Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson (12 page)

I double-parked, and we headed for the
trailer promising helicopter tours of the Big Apple. I took the
lead, Kirk hobbling behind me with Julie at his side. Still no sign
of the Iranians.

The inside of the trailer was about as posh
as the outside. Indoor/outdoor carpet, particle board furniture,
and the smell of well-aged cigarette smoke from before the recent
indoor smoking ban gave the place an ambiance all its own. At least
it was clean.

“Can I help you?”

The young woman behind the counter peered
over her glasses at us. The evening sun streamed through the window
and reflected off the diamond stud in her right nostril.

“We need to take a helicopter.”

“I’m afraid there’s a couple going up right
now. We prefer you make reservations, but I have some paperwork
here that—”

I met Kirk’s eyes, and we brushed past the
desk and made for the door leading out to the helipad.

“Wait! You can’t—”

But we could, and we did.

Leaving the woman yelling empty threats in
our wake, we reached a blue helicopter—a single engine
EC120—emblazoned with the tour company’s logo. Smaller than the
corporate craft used by Hawk Nose, this bird offered only one
compartment, forcing the pilot and the passengers to cram together
in the tiny space. The pilot stood with his back to us, instructing
an older, well-dressed couple in how to fasten their harnesses.

“I’m sorry, but you won’t be sightseeing
today,” I told them.

The tourist couple stared at me as if I was
speaking another language. The pilot frowned.

“Who are you?”

“Homeland Security. We’re commandeering this
aircraft. Now I need you to get out and return to the trailer
immediately. Oh, and keep your heads down.”

The pilot shook his head. “Can I see some
sort of ID?”

Overhead I could hear the
whomp, whomp,
whomp
of chopper blades in the far off distance, the sound
bouncing off buildings. I could only hope it was another tour
coming in to land, but I had a bad feeling I was just fooling
myself.

I pulled out the Ruger. “The helicopter. We
need it. Now.”

The pilot backed away from the door. The
couple scrambled, almost tripping over each other to get out. Some
part of me registered that this was the third mode of
transportation I’d stolen in the last hour.

I nodded to Julie and Kirk. “Hurry.”

Julie looked as if she’d rather do just about
anything but go on another helicopter ride, but she stepped up into
the tiny craft anyway.

Behind Kirk, the pilot turned around, and I
caught a gleam in his eye, that little surge of adrenaline people
felt just before they were about to do something very stupid.

I opened my mouth to shout a warning.

I needn’t have bothered.

Kirk twisted at the waist, throwing his body
weight into a well-aimed punch.

The pilot crumpled onto the concrete.

“Nice,” I said.

He cocked his head and shot me a half smile.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter. Wait ‘til I show you my real
talents.”

Still no Iranians, but in the distance I saw
a chopper heading toward us, still too far to tell if it was Hawk
Nose, or just a tourist craft.

I climbed into the pilot’s seat, Kirk
slipping into the seat next to Julie.

Moving fast, I familiarized myself with the
interior: collective control stick, cyclic control stick, rudder
pedals, RPM gauge, altimeter, airspeed indicator, manifold pressure
gauge, vertical speed indicator, fuel gauge, oil pressure and temp,
cylinder head temp.

Then, Kirk: “Above us!”

I was just reaching for the ignition when a
round crashed through the upper windshield and dug into the main
instrument panel. More bullets peppered the fuselage. I dropped to
the floor.

Apparently Hawk Nose had realized Julie’s
corpse was nearly as valuable as taking her alive.

Shitastic.

Julie hunched forward. “Oh my God. Oh my
God.”

“Are you hit?” Kirk yelled at Julie.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

“They’re shooting at us,” Julie screamed over
the noise.

“But are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

“No crying.”

Another full magazine of automatic weapon
fire punched through the roof, pinging off the metal floor. While
the layered construction of the hull and windshield was made to
withstand the occasional run in with a seagull or even a goose, it
couldn’t hold up to bullets. And I couldn’t risk lifting off,
provided the instrument panel was even operational at this
point.

“We have to evacuate. Find cover.”

