Primeval egt-5

by David L. Golemon

"Take the controls?" he said as he pulled the belt tighter. "But this thing has propellers, and frankly, ma'am, I don't see any controls, just a steering wheel — I think."

  "Yes, it does have propellers, young man. It's called real flying. Now, take the wheel, don't worry, she's real responsive. Use your rudder and stabilizers for up and down, and don't worry about the wing flaps, got it?"

  "Why not worry about the wing flaps?" he asked as he took the half-moon wheel in front of him.

  "Because we won't use them in flight — stabilizers, tail and engine acceleration and deceleration, that's all. Now, I need to find us a good place to land this thing where we won't bring every policeman in two counties down on us." She let go of the wheel and pulled a map from an oversize front pocket of her coveralls.

  "Ma'am, don't take this the wrong way, but you're one crazy…" — he stopped and looked quickly at her smiling face—"lady."

  "Good choice of words, Mr. Ryan," she said as she unfolded the map, while the former fighter jock tried desperately to see out of the half-oval windows to his front.

  "I think here would be the best place." Alice held the map out so Ryan could take a glance, but he was so intent on keeping the plane in the air, that he only looked for a split second and then turned back.

  Ryan was getting a quick feel for the ancient Grumman and his vision was picking up far more than he should have been able to, thanks to the advanced windscreen installed in the plane that picked up ambient light and made seeing easier in the darkness. As he turned slightly to avoid a string of power lines on the far side of Upland, he knew he liked flying the old seaplane.

  Alice reached out and turned a knob on the aluminum control panel. As Ryan watched a small green illuminated grid appeared on the windscreen, the copilot's side of the window showed the foothills to the right, and on the left side in front of Alice, the Chino Valley spread out as far as the glass allowed. Ryan was shocked at the modern hologram being projected onto the windscreens.

  "A little gift from Pete Golding," she said when she saw the amazed look on Ryan's face. "He flew with me and the senator once, and decided we needed some upgrading — poor man almost had a nervous breakdown."

  "I can't imagine why," Ryan said with a sheepish grin.

  As Ryan flew toward Los Angeles, popping up over Kellogg Hill and then down over West Covina, he knew to hug the hills to his right side. Alice stretched her arms out and then flexed her fingers before she slowly placed the flying gloves onto her small hands once more. Then she reached beneath her seat and pulled out a small cylindrical object that resembled the casing for a small kitchen clock. She ran a cord to the console and then plugged the device into a small socket. When its face lit up, she slid it into an open space in the console.

  "There," she said smiling, "now we have radar."

  Ryan looked from the hologram in front of him to the avoidance radar on the console.

  "If you don't mind my asking, why weren't you using that all along?" Ryan asked incredulously.

  "Because, young man, I like to fly once in a while. Now we're heading into a place where buildings can pop up out of nowhere." She looked over at him after adjusting the radar sweep speed. "Pete was really the nervous type; he insisted we have a radar. He's a real wimp."

  Ryan was amazed. Alice was either the bravest woman he'd ever met, or she had gone over the edge and into the bleakness of senility.

  "Okay, Mr. Ryan, I'll take it from here. If you don't remember how scared you were during night landings on a carrier, you're about to be reminded."

  As Ryan let go of the wheel, his eyes widened when Alice Hamilton pulled back on the throttles and allowed the seaplane to dip far too low to the ground.

  "Uh, ma'am, there's nothing down here but houses."

  Alice leaned back in her seat and then turned her head and shouted through the curtain.

  "Everyone, hold on to your behinds, this is going to be pretty dicey," she called as a moment later the sound of the bathroom door being slammed sounded through the cabin.

  Inside the passenger area, Sarah touched Carl on the arm and, unfastening her seatbelt, she hopped quickly across the small gap between the eight seats and then threw herself onto Jack's lap. She kissed him quickly and then rolled over to the seat beside him.

  "I expect you to save me if we crash, you got that?" she said seriously.

  "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

  Up front, Ryan watched as Alice turned the wheel sharply to the left, at the same time slamming her small foot into the left rudder pedal as hard as she could.

