Tough As Nails

by Jackie Manning

  AGAINST THE DIN of the airport maintenance hangar, a country music song, filled with words of heartbreak and faithless love, twanged from a portable radio. Reginald Fox glanced over his shoulder at the work crew supervisor’s office cubicle. Perfect timing. The supervisor had stepped out for lunch and the few men working the helo arrival and departure areas were at the other side of the hangar runway.

  Fox glanced at the security clipboard in his hand, then back at the flight schedule posted on the blackboard outside the maintenance office. Liam O’Shea would be picking up the TALON-6 helicopter at 1230 hours. He glanced at his watch and smiled. Perfect. He’d have just enough time.

  He flipped through the pages of the maintenance log, scanning the name of the mechanic assigned to the TALON-6 copter. William Lennon. Fox strode past several choppers until he came to stall 18 where the army-green, Tiger HAP, air-to-air combat helicopter stood waiting. The insignia of an eagle claw gripping a world globe with a gold number 6 shone upon the sliding door.

  Fox walked purposefully toward the uniformed man tightening a bolt on the tail rotor with a torque wrench.

  “Hi, Lennon. I’m from security.” He flipped his black ID-photo badge and held it up for the mechanic to see. “I’d like a word with you.”

  “Sure.” Lennon tempered the bolt one more time, then slid down the side of the fuselage. “Let me turn down the music first,” Lennon said, reaching for the small radio on the floor beside his lunch box. He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands as he lumbered toward Fox.

  Fox glanced over his shoulder again. For the moment, no one was in this section of the hangar. “We’ve had a call from TALON-6, Lennon. They apparently couldn’t get through to your boss before he went to lunch. They want you to move this chopper back over to taxiway alpha.” Fox rubbed his hand against the shiny pylon, then made his way along the side of the tail boom. “The owner wants you to rev this up and check out a vibration they noticed in the cabin ventilator system. They said it starts at around 2500 rpm.”

  Lennon lifted the visor on his baseball cap as he screwed up his face. “That doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing wrong with the ventilator system. I checked it out myself. Besides, the pilot just called me not more than ten minutes ago. He didn’t mention any noise.”

  Fox shrugged. “You know how these big wheels are. They think they hear a noise and we little guys have to jump. Did you speak to Landis?” he asked with a note of authority.

  “No, I spoke to O’Shea. He flew the copter in this morning. He’s picking it up, too.” Lennon cocked his head as Fox kept walking toward him.

  “Something’s fishy,” Lennon continued. “O’Shea asked if the chopper would be ready on time. I told him I was all through and ready to taxi it up to the helicopter apron.” He frowned. “Say, why is security checking on a regular maintenance job?”

  Fox glanced around again, then when he saw the coast was clear, he lunged for the mechanic. For a thin, wiry man, Lennon put up quite a struggle. Before he had a chance to yell for help, Fox pulled a gun from his jacket and hit Lennon over the head. The mechanic slumped to the floor.

  Without a wasted motion, Fox grabbed Lennon’s shoulders and dragged the body to the workbench, then folded the mechanic’s long legs and wedged the body under it. He then pulled two rolling tool chests up against the bench until Lennon’s body was no longer visible.

  Voices and laughter echoed from the far end of the hangar. Fox picked up Lennon’s visored cap from the floor and yanked it over his head. He hurried back to the Tiger, slid open the door and climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  He felt a rush of exhilaration as his gaze scanned the intricate flight-display panel. This baby was loaded with everything, including a 30-mm gun turret and submunition rockets. He’d give anything to see Landis’s face when he heard that Fox had stolen the chopper right out from under O’Shea’s nose.

  Just then he glanced at the navy-blue flight suit folded neatly in the copilot’s seat. Everything laid out, nice and tidy, Fox thought derisively. Just like those ex-Special Forces hot dogs.

  Within a few minutes, Fox had slipped into the flight suit, put on the helmet and flipped down the smoke-tinted sun shield over his face. He slid the clipboard under the seat just in case he needed any of the flight-data info if questioned by the tower before takeoff. He pulled on the flight gloves, then flipped on the starter switch. The engine hummed to life, and within seconds Fox coasted the chopper through the open hangar doors.

