ethan waved, smiled.
Kat looked back, but didn’t return the wave or the smile. She was obviously still angry about Jake. But there was nothing Ethan could do about it. At least she now knew the truth about what Jake had done to the rigs – not that she believed it. So he just smiled again, and watched as she stood at the door, ready to jump.
Suddenly the plane lurched. Ethan felt it buck beneath him and drop. He landed back in his seat with a heavy thump. And at the same time, he saw Kat stumble, try to catch herself . . .
Fall.
She cracked her head against the edge of the plane door as she did so. Ethan didn’t hear it, but seeing it happen was enough to make his stomach flip. Then her body just sort of slumped and slid round the edge of the door and out into open air. But as she fell, her rig caught on the door – it was the nightmare scenario. Ethan watched helplessly as Kat’s main canopy pulled open, then tangled, and became nothing more than a useless bag of silk, the lines twisted.
He was instantly reminded of what had happened to Jake. He remembered what Luke had said about the AAD: it would deploy at 750 feet and catch Kat before she hit dirt. But if her canopy was still flapping around, it could just as easily get tangled with it and fail.
Ethan ran over to the door. He could just make out Kat plummeting downwards, spinning out of control towards the Earth. Her canopy was towing behind her like a huge scarf – it would have to be cut away. Ethan knew only one person had any hope of reaching the handle on the harness to release the canopy and then deploy the reserve.
So he leaped out after her.
He arched, flipped, stabilized. He could see Kat far off and below to his left. She was still spinning, totally out of control. All he could think about, his entire focus, was Kat and how he was going to stop her smashing into the ground. He pushed his arms back and shot forward, accelerating fast, tracking across the sky like an Exocet missile.
It seemed to Ethan that the next few seconds stretched out for ever. Kat was so far away, and had such a head start on him. He checked his altimeter: 9,000 feet pinged past. Then 8,000.
Suddenly he was level with Kat. She appeared so abruptly in front of him that he had to really struggle to keep himself stable. Now, though, they were falling at the same rate, 120 mph – terminal velocity. She was spinning wildly and Ethan had to get close enough to deploy her canopy – which meant really, really close. So with little movem
ents of his body here and there, he gradually, ever so gradually, edged forward.
Ethan checked his altimeter. Checked it again. They’d pinged past 7,000 feet now. They were running out of time. He had to hurry, get in before they both hit the dirt.
He could almost hear the seconds ticking by.
His best bet, he figured, was to aim for the handle that would cut away the main canopy. That way, even if he wasn’t able to pull the reserve, Kat’s AAD would sort it out, and he’d have enough time to push away and deploy his own canopy.
6,000 feet . . .
So, with a final move, Ethan brought himself in towards Kat, reaching out to grab her with both hands.
But he came in too fast, too hard, and didn’t have a chance to stop himself and slow down. The thump as he connected with her sent a shockwave through him, and he felt something in his left shoulder pop. Then his arm went numb. Dead to the world.
5,000 feet . . .
Now they were both in trouble: Kat was out of control and unconscious, and Ethan had one arm totally out of action. Amazingly, he’d managed to keep hold of Kat with his right hand, and it was on the handle that would cut away Kat’s canopy. Keeping himself calm, Ethan managed to get them both stable; then, with a huge yank, he tugged the handle.
4,000 feet . . .
Kat’s main canopy disappeared above. She and Ethan continued to plummet downwards at 120 mph.
Ethan saw the handle to pull Kat’s reserve. With a deep breath, he lunged for it, felt his fingers close round it, and yanked.
Kat, still unconscious, disappeared, swept up above him by the explosion of her reserve. But all Ethan could think about, as he tracked away to find some safe air, was that he was seriously in the shit; with his arm out of action, he was unable to reach his ripcord to release his own canopy. He twisted round, but his arm hurt like hell, wouldn’t move. He tried again, but the movement sent him into a spin and he floundered in the air, unstable. Ignoring the pain, the panic, he righted himself, got back on track for the DZ, then had another go, tried to reach across, couldn’t . . .
