29
IN THE HELICOPTER OVER VIRGINIA
Elena kept her Walther pressed against Liam’s side. She was quiet, her mouth seamed, and Liam thought she was probably thinking about Jacobson’s perfect-ten swan dive to the road at the feet of those two FBI agents. All in all, in his opinion, it was a satisfying ending for the bully.
Liam turned to her, gave her a white-toothed smile. “Our little vacation in the forest didn’t turn out the way you planned, but hey, it had its moments. We’re finally going to see the big boss?”
“Shut up.” She pressed the gun harder against his side.
He continued to smile. No way would she shoot him, she’d already made that clear. And that made her vulnerable. Quick as a snake, he twisted the gun barrel away from him, grabbed the back of her head with one hand, and pressed the thumb and forefingers of his other hand under both sides of her chin, squeezing fast and hard upward to pinch off her carotid arteries until she sagged against him, unconscious. “Like squeezing a garden hose,” he whispered against her temple. “I’m glad you knew enough not to pull the trigger.” He kissed her temple. “You owe me, sweetheart. If I’d held you longer, you’d be dead, but I don’t want you dead.”
The pilot twisted in his seat, yelled, “Hey! What’s going on back there? What did you do to Elena?” The helicopter banked, then righted again.
Liam saw him fumbling with a box on the seat next to him. He turned his headset microphone on so the pilot could hear him. “No, mate, don’t go for a gun. There’s nothing to worry about. She’s not dead, only taking a little nap. I didn’t want any more trouble from her, and you know women—” He laughed, picked up the Walther from the floor, checked the magazine was full. Excellent. He said, “I’ve got the gun, but you have no worries as long as you keep flying us where we’re supposed to go.”
“But why’d you do that, Manta Ray? You didn’t have to; she wasn’t going to hurt you.”
He wasn’t Manta Ray now. No, he was Liam, Liam Hennessey. He smiled widely, showing a gold back tooth. For the first time since he was shot, he was in control again. He was flush with pleasure. If he played his cards right, he’d soon be richer than his poor dead partner, Cass, God rest his soul.
Showtime.
He eyed the back of the pilot’s head, brought his Irish to full power, falling into the cadence. “Well, laddie, first thing for you to remember is my name is Liam Hennessey. You can call me Liam. I’ll admit it: Elena’s good, but I’m better. And to be honest, I knew she couldn’t shoot me. If I die, her boss’s grand schemes go to the grave with me.” He lifted the Walther so the pilot could see it.
“Look, mate, I know the lay of the land, probably better than you do. Let’s have ourselves a fine chat.”
“All they told me is your name’s Manta Ray, but who are you?”
I’m your worst nightmare. Liam smiled, gently pressed the Walther to the back of the pilot’s neck. He froze. Liam rubbed the muzzle back and forth across his neck. “Don’t make me remind you again, mate. I’m not Manta Ray, I’m Liam. And I am the most important man in the world to the boss.” He lowered the Walther. “What’s your name?”
“Ralph, Ralph Henley. I didn’t know you were a mick. Listen, don’t kill Elena, the boss would go nuts, shoot all of us. They’re lovers, for years now, common knowledge.”
“Yeah, I know all about her,” Liam said without hesitation. “She’s his enforcer and bodyguard and his bedmate.”
Henley eyed him, still afraid and uncertain, but at least the crazy bastard wasn’t still rubbing the gun against his neck. He had to know if Ralph crashed, he’d die, too. He met Liam’s eyes, slowly nodded.
Good, he was starting to accept that Liam was in the know. “You can consider me more like his partner, but I’d be a fool to trust the boss, you know? And she’d take his side. Like you said, they’re close and I have to keep the upper hand if I want to stay alive. If I hadn’t put her down, the boss would have held all the cards, ended up killing me, burying me deep. Now, I’ve got a pretty fair chance.”
It was fine with him that Ralph was afraid of him, still eyeing him like he was a terrorist. Fear was a great motivator.
Liam knew when to stop pushing, when to let things settle. He sat back and contemplated the unconscious Elena. He had only a couple of minutes before her blood pressure booted up and she came back, maybe woozy for a bit, but mad as hell, ready to fight him. Unlike Jacobson, he wasn’t about to underestimate her. He looked for something to tie her up, but he didn’t see anything. He pulled a toolbox from under the seat and found mankind’s savior—duct tape. He wrapped it around her wrists, her thighs, and her ankles. Then he wrapped her arms to her chest and fastened the tape around the arm of one of the front seats. It kept her forward and steady, and if she twitched, he’d know it.
