David Golemon - Primeval

"Thank you, Mr. Ryan. You see, it's not just me, Colonel Collins has his mind set on something and—"

There was a thud and a grunt from above them on the bridge. Then there was a clatter of metal and the sound of something sliding down the steep slope of concrete.

"Never mind," Everett said. "Too late."

The first agent frowned and then relaxed, he still looked around nervously, but then he cowboyed up and tried looking confident.

"Nice try," he said as he reached for his radio. "Two and three, this is one, sit-rep."

There was only static. The agent looked a little different than he had just a second before. "Units two and three, sit-rep," he said just a little too loud, telling Everett and Ryan that he was becoming more than just a little concerned. Carl just grimaced mockingly and shrugged. The agent brought his own weapon up and made sure Everett knew he was covered. Carl just shook his head. That was when they heard footsteps, a lot of them. As they watched, three groups of men were slipping and sliding down the concrete slopes of the river. They were followed by others, and one group had what looked like a white long-haired scarecrow of a man who fell on his butt, but popped right up and kept following the others.

The agent couldn't help it; he turned when he saw the three long parades of men coming down from above. At that moment, Everett easily reached out and took the agent by the wrist and simply twisted the gun from his hand. Ryan wasn't as adept at disarming a man as the captain — he raised his boot into the air, stomped on the agent's right toe, and clipped him on the neck, freeing the gun with Ryan catching it, juggling it and then finally securing the weapon.

"Are we clear down there, Mr. Everett?" a voice called from the dark.

"Clear, Colonel," Everett called out as he ejected the ammunition clip from the nine-millimeter and then the chambered round, he eased the gun back into the agents hand. Jason Ryan did the same.

Finally, out of the darkness marched eight FBI agents, looking mad and very frustrated. One of the men looked at the man Carl had just disarmed and shook his head.

"They were on us before we knew anyone was there."

"You should have remembered your training from Quantico far better than you did," Jack said as he stepped up from behind the agents. "There is no such thing as a secure perimeter in an open civilian area." Collins looked at the agent in charge. "Your men became too complacent with passersby; they were more concerned about being seen than securing any hostiles" — he leaned into the agent—"we, sir, are the hostiles."

Farbeaux, standing next to Sarah and Ellenshaw and still covering three of the agents himself, smiled and knew Collins was the most worthy opponent he had ever come across. It took Jack only moments to smell the ambush as they passed by the bridge, and only another few seconds to figure the plan of taking the agents without anyone getting hurt.

"Colonel, I told them after reading your unclassified army file that we didn't have enough men, but you know how Washington can be." The agent in charge looked down at his feet, and then he shrugged and looked at Collins once more. "Well, you have us, but as one former soldier to another, I'll ask you to reconsider and let others handle this situation. Give over the information you have and let us go after the Russians; we have friends up there."

Jack looked at the agent after nodding at Ryan to get the aircraft preflighted. "We have a friend here and I think he even speaks Canadian."

Punchy wanted to laugh, but he figured Jack was only trying to make a point.

"Then, Colonel, we tried." The agent held out his hand. "Good luck, and I hope you get what it is you are going after."

Collins looked at the hand in front of him, and then shook it.

"Oh, this is very touching, but we may want to think about getting the hell out of here, Colonel. The L.A. police may not be so cooperative," Farbeaux said as he waved for Mendenhall to bring the supplies down, as he turned to assist. "In case you have forgotten, we left two of their brethren tied up at the Chavez house."

Jack closed his eyes in frustration. He had forgotten.

"Don't concern yourself, they were found an hour after you left the house," the FBI agent said. "Colonel, I'll give you two hours; after that, I have to tell them you're heading north," he said releasing Jack's hand. Then he smiled, "I believe I overheard north of Toronto if I'm not mistaken."

This time Jack did return the smile, "Yes, Toronto."

Ten minutes later, the FBI agents held flashlights at the bridge that was four hundred feet in front of the idling Grumman. The plane was filled to the brim with men and equipment. Sarah was squeezed into a seat that included two backpacks, one rifle, and Farbeaux. Every time she looked around, she saw that crooked smile of the Frenchman and the bobbing up and down of his brows.

"Don't worry, my little Sarah, you may only have to bear my advances for a very few moments, I don't expect this antique to get off the ground — I don't think she was made to carry this much of a load."

"Thanks, Henri. Between you or the bridge, either way, this is going to suck."

Ryan, with Jack sitting in the copilot's seat next to him, reached up to the overhead console and jammed both throttles all the way to their stops.

"When I say so, Colonel, you pull back on that wheel as far as possible and as hard as you can," Ryan said over the noise of the roaring engines as he released the brakes.

Jack looked very uncomfortable taking the three-quarter steering wheel of the Grumman. He touched it gingerly at first, then grabbed on tightly. "Is it supposed to vibrate this much?" he asked, his eyes wide open and staring at the fast-approaching bridge and the agents holding their flashlights.

"How in the hell should I know, Colonel? I've only flown a propeller-driven trainer three times in my life!" he shouted and then roared with laughter as he pulled back on the wheel, "Now Colonel, Now !"

The seaplane bounced once, scattering the agents before it. Then it bounced again.

One of Alice Hamilton's contributions to the upgrade of the old seaplane was to incorporate a flight computer that not only projected a holographic image of the approaching bridge, but also carried the voice trait of the Europa computer back at the Event Group complex. It was she who started warning Ryan of the encroaching danger straight ahead.

"Warning, obstacle detected. Warning, max weight overload. Warning, obstacle detected in aircraft path. Divert! Divert! Divert!" said the sexy female voice just as the Grumman bounced hard off the concrete.

"Are you going to hop over the damn bridge?" Collins asked loudly.

Finally, the nose of the Grumman lifted free of the riverbed and rose. "Come on, old girl, fly, damn it, fly !" Ryan screamed while everyone in the back of the plane prayed and waited for the sudden impact that would tell them the bridge was old, but built well.

The Grumman climbed and as it barely screamed over the railing of the overpass, they felt the impact of the rear wheel as it slammed into one of the old streetlamps that lined the bridge. The glass and steel and the seaplanes wheel careened off onto the pavement of the bridge, causing several cars to spin out to avoid the flying debris. Then the seaplane suddenly took a nosedive back into the river, but Ryan quickly compensated with full flaps, pumping furiously at the old hydraulic system. Finally, the plane rose into the night sky, flying barely above the power lines and over houses. Ryan relaxed when he felt the centerline of the plane level off and the weight factor lessen as the Grumman rose. He slowly started to pump the flap handle once more.

"Where to, Colonel?" Ryan asked as he finally got the nerve to take a hand from the wheel and wipe his sweating brow.