He watched it for a moment and then shifted his vision to a dot that had appeared in the sky — their inbound chopper.
He nodded. “I like it when things go to plan.”
They’d secured a big bad Chinook helicopter from a private operator, an ex-military guy. The large, muscular craft was a twin-engine, tandem rotor heavy-lift helo with a wide loading ramp at the rear of the fuselage and rapid rappelling capabilities. It was also fast at nearly 200 mph, and they’d loaded extra fuel for the air-work that needed to be done. Another payoff was the craft’s size and strength meant it had good stability in high winds — they’d need that — and a truckload of luck.
The final bonus was securing a pilot who was mad enough to take risks, and being a Vet was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. If it were just his HAWCs, it’d just be another day at the office. But Alex knew with the NASA crew with them, it was going to be something else entirely.
He watched the powerful helicopter get bigger in the sky. On the rappel, they’d be like worms on the end of a fishing line, dropping from the craft, and then relying on the skill of the pilot to dangle them over where they needed to be — a twenty-foot-wide ledge. If everyone did their job, kept their nerve, the Chinook held it together, and the winds behaved, then they might just be plonked down where they wanted. If not, then instead, they’d be slammed into the side of the granite rock face at about a hundred miles per hour.
Alex grinned, feeling his blood already pumping hard; he couldn’t wait.
The Chinook touched down and Alex waved Drake and Casey forward. Both HAWCs ran for the doors, pulling them open and then standing back, watching the terrain.
Alex turned to the NASA crew. “Move it, we are on the clock, people.”
“Contact!”
Alex’s head snapped around at Casey’s voice.
The HAWCs were like machines — their rifles came up as one to draw a bead on the two figures that sprinted from one of the dwellings toward the open door of the helicopter.
“Hold fire.” Alex yelled. He saw that neither was armored up, or looked anything like combat professionals. They got to the chopper without turning once and dove inside.
Casey Franks ran for the door and poked her head inside. Sam Reid immediately spread the HAWCs in a defensive position, and sent two to cover the NASA crew. He then jogged to join Alex at the helicopter door.
Casey pushed her RG3 rifle up over her shoulder to its carrying slot and thumbed toward the interior of the craft.
“Fucking hitchhikers.”
Alex stuck his head inside, and Sam loomed up behind him. The chopper was as he expected — big, roomy, and good tech. But what shouldn’t have been there was two people seated inside. The red-headed woman had her arms folded and defiance was set hard on her features. The young bearded man seated next to her looked less confident as his eyes went from Alex to the huge form of Sam.
“Get ’em out.” Alex turned away.
Sam leaned back in. “Saying this just once: exit the craft, now.”
The woman’s eyes were steady. “I don’t know who you are, but I bet you’re not with NASA, and I know they’re the only guys supposed to be heading up on that mountain to where the Orlando Space Shuttle Orbiter went down.”
Alex turned back slowly. She was probably bluffing, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. The woman went on.
“The Orlando crashed up there, and no one knows why, and very few people even know it’s not in space anymore. So listen, big fella, we’re going up there. We might as well go together.”
Sam growled. “Let’s be clear, you don’t exist. Exit the craft, or we will be forced to… assist you.”
Casey leered in at them, her scar making her face appear even more terrifying.
“Oh, fuck no,” the bearded guy whispered as he went a shade paler. “This is going too far, Mags.”
The woman didn’t flinch as she stared back at Sam. “Then what, tough guy?” She thrust her chin forward, and lifted a smart phone and threatened to take a picture of him. “I don’t know who you are, yet, but how about I splash your picture all over the front page and we find out that way, huh?”
Alex had heard enough. “Franks, please assist these two citizens from our helicopter.”
“Yes, sir.”
Casey launched herself into the rear of the helicopter and grabbed the woman. She lashed out, but was no match for Casey’s brute force, and ended up on her ass on the ground screaming obscenities. The man jumped out quickly before Casey could get to him, and cowered as if expecting the female HAWC to beat down on him for her own enjoyment.
The red-headed woman leaped to her feet, not seeming to be intimated by the fearsome Casey in the least. She came at her, teeth bared.
“I could sue you back to the fucking Stone Age for that.” The woman moved in even closer and stabbed a finger right in Casey’s face. “And…”
Casey grabbed the hand and twisted. The woman howled and went to one knee, whereby Casey pushed a hand onto the back of her shoulder. The woman went down onto both knees and screamed some more.
The man with her momentarily looked like he was going to intervene, but must have seen the expressions on the HAWCs’ faces and changed his mind.
He settled for holding up both hands, and dancing on the spot. “Easy there, we’re cool, we’re cool.”
Casey just pushed harder.
“That’s enough.” Scott McIntyre rushed in and grabbed at Casey. He used both hands to yank hard on the brawny woman. “I said… that’s enough.”
Casey continued to keep one hand on the woman’s shoulder, but wrenched an arm back, catching McIntyre on the chin with the point of her elbow. His head shot up, and she then used a leg to sweep him off his feet. McIntyre fell hard beside her, and Casey stuck a boot on his neck.
“Let him go; that’s an order!” Russell Burrows yelled as he rushed to his colleague’s side. “As the senior NASA official, I am the authority on this mission.”
Casey just seemed to press down harder, her sneer growing.
Burrows turned to Alex. “Let. Him. Go. Now, or your superiors will hear about this.”
Casey turned and grinned up at him as she now held both the red-headed woman and McIntyre down. “The fuck we care.”
People started to edge out from the low buildings to watch.
“Shut it, Franks.” Sam Reid edged forward, but Casey looked to Alex.
Alex’s eyes were hard as he stared, his mouth twisted in a small smile.
“Boss.” Sam laid a huge hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“Huh?” Alex felt a small fire go out inside him. “Franks, let ’em up.”
Casey took her boot off McIntyre, who quickly rolled away, holding his throat and hacking like he was choking. Casey then shoved the woman onto the cold gravel. She was immediately on her feet massaging her shoulder and hand, her eyes blazing.
She dusted herself down, and then grinned. “So…” It was as if she flicked a switch as a change came over her. “Now that we’re all friends; my name is Morag O’Sullivan, Los Angeles Times, major news desk.” She thumbed over her shoulder to the man. “My brave partner in crime is famous cameraman Calvin Renner.” She turned to him and grimaced. “Oh, put your hands down, you putz.”
Renner slowly lowered his hands as if he suddenly remembered he still held them up. Morag turned back to Sam, and then Alex. She stuck out a hand and waited. No one moved. After several awkward moments, Morag lowered her hand, and shrugged. “Anyway, I was serious when I said we’re going up the mountain with or without you.”