With a nervous glance at his passenger, the pilot brought the LongRanger about, picking up speed over the water.
New spikes of pain jabbing at him from numerous cuts, Eddie balanced atop the starboard skid, using the handle of the rear door to raise himself into a crouch. He deliberately didn’t turn it, wanting to see where Kroll was before making a move. He peeked through the window.
The Nazi was in the centre of the cabin, a knee on one of the rear-facing seats in the middle row. He had his gun to the pilot’s head, having worked his right arm through the gap between the headrest and a bulky support pillar. With the port-side door jammed open, if Eddie moved fast enough, he could throw him out…
If he moved fast enough. He would have to open the starboard door first, and Kroll would almost certainly catch the movement in his peripheral vision. What he needed was a distraction.
There was only one way to create one. Taking a deep breath, and keeping hold of the handle with his left hand, he dropped as low as he could and edged along the skid towards the pilot’s door.
The helicopter was now holding a steady course, but it was still far from stable. The fuselage felt as if it were swinging beneath the rotor hub like a much-abused punching bag, the pilot constantly making adjustments to compensate for the shifting air currents. The Englishman had ridden in helicopters many times before, sometimes even on the outside of them, though in those latter cases he had simply been hanging on for dear life. This time, he had to negotiate its exterior and attract the attention of one of its occupants… without being seen by the other.
He advanced inch by inch, left arm stretching out behind him — realising with dismay that there were no handholds ahead. The pilot’s door handle would only be reachable if he let go of the rear, and the slightest jolt while he was unsecured would pitch him to his death. All he could do was press his splayed palm against the aluminium bodywork and pray that he had somehow acquired gecko-like suction.
Closer. Another glance into the cabin. Kroll was still watching the view ahead. Eddie hunched down again, shuffling forward until his left arm was extended as far as it would go. He slid his right hand along the fuselage, stretching out towards the window beside the pilot…
His fingertips fell fractionally short. He could reach the rubber seal around the Plexiglas, but not the window itself. For his plan to work, the pilot needed to see him.
He shifted his grip on the rear handle, fingers caterpillar-crawling along the metal until they reached its tip. That give him another couple of precious inches. Leaning forward again, he strained towards the window—
The helicopter lurched.
Eddie gasped in fear, instinctively flattening himself against the door, hard enough to thunk against the aluminium. He froze. Had Kroll heard the noise?
If he had, then the Englishman was dead. Kroll wouldn’t even need to use his last bullet — he only needed to open the door to push him to his doom…
It remained shut. Eddie cautiously craned his neck to look into the helicopter. The Nazi was still fixated on the view through the windscreen. With the other door open, the rotor noise inside the cabin was as loud as it was out on the skid, drowning out everything else.
Almost as if responding to his thought, Kroll took a pair of headphones from a hook and pulled them over his ears to muffle the sound. Eddie lowered his head again. That would reduce the risk of the Nazi hearing him open the door, but he still needed his distraction.
He stretched out his right hand again, this time tipping his head back as far as he dared until he could see the pilot’s right arm and part of his headphones. The man was looking straight ahead, keeping the helicopter on a course towards New Jersey. Eddie pressed his fingertips against the window and tapped it.
No reaction. He tried again, harder. ‘Come on, listen,’ he growled, continuing his little tattoo on the Plexiglas before turning his hand and banging the window with his knuckles. Liberty Island was quickly approaching, over a thousand feet below. ‘You playing Napalm Death in your earphones? Look around, for fuck’s sake!’ The raps became full-on pounding, but still there was no reaction—
The pilot’s head finally turned towards him.
Eddie knew instantly from the man’s incredulous flinch that he had been seen. He pressed himself against the fuselage so that he could stretch his hand as far forward as it would go, then quickly flashed all his fingers, twice in quick succession. After a short pause, he did it again — this time holding in his little finger on the second flash. Ten, followed by nine. Another brief wait, then he held in his little and ring fingers. Eight. Hoping that he had established the timing, he waved his flattened hand from side to side to suggest rocking the aircraft when the countdown reached zero, then retreated as fast as he could.
He continued the count in his head. Seven. Six. Five. At the rear door, but he still had to get all the way behind it before opening it. Four. Three. His head passed the door handle. Another couple of steps, and he was clear. Two. Kroll was still in the same position but now with an odd look on his face, a dawning recognition that something had changed but unsure what…
Eddie realised at the same moment as the Nazi. The pilot kept glancing down and to his right. He was trying to spot the stowaway, and by looking away from the instruments, he was making it far too obvious. Had he even understood the message?
Kroll opened his mouth to speak, but some sixth sense instead prompted him to turn his head towards the window.
Their eyes met. The Nazi’s widened in surprise—
One!
Eddie yanked the door open. Kroll whipped around, but the gun caught against the headrest as he tried to pull it through the narrow gap.
The former SAS soldier lunged into the cabin — and the pilot slammed the cyclic control stick hard over to port. He had understood the countdown. Kroll reeled towards the open door as Eddie charged at him.
The pair collided with a whump. The gun came through the gap as Kroll lurched back — and reflexively pulled the trigger.
Eddie flinched away from the muzzle flash, but the weapon wasn’t pointed at him. The bullet hit the pilot. A red line sliced open across his forehead as it grazed his skull. He thrashed against his seat belt, then slumped to one side, unconscious…
His hands dropped from the controls.
The LongRanger immediately pitched downwards, curving towards Liberty Island. Eddie glanced in dismay at the freely moving joystick, but there was no way to reach it from the rear compartment.
Kroll threw himself at the Englishman with a roar. Eddie tried to brace himself, but the Nazi had sheer size on his side, slamming him back towards the starboard door. It had been forced shut by the slipstream but hadn’t latched, banging against the rear frame.
The Yorkshireman changed tack, balling a fist and driving it with punishing force into the blond man’s stomach. Kroll grimaced, breath hissing between his teeth as Eddie pounded his other fist home, but the attacks didn’t stop him. The Nazi grabbed his opponent’s throat with one hand — and swept the empty gun at his face with the other.
Eddie managed to bring up one arm to deflect the blow, but the weapon still caught him a painful crack to the forehead. ‘That hurt, you Nazi shithead!’ he growled, striking back with a vicious uppercut to Kroll’s jaw. Enamel splintered, tearing into flesh. The younger man spat blood from his lacerated gums.