The Last Survivor (A Wilde/Chase Short Story) (7 page)

‘So that’s why we’re always out of ice cream!’ he replied, working through the gears to pick up speed. Ahead, the Taurus had been forced to brake hard at an intersection to avoid a car crossing its path, slewing almost sideways before Kroll could recover. He accelerated again, but the truck was already closing the gap.

Nina looked past the police car. ‘He’ll have to turn soon.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s running out of island!’

She pointed. Ahead of the Taurus was the elevated Franklin Delano Roosevelt Drive, which ran along the shore of the East River. A moment later, the flare of brake lights told them that Kroll had also seen the end of the road. The car rocked on its suspension as he vacillated between turning left or right before choosing the latter. It made an awkward, slithering turn around the corner to head south-west on the ground-level street running parallel to the raised freeway.

Eddie dropped down hard through the gears as he prepared to follow. ‘If he gets on the FDR, we’ll never catch him.’

‘He can’t, not from here,’ Nina replied. Her husband gave her a questioning glance. ‘He doesn’t know the city! The only place he can get directly on to the FDR is all the way down at the ferry terminal. If he tries to go around the ramps at the Brooklyn Bridge, he’s guaranteed to get stuck in traffic – even in a police car. And the odds are this is the first time he’s ever driven anywhere bigger than that little village in Argentina. He won’t have a clue what he’s doing.’

‘And we do?’ said Eddie as the truck approached the corner. ‘Hang on!’

He jammed on the brakes – and threw the vehicle around the ninety-degree turn.

Nina grabbed hold of the door handle to keep herself upright as they careered through the intersection. What cargo remained in the back was sent flying out of the still-open rear door, scattering across South Street in an explosion of produce. A couple of cars had made emergency stops as the police car skidded in front of them; one of them set off again, only to veer hurriedly into the other lane to avoid the delivery truck. Nina cringed as the car whipped past her window.

Eddie hauled on the steering wheel. The truck straightened out, lurching back upright. They were now heading south-west down South Street, the thick steel pillars supporting the FDR flicking past to their left. The stolen police car was visible ahead, and it was clear from its desperate swerves around other traffic that Nina was correct. The only vehicles available for driving lessons at the Enklave had been ex-military jeeps and lumbering trucks, and Kroll was finding that experience all but worthless for dealing with the busy roads of a megacity.

Nina cringed as their quarry barely avoided a head-on collision with a car coming the other way. ‘Oh my God! He’s going to kill someone!’

‘Hopefully just himself,’ Eddie replied, but he knew that if the chase continued, casualties would become increasingly likely. They were already approaching the Brooklyn Bridge, the knot of flyovers connecting the great span to both the FDR and Manhattan’s street grid coming up fast. ‘If he’s turning, he’ll have to do it soon—’

He didn’t. The Taurus continued straight on, its driver either unsure how to reach the freeway or unwilling to slow to make a turn. But its frantic slalom had already reduced its speed to a point where even the delivery truck was gaining. ‘If he’s not taking the bridge or the FDR,’ Eddie asked, ‘where can he get to from here?’

His wife was already checking her mental map of her home city. ‘If he turns right off this road, he’ll be heading into Downtown, and he sure as hell won’t get anywhere fast around Wall Street. If he keeps going, he’ll loop around to the Battery Park tunnel, but he won’t get far there either. The cops will be able to cut him off.’

‘We’ve got him, then!’ The gap kept closing as they raced under the bridge and continued towards Manhattan’s southern tip, whipping past the parked ice-cream trucks marking the entrance to the South Street Seaport.

‘He’s still got Natalia, though,’ Nina reminded him.

‘He can’t do anything to her as long as he’s driving. If she keeps her head down and I can force him to stop—’

He broke off with a stifled obscenity as the Taurus clipped the back quarter of another car. Kroll had misjudged the overtake, sending the police car slewing wide into the oncoming lane and knocking the recipient of the fender-bender into a spin.

Eddie braked hard to avoid the imminent collision. Nina’s seat belt caught her as she was thrown forward. He veered sharply to follow the stolen vehicle around the now-stationary car, missing it by inches. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped, straightening out. ‘That was too bloody close.’

