Chapter Thirty-eight
The son of a bitch had to be joking, Candy thought. No wonder he didn’t complain about dive-bombing the White House. She was taking him out of the country immediately. Fuck!
“Here.” She felt Mikhail’s arm press against hers. He handed her a scrap of paper with numbers written on it. “Follow these coordinates exactly.” Shit, shit, shit. She couldn’t do this. There had to be something she could do.
“You know, Mikhail,” she said, “even on the water the Coast Guards can arrest you.”
He laughed. “I know the rules as well as you, Army Lady. If a boat is flying a foreign flag in international waters, you won’t interfere to avoid a diplomatic mess with Russia.”
Dammit, she knew Mikhail was smart enough to pull something like this off. Think.
“Yeah, you got me there, Mikhail,” she said. “I had to try. How far out is the boat? We only have enough fuel to go so far.” International waters started about twelve miles out, so it wasn’t that far for the ship to be in neutral territory.
“We have fuel to get there. No worries.” He seemed too calm for the situation. Was that good or bad? She thought about bringing up Yulian, his dead brother. But that might piss him off enough to shoot her or her mate after they landed.
Passing over the open water, she gradually slowed their speed and kept a high altitude. She’d stay in radar range as long as she could. Not that it would do much good where they were going.
She glanced at Josh from the corner of her eye. He stared out the side window. She wondered what he was thinking. Did he have a plan? Formulating one? Did he have some animal skill that could help them? Unless he shifted into a kraken, too, she doubted there was much he could do.
The side of her head pounded. A bottle of aspirin sounded good right now. When was the last time she and Josh had eaten? Other than the finger foods from the caterer’s tray in her office, she’d had nothing since her late lunch.
“Mikhail,” she asked, “do you have the radio frequency for the ship? I’ll need to talk with them to land.”
“They know we are coming. You don’t need to talk to anyone.”
She wanted to stand in her seat and scream at the fool, but instead took a deep breath. “Mikhail, it is the middle of the night. There isn’t a damn thing to see except stars. If the ship is a little bit off the coordinates, they could be miles away and we’d never see them.”
“Just stay on the route,” was all he said.
At a loss for what to say or do, she’d just fly until something came along. At least Josh was with her. She wasn’t alone to die. Not that she wanted him to die with her. But he was a calming comfort to her erratic personality.
Up ahead, she saw something on the water. Lights. Well, damn. There is the ship, she thought. They hadn’t been in the air all that long. Too long to swim to shore, but easily within range to fly back.
Candy hovered high over the ship, looking for an open area. “Where do I land?” she asked.
“At the front of the boat,” he said.
She snorted. “Where? There isn’t a big enough space.”
“Yes, there is,” he replied.
“No, there’s not,” she came back. “I need at least thirty feet. The damn blades are that long.”
“I’ve seen it done before,” he ranted.
“On this ship, this space?” Candy asked.
“No, but—”
“Exactly,” she yelled, “it can’t be done.”
Mikhail put two pistols to Josh head. “Land. Now.”
“Goddammit,” Candy yelled. “I should crash this fucker into the ship’s bridge to teach you a lesson, asshole.” The weather devices on top of the bridge’s roof gave her wind direction. At least she knew that. Wind on her nose, she gauged the ship’s speed. Come in too fast, the rotors would slam into the metal shipping containers stacked against the front edge of the deck. Come in too slowly and they would miss the ship completely, crashing into the water.
She slowed the hover making sure the containers cleared the rotor diameter. Then descended farther. Immediately, the helicopter began to violently shake. Warning buzzers screeched. The copter rolled and pitched, threatening to crash.
“What’s happening?” Mikhail hollered.
“Exactly what I told you, moron,” she hollered back. The craft started to drop. “We’re in a vortex. Pulling out, now.” She increased lateral airspeed and banked to the side, pushing for altitude. White caps from waves appeared out the window. “Come on, baby,” she coaxed as the water came closer with every second. “You can do this.” The controls came back under her command, the alarms shut off, and she leveled out.
She was ready to throw up now. Check, please. Josh gripped the seat and door handle with white knuckles. “What’s a vortex?” Josh asked.
She answered: “Remember back when the SEALs went in after Bin Laden and one of the helos crashed inside the compound?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“The pilot probably got caught in what we call a vortex ring state. It’s when you try to land in your own downwash.”
“What’s downwash?” Josh asked.
Now was not the time for flight instruction. “Downwash is the air the rotors are pushing down to keep the helo hovering. When the air hits the ground, it bounces back up, messing with all the dynamics and rotors, causing the craft to rock and roll.”
“How did we not crash when the SEAL did?” Mikhail asked.
“I was able to increase speed and get out of it. The SEAL had high walls surrounding him. He had no options. He had to settle with power,” she explained.
“He what?” the Russian asked.
“He had to land extremely hard. Enough to damage the helo, obviously, since they abandoned it.”
“So,” Mikhail said, “try again.”
She fisted her hands. “Mikhail, did you not understand—”
“Yes, I’ve seen it done,” he replied. “Try again.”
Shit. He was going to get them killed. Now or later. She checked wind direction again and would try a different angle where the air didn’t bounce off the metal containers as much. Maybe that would help.
Hovering over the ship, she tried again. This time the ride was less rough and they landed with a thud.
“Now get out. We’re going to see your executioner.” Mikhail laughed.