Jean Thomas - AWOL with the Operative

Sam restored his belt before he slid down in the seat as much as his tall body would allow. He closed his eyes, but, although he needed the rest, he didn’t expect to sleep. He didn’t sleep much at all these days, not even in his own bed. And with Eve Warren very much on his mind…

Sam must have dozed off after all. For how long he had no idea. The next thing he knew, the pilot was calling to him.

“Agent McDonough, wake up! I need you!”

Sam didn’t like the insistent, concerned tone in Redfeather’s voice. Shaking off the fog of sleep in his head, he sat up on his seat, instantly alert.

“What is it? Something wrong?”

“I hope not. That out there has been tailing us.”

The pilot nodded in the direction of the window on his side. Sam leaned over to get a better view through the glass. That proved to be a sizable helicopter of the military variety.

“How long has it been out there?”

“Not sure. But it has to be a powerful chopper to keep up with us.”

Not only keep up with them, Sam realized, but overtake them. The craft was flying level now with their plane a few hundred yards straight off to their left.

“Maybe it’s an official chopper patrolling the region. Just checking us out to make sure we’re legitimate.”

Ken Redfeather shook his head. “I don’t think so, not in this area. Anyway, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What’s happening?” Eve demanded to know.

Sam had forgotten that, except for a very small pane on either side, she had no window back there. He turned his head to make sure she was all right. “Probably nothing. Just keep low until we know,” he ordered her curtly. He swung his attention back to their pilot. “Can you rouse them on your radio? Ask them what they’re doing out there?”

“I can try.”

Before Redfeather could act, the helicopter suddenly and rapidly closed the gap between them until it was no more than a couple of hundred feet away. A door in the side of the craft rolled back, revealing a burly, bearded man kneeling there in the opening with a rifle raised to his shoulder. Within seconds, Sam could hear bullets pinging against the body of their plane.

Sonofabitch!

“They’re shooting at us!” Redfeather shouted.

Sam concurred with a caustic “I noticed that.”

He knew what their objective was. Eve Warren. He also knew who they were. Had to be Victor DeMarco’s goons ordered to bring their plane down. But how in hell had they learned his method of transport?

No time to worry about that. Somehow he had to get them out of this mess, but first—

“You okay?” he asked, whipping his head around. “You weren’t hit, were—?”

He broke off in exasperation. Although she managed to shake her head, she went on sitting there upright, looking too numb with terror to move.

“Didn’t I tell you to get down?”

“Stop bullying me!”

“Then, dammit, do as you’re told.”

The look of alarm on her face was joined now by rancor directed at him. But she complied this time, squeezing down as low as possible in her seat.

Satisfied, Sam faced forward again, snatching his Glock out of his shoulder holster. Not that it would be of much use at this distance against a powerful rifle, but he felt better with the gun in his grip. He scanned the sky out his window. Not a cloud in sight. Wait a minute. There, below them!

“We’ve got cloud cover under us,” he informed Redfeather. “Looks big enough to hide in.”

“It’s a low snow mass.”

“Man, I don’t care if it’s a typhoon. Just get us into it, and fast.”

Ken Redfeather obeyed him, pushing the yoke forward. The nose of the plane went down, sending them into a dive. Sam steadied himself against the plunge, hoping Eve was hanging on. And hoping even more that Redfeather had the skill to get them out of this steep descent once they were buried in the cloud mass.

If the helicopter was swooping after them, Sam had no indication of it. At least there was no further gunfire from the chopper. None that he could detect anyway.

Small comfort, Sam thought wryly, remembering his squad supervisor’s certainty. It looked like Frank Kowsloski had been right about Eve Warren. That she did know something vital enough for Victor DeMarco to want her taken down. In this case, literally.

So much for a simple pickup and delivery. Squad supervisor or not, he was going to blister Frank when he got back. If he got back.

A fog closed in on the plane, cloaking them with its thickness. Snowflakes swirled around them, adding to their cover. They were in the cloud mass.

To Sam’s relief, Ken Redfeather pulled them out of the dive. They were flying level again. He searched through the windows on both sides. No sign of the chopper. They were safe. At least for the moment.

“Where are we anyway?” he wanted to know.

“On the border between British Columbia and Alberta,” Redfeather said.

“Not anywhere near Calgary, I suppose, since we haven’t stopped for refueling.”

“No, Calgary is still a long way off.”

Sam checked on Eve. “You holding up?”

“Just dandy,” she answered him dryly.

He guessed that was all the reassurance he was going to get. He wasn’t going to ask for more. He’d had enough of her obstinate crap. Besides, he had another concern to address. He switched his attention back to Redfeather.

“I don’t know about you, Ken, but I think it’s time you got on your radio and called out a distress. Let them know what’s happening up here.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not sure I’m in range of one of the towers. Bush pilots have been complaining for years about the dead zones out here.” Redfeather reached for his mike. “Let’s see if I can reach—” He broke off, staring in alarm down at the instrument panel.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The oil pressure is dropping—and dropping fast. One of those bullets must have struck a push rod tube, and now we’re leaking oil at the bottom of the cowling.”

Great. Another freaking complication. “How bad is that?”

“Real bad. You want it straight?”

“Let’s have it.”

“Without oil, the engine will lock up and quit. I’m surprised she hasn’t already—”

There was a sudden, sickly sputtering. It was happening. The engine was seizing up. Sam heard a horrified gasp from the rear seat, and then there was nothing but a terrible stillness. The engine was dead.

The plane drifted for a few seconds, and then Sam could feel it settling as it lost altitude on its descent through the cloud cover.

“I’ll try to glide us in for a safe landing, folks, but it’ll be a miracle if there’s a clearing down there. Better make sure your belts are tight before you fold yourselves into a crash position.”

Sam whirled around in his seat, barking a command at Eve. “Brace yourself! Head on your knees!”

But she knew the drill. Her head was already lowered, face hidden against her knees. Sam risked a quick glance through the window. They had broken through the cloud mass. The ground was coming up on them swiftly. There was nothing down there resembling a clearing, only the dense, unbroken forest.

Sam ducked down, straining against his belt to get his head on his knees. A few seconds later, they plowed into the forest. He could hear the undercarriage tearing apart as the plane, nose down, smashed through the limbs of the trees.

The action jerked him up, slamming his head against the window on his side. He felt a sharp, shooting pain, and then everything went black.

Chapter 2

For a full moment after the plane came to rest Eve was too shaken to move. Then slowly, carefully, she lifted her head from her knees. Dazed. She was so dazed she was imagining she was tipped over at a crazy angle. That had to be the explanation.