“Have to. N-no other option. No p-p-parachute, remember?” His teeth were still chattering.
“The heaters aren’t enough,” Eddie said. “He’s still hypothermic. He’s not in his right mind.”
Darcy keyed the mic again. “The hydrogen will dissipate. The balloon will descend. Stay on board. We’ll find you.”
“B-balloon won’t last that long. S-seeing flashes of electric act-tivity. P-p-purples. R-reds.”
Eddie checked the weather screen. “That can’t be right. The storm’s too far away. You’re seeing things.”
“I c-can see the airship in the flashes. She’s the size of a f-football stadium. I c-c-can’t miss.”
“You won’t miss.” Eddie laid his hand on top of Darcy’s, pressing the transmitter down with her. “You’ll hit the top and skip off. Do you understand? You don’t have enough fuel to slow down. Finn, this is Red Leader. Stand down!”
“Balloon has m-maxed out at a hundred s-seventy-five thousand. Starting to d-descend. C-c-can’t wait any longer. I’m out the door.”
“Finn!”
BLUE SPRITES. That’s what the geek had called them. Finn watched the strange bulbs of lightning flash at regular intervals all around the massive airship. He had to stick the landing. That was all. Use the conductive key at the hatch and get inside. Gryphon would have heat for its servers, and the rigid composites made it impervious to the electrical storms—a safe haven in a deadly realm.
Frost obscured the edges of Finn’s mask. With a shaking hand, he pressed Darcy’s trigger, firing the rockets.
Tumbling.
Turning.
Bedlam.
He had forgotten the streamer.
Straining against the forces acting on his body, Finn reached down to his waist and pulled the rip cord. The nylon streamer slapped against his legs and then, with a tremendous jerk, it straightened him out. He bobbled for several seconds, working the rockets to find his line, searching for the airship. In a rippling flash of purple sprites, he found it.
He could do this.
“I’m on c-c-course, Red Leader.” Darcy had warned him that the force of his fall through the charged air would kill the signal, but he transmitted anyway. Ahead, he saw another round of flashes, blue this time. Gorgeous, but deadly. “You should s-see it up here. It’s—”
A burst of red shocked him into silence. A thousand feet above him—two thousand at most—a rapidly expanding disc of red plasma swallowed the sky. Finn looked back in time to see it split the balloon in half. The trapped hydrogen and oxygen ignited in an explosion of brilliant yellow, made humongous by the low pressure.
So Darcy’s contingency plan—skip the jump and ride it out in the balloon—had not been such a great option after all.
Gryphon grew larger. Finn had his course wired. He set his aim past the airship’s far end, burned on that line for another second to make room for deceleration, tucked his knees, and pushed his legs out front, reversing his thrust. A few seconds later—far too early—his rockets sputtered out.
The ship came up fast. A round of blue sprites flashed all around, reflecting off the composite surface as Finn’s boots made contact. His body slammed into the deck. His helmet bounced. The impact set his head to ringing, but he kept enough mental acuity to roll himself over. His streamer still flew behind him, straps whipping his shoulders. He tried digging in with his gloves to slow himself down, but the surface was impossibly smooth.
He never got the chance to look back.
Finn knew he had reached the end of the envelope when his boots lost contact. He grabbed wildly for the streamer, the only thing within reach that his gloves could grip.
And then his body pitched over the side.
Chapter
sixty-
two
MARK SEVEN EXPERIMENTAL AIRCRAFT
NEARING THE BLACK SEA
THE MARK SEVEN’S CLIMB had steadily degraded. The four jet engines clawed for every foot in the thinning atmosphere. Ivanov pointed this out to Talia, showing her the correct readout in her heads-up display, and then began flipping switches—a long line of them on the dashboard.
“What are those?”
“We’re passing eighty thousand, entering the transition zone between aerodynamic and astrodynamic flight. The Mark Seven’s turbojets are almost useless here. I’m activating the APS, the Alternative Propulsion System.”
She eyed the line of switches. “What sort of alternative propulsion?”
“Rockets.”
He punched a red button. The Mark Seven surged upward, shaking so much Talia thought it might break apart.