Nina pushed herself back into her seat – to see Kroll making another hard turn, but in an unexpected direction. He swung left, throwing the Taurus over a kerb with a shower of sparks from the car’s underside. It barely missed one of the FDR’s supports as the Nazi angled across a pedestrianised zone underneath the expressway, skidding on to the East River Bikeway along the edge of the waterfront.

Eddie tried to make the turn after him, but the truck’s greater momentum carried it directly towards the steel pillar, and a structure beyond left him with no way to follow. He hurriedly spun the wheel the other way. ‘Shit,’ he muttered, swinging back on to the street. ‘If he doubles back, I’ll never be able to turn this thing around fast enough to catch up!’

Nina watched the speeding police car, glimpsing Kroll’s silhouette at the wheel as he raced along the riverside. Startled pedestrians leapt out of his way, a cyclist crashing into the railings as he tried to avoid the onrushing vehicle. ‘I don’t think he’s got enough room to turn. He’s still going straight on.’

‘Where’ll he end up?’

‘He’ll be able to get on to the FDR before it goes into the tunnel, but there’s also the ferry terminal, Pier 11 – the heliport!’ she cried as she remembered what lay ahead. ‘If he gets to a helicopter …’

She didn’t need to say any more. Eddie dropped down a gear and accelerated, blasting the horn to encourage other drivers to clear out of his path. ‘He’s not getting away,’ he said coldly.

They flashed past the Wall Street ferry terminal. Kroll was still ahead of them, running parallel on the far side of the FDR. ‘Get across there, there!’ Nina said, pointing. Coming up fast was one of the expressway’s off-ramps, cars cutting under the elevated road to emerge on South Street, but just before it was another, smaller exit, this from the Bikeway. ‘Run over the bike lanes and we can get right behind him!’

‘Yeah, if we don’t run over a bike!’ Eddie blasted the horn again as he swung the truck across the other lane towards the little intersection. A car that had just emerged from the off-ramp screeched to an emergency stop moments before a collision. More cyclists scattered as the truck bounded over the kerb and charged across the paved area beneath the expressway, emerging in daylight on the other side. He made another hard turn to bring the delivery vehicle on to the pedestrian walkway, swinging around a line of shrubs in concrete planters to follow the police car along the water’s edge.

The heliport was directly ahead. An L-shaped pier extended into the East River, over a dozen landing pads marked on it. Several were currently in use, brightly painted helicopters coming and going in an almost constant stream as they took tourists on aerial tours of the city.

‘He’s definitely heading for the heliport,’ Nina confirmed. The Bikeway ran alongside the FDR as the freeway dropped down towards the entrance to the Battery Park tunnel, only open pavement separating them at ground level, but Kroll was sticking to the riverside rather than swerving right to get on to the road.

‘We’re not gonna catch him!’ Eddie warned. The police car’s brake lights flared again, Kroll hurling his vehicle sharply through the entrance to the heliport’s parking lot.

The Nazi might have been inexperienced, but he was also apparently a fast learner, managing to control the skid as he made the turn. A metal gate beside the terminal building restricted access to the pier – but it burst open as the Taurus smashed into it and continued on towards the helipads.

Unable to make the tight turn into the parking lot, the truck instead slithered to a tyre-smoking stop at the entrance. Eddie jumped out and sprinted after the stolen car. ‘Eddie, wait!’ Nina yelled as she fumbled with her seat belt, but he was already gone. Cursing, she scrambled out after him.

A red, white and blue helicopter on a pad halfway down the pier was unloading one group of passengers as it prepared to take on another. Kroll aimed the police car straight for it. The waiting tourists and their ground-crew escort stared in confusion and disbelief as the Taurus charged at them, finally fleeing as he slewed to a stop less than ten feet from the chopper.

The Nazi leapt out, gun in hand. He yanked open the rear door, about to drag Natalia with him, but then saw Eddie clear the terminal building. He spat a German curse, firing a single wild shot that forced the Englishman to duck and swerve, then rushed to the helicopter. It was a Bell LongRanger, a stretched version of the ubiquitous Jet Ranger, with an extra row of seats in its cabin. The port-side hatch to the passenger compartment was still open. Kroll scrambled inside, pulling the door shut.

The startled pilot looked back at his unscheduled passenger. ‘Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on?’ he demanded in a nasal Bronx accent.

Kroll glanced back outside. Eddie was still running towards the helicopter, Nina rounding the terminal behind him. Another muttered obscenity, then the Nazi turned to shout at the pilot: ‘Take off! Take off now!’

‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere—’

‘
Fly!
’ The high seat backs made it impossible for anyone in the passenger compartment to climb forward, but there was still enough of a gap between the headrests for the Nazi to reach through and jam the muzzle of his gun against the pilot’s temple.

‘Uh, okay, we’re movin’.’ Face filled with fear, the pilot twisted the throttle to full and pulled up the collective control lever. The LongRanger squirmed with the sudden increase in power, then left the pad.

Eddie raced towards the helicopter as it took to the air, squinting into the rotor’s gritty downdraught. Twenty feet away, ten, but it was six feet up and climbing fast. A glimpse of Natalia in the back of the police car as he passed told him that she was frightened but apparently unharmed, though there was no time to check on her. ‘Eddie,
stop
!’ Nina cried behind him, but to no avail.

He threw himself at the aircraft, arms outstretched—

One hand caught the rear tip of the port-side landing skid as the LongRanger banked away. His shoulder crackled as it took his full weight. He grunted, swinging beneath the fuselage.

The edge of the pier whipped past below him, the surface of the East River rapidly receding as the chopper gained height. Already thinking he had made a huge mistake, Eddie kicked and twisted, trying to bring up his other arm to get a hold on the skid.

The pilot let out a yelp as the cabin rocked, hurriedly adjusting the controls to compensate. ‘What was that?’ demanded Kroll.

‘I think someone just grabbed on to us!’ was the disbelieving reply.

Kroll looked back at the heliport, seeing Nina staring helplessly after the departing aircraft – alone. ‘
Der Engländer!
’ he snarled, darting to the side of the cabin and looking down through the window. For a moment he saw nothing … then a figure in a black leather jacket swung into view, dangling from the end of the skid.

The Nazi stared angrily at him, then pushed open the sliding panel set into the Perspex rear window. Wind and rotor noise roared into the cabin. He ignored it, slipping his gun through the little opening and taking aim.

Eddie strained to grasp the skid with his other hand, but couldn’t quite reach. The pounding rotor downwash, reeking of hot aviation fuel, made it far more of an effort than he’d expected. Straining to the limit, he bent his other arm to lift himself a few inches higher and snatched at it again. This time his fingertips brushed the metal, but still he wasn’t able to hook his fingers over the landing gear. ‘Come
on
!’ he gasped, making a final, frantic effort to raise himself further …

His hand clapped down on top of the skid. Another gasp, this time of relief, and he shifted to spread his weight between both shoulders.

He faced forward, bringing up his legs and swinging to hook his ankles over the tubular spar. Pulling himself up, he looked at the cabin door—

And saw the USP pointing at him.

‘Shit!’ he gasped, jerking his feet off the skid and dropping back down to present a smaller target – as Kroll fired.

The bullet whipped past the Yorkshireman’s left arm. The Nazi pulled the trigger again as Eddie swung backwards from the skid’s tail, this round searing past just inches from his chest. The river reeled below him. He looked back up, knowing he was completely helpless …

The third shot didn’t come. Instead, Kroll glowered at him before withdrawing the gun. Eddie realised that the Nazi was down to his last round; unable to look directly down his gun’s sights, and with the blast of the rotor wash throwing off his aim, he didn’t want to waste it.

But the Englishman knew he was far from safe. Kroll retreated slightly, then opened the door. The Nazi pushed it wider with one knee and leaned out, gripping a strap on the cabin wall with his left hand. His right was still holding the gun. He looked down the sights, pointing it straight at Eddie’s head—

The helicopter made a sharp roll to port.

Eddie was sent swinging beneath the skid by the sudden movement – but Kroll was almost pitched out of the cabin, only his grip on the strap keeping him from a long fall. Expression flicking from malevolence to shocked panic in an instant, he scrabbled to brace himself.

The door swung wide, a loud crack of breaking metal coming from the hinges as it hit the limit of its travel. The noise from beside his head made Kroll flinch. He pushed himself back into the cabin, fury returning as he rounded on the pilot.

The Englishman was little better inclined towards the man, even if he had just saved his life. In trying to tip his unwelcome passenger out of the helicopter, the pilot had almost thrown the stowaway after him. Eddie flexed his fingers, managing to re-secure his hold on the skid.