  Adrenaline churned through his veins. He was almost there. Within minutes, he’d have the bitch. Just the two of them, alone. Then he’d show her what it was like for Sonny. She’d know, once and for all, what it was like to die a painful, lingering death.

  BRIANNA STOOD on the rooftop of the Crib and leaned toward the wind, the blue silk scarf tying back her hair fluttering against her cheek. She glanced at her watch again, then up at the sky, her stomach in knots.

  “Hope that storm holds off for another hour,” Bailey said, her red hair ruffling around her face. She turned to face Brianna, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Wouldn’t you rather wait inside? Liam won’t take off without you,” she said with a laugh.

  “The invigorating breeze will do me good,” Brianna said. “But there’s no need for both of us to get windblown. Why don’t you go in and call Mike. Tell him I’ll be airborne within a few minutes.”

  “Mike told me to stay with you until liftoff.”

  “Well, you are with me,” Brianna said, smiling. She raised her gaze skyward again. In the distance was a dark speck. As it grew larger, her excitement grew. When she was certain the object was a helicopter, she pointed in its direction. “Look, Bailey. I think I see him.”

  Bailey turned at the whomping sound before she saw the helicopter, then glanced at her watch. “He made great time. He’s fifteen minutes early.”

  Brianna smiled as she zipped up her windbreaker, and reached for her suitcase. “I’ll take that as a lucky sign.”

  The chopper hovered a few minutes before coming to rest at the heliport. Brianna gave Bailey a hug. “Thanks for everything, Bailey,” she called into the wind. “I’ll phone you when we arrive on the yacht.”

  “You’ll love the TALON-6 yacht,” Bailey shouted over the roar of the wind. “Lots of gadgets to keep you occupied. You won’t be bored.”

  The gusts from the chopper’s blades drowned out any further chance for conversation. Brianna turned and dashed across the rooftop toward the helicopter.

  Bailey saw Liam wave from the cockpit, and she smiled and waved back. Brianna’s windbreaker billowed, her scarf fluttered wildly as she forced herself against the gusts and made her way toward the chopper.

  Only when Brianna climbed aboard and the passenger door slid shut did Bailey turn and head downstairs. With Brianna in the sky, she needed to contact the yacht captain and alert him that his cargo was on the way.

  When she reached the rooftop doorway, she heard the phone ringing from inside. She smiled as her steps quickened down the stairs. No doubt it would be Mike, anxious to know if Brianna was airborne and finally en route to safety. She could hardly wait to give him the good news.

  LIAM CHECKED the service order again. Yes, his memory wasn’t failing him. Stall 18 was the assigned maintenance site for the Tiger. So where the hell was it?

  And where was Lennon? Liam looked around, then noticed a lunch box sitting on the floor beside a radio. He peeked inside the mechanic’s cubicle. A thermos-bottle cup was half-full of coffee. Cold coffee, he noticed. He lifted the lid of the lunch box. Inside was a corned beef on rye and a banana. Hell, if Lennon had gone on lunch break, he must not have been hungry. Besides, it wasn’t like him to leave the site while on duty, especially when he’d received Liam’s call a little over half an hour ago.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Maybe Lennon had misunderstood and thought Liam would pick up the chopper on the taxiway. He whipped out his cell phone and punched in the number of the mai
ntenance supervisor. Just then, Liam heard a groan. He looked around. Another groan and a faint tapping was coming from the next helo stall. He made a mad dash toward the sound, then rolled the two chests aside, only to see Lennon stuffed under the bench, barely conscious.

  Fear and dread coursed through Liam as he punched in the numbers for the airport medic. When he’d reported to them what had happened, he dropped to one knee in front of Lennon. “What the hell happened, mate?” Liam asked, checking the mechanic for injuries.

  Lennon rolled his eyes and groaned again. “A—a man…” He blinked several times, then opened his eyes again. His hand shot to the top of his head where a huge lump was already forming.