  "Pete could have suggested power steering for this thing!" she said, taking a quick look over at Ryan and winking.

  The Grumman pitched over onto her left side and the large plane took a nosedive for the ground. Ryan wanted to close his eyes, but he watched the hologram on the windscreen instead. It went from showing greater Los Angeles to the front right, to nothing but houses, bridges, and streets. Then he saw a straight blank area.

  "Uh, ma'am, can I ask what it is you're doing?" Ryan said as he reached out and steadied his slide from the seat.

  "The report said this Chavez creep lived in Elysian Park, right?"

  "I have no idea!" Jason said as the plane drew closer to the ground, the right wing tip almost touching some of the larger houses beneath them.

  "Well, I was informed he ran his illegal operations out of there. Now, we can't very well land at LAX or Burbank now, can we? The police are looking for you and your little merry band if I heard right, so that leaves us one place where we can land that won't put us thirty miles from Elysian Park."

  "Where is that?"

  "Right here — the Los Angeles River."

  Ryan wanted to scream that Los Angeles didn't have a river in the remotest and loosest sense of the word. He knew the river to be a concrete canal that ran through L.A. like a winding snake, and at most this time of year it had about an inch of water running right down its center. He also knew there to be bridges every six hundred feet.

  "Oh, shit," he said as Alice leveled the seaplane and then in a blur of motion, pulled down the landing-gear lever on her left. She fought with the old-fashioned wheel and then started furiously pumping the wing flaps down as the Grumman's engine screamed power as she hopped over three houses and then over a small bridge. She cut power to the engines and the eerie silence belied the sheer terror of everyone on the plane.

  Finally, the large wheels that had popped free of the boatlike body of the plane struck concrete. She bounced once, twice, finally hitting a foot-deep rivulet of water in the center of the river. Alice pumped up the wing flaps to their stops and the plane slowed after rising again into the air. Finally, she bounced down and then the next bridge in line rose up before them only a hundred feet away. Alice calmly started to apply the brakes, squealing and grinding as the seaplane slowed. Now realizing they wouldn't slow in time, Alice Hamilton turned the wheel as sharply as she could to the left while at the same time slamming down on the left rudder pedal once more, turning the Grumman's rear wheel. The large plane skid and then finally turned to the left, finally fishtailing to a stop.

  Silence gripped the interior of the plane as Alice quickly looked around after shutting down the hologram. Ryan, for his part, only stared straight ahead. Alice quickly fired up both engines and then taxied back the way they had come until they settled underneath one of L.A.'s old bridges, where she feathered both engines. She took a deep breath and then looked at the white-faced Ryan.

  "Well, we're here. Up the road about two miles is Elysian Park. You see Dodger Stadium up there? Well, the park is right below it."

  Ryan was still staring straight ahead, not moving.

  "I hope you watched what I did, Mr. Ryan, because you're flying my baby out of here since I have to get home."

  "Wh… what?" he finally asked, still not looking at Alice.

  "I said, you're flying my plane out of here. I have to get to LAX and catch a flight home. I left a casse
role in the oven and I can't trust Garrison to follow instructions until he sees flames."

  "But… but…"

  Alice slapped him on the leg. "Oh, for an old carrier pilot like you, it should be fun." She smiled wide and unsnapped her seatbelt.

  From the back there were audible signs of relief as the others started to realize they hadn't crashed. Then the sound of the small bathroom door was heard opening.

  "Hey," Mendenhall said with a shaky voice, "that restroom is officially off limits."

  Alice looked back at Ryan as they came through the curtain and a questioning look crossed her face as she removed her headset.

  "We don't have a bathroom on this plane."

  * * *

  A moment later, Alice stood under the large wing and the left wing float of the plane after checking the undercarriage of the Grumman. She pronounced everything fit as she looked at Jack.

  "Colonel, you know I wouldn't abandon you like this if I hadn't the need to keep an eye on that old man. If I could—"

  Collins just reached out and pulled Alice to him, and hugged her, cutting off her words.

