James Patterson - Toys

“I’m not real particular. Anywhere but here. You follow me, Captain?”

“We’re not supposed to carry unauthorized passengers,” the younger one said. He had a close, army-style haircut, looked buff, and was definitely checking her out.

“People do a lot of things they’re not supposed to,” Lucy answered back. “Or so they tell me.”

The older one laughed out loud. “Got yourself in a little trouble?”

“Let’s just say I need to relocate-quickly-and I’m flat broke. That give you the picture?”

“Well, it’s pretty tight up in the cockpit, but we could probably sneak you in.”

“I’ll be fine. I can be very flexible.”

“I’m not sure about this,” the younger pilot said nervously. “We could get in trouble, Mel. Couldn’t we?”

“Come on, who’s going to know?” his partner said with a cocky shrug. “Nobody cares who flies out of the country.”

“You want a peek at the cargo first?” Lucy said. She smiled cheerfully and reached to unbutton her blouse another notch or two.

Well, that eliminated resistance for both of them. As they stepped closer to her, I came up behind, grabbed a handful of hair from each, and bashed their heads together. Just hard enough to knock the pilots out.

“Nice work, Hays,” Lucy said and grinned. “But I’m still driving.”

I was done arguing with her-at least for right now. She was the one, after all, who was too important to be captured . I wondered what that was all about.

“I’ll let the passengers know there’s been a change in flight plans,” I said.

“Try to be subtle, Hays.”

“Definitely.”

We jumped on board, with Lucy ducking into the cockpit and me heading back into the passenger compartment.

Subtle , I reminded myself. That is certainly sound advice under the circumstances. We are, after all, hijacking this plane.

Unfortunately, when I walked into the cabin, which was decked out like a luxury hotel suite-with plush couches, a full bar, and the latest entertainment devices from the Toyz Corporation-the three executive types seated there weren’t particularly overjoyed to see me on board.

I guess I could understand why. They were just getting acquainted with the other passengers: two beautiful and well-endowed female androids who were at the preflight teasing stage of their “coffee, tea, or me” routine. And the “me” part could be taken quite literally.

“What are you doing in here?” the oldest of the businessmen asked, probably the boss. “We didn’t order any male androids.”

The executive brushed a partially undressed female companion off his lap and stood, glaring at me with the self-assured look of somebody used to being in charge.

Subtle, Hays.

I snapped to attention and gave him a salute. “I’m with the Agency of Change,” I answered. “I’m on a mission here.”

I was on a mission-to find something in the compartment I could use as a weapon. These three execs might not be trained fighters, but they weren’t ordinary humans, either-they were Elite males, and I didn’t have the edge of surprise I’d had with the pilots. “We’re bringing a bomb simulator on board. It’s a prototype… for wiping out human cities. Don’t worry, there’s no danger to any of you. This is President Jacklin’s initiative.”

The hostility on their faces changed to interest, and duty. So now what did I tell them?

“The machine will be loaded on in just a minute,” I said as I sidestepped into a storage area that held metal canisters of fire retardant. I wrenched one of them from its rack. It would have to do.

The plane had suddenly started forward in a smooth glide that, at first, was barely perceptible. The senior executive who’d first challenged me did it again. “The door’s still open! And if the prototype’s coming in, why are we moving?” he asked.

“To give you a running start,” I said and spun around with the heavy canister, lashing it at his jaw. It connected with a rinnng that vibrated through my fingers all the way to my teeth.

As he staggered away, I planted my boot in his chest and shoved him, flailing and yelping, out the open door to the tarmac below. Before I could recover my balance, the other two gents piled onto me. I could tell by the way they moved that they had military backgrounds.

I was still clutching the canister in my hands, so I snapped the seal off the nozzle. I aimed it at them. Then I coated the men with a blast of gooey, greenish fire retardant.

“What the hell!” one of them yelled. “I can’t see!”

They reeled away, crashing into each other, blinded for the moment. Next, I used the canister to bludgeon them out the door behind their bossy friend.

Then I turned my attention to the two androids. “Ladies, I’m afraid you get off here too!” They were only too happy to oblige.

“That’s your idea of subtle? ” I heard Lucy call from up front. “Now shut the damn door!”

It took some wrestling to get the plane’s door closed. Seconds later though, we were off, streaking out across the vast expanse of the North Pacific-toward only Lucy knew precisely where, and why.

After a few hours of resting back in the cabin, I finally went up in the cockpit with her. “Now what happens?” I asked.

“More trouble, I’m afraid. The radar shows an interceptor craft, and it’s gaining on us. We’ve got maybe ten minutes before it catches up. They really don’t want you to get away, Hays.”

“Maybe Lizbeth just wants me back.”

“No offense, but I doubt that very much. You are a human, Hays. She’s High Elite, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. The two of you are oil and water.”

She gazed at me calmly, but we both had an idea of what was coming next. The interceptor was a smart-missile that would clamp onto our plane, cut a hole through the fuselage, and unleash a team of highly trained Elite commandos inside.

“We’re going to have to bail out,” she said. “You’ve used a Deathwish Suit before, haven’t you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” I answered. “Deathwish Suit” was a pejorative nickname for superinsulated silicone uniforms with jet-propulsion packs and parachutes. They were designed for high-altitude bailouts, like this one would be. The jetpacks would last an hour, keeping you aloft, then you needed to pop the chute and hope for a pinpoint landing.

“Come in here and put one on,” she said. “I’m trying to contact friends in Russia who might help us. But it’s going to be down to the wire.”

“Just the way I like it,” I said.

“You’re such a liar.”

“Not me. Everybody else. ”

The attack came much faster than Lucy or I would have liked. With a harsh grinding sound, the interceptor latched like a giant, metal remora onto the outside of the jet. It rocked us sideways, but the Elites apparently didn’t want to knock us out of control and risk a crash. Maybe I was still usable to them-or to Lizbeth. Or maybe Jax Moore wanted to kill me himself.

I was snuggled up beside the rear cargo-hatch controls, my body wedged tightly into a storage space, my feet braced against a wall.

A laser saw from the interceptor, with a sharp hiss, had already started to cut into metal. A smoldering line appeared in our hull as the beam sliced through.

In less than a minute, the cutout fell inward, and two well-built Elite guards charged through, with three more right behind them. They were armed with assault rifles and wearing their own Deathwish Suits, ready for anything.