He smiled, waved at the pilot. “This is only a precaution. She’s all right, don’t worry. I liked your maneuver back there at the road, that was real impressive. You landed easy, held steady enough to give Jacobson his shot at the agents. Then you rose straight up, nice and smooth and fast. It was well done. Not your fault the big man got shot.”
Henley licked his lips, knowing he could be in bad trouble, helping these people escape the cops. He’d seen a man die a horrible death, but still he couldn’t help himself. He preened, and Liam saw it, added, “Tell me how you learned to do that.”
Henley shrugged, tried to look modest. “It wasn’t hard. Any trained pilot could have done it. I was told to be fast in and out, then fly back to the boss’s place.”
Where is that?
Liam said, “I guess you’ve worked for the boss for a long time?”
“I’m his pilot whenever he’s in the U.S.”
“And when he’s not, what do you do?”
Liam saw Henley’s eyes narrow. He’d taken a wrong step. He said quickly, “Well, of course you fly some bigwigs around.” Still, he looked uncertain. Liam laughed. “Do you ever get to fly to New York? That’s my kind of town, lots of gorgeous broads, any kind of action you want.”
Henley’s eyes flickered, his brow smoothed out, and he shrugged. “Yeah, you know how it is. They pay me well, tips under the table, so who cares if I can’t understand them?”
Understand them? “I can’t, either. Pisses me off.”
Henley looked back at him, shrugged again. “Who wants to learn Russian?”
The boss was Russian? “I’m with you on that.”
Elena groaned, jerked awake. He leaned forward, stroked her hair. “Shush now, girl, you’re okay, I had to close you down for a bit. Don’t move now or I’ll have to do it again.” He leaned closer, whispered in her ear, “Next time I might not pull back quick enough, kill you flat-out. So hold still and don’t feel bad I got you. Fact is, you couldn’t shoot me, now could you? Might kill me, and then what would the boss have to say to you? And that gave me my chance.”
She whispered, “Get this duct tape off me.”
“I don’t think so, lass. My mum didn’t raise a stupid git.”
“What are you saying to her? Are you threatening her?”
“No, Ralph, no threats. Elena’s getting her brains unscrambled, wanted to know what happened. She’s going to be nice and quiet for the rest of our flight.”
Still, Henley turned in his seat. “Ms. Orlov, are you all right?”
Elena Orlov? She was Russian, too? Here he’d thought she had some Mexican blood in her. But she didn’t have an accent, and Liam had a good ear for accents. He kissed her cheek. “Make Ralph happy, love, reassure him, and then shut up.”
She cleared her throat and yelled up at him, “Don’t worry, Ralph, I’m good.”
“Yes, she is, Ralph.” Liam leaned close to her face. “Play nice or I’ll throw you out of the helicopter and have Ralph fly me to wherever I choose to go. It’s your boss who loses out.”
She met his eyes. He saw she believed him.
He said into his headset microphone, “Hey, Ralph, they always speak Russian around you? But you’re their pilot.”
Henley was shaking his head as he slowly banked left. “They always ask for me, they don’t trust their own sisters.”
Liam nodded. “But the boss is going to stay awhile. He’s got our big deal going down.”
“Whatever you’re doing with him must be big-time, maybe big enough to get him back cozy again with Putin.”
“It goes up that high? How do you know? I thought they only spoke Russian in front of you?”
“Well, his houseboy said something to me before Abram came out and told him to mind his own.”
“Abram’s one tough cookie.”
“Yeah, the boss listens to him, lets him run both his houses, on the Potomac and in Washington.”
“Yeah, right,” Liam said, nodding. “What did the houseboy say before Abram shut him down?”
“Only that something big was cooking. And then last month, Petrov had me fly him to New York, to the United Nations. He was feeling really pleased with himself, even drank some champagne. He said something about being more important than any of those idiots at the embassy.”
The Russian embassy? Liam said, “It’s not like he’s one of them. He’s got his own agenda.”
“That’s the truth.” Henley cut the helicopter down through the clouds, and rural Virginia sprawled out below them, the pastures, trees, and towns south of the maze of highways. They flew northward over bedroom communities, until the jumble of highways spiraled out like spokes on a wheel, all the roads leading to Rome. He said, “You ever been to Petrov’s place on the Potomac?”
“No,” Liam said, “but I figured I’d see it sooner or later. That’s where we’re going?”
“Yes. It’s nice and private, right on the water, and it’s only a short flight from D.C. He wants something from you, right?”
“Oh yeah, he wants something,” Liam said.
“What?”
“Maybe he wants me to make him Putin’s best friend,” Liam said.