“These are thrust oscillations! The dampeners will settle it out momentarily!” By the time Ivanov had finished the statement, the dampeners had done their job, ending the quaking. The roar of the rockets diminished as well. He lowered his voice to a normal level. “The faster we ascend, the less the rockets have to work to hold our speed. That is the nature of physics.”
She could tell he was enjoying the science of the flight as much as the exhilaration of the rockets, perhaps more. Talia watched the control wheel tilt and rock under the influence of the autopilot. She pressed her helmet against the glass to her right and looked down. A gray-white exhaust trail fell below them, drawing a line toward the earth. She could see the entirety of the Black Sea, along with a growing storm near its eastern shore. “Incredible. I—”
A gun barrel dug into her back between the shoulder blades.
Was this Ivanov’s idea of a joke?
Talia lifted both hands and slowly turned away from the canopy. “Pavel, what are you doing?”
But Ivanov had his hands up as well. Mac, sporting a pressure suit of his own, stood behind the pilot seat with a machine gun leveled at the CEO’s head. She kept her slow turn going, and a second man came into view. “Lukon.”
The eyes behind the polycarbonate shield—eyes that had haunted her nightmares—were grieved. He stepped back and lowered his barrel. “With you, I prefer Tyler.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes. A great deal of difference.”
“How—” Ivanov looked from one to the other. “Where—”
“We stowed away in the shaft for the docking hatch.” Tyler glanced back at the shaft and nodded. “Good job on that, by the way. Surprisingly roomy and comfortable.”
“But what are you doing on my ship?”
“I should think that was obvious.” Mac waved the machine gun back and forth. “We’re hijackin’ it.”
Tyler touched the Scotsman’s arm in a gesture that said, Try to act like a professional. “We needed a ride up to Gryphon. You don’t mind. Do you?”
Ivanov made a grab for the controls.
Mac was too fast for him. The Scotsman let his gun hang from its strap and caught the CEO under the arms. He dragged Ivanov out of the pilot seat and tossed him to the floor at Tyler’s feet.
Ivanov came up swinging, but Tyler raised his weapon. “Ah, ah, ah. Behave.”
The last time Talia had seen those guns, they were loaded with clay rounds. And her Glock, with its three very-lethal bullets, was tucked into the right-leg cargo pocket of her suit. She could take them, but she would have to pick her moment.
“What about Finn and the weather balloon?” she asked, staying cooperative, hoping they would drop their guard. “Was that whole escapade robbing XPC an act for my benefit?”
Tyler’s expression hardened, becoming unreadable. “No. But on occasion, contingencies must be enacted.”
Contingencies did not sound good. Something had gone wrong. Talia swallowed. “And . . . Eddie?”
“Eddie’s fine.”
“Ha!” Mac climbed into the pilot seat while Tyler kept watch over the others. “Wee Man is more’n fine. He’s havin’ the time of his life, held captive by his dream girl.”
Tyler shoved Ivanov to Talia’s side of the cockpit. The barrel of his machine gun tracked the CEO at all times, never Talia. He didn’t see
m to consider her much of a threat. His mistake.
“She’s on autopilot,” Mac said. “But I need to get a feel for the controls before we reach the target. It’ll be rough for a bit.”
“I understand. Go ahead.”
Rough sounded good to Talia. Mac punched off the autopilot. The Mark Seven bucked, disrupting Tyler’s balance. Talia launched herself out of the seat.
She got one foot planted on the deck and stopped. Her cargo pocket was empty.
Mac steadied the aircraft.
Tyler found his balance. “Looking for this?” He held up Talia’s gun and turned it over and back before sliding it into the pocket on his own leg.
The gun pressed into Talia’s neck moments before had been a distraction, keeping her eyes faced away and her focus on the feel of the cold barrel against her skin. That way, she hadn’t noticed the Glock leaving its place. Tyler was a true thief.
Of course, he was much worse than that. “You’re a monster.”
“I was. But not anymore.” He gestured at Ivanov with his gun. “Dr. Ivanov is the monster these days. I know this looks bad, but Ivanov is still the one attempting to sell the hypersonic designs, not me. And he is the one with a missile pointed at Washington, DC.”
“Wait.” Mac shot a glance over his shoulder, frowning. “We’re not sellin’ the plans?” Apparently this was news to him.