  "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.

  Alice hugged him back and then pulled away, locking her eyes with his. "Find your baby sister, Jack, and bring her home," she said, patting him on the chest just over his heart.

  Collins nodded and then turned away toward the tall sloping sides of the concrete Los Angeles River.

  Alice Hamilton looked over the old seaplane one last time, patting it lovingly on the wing float.

  "Take care of her, Lieutenant."

  Ryan smiled and gave Alice a salute as he turned and left, following Jack, Carl, and Mendenhall up the slick sides of the river.

  Sarah hugged Alice good-bye. "You sure you can get out of here alright?" she asked.

  "Honey, if I can climb K-2, I can get my old ass out of here."

  "You climbed—"

  "You go help Jack, he needs you. And listen to me, I think this is far more than just finding his sister; this may be the reason Jack has been so distant and secretive. Now go, I'll be fine."

  Sarah half smiled and then turned and ran after the others. Alice looked over her old airplane one last time.

  "You take good care of them," she said and then walked away toward the steep sloping side of the river.

  * * *

  The low rider, a 1961 Chevy Impala, pulled slowly up to the curb and let out a loud whine as the front air shocks and hydraulics were relieved of their pressure, then the rear suspension raised to level out the car as it settled next to the curb in Elysian Park.

  Jack climbed from the passenger seat, followed by Sarah. The others piled from the backseat, with Will Mendenhall lagging while he admired the old-fashioned Tuck N' Roll upholstery. Will knew he was home again.

  Collins walked up to the driver's side of the car and handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. The Mexican American driver took it and then looked the colonel over closely. The red bandana covering his short hair was pulled down almost to his eyes.

  "You know, jefe, you guys stand out like white corn in an alfalfa field."

  "I suspect we do," Jack said as Sarah stepped up beside him.

  The driver eyed the small woman for a very noticeable minute. Then he looked at Jack and then to the hundred-dollar bill. "Keep it, my man, buy the lady something nice," he said as he raced his engine and then peeled away from the curb, the music loud enough to feel it through the soles of their feet.

  Jack looked around and then down at Sarah. He smiled and then started walking to catch up with Everett who was confirming the street address.

  "I think it may be the one covered in police tape, Captain," Mendenhall said as he pointed to the large house on the corner.

  "Smart-ass," Carl said as he spied the house ahead. Then Mendenhall caught sight of Everett reaching into his shirt, obviously clicking the safety off of his hidden nine-millimeter.

  At ten at night, most families were still out and about. Lights were on and televisions could be seen flickering through shaded windows. Looking down into Elysian Park, Collins could see kids still hanging out in large numbers, and far up in Chavez Ravine, a Dodger game was just starting. As he took in the Chavez house, yellow police tape was pulled from column to column on the wraparound porch and was crisscrossed at the front door. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. When he saw only an old battered Ford pickup across the street from the house, he walked up the small slope of grass and bounded up the six wide front steps.

  Sarah, Mendenhall, and Jason Ryan followed Collins onto the front porch. Everett held position at the base of the front steps, looking outward from the front yard. It seemed no one cared about the house where the thief Chavez used to live.

  "Jack?" Carl said after a moment of time.

  "Yeah, I feel it, too," Collins said backing away from the door.

  "Feel what," Sarah whispered, not feeling at all comfortable.

  "Someone's watching us," Jack said backing away from the door. Then Ryan leaned over the side of the porch and shook his head.

  "Police cruiser — empty," he said, knowing they had been too hasty to climb the porch.

  Suddenly the door opened, pulling away the yellow police tape that was stuck to the outside. Jack and the others placed hands on their hidden weapons.

  "Don't shoot," a voice from the dark said. "There were two L.A. police officers here, they're cuffed at the moment and sitting in the living room, unharmed."

  Jack shook his head and watched as the front door opened all the way.

  "Damn, you're still a sneaky old bastard," Collins said, relaxing.

  As the door opened fully, the dim streetlamps that lined the sidewalk showed a large bear of a man as he stepped into the frame of the door.

