"I knew it," Lance said. "Stone, you come with me. Dino, you join your people in Times Square."
"Okay," Dino said.
"And I want you to empty Times Square immediately."
"Jesus, I don't have the authority to do that," Dino said.
"Find somebody who does. Tell them that Billy Bob very probably has a suitcase containing thirty-six very powerful grenades and a rifle launcher. Are you getting the picture?"
"Holy shit," Dino said.
"Stone, let's get going."
Dino was calling for his own car as Stone and Lance ran for the garage.
When Stone had made the street, he turned to Lance. "Now, tell me what is going on."
"Billy Bob is headed for the top of that office tower," Lance said. "He's probably already there by now, and from the top of that building he can…"
"Threaten Times Square with the grenades," Stone said, completing his sentence. "It's what you predicted a while back."
"I meant it as an illustration, not a prediction," Lance said. "My people have Billy Bob's helicopter at the East Side Heliport, and his driver, too. That's got to be Billy Bob's way out. I seriously doubt if he has two choppers at his disposal.
"What's your plan?"
"Plan? I don't have a plan; no plan will work. All we can do is react to what Billy Bob does and try to predict his next move. Right now he's on top of a tall building with Arrington's child and all those grenades. As crazy as he may be, nothing so far has indicated that he's suicidal. He expects to get out of there, and how else but by helicopter?"
They turned into the heliport and abandoned Stone's car in some executive's parking space. Stone brought Billy Bob's radio. He followed Lance into the building, and they were waved into a back office by one of his people.
The helicopter pilot, dressed neatly in his uniform of black trousers and white shirt with epaulets was sitting in an office chair, surrounded by Lance's people. "I'm telling you that's all I know about it," he was saying.
"Tell me," Lance said.
"Are you in charge here?" the pilot demanded.
"Tell me, and do it now."
"This guy, Stanford, chartered our chopper; he's been our customer in the past. He said he wanted to run through some routines for a movie he's producing. I was to snatch the guy off a Little League baseball field on Randall's Island, then fly out to Montauk and back doing a lot of maneuvers. I did it, and that's all I know. I haven't even been permitted to call my office."
Lance nodded. "Has his helicopter been refueled?" he asked one of his people.
"Yes, sir," the man replied. He handed Lance a handheld radio. "This is what Billy Bob gave the pilot."
"I've got another one," Stone said, holding it up.
"Where's our equipment?" Lance asked his man.
"Van, outside."
"Get me the rifle and some loaded magazines."
"Yes, sir." The man left.
"What are we doing?" Stone asked.
"We're waiting for instructions," Lance replied.
"Instructions?"
"From Billy Bob."
The man came back with a large case and a box of magazines.
"Let's wait in the chopper," Lance said.
"Where are you going with my chopper?" the pilot asked.
"Wherever your client tells you to. You're still flying it."
"Who are you people?"
Lance shoved an ID wallet under his nose. "Read it carefully," he said.
"Okay, I got it."
"The man you call Stanford is an enemy of your country. We have to deal with him. You're the only person who can get us to him."
"All right," the man said. "Let's go."
Stone's cell phone vibrated. "Yes?"
"It's Dino. Tell Lance I got to the police commissioner, and he's given the order to close Times Square."
Stone relayed the information to Lance.
"Thank God for that," Lance said.
"Where are you, Dino?" Stone asked. Stone turned on the speakerphone.
"I'm in a subway entrance in the street below the building. There's a SWAT team ready to take that roof."
"Don't do it, Dino," Lance said. "If you try, Billy Bob is going to start lobbing grenades into Times Square, and you don't want that. Are you in touch with the commissioner?"
"He's on his way here, now; I can reach him by phone."
"Good. Tell him to keep police and television helicopters away from that building, too."
"Okay, but what are you going to do?"
"I'll let you know in a few minutes."
"Okay, Dino?" Stone asked.
"Yeah, I'll wait for word."
Stone hung up. "Why don't we get this chopper started and get over there?"
"Because we have to wait to be asked. If we show up without an invitation he'll regard us as hostile and start shooting."
"And why do you think we'll be invited?"
"How else is he going to get out of there?" Lance asked.
54
STONE SAT IN the left copilot's seat of the helicopter and looked back at Lance, who had contrived a harness and some straps to keep him in the back of the helicopter. He was checking over a heavy rifle with a telescopic sight. The pilot sat nervously in the right front seat, waiting for instructions.
Suddenly, the radio in Stone's hand came to life.
"Chopper One, this is Stanford."
Stone handed the radio to the pilot.
"Stanford, Chopper One," the pilot said.
"What's your location?"
"East Side Heliport."
"Are you refueled?"
"Yes, sir."
"Here are your instructions: Take off and fly down the river to Forty-second Street, then up Eighth Avenue to Forty-third, then down Forty-third to the Briggs Building. Do you know it?"
"Yes, sir, there's a heliport on top."
"Right. Set down there, and I'll get aboard with a passenger."
"What's our destination from there, sir?"
"I'll tell you when I'm aboard."
"Yes, sir, I'm on my way; starting engine now."
"See you shortly."
The pilot looked back at Lance.
"Let's go," Lance said. He was practicing opening the sliding passenger door on the pilot's side of the helicopter. "When you set down, I want this door pointing at Stanford," Lance said. "I don't care what the wind sock says, this door has to face him. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." The pilot started through his checklist and a moment later, they were lifting off the heliport.
Stone put on a headset so that he could talk with Lance and the pilot over the noise of the engine. The pilot plugged Billy Bob's handheld radio into a socket on his headset, so they could all hear it over the intercom.
The helicopter rose and turned toward the East River, gaining altitude rapidly. At a thousand feet the pilot headed down the river, and when he was abreast of Forty-second Street he turned right and followed it west across Manhattan. Stone had flown in helicopters before, but never in the cockpit, and he watched as the pilot maneuvered the chopper. For controls there was a stick and two rudder pedals, as on a conventional airplane, then there was a lever Stone knew was called the "collective," which, apparently, had something to do with the propeller on the tail cone. Stone's understanding was that it kept the chopper from spinning with the big rotors.
Stone looked back at Lance, who was on his feet, the big rifle slung over a shoulder, looking ready. "Lance?" he said.
"Yes?"
"You will remember that Billy Bob is handcuffed to Peter, won't you?"
Lance did not reply.
"Lance?"
"Shut up, and be ready to follow me out of the helicopter," Lance said.
"Any other instructions?" Stone asked.
"Yes, don't let Billy Bob shoot either one of us."
"Pilot," Lance said. "I want you to land very slowly, more slowly than you're accustomed to, understand?"
"Yes, sir," the pilot replied.
They were passing Times Square. Stone craned his neck and saw that the NYPD had emptied it of traffic, that the only vehicles in the streets were black-and-white cars. He was amazed to see how quickly this had happened, but he knew the department had a procedure for clearing Times Square, as part of its response to terrorist threats.