  “Take it easy, buddy,” Liam said. “You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “That son of a—” Lennon tried to sit up but Liam held him still.

  “Easy. Try not to move until the medics arrive. I’m going to call security—”

  “The son of a bitch was Security,” Lennon managed to say.

  For a moment, Liam stared at him, then something clicked.

  “What’s the name of the company who handles airport security?” he asked.

  “Spender.”

  Liam swore. He punched in Bailey’s number and prayed for a miracle.

  “TALON-6,” Bailey said, picking up the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Bailey. Get Brianna off the rooftop and stay with her.”

  “Why? Didn’t you just pick her up?” A feeling of fear raced through her.

  “Listen carefully, Bailey. Fox stole the chopper and is on his way there. Get Brianna off the roof. Hurry. You don’t have a minute to lose.”

  “It’s too late.” Bailey almost cried the words. “The chopper picked her up about five minutes ago. I—I thought it was you.” Her throat constricted with fear and dread. “Oh God, Liam. What are we going to tell Mike?”

  A pause hummed at the other end of the line. “That’s not your problem, Bailey,” Liam said solemnly. “That’s my job.”

  MIKE’S PAGER WENT OFF just as he finished dispatching the location of his men to the sheriff. “That’s all, men. I’ll check back in an hour.”

  He glanced at the number on the display, then grabbed the phone and punched in the Crib’s number. All through the meeting with the sheriff and deputies, Mike had been aware of the time. He’d wanted to grab the phone and call Brianna again, to hear the sound of her voice and know she was okay. But he also knew it was for his own selfish reasons. She had a lot on her mind, too. If she thought he was worried, it would do nothing for her peace of mind. Better that she thought this was a routine op, one that would be successful. But until Fox was caught and behind bars, he wouldn’t sleep soundly.

  He felt uneasy. The more men they had on board this op, the more things could go wrong.

  “Mike?” Liam answered the phone on the first ring.

  “About time you called.” Mike glanced at his watch again. “You’re running late, pal. Has she arrived on the yacht?” The slight pause on the other end caused the hair on the back of Mike’s neck to rise. “Liam? What’s wrong?”

  “Fox overtook the maintenance mechanic at the airport. He left with the chopper before I got there.”

  Mike felt as though he was watching the scene play out from afar. “Where’s Brianna?” he heard himself ask.

  “Mike…I’m sorry.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Brianna embarked the chopper, thinking it was me at the controls.”

  Mike felt as if a steel fist had punched him in the stomach. Bile rose to his throat. But he felt his nerves turn to ice as his feelings dropped back and logic took control. “Have you called the FAA?”

  “Yes. They put out an all-points bulletin.”

  “Is Bailey tracking her?”

  “Bailey says the Tiger is moving straight up the Hudson.”

  “Get on the phone and call the nearest airport from Kingston. Have whatever the hell can fly waiting for me when I get there. I’ll ask the sheriff for an escort. I’m about twenty minutes out. Get back to me with the flight path on the Tiger.”

  “Roger.”

  “Liam,” Mike said. “We don’t have much time. If the Tiger gets behind these hills up here, we’ll lose its signal.”

  BAILEY HAD BEEN RIGHT, Brianna thought as she adjusted the shoulder harness and clipped the seat belt around her waist. From her seat in back, she could see the colorfully lit instrument panel clearly. She flushed with pride, knowing that many of the gizmos were Mike’s inventions, many of which, if Bailey was to be believed, were as sophisticated as the government’s.

  Liam brought in the power and she could feel the air build under the rotors as the Tiger slowly lifted off the roof.

  The noise would make conversation difficult. Besides, Liam seemed deep in concentration as he manned the controls, listening to his headset.

  She leaned back and tried to enjoy the clear view of the Manhattan skyline while the chopper accelerated across the Brooklyn Bridge and the East River. Below, Manhattan skyscrapers rushed beneath as they flew about five hundred feet above the tops of the buildings as they crossed over the city. Up ahead, she recognized the Hudson River and New Jersey. Strange, she thought. From what Mike had told her, the yacht was docked at one of the Hudson River piers at Twelfth Avenue. Why were they leaving Manhattan and heading north?

