Chapter 86

CHAPTER 86

“ AUGUSTE! MARGARET! ”

Poe kept Marple pressed behind him and peeked out around the edge of the cargo container. He saw Holmes bolting down the metal staircase two steps at a time, his hands barely touching the railing. The SWAT team was still circulating upstairs on the catwalk. Quinn held up his walkie. “What’s going on up there?”

“All clear,” came the reply. “Nobody home.”

Poe saw Holmes come around the side of the cargo container, eyes wide, forehead glistening with sweat. “I know who the next victim is!” Holmes whispered hoarsely. “We need to get to Delaware! Now! ”

Marple grabbed his arm. “Your mother?”

Poe stared at Holmes for a second, then made an executive decision. “Follow me!” He led the way to the loading dock at the rear of the building, where one of the massive doors had been forced open. Poe and his partners were now blocked from the main group by the cargo container. “Keep going!” said Poe. “Trust me!”

It was a five-foot drop from the loading dock to the ground. Poe jumped first. Marple next. Then Holmes. Poe led the way around the corner of the warehouse. For a second, he stopped and looked both ways. Then he stared into the middle distance.

There it was.

A concrete platform with an NYPD Bell 206 helicopter sitting on it.

No guards. No pilot.

Holmes was at his side, gripping his shoulder. “Can you fly it?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” said Poe. In his head, he was a lot less confident. He hoped Bell hadn’t updated the controls too radically. He hoped his muscle memory was intact. It had been fifteen years since his last sortie.

Poe shook off his nerves and sprinted toward the platform. He could hear Holmes and Marple right behind him. He vaulted onto the pad and climbed into the right forward seat. The chopper was out of the sight line of most of the assault force, but Poe knew that would only buy him a minute. Maybe less. He strapped in.

Holmes settled into the left-hand seat. Marple slipped onto a cramped bench behind her partners. Poe flicked the battery switch. The cockpit filled with a chorus of loud beeps. The controls lit up. “Full disclosure,” Poe called out above the noise. “I’m skipping some steps here.”

He rolled the throttle to idle and started the engine. The blades started to spin overhead, first in a lazy circle, then in an increasingly fast blur. He looked back toward the staging area. A few officers were paying attention. Some were pointing in his direction.

“Why aren’t we moving?” shouted Holmes as the engine built to a loud whine.

“It’s not an Uber,” Poe shouted back. “It takes a minute.”

His eyes darted across the gauges. He ran through a rudimentary preflight checklist. Generator switch. Hydraulics. Pedal resistance. Altimeter. Fuel level. Good enough. Jesus. He would have been kicked out of flight school for this.

He rolled the throttle to the fly position.

He turned to see a few cops moving in the direction of the pad. He saw arms waving and mouths moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the engine. He clamped his headphones on and signaled Holmes and Marple to do the same. He looked back to make sure the tail rotor was clear. He checked the gauges again. All green. Now or never. He pulled back gently on the stick and feathered the left pedal.

“Go, dammit!” shouted Holmes. “Paul could be there already!”

The aircraft jittered. A few of the cops were running toward the pad now, getting closer and closer. The chopper slid forward, then lifted free, hovering a few yards off the ground.

Poe looked back as the prop wash hit the cops. The next instant, he saw Duff rounding the corner of the warehouse, walkie in his hand, suit jacket flapping. Poe pulled up about fifty feet, turned in a tight circle, and made a pass directly over his head.

He watched as Duff spun and hurled his radio against the warehouse wall.

Poe heard Marple’s voice crackle through his headset. “Too bad,” she said. “We were getting along so well.”

A few seconds later, Poe straightened out and headed south, skirting power lines and rooftops. It was all coming back to him now. He poured on more power and felt the machine come to life. Then he flicked off the transponder.

“How long?” asked Holmes, shifting anxiously in his seat.

Poe checked his gauges again. “About an hour,” he said. “Or until somebody shoots us down.”