Will Adams - The Lost Labyrinth

There was no way to defend the mouth, not against Mikhail and his knife. Knox thought he could see a pathway through the gorse out into the main body of the plain, so he charged straight into it. Passage proved easy enough for the first few metres, but it grew increasingly tangled and hard. He held up his forearms to protect his chest from the spines as he fought his way past the tough stubby branches, creating a path for Gaille to follow. His legs tired, he began to falter; but then he heard an engine, rising then briefly fading away, before a black wasp appeared over the southern escarpment face. His spirits soared: Angelos had delivered his promised helicopter. He looked around as Mikhail emerged from the cave, the golden fleece still clasped around his throat, gleaming gloriously in the sunlight. He strode into the gorse after them, taking advantage of their wake to close rapidly.

Knox waved his arms to attract the pilot's attention. He feared he'd be too far away to be seen, but the helicopter abruptly changed course towards him. Fighting through the gorse was like wading through deep mud; he couldn't sustain his pace much longer. Gaille must have sensed it, for she pushed past him, taking her own turn at forcing them a path, looking back every few moments to make sure he was following.

The copter made a fierce noise as it drew close, blasting them with its downdraft as it made to set down by the edge of the gorse. Its door slid open even as it was still landing, and two men jumped out. Knox glanced exultantly back at Mikhail, expecting him to flee while he still had the chance. But Mikhail was not only still following, he was waving to the men, gesturing instructions. And only now did Knox notice their lack of uniforms; only now did he recognise the helicopter from the Internet photograph of Ilya Nergadze's yacht.

He yelled at Gaille to stop, but she didn't hear him over the din of rotor-blades. She fought her way through the last of the gorse and ran out; but one of the two men drew his handgun and aimed at her chest. She stopped uncertainly and looked back at Knox, still tangled in the gorse. The fear in her eyes twisted at his heart, but there was nothing he could do. The second man now drew his own gun; he aimed at Knox and fired twice. Knox dived for cover then scrambled away beneath the yellow canopy, putting distance between himself and where he'd been. Then he lay there panting hard, remembering with a dreadful foreboding the cruelties Mikhail had inflicted on Nadya, and wondering what horrors now awaited the woman he loved.

The look on Rafiel's face was all the confirmation Mikhail needed that the fleece was his ticket to the presidential palace.

'Is that…?' he asked in awe, reaching out to touch it.

'Keep your hands to yourself.' The helicopter blades were slowing down, but he still had to shout to make himself heard. He nodded to the second man, who was holding Gaille with his arm around her throat and his gun against her side. 'Who are you?'

'Nukri, sir,' replied the man, clicking his heels as best he could.

'You're a soldier?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good.' He turned back to Rafiel. 'Where's the boat?'

Rafiel gestured south. 'We were about twenty-five knots southeast when we set off. She'll be closer now. But we need to get moving. There were police on the slopes when we were coming in.'

'We're dealing with Knox first.'

'Yes, but if they call in their Air Force-'

Mikhail turned to him. 'Don't ever question my orders again,' he said. 'Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir.'

Mikhail nodded emphatically; but the man was right, they needed to be quick. He grabbed Gaille by her hair, pressed his knife against her throat and dragged her over to the gorse. 'Give yourself up,' he shouted out to Knox. 'Give yourself up now or she dies. You have five seconds. Four. Three.' He watched intently for movement as he finished the countdown, but saw nothing. What a coward that man was! He turned his knife around in his hand to make it easier to slash her throat, but then he paused, inspired by a better idea.

The rotor blades had been slowing down, but now they started speeding up once more, the copter preparing for take off. Knox crept closer to the edge of the gorse and peered out. To his exquisite relief, he saw Gaille standing on this side of the helicopter; and he could also see, through the cabin window, the pilot and Mikhail and the two other Georgians all safely inside. They were about to take off, and they were leaving Gaille behind.

The helicopter began to rise; it was only a couple of metres off the ground when Gaille began to rise with it, kicking and thrashing like a fish on a hook. Only now did Knox understand. Mikhail hadn't let her go after all; he was hanging her instead from a black cord like a dog's leash he'd slung out the cabin window. Her face was already red, her mouth gaping as though screaming, though he couldn't hear a thing over the din of the copter as it hovered there just above the ground. The cabin window now slid open, and Mikhail showed himself, the fleece still buckled around his throat. He reached out his hand, waved his hunting knife back and forth for Knox to see, then he tossed it down onto the ground in a clear challenge: cut down your woman or watch her hang.

Fear welled in Knox, but love did too. He jumped to his feet and burst out of the gorse and sprinted towards her, weaving left and right, keeping his eyes on the fallen knife. He heard the expected cracks of gunfire even over the roar of the blades, dived into a roll, snatching for the knife as he came up, but missing. And now the helicopter was turning away and beginning to rise, taking Gaille with it. He had no time. He leapt for and grabbed one of the sled-skis of its landing gear. The downdraft from the rotor-blades, the slickness of the black composite material, it took everything he had to hold on. But he tightened his grip and swung a leg up and over the sled-ski, then the other, hauling himself up, grabbing one of the struts holding the sled-ski to the copter's undercarriage. They were rising fast now, Gaille dangling from its other side, her face purple, her legs thrashing, her tongue protruding. He anchored himself as best he could, then reached out beneath the copter's belly to the other sled-ski. His fingertips brushed it. He tried again, straining every bone and sinew, caught enough of it to commit himself to the transfer. The helicopter tipped as he swung from one side to the other, then hauled himself up. He put an arm around Gaille's hips and lifted her to relieve the pressure on her throat. She was still thrashing, desperate for something to stand on. Her heel clipped the sled-ski but then she had her feet upon it. He held her there as best he could while picking loose the knots around her wrists with his fingernails. She pulled a hand free and then the other, the coil of rope dropping away to the earth far below as she frantically loosened the noose around her throat and gulped in breath. But, even at that moment, she started to topple and fall outwards. It took Knox a bare microsecond to realise that Mikhail had let go of the leash, the only thing that had been anchoring her against the helicopter's side. She looked up at him as she fell, reaching for him with her freed hands, imploring him with her eyes. Without thinking, he wrapped his legs around the strut and crossed his ankles and let himself drop, catching her by her calf, her cotton trousers slithering through his fingers, but grabbing her ankle and holding it tight as they surged even higher, the rocky plain now a good two or three hundred metres below, far too far for her to survive a fall.

He tried to lift her back up, but he wasn't strong enough, it was all he could do to hang on. She reached up for him from her waist in an effort to grab his forearm, but she couldn't quite manage that either, beaten back by the downdraft of the rotor-blades. They crested the escarpment, headed south towards the sea. Still he clung on, but he was tiring fast, his joints screaming. He looked up, praying that someone inside the helicopter would take pity on them, only to see Mikhail leaning out the cabin window, watching raptly as he waited for Knox to drop her.