  Maybe the approaching storm was causing Liam to change course? Maybe that was why he was so serious. Was the storm going to be that much of a problem on such a short flight?

  Stop it, Brianna, she chided herself, and forced her attention on the view below.

  After a while, she wondered if she should ask Liam. He’d remained so quiet, listening to his headset. Was something wrong? They were definitely taking a north, north-westerly direction. The Hudson was far on her right now. Aqua swimming pools and verdant square patches surrounding New Jersey homes scrolled beneath them.

  She leaned forward and tapped Liam on the shoulder. “I thought the yacht was docked on Twelfth Street,” she shouted above the noise.

  As he turned to face her, a scream froze in her throat as she realized the pilot at the controls wasn’t Liam. Through the tinted glass of his face mask, she recognized the sharp cheekbones, the deep-set eyes of Reginald Fox.

  What have you done with Liam? screamed through her brain, but she couldn’t get the words out.

  “I see you’re surprised.” He lifted the tinted face shield, revealing the glittering hate shining from his eyes.

  This is the man who threw Kristi down the stairs. The same man who wiled his way into Simone’s life just to get close to her. Mike had said he could be capable of anything.

  Brianna fought for control. Think. This man wasn’t rational. She knew better than to say or do anything that would upset him further. Her instinct to help warred with her instinct for survival as she was filled with outrage for what he’d done.

  The facts that Mike had learned about Fox raced through her mind. Ex-military, a rogue CIA operative, the father of a male batterer who’d been beaten to death in prison.

  He turned back to the controls, his hand pulled up slightly on the control stick to the right of his seat. The helicopter pitched and rose. As they lifted, she could see the Hudson snake along the countryside below. From the slight angle of the sun, she could tell they were heading north.

  He turned his head around and lifted his visor. “Why don’t you think about all the things I could do to you, bitch. Let’s see. Maybe I’m going to throw you out the cargo door?” His thin lips quirked. “Yeah, I like that. I could count the times your body would bounce on the ground.” He laughed as he pushed the control stick farther. She felt the thrust of the aircraft jerk as it lifted sharply in the wind. “’Course, the higher we are when you fall, the longer your body will tumble, and the more time you’ll have to think about the size of the mark you’re going to make on this world.” He laughed maniacally then, and she
looked away, determined not to show him her fear.

  He stopped laughing and she could feel him stare at her.

  “Don’t think I know you’re not scared, bitch. But it’s early. We’ve got a way to go, and plenty of time to play this game. You’ll break in time. And where we’re going, we’ll have all the time in the world. And your cocky, oh-so-smart boyfriend won’t ever be able to find you.”

  She leaned back in her seat, not wanting to upset him any further. He must have planned this all along. How did he know about the helicopter? He must have had another bug planted.

  Her mind raced with questions, each one hitching her panic up a notch. He was going to kill her. He’d have to kill her. This time he’d made no move to disguise himself.

  She was going to die.

  No, dammit. She wasn’t dead yet. She felt herself tremble and she fought against it. Think. Victims panic. Brianna Kent, you are no victim! What would Mike want her to do?

  Mike. Dear God, what would Mike do if he knew that Fox had taken the chopper and she was with him? Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of his anguish. She forced the tears away. No, she could fall apart later. Now she had to think.

  He hadn’t tied her up yet. That would probably come later, she thought with a chill. If she made it to the landing, she had to find some way to defend herself. She looked around for something to use as a weapon. If she tried to unlatch her seat belt, he’d sense the move and try to grab her. But he’s got his hands full with the controls; there’s a minimum he could do. But she can’t fly this thing, she has to rely on him. Stalemate.

  She glanced around but there was nothing loose that she could use as defense. He’d already thought of that.

  The chopper banked slightly and they were heading in a decidedly northern route. To the left was a river, the Hudson. Below, orchards and farmland spread between small towns and villages. They were heading out of the city, toward the more rural areas.