I swung the doors on both sides of the
cockpit open.

The roar of another engine caught my
attention, then the shuddering clang of steel.

I had hesitated at running through the fence.
The Iranians hadn’t. The green SUV screeched to a stop less than
twenty yards away, between us and our yellow cab.

“The river.” Kirk gave me a look. “Can you
keep them busy?”

I nodded, fitting the Ruger into my hands,
wishing I had a rifle. “Move.”

Kirk and Julie scrambled out of the cockpit
and crouched on the helicopter’s off side. I climbed out as well,
kneeling low, trying to gain as much cover as I could.

I gave Kirk a look, then squeezed off several
rounds, first targeting the helicopter, which was too high to hit,
and then the Iranians’ SUV.

Bullets flew, from the ground, from the air,
until it was impossible to tell who was shooting who, the only
thing I was sure of was that Julie and Kirk had made it off the
edge of the platform and into the river.

I didn’t think I would be so lucky.

The chopper lifted higher, flying out of
range of my .380.

Something moved in my peripheral vision.

I swung the pistol back in time to see one of
the Iranians advancing along the concrete pad that jutted into the
water, just ten feet away.

He wasn’t out of my range. I put a round in
his throat.

The Persian went down, made a few twitching
movements, and then lay still, his rifle still slung across his
shoulder.

A gift.

Firing off my last few rounds, I scooted
toward the man I’d just killed. I yanked the rifle—a Madsen
LAR—over his head and tugged the strap free of his heavy body.

The weapon was hot to the touch, and by my
mental count he’d used about half of his thirty round AK magazine.
I squeezed off a burst of three at the SUV.

No one returned fire, but I could see
movement.

The beat of the blades crescendoed, coming in
for another assault.

I couldn’t hold off the chopper and the SUV,
not without more ammunition, and in a few more seconds, my chance
to make a break would be gone.

I fired another three rounds, then made my
dash for the river.

My feet slapped pavement, trying to get
traction, adrenaline humming in my ears.

Five steps to go.

Four.

Three.

A gust of wind hit me, sending my Yankees cap
flying, knocking me to my knees.

The purple helicopter dropped in front of me,
hovering, cutting me off.

I propped myself up, raised the rifle, took
aim, fired.

My first shot cracked the windshield. My
second missed entirely.

The chopper turned to the side. The passenger
compartment door gaped open, my old buddy Hawk Nose raising his
rifle, putting me in his sites.

I squeezed the trigger and held it, giving
him everything I had left.

But I didn’t aim for Hawk Nose.

I aimed for the back rotor, and I hit it
square.

The helicopter whirled around, spinning,
spinning. It veered to the side, smacked into the far side of the
platform, crumpling like an angry god squeezed it in his fist.
Flames began to curl out from the engines.

Tires screeched, drawing my attention. It was
the SUV.

The last Iranian was driving away, fleeing
the scene.

But why?

I scrambled to my feet, dropping the useless
rifle and heading for the water’s edge. The helicopter exploded in
a brilliant fireball, heated air and the smell of burning fuel
washing over me.

Adios, Hawk Nose. Maybe you’ll luck out and
they’ll have donkey porn in hell.

I spotted Julie and Kirk twenty meters away,
hovering on the edge of the platform, clinging to the concrete
pilings that anchored the pier-like helipad to the river floor.

My purse vibrated, and I slapped my cell to
my face.

I traded codes with Jacob. It was a miracle I
could remember the appropriate response.

“Chandler, I’m watching via satellite feed.
They’re coming.”

“Who?”

“The DoD. They’re treating you as
hostiles.”

“How soon?”

“Now. Get out of there.”

“Nice shot,” Kirk said, peering up from the
water as I approached.

The river smelled, of fish, of rot, of
petroleum and garbage. The air smelled of smoke. Something moved at
the base of the pilings, and I had a creeping feeling it was
probably rats.

“We need to go.”

“We can swim downriver, steal a boat or a
car.”

“Let’s do it.” I squatted, preparing to slip
into the water, and squinted past Kirk. “Ready, Julie?”

