Chapter Twenty-eight

Bea rose up fast, then back down. "It looks like an old Sikorsky. Real old, from back in the forties."

Elizabeth's knuckles were white on the chicken stick. Rome was looking calm, the idiot.

The helicopter flew past them and turned back again, lower now, not more than twenty feet above them, shuddering even louder.

Rome jerked the Rubicon to a stop, shouted, "Now!"

Lyons and King pushed open the rear doors and rose as one, opened fire with their MP-5s, Bea at the helicopter pilot and Royce at the shooter.

King shouted, "Got him!"

Rome ran to the burning helicopter and pulled the pilot out and away from the fuselage as Lyons and King ran to the man sprawled on his back in the pasture. Elizabeth knew both men were dead; they had to be. No way the pilot could have survived the crash. She moved closer even though she didn't want to. She knew she had to. She was a part of this; she was the reason the two men were dead. She looked down at them—both were young and looked Middle Eastern. They carried no ID.

And Elizabeth laughed. It was shaky, but still a laugh.

Royce said, "If they're local talent, we should be able to identify them, unless it's new imported talent not on the watch lists."

Rome walked around the smoldering Sikorsky. "I wonder where they got hold of this relic."

Rome said, "I'm thinking a museum or private collection."

Royce said, "There can't be all that many of them around. I bet whoever let them fly this prized baby will be royally pissed."

Bea said, "He'll know soon enough when these two don't return. By the time we find him, he'll know we're coming."

Savich punched off his cell and clicked on one of the photos on the laptop. "Dr. Killigan says it's this one, the YR-4A, the original prototype. Only three of them were built before they improved them, to keep the blades rotating in a stable plane and stop the control stick from shaking like a jackhammer. After Dr. Igor Sikorsky demonstrated his namesake in 1940, the Army Air Force, the Coast Guard, and the Royal Air Force ordered a hundred thirty-one of the updated model. One of these updated Sikorskys is on display at the Smithsonian. Killigan doesn't know what became of the three originals, but like us, he believes they're likely in the possession of collectors, if they survived."

"We'll find out, I promise you," Savich said.

"How long do you think we can keep this quiet, Dillon?" Sherlock asked.

"There were no bystanders with cell phones, so who knows? Our team is out there, loading the parts onto a flatbed truck to haul it to Andrews. Would one of them talk?"

Ruth said, "It is a fascinating story, so we probably won't keep it quiet for long."

Sherlock said, "A wealthy Syrian? Whatever would a wealthy Syrian want with Elizabeth? What can it mean?"

Elizabeth said, "I wonder if he'll give something away when he sees me."