Tyler motioned toward the controls with his gun. “Keep flying. You’ll still get paid.”
Talia wasn’t buying any of it. “You tried to blame Ivanov before, in Tiraspol. I didn’t believe you then, and I don’t believe you now. You have no proof.” Her hand went to the dog tags beneath her suit. “But I do. You’re a murderer, Tyler. I can prove you killed my dad. Give me time and I’ll prove you killed Dr. Visser too!”
“Dr. Visser was my proof. I didn’t kill her. Ivanov did.”
“Lies!” Ivanov took an angry step out of his corner, but a twitch of Tyler’s trigger finger cowed him. “Lies,” he said again, a little softer. “Ella was my partner.”
“Ella was your prisoner,” Tyler countered. He glanced at Talia. “Dr. Visser passed a note to me not long after I first gained Ivanov’s confidence. The advances in hypersonics belonged to her, not him. But Ivanov kept her prisoner at Avantec, threatening her sister and her nephews to keep her from leaving.”
Ivanov leaned closer to Talia. “This man is a criminal. He is a trickster, a liar. Do not believe a word he says.”
She didn’t want to. But Tyler’s explanation had logic to it. Talia remembered the day she had met the Dutch scientist. She remembered the nervous glances. “So your attack on the compound was what? A rescue?”
“She wouldn’t leave without her designs. She knew how lethal they were. But the job went bad. I didn’t know about Gryphon.” Tyler thrust his chin toward Ivanov. “His system isolated the data by sending it to the airship, and he shot Ella before I could get her out of the building.”
“Another lie,” Ivanov said. “I didn’t even have a gun. You shot Ella.”
“Did I?” Tyler raised the machine gun to his shoulder, and fired.
Both Talia and Ivanov ducked away from the shots. When she looked up again, she expected to see the CEO crumpling to the deck. But he was fine—shaken, but fine. Tyler made a subtle nod toward the titanium wall. His shots had left three gray marks, similar in appearance to the marks she had found in Ivanov’s lab. Tyler had been carrying the same type of weapon that night. He couldn’t have killed Visser.
Ivanov saw the marks as well. Realization washed over his face. “That weapon is nonlethal.”
The tensing of his jaw, his shoulders, told Talia he had come to a snap decision.
Tyler seemed to recognize the same signs. He let the machine gun fall against his hip and drew Talia’s Glock. “Don’t, Pavel. I don’t want to use this, but I will.”
The CEO backed down.
Tyler switched the Glock to his right hand and fished around in his cargo pocket. After a few seconds, he tossed a small metal object to Talia—a spent bullet, split like a flower at the tip. “I pulled that from Visser’s ashes. I had to break into the morgue and steal it after Ivanov had the body destroyed.”
He left the implications unsaid, but Talia understood. The spent round was too small to have come from Bazin’s Desert Eagle. Her gaze drifted up to Ivanov. She held up the bullet. “Did you do this? Did you kill Ella Visser?” Her trust in both of them was shaken. Who was telling the truth?
There was a cough from the pilot seat. “I hate to interrupt, but you’d all better hang on. Things might get a wee bit bumpy.”
“What do you mean, bumpy?” Talia kept her eyes locked on Ivanov.
Mac rapped her arm with his knuckles and pointed out through the windscreen. She tore her eyes away from the killer and turned. The altitude readout in her heads-up display was rolling through one hundred sixty thousand. Blue and purple spheres, trailing tentacles of lightning, flashed above them. And in those flashes, she saw a massive black form.
Gryphon.
The rockets went quiet for a moment, then thundered at near full power to hold the Mark Seven in a hover a few feet below the airship. Red, yellow, and green arrows blinked on the lower fuselage, directing him to the correct position for docking.
Tyler pushed a hand against the ceiling for balance and shouted at him over the roar. “Keep her steady!”
“Easy ta say! Harder ta execute! It’s not just the Mark Seven that’s bouncin’ around, is it? That Gryphon don’ want to be tamed. She’s a movin’ target!”