“I … I can’t.” Julie stared into the darkness
under the platform.

“Don’t think about them,” I said. “Rats won’t
hurt you if you don’t hurt them.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Her voice was soaked
in tears, and I glanced at Kirk, waiting for him to warn her not to
cry.

Kirk was facing the same direction as Julie,
but they weren’t staring at the rats. They were staring at the red
blooming all along Julie’s arm and streaming into the water.

A hum rose in my ears. Bright motes swirled
in front of my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throw up or
cry.

Kirk was the first to recover. “Get out of
the water. Now.”

He grabbed Julie by the arm and dragged her
around the helipad and up the shore.

I pushed all thought, all feeling into the
back of my mind and forced myself to follow, my body relying on
training and muscle memory to function.

We ran for the closest trailer. The door was
locked, so I broke it down. Once inside, I pulled off Kirk’s button
down, wrung it out and handed it to him. We moved quickly and
without talking, him wrapping the cut on Julie’s arm, me checking
the trailer’s perimeter.

The hum in my ears gave way to a beating
sound, more helicopters, two of them, black this time. Four
matching SUVs roared through the broken gate and rimmed the
perimeter of the heliport, reflecting light from the burning
chopper like dark mirrors. Soldiers wearing black CBRN suits
deployed from the vehicles, assault rifles at the ready. They moved
from trailer to trailer, clearing each, approaching ours.

I knew what was coming but had no ideas of
how to stop it. I had no gun. Even if I did, shooting was risky. Of
course, they would have to choose their targets carefully. Julie
was too valuable to harm.

Unfortunately, I doubted Kirk and I would
come out of this alive.

But then, we already knew that.

I met Kirk’s gaze, pressing my lips into a
bitter smile.

He lowered one lid in a wink. “I only wish
we’d taken time for that kiss.”

I did, too. I had just opened my mouth to say
so when a window shattered, and I heard the hiss.

An incapacitating agent.

Yeah, that’s what I would have done.

I started to feel the effects before I
realized I’d taken a breath.

“
As an operative, you must learn to live
in the moment,” The Instructor said. “Not just while carrying out
an assignment, but in every aspect of your life. There’s no point
in putting things off when the future may never come.”

When I woke, I expected to be bound.

Scratch that—I expected to be dead.

I was wrong on both counts.

Beyond that, my thoughts were scrambled.
Images drifted through my mind in snips and snatches. Fire. Water.
Subways and helicopters.

Blood.

Swirling blood.

I forced my eyes open, pushed back the
confusion long enough to concentrate on my surroundings. I was
lying in bed, wearing a flimsy hospital gown and nothing underneath
but heart monitor pads stuck to my chest. An IV tube snaked from my
hand and led to a bag hanging from an adjustable metal pole
attached to the bed frame. Cloth tape held a square of gauze to the
outside of my left upper arm.

My skin felt hot, my stomach uneasy. I could
smell river water and rubbing alcohol and the dusty scent of
concrete. The area looked like a hospital room, white floors,
blank, white walls, but there were no windows.

And I was not alone.

As soon as I saw Jonathan Kirk, I knew who he
was, but it took a little longer to remember why we were here.

The river. Jacob’s warning. The cut on
Julie’s arm.

He was in a bed hooked to monitors, same as
me.

I wondered where they’d put Julie. Wondered
how long we had to live. I watched Kirk in silence until his
eyelids fluttered.

“Hey,” I said.

He opened his eyes fully and frowned at me,
obviously as confused as I had been.

I sat up on my stretcher. A little dizzy at
first, I planted elbows on knees and cradled my head in my
hands.

“I think we’re in some kind of lab.”

A minute or two passed, and I could see the
thoughts shifting around in his mind, just as they had in mine.
Finally Kirk sat up and glanced around the room.

“Plum Island.”

“You’ve been here before?”

He shook his head. “Just a guess.”

“Probably a good one.”

He swung off the side of the bed, slid onto
his feet, and grimaced.

“Damn leg.”

Bandages wrapped his gunshot wound, ankle to
knee.