“So do I,” Stone said.
“IS THE AIRPLANE going to be waiting?” Sharpe asked Larsen.
“It’s already there,” Larsen replied. “I’ll call him when we’re five minutes out and tell him to start the engines.”
“Man, oh, man,” Larsen said. “This is really happening.”
“What’s happening?” Hildy asked. “We’re just going to the Bahamas, right?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” Sharpe said.
DINO TAPPED Stone on the shoulder and spoke through his headset from the rear seat. “What the fuck is happening?”
Stone turned toward the rear seats. “They took a helicopter from the West Side Heliport,” Stone replied, “and they’re headed for Westchester. Just enjoy the view of the Hudson.”
Mitzi spoke up. “Should I call Brian?”
“I guess you’d better,” Stone said. “Tell him to alert the team at Westchester that Sharpe and Larsen are headed there in a helicopter and to arrest them on sight.”
“Will do,” Mimi said.
Stone turned back and looked north. “I don’t see the chopper,” he said.
“I was just about to mention that,” the pilot replied. “I don’t see him, either. He was there; then I looked at my chart for a couple of seconds and when I looked up, he was gone.”
“I heard that,” Dino said. “Now what?”
58
STONE WAS ANXIOUSLY LOOKING UP and down both shores of the Hudson River. The George Washington Bridge was coming up and the pilot climbed another hundred feet to clear it.
“I don’t get it,” Stone said. “How could a helicopter just vanish?”
“He’s low over land somewhere,” the pilot replied. “It’s hard to spot a helicopter from above when it’s flying low.
Stone began concentrating on looking down. “There… No, that’s a car.”
“See what I mean?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter how low he flies if he’s going to Westchester,” Stone said. “We’ve got that covered, and they’ll see the chopper when it lands.”
“What if he’s not going to Westchester?” the pilot asked.
“What are the alternatives?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know- Albany? Hartford? Bridgeport?”
Stone remembered something. “When I was getting my instrument rating, I flew some approaches at Oxford, Connecticut.”
“That’s worth a try,” the pilot said, flipping through his airport guide. “Five-thousand-foot runway-that’s plenty for a corporate jet. If you’ve got Westchester covered, they won’t miss us.”
“It’s on the way to Hartford,” Stone said. “Let’s at least take a look at it.”
The pilot put the airport’s identifier, OXC, into his GPS and swung right, following the needle.
“How long?” Stone asked.
“Twelve minutes,” the pilot replied.
IN THE other helicopter the pilot turned and addressed Larsen. “Five minutes,” he said.
“I’ll call the airplane,” Larsen said to Sharpe. He tapped a speed-dial key on his cell phone and listened. “I’m not getting through,” he said.
“We may be moving too fast for the cell phone to capture a tower,” Sharpe said. “It doesn’t matter, we’ll be there in five minutes.”
“SIX MINUTES,” Stone’s pilot said.
“Has this thing got any more speed?” Stone asked.
“I’ll push it,” the pilot said. Then, a moment later, “Four minutes.” He looked up. “Can you see the airport?” he asked.
Stone looked hard. “No. We’re too low; it just looks like country-side.”
The pilot climbed another two hundred feet. “There,” he said. “Twelve o’clock and five miles.”
“There’s the other chopper,” Stone said, “setting down now, and I can see what looks like a Citation on the ramp.” He turned toward the rear. “Looks like we’ve got ’em, Dino,” he said.
Dino reached into his jacket and produced a Colt.45, 1911 model, and checked it. Mitzi was checking her weapon, too.
“You are wearing your vest, aren’t you?”
She pretended not to be able to hear him.
Stone turned back to the pilot. “Set this thing down right in front of the jet, and keep the rotor turning. He won’t be able to taxi.”
“Got it,” the pilot said, and started to descend fast. He called Oxford tower and announced his intentions.
Stone watched as people began to get out of the helicopter and hand baggage to a uniformed pilot. He turned back to Mitzi. “As soon as your cell phone works, get hold of Brian and tell him we’re at Oxford, Connecticut.” He made cell phone motions.
Mitzi nodded and began trying her cell.
“What’s your plan?” Dino asked. “As if you had one.”
“We’re going to set down in front of the Citation so that he can’t taxi, jump out, arrest anybody who moves, shoot anybody who produces a gun.”
They were half a mile out now.
“Why did you want me to bring the.22 target pistol?”
Stone looked at him. “I want you to shoot Hildy Parsons.”
“What?”
“Don’t kill her, but make sure she’s not able to run for the jet.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not shooting her!”
“Don’t let her get on that airplane, Dino!” Stone turned back just in time to see them set down twenty yards from the Citation. Dino was already getting out of the copter, followed by Mitzi.
Stone unbuckled his belt and started moving toward the door. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud, “we’re not close enough to the jet.”
By the time he made it onto the tarmac everybody on the other copter was running toward the Citation. Sig Larsen produced a pistol and got off a couple rounds. Somebody-Dino or Mitzi-shot him, and he fell to one knee. Derek Sharpe grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the Citation. Hildy had gone back to the other helicopter for her purse and was not yet running toward the Citation, which had its engines running and was making a sharp turn to the right to clear the helicopter’s blades.
“Shoot Hildy!” Stone shouted to Dino, who was closer to the airplane, then pulled his own gun and began firing at the nosewheel of the Citation, missing on the first two shots.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hildy go down. Then he aimed again at the Citation’s nosewheel and saw it go flat. Sharpe had dragged Larsen aboard the airplane and was trying to close the door. Hildy was screaming at him from the tarmac and trying to drag herself toward the airplane, which was still moving, even with the flattened nosewheel.
Stone ran to the airplane, jerked the half-closed door open, got hold of Sharpe’s jacket lapel, and jerked him off the airplane, spilling Larsen out as well. The airplane stopped moving, and the engines began to spool down. Dino produced handcuffs and went to work. Stone looked around. Where was Mitzi?
Stone turned and looked back. Mitzi was lying on her back, propped up on one elbow. “Oh, God!” he shouted and began to run toward her. He got a glimpse of Hildy and saw blood on her skirt. Dino had put a.22 slug into her ass.
Stone reached Mitzi, got an arm around her, and pulled her into a sitting position. He realized immediately that she wasn’t wearing a vest. “Where are you hit?” he shouted over the noise of the helicopter, whose rotor was still turning.
“I’m not hit!” she cried. “I broke a heel and fell!”
Stone looked at her feet and saw the shoe with the missing heel. He helped her to her feet. “Call 911 and get an ambulance; we’ve got two down, Larsen and Hildy. Then call Brian again.”
She grabbed her phone and began dialing while Stone ran to help Dino.
“Well, you finally hit the nosewheel,” Dino said, snapping cuffs onto Sharpe. “How many rounds did that take?”
“One,” Stone replied. “The first two were practice.”
59
STONE WAS BACK at his desk late that afternoon when the phone buzzed.
“Bill Eggers on one,” Joan said.
“Hello, Bill?”