“Let me do it!” Ivanov looked sincerely worried. “You’ll damage her!” He turned to Tyler, who tracked him with the Glock despite all the jostling. “Consider a child’s balloon caught in turbulent waters. That is Gryphon in the mesospheric currents.” The aircraft bounced again and he caught himself on Talia’s seat. “I don’t know who this mindless brute of yours thinks he is, but he’ll never manage to dock!”
A clank echoed through the hull. The rockets went silent.
Mac let go of the controls and crossed his arms, glowering at Ivanov. “You were sayin’?”
Despite the eerie silence, the turbulence continued. Talia held on to her seat as Gryphon’s clamps drew the Mark Seven up the last few inches to the docking port. She heard a ripple of clinks and a hiss. The arrows above them changed to green circles.
“You.” Tyler motioned to Ivanov with the Glock. “Go first. Open the hatch.”
Ivanov scowled, but complied, stepping into the vertical shaft beneath the docking port. He steadied himself against the rail of the integrated ladder, but he made no move to unlock the hatch a few inches above his head.
“Open it,” Tyler said.
“I will. Stop barking orders at me.” Ivanov produced the same quartz key Talia had stolen, Eddie had cloned, and Val had returned. What had been the purpose of that exercise? Or of Val’s subsequent death? She and Talia had not exactly been friends, but it had still hurt to see the grifter lying on that gurney, a cold and empty shell.
Ivanov pressed the key into a hexagonal keyhole and turned it until the quartz lit up green. With a heavy clunk, the exposed bolts slid back, and he eased the hatch open. A red glow illuminated the shaft beyond and ladder beyond. Ivanov immediately pressed a button in the upper shaft and laid a hand on the lever, glancing down at Talia.
The look on his face—the slight widening of those gray eyes—was almost regretful, a man about to toss away a favored possession. He wrapped an arm around the rail, and in that moment, Talia understood.
“Stop him! He’s trying to blow the seal!”
Chapter
sixty-
three
MARK SEVEN EXPERIMENTAL AIRCRAFT
LOWER MESOSPHERE
TALIA HAD NOTHING USEFUL to grab on to. As she watched Ivanov crank the lever down, she prepared herself to be ejected into the extremes of Earth’s upper atmosphere.
“Not today, mate.”
A hand
appeared from above, catching Ivanov’s wrist in an iron grip and pulling the lever back into the safe position. Finn stuck his head down into the shaft and gave Talia a wink. “Welcome to Gryphon, your luxury accommodations in the sky.”
LUXURY WAS A GROSS OVERSTATEMENT. Aesthetics had played no part in the design of Gryphon’s flight deck. Exposed carbon fiber ribs arced low over a rubber panel floor. Data servers, stacked between the portal windows, took up the entirety of the side and rear bulkheads, while the forward bulkhead held the ship’s scant controls and a booth marked emergency pressure chamber.
Finn looked like he’d run into some trouble breaking into the airship. Black streaks marred the front of his suit, and there were scorch marks on his calves. His helmet, hanging from a clip on his belt, had a chip in the shield.
Talia raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”
“You’ve no idea. But I’m all right. Nine lives and all.” He thrust his chin at Ivanov. “Oi. You. I left a streamer hanging from the front of your ship. Banged her up a bit as well—mostly with my face. If the insurance won’t cover it, send me the bill.”
Ivanov glared at him, seething. “Oh, I will do so much more.”
It was a side of him Talia was only just beginning to recognize. She had been blinded by her affection for him, but Tyler’s spent bullet had cracked open a door in her mind. And Ivanov’s attempt to blow the pressure seal had flung that door wide. Tyler had set him up. By allowing Ivanov to go first up the ladder, Tyler had given him the opportunity to show his true colors. Finn had been waiting there as a safety net. But now Talia was faced with a choice between helping the man who killed her father and helping a man who might be planning to fire a hypersonic weapon at the US capital.
The electrical storm flashed outside, adding purples and reds to the antiseptic white of the overhead lights. Every flash came with a bump or roll that kept her constantly fighting for balance.
First Mac and then Tyler removed their helmets, clipping them to their belts as Finn had done. Talia struggled to do the same. Hers was stuck.
Finn came over to help. “Hang on,” he said after a failed attempt to release the lock. “Something’s not right.” He checked the back of her neck, then glared at Ivanov. “Did you do this?”
The Gryphon Heist Page 27
