Chapter 10: Forty Feet Up

The ticking stopped for a moment, and started again, faster.

I put my hand flat on the panel by my knee.

It was warm.

"Bram," I said into the headset. "Land now."

"What?"

"Put it down. Anywhere. There's a bomb behind this panel."

He looked at me, and then at the pilot.

The pilot's smile had not changed.

"Ma'am, there's nothing wrong with the aircraft," he said.

"Then you won't mind landing."

"We'll be at the lake in forty minutes."

"We won't," I said.

I had only a moment to decide whether to trust the man beside me.

I decided, and I unbuckled my harness.

The pilot saw it and reached for the stick to bank us away from the city.

I hit him once, at the side of the neck, with the edge of my hand.

His head lolled and he sagged against his straps.

"Jesus Christ," said Bram.

"Do you fly?"

"I have a license."

"Then take the stick. The container yard on the east pier. Two hundred yards of flat steel. Go."

He didn't ask again.

He reached across the unconscious pilot and took the controls, and the helicopter shuddered and tipped.

Below us the grey harbor swung up toward the windshield.

"Forty feet," Bram said through his teeth. "Thirty."

The ticking was a thin, high chatter now.

I had maybe a minute, maybe less.

"Faster."

"I'm trying not to kill us."

"Kill us a little faster."

The skids hit the top of a stack of containers, bounced, and hit again.

Bram killed the engine and the rotors began to slow.

I had the pilot's belt off before they stopped.

I got an arm under his shoulders and dragged him out of the door onto the steel roof of the container.

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