  "At least I don't go bounding up the front steps without reconnoitering first."

  "Damn, Punchy, it's good to see you," Jack said as he held out his hand. "There was a rumor you were dead."

  Alexander shook Jack's hand and then grimaced and grabbed his chest and then gestured forward with his wounded shoulder. "If it wasn't for the body armor I had on, I would be, my friend. As it is, those two Russian bastards were so intent on taking your little sister they didn't linger to do the job right."

  "I always thought you hated wearing armor. You always said your chest and big belly was enough to stop any bullet made." Jack eyed his old friend closely.

  "Yeah, well, getting old will make you feel closer to the afterlife than you would think," Alexander answered, not noticing the closeness of which Jack was eyeing him.

  "Everyone, this is Jonathan Alexander, the head of the Montreal sector of CSIS, the Canadian Intelligence Service."

  "If you're Jack's people, Punchy will do."

  "You were there, at the ambush?" Sarah asked.

  "Yes, young lady, I was there."

  Jack stepped around Punchy and entered the Chavez home. He immediately saw the two policemen sitting against the far wall of the living room. They were, as Punchy had said, unhurt. Collins eased the nine-millimeter into his waistband and then turned as the others entered the entrance hall, followed finally by Everett who eased the door closed.

  "Nice touch, Punchy," Jack said, looking away from the two L.A. policemen.

  Alexander cleared his throat. "I hate to burst your bubble about my being a sneaky bastard, but they were like that when I arrived."

  Their eyes met and Jack raised his brows. "Is that right?"

  "Trussed up pretty as a picture, just like you see them now," Punchy said and then quickly saw the look on Jack's face. "Don't worry; I checked the rest of the house. Whoever cuffed them isn't here."

  "Punchy, why in the hell are you here?" Collins asked.

  "You know why: It's not only my job, but I happen to like Lynn, almost as much as you."

  "What in the hell happened out there, Punchy?" Collins asked as he slowly stepped from the living room into the kitchen.

  "It was a
setup. Lynn was anonymously contacted and she showed up in my yard. Evidently, only her direct boss knew she was coming to Canada. I guess they wanted to make a mark by bagging Sagli and Deonovich on their own. You know how kids are, they just don't know how to play the game," he said looking at Ryan and Mendenhall. "No offense."

  Ryan looked at Will and they both just shrugged.

  "Do you think Lynn is still alive?"

  "You know me, Jack, forever an optimist. That's why I'm here and willing to breach my orders."

  "Thanks, Punchy."

  "Look, those two coppers in there are going to be relieved soon. If the LAPD overlooked anything here, we better get to looking for it." Alexander watched Collins closely, wondering if he was still as sharp as he once was. "If not, I have to get back to Montreal."

  Jack nodded and silently pointed at Will and Everett, then used his thumb to point toward the basement. He silently ordered Sarah and Ryan to take the kitchen and living room. Then he nodded toward the wooden staircase for him and Punchy Alexander to check out.

  On the way up the stairs, Jack slowly pulled the nine-millimeter from his waistband and knew Alexander was doing the same three steps behind him.

  "You got the report on the man that Sagli and Deonovich murdered in Seattle?" Punchy asked as he gained the landing outside of a long hallway. He pointed his weapon left as Jack was doing the same to the right.

  "The Russian-American, Serta?"

  "Yeah, we don't know the reasoning for it yet, just a bunch of rumors." Alexander eased the bathroom door open and easily flipped on the light switch. The shiny tile and wood was clean but he could see where the police had tossed the closet as towels and washrags were strewn about on the floor and even in the bathtub.

  "Rumors such as…?" Jack asked as he eased the first bedroom door open with his right foot and then quickly stepped inside. He moved the handgun from side to side. He relaxed when he saw the mattress to the king-size bed had been thrown free of the box spring and had even been cut into. Pretty thorough, he thought.

  "Some fantastic tale that this old man in Seattle inherited one of the Twins of Peter the Great."

  Jack looked back into the hallway just as Alexander eased the second bedroom door open.