Then she suddenly thought of the families of Roni Alvarez and Jim Taft. She knew for a fact their loved ones would never have any respite from their grief. And then there were Beth, Danny and Maria, lost to the evil men who’d murdered Roni and Taft. Those sad thoughts brought her back to earth and all her energy became newly focused — she needed to find Floyd’s family.
She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her key card and left the room. She took the stairs down to the thirty-seventh floor and walked the corridor until she found room 3708. She knocked, and Mo-bot’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Who is it?”
“Justine.”
She heard movement. The door opened to reveal Mo-bot with a pair of half-moon glasses perched on top of her head. She looked beleaguered and depressed, but as she registered Justine’s expression, her own changed.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”
Justine cried with joy and stepped forward to hug Mo-bot. “Yes! He’s alive. He just called me.”
The older woman squeezed her tight. “Thank God,” she said.
When Justine stepped back, she saw tears in Mo-bot’s eyes.
“Come in,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”
Justine followed Mo-bot into a room much like her own, a large suite with a corner view of the city. It had a living room, separate bedroom and large bathroom. Mo-bot had set up her laptop on the desk in the living room and her workstation was covered in print outs and snack wrappers.
“Sorry the place is a mess,” she said. “I comfort eat when I’m depressed. So, how did he do it?”
“I don’t know,” Justine replied. “I was so stunned to hear his voice, I can’t even remember what he said really. It was all a blur.”
“Knowing him, he probably swallowed the rocket,” Mo-bot chuckled.
Justine was glad to see her laugh. A great weight had been lifted from both of them.
“He wants a report on what happened to Beth,” Justine said. “Joshua Floyd is with him.”
Mo-bot’s smile fell. “Cops don’t have anything. Nor do the feds. And we don’t either. Whoever these guys are, they’re pros. I think Russian intelligence. Sci is at Federal Plaza trying to get access to the ballistics reports, but my guess is it will be fresh steel — previously unused guns.”
“Why don’t we go through everything?” Justine suggested. “It would be useful to do that anyway. We might see something we’ve overlooked.”
Mo-bot shrugged. “OK. If Lazarus wants a report, Lazarus gets a report. People who come back from the dead can have whatever they want. It’s the law.”
Justine grinned, but she still couldn’t quite believe it.
Jack Morgan.
Back from the dead.
Chapter 69
I had rarely been happier to see the shimmering lights of a city. We’d used the chopper’s course plotter to get us to Kabul, relying on pilot’s instinct and grasp of general direction when the computer’s Cyrillic threw up navigation waypoints we couldn’t understand.
“OAKB, Kabul International, OAKB, Kabul International, this is Mi-4769,” I said, giving the chopper’s call sign.
“Go ahead, Mi-4769,” the air traffic controller said.
“Mil Mi-24, requesting landing,” I replied. “We’re running low on fuel.”
It wasn’t a lie. These choppers weren’t designed for long distances and we’d pushed the aircraft to the limit.
“Copy that, Mi-4769,” the air traffic controller replied. “Proceed on heading two-nine. You’ll see the helipad to the northwest of maintenance building Alpha Two.”
“Copy that, OAKB control,” I replied.
I banked right, changing to a heading almost thirty degrees off compass north. We flew low over the city, which was coming to life with the approach of dawn. The fluorescent lights of a few cafes shone here and there, and a line of trucks queued outside the city’s famous bird market. Newsstands and bakeries were opening up and traffic was starting to build in the main thoroughfares.
Then I saw the outline of the control tower at Hamid Karzai International Airport, and the transit lights for helicopter approach to the airport. I swung us left a touch, adjusting to put us in the center of the path. There were no other aircraft in sight when we flew over the airport car park and some warehouses. I saw a large hangar with ‘A2’ painted on its roof, and beyond it the helipad lit for our landing.
The GlobalRanger that had taken me from Kabul to Kamdesh was in one of the stands near the helipad. As we approached, I saw Feo and Dinara step out of the aircraft.
“Your people?” Floyd asked.
I nodded. “Good people.”
I slipped the tail round and set the Hind down on the pad.
“Smoothly done,” Floyd remarked as I powered down.
We climbed out of the cockpit and jumped onto solid ground. My friends hurried over. Dinara was crying, but her tears ran down her face into a beaming smile. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks over and over.
“Jack Morgan,” she said. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“You’re a tough old bear,” Feo said, pulling me away from Dinara and wrapping me in a suffocating embrace. “You make me proud. If I didn’t know otherwise I would say you were Russian.”
“I’m flattered,” I said.
“You should be,” he replied, as I stepped away. “How did you get a flying tank?” he asked, nodding toward the Mi-24 Hind.
“We asked politely,” I replied with a smile. “This is Joshua Floyd. Joshua, this is Feodor Arapov and Dinara Orlova. Colleagues from our Moscow office.”
“Good to meet you,” Floyd said.
Feo shook his hand and pulled him into a crushing hug. “You cheated death, my friend. No need to pretend you are a stranger who is only worthy of a handshake. Did Jack save you?”
“Actually it was the other way round,” I replied, as Floyd broke free of the man’s embrace. “Joshua got us inside a cave just before the second rocket hit.”
“Then we are all in your debt, Captain Floyd,” Feo said.
“We’ve arranged your flight back to New York,” Dinara said, leading us toward the GlobalRanger. “A G650 is ready to depart whenever you are.”
She leaned into the cabin of the helicopter and produced a black flight case about the size of an oven.
“We’ve received a report from Justine, which is in here, along with some clothes and equipment you might need,” she said.
“You ready to fly,” I asked Floyd.
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to see Beth and the kids,” he replied.
Dinara shot me a knowing look, but neither of us said anything.
“We’ll take you to the terminal,” Feo said.
“That Hind is full of gear,” I told him. “You might want to check it before you leave. See if there’s anything you like.”
“A little plunder?” he said with a deep laugh. “It’s good for the soul.”
I took the flight case from Dinara. “Thank you for everything.”
“Anytime,” she replied, before kissing me on the cheek.
“Let’s go,” Feo said. “Time for you lucky men to head home.”
Chapter 70
Beth Singer awoke from terrible dreams to find herself strapped to a pipe, her arms almost stretched to breaking point high above her head, her toes just touching the ground, so every movement was a strain and simply standing still caused untold suffering.