For all effective purposes, he was now balanced precariously on a huge bubble of air, with the merest abrupt movement on his part able to cause an unwanted spin, back loop or barrel roll.
Confident of his ability to hold a stable position, Thomas shifted into a compact, frog posture, by slightly bending his arms and legs, and pulling his hands closer to his shoulders. A quick check of his wrist-mounted altimeter showed that he had already broken 15,000 feet.
This meant that it was time for him to get a firm visual lock on his intended landing zone.
He angled his line of sight downward, and found his vision blurred by ice crystals that had formed on the inner lenses of his goggles. Try as he could to spot his LZ, the only thing visible was a blurred gray mass of dark clouds.
As he pulled in his wrist for another altimeter check, he shifted his weight, and a heart-stopping flat spin resulted. To counter it, he tried to twist his body in the opposite direction of the spin. When this proved ineffective, desperation led him to sweep his arms to his sides and bend forward at the waist. This caused his entire body to tumble forward in a lightning-quick flipping motion that served to break the flow of air that had been supporting the spin.
To regain control, he arched his back and spread out his arms and legs in time to see a glorious sight, barely visible through the gray muck beneath him. Like a thousand glittering jewels, the sparkling lights of the QE2 beckoned, approximately 5,000 feet distant. The ocean liner appeared to be well within range. Thomas counted off the seconds before he’d pull the ripcord of his MC-4 ram-air parachute to begin the next stage of this perilous endeavor.
“So you really think that this computer-generated program of yours will filter out any static that we might encounter during Red Star’s next overhead pass?” probed Dennis Liu, while casually strolling around the helipad’s outer perimeter with Max close at his side.
Max’s own steps were tracing the perimeter’s white circular border, and he replied without bothering to remove the cigarette from his lips.
“Tonight’s the night, Chief. I feel it in my bones.”
A heavy swell rocked the deck, and Liu alertly shifted his balance to compensate for it. “I certainly hope that your instincts are correct, comrade. As they say, the natives are getting restless, and it’s only a matter of time before we start having some serious problems controlling them.”
“I understand that you intercepted a note that the fools inside the Grill were attempting to circulate,” remarked Max. “Any idea who wrote it?”
“My best guess is that it originated with the Americans,” offered Liu as he peered up into the darkening sky.
Max halted and replied forcefully. “We’ve been tolerant long enough.
It’s time to set an example and put fear back into the hearts of our captives. Just say the word, and I’ll personally blow away those troublemaking Secret Service pigs.”
Before Liu could respond, his cranial headset activated. Whatever he was hearing caused his eyes to narrow with concern. He spoke rapidly into the radio’s lapel-mounted transmitter. “Monica, keep your cool — don’t do anything foolish. I’m on my way with Max!”
Thomas pulled his ripcord seconds after the altimeter showed him passing below 3,000 feet. The parachute opened with a jolting shock, causing Thomas to look up to check for any problems. The rectangular, ram-air canopy appeared to be fully deployed, and with one eye on the rapidly approaching LZ, he began a rushed controllability check.
Two thousand feet was the absolute limit for him to cut away his main chute and open the reserve. Because his flared landing would necessitate pinpoint accuracy, it was absolutely essential that the main canopy was perfect in every way. To guarantee this, he released the brakes, allowing him to use the steering risers to initiate a ninety-degree turn to both left and right. Only after he was satisfied that all looked well, and that his stall point was correct, did he turn his complete attention back to the landing.
He readily spotted the QE2 ‘s helipad, directly aft of the vessel’s funnel. His intention was to land in the pad’s exact center, where a thick white cross bisected its circular perimeter.
Now the trick was to maneuver in such a way that he’d land into the wind. Since it was last reported to be blowing in uneven gusts from the southwest, he would approach from the northeast. This meant he’d have to come in from the bow, on the vessel’s starboard side.
His MC-4 para foil chute was designed to be flown much like an airplane.
As air was forced through its square nose, it was channeled back to fill the canopy’s cells, creating a winglike airfoil effect that could generate over thirty miles per hour of forward speed.
Thomas tried his best to ignore the roiling seas that surrounded the QE2. He instead focused his attention solely on a fixed spot directly behind the ship’s massive funnel. With a series of firm tugs, he manipulated the steering risers, sending the chute downward in a final sweeping turn. The bow of the mighty ship passed on his right, and he feared that if one of the vessel’s occupants were to look outside at this moment, they might actually see him as he flew by.
Golden light poured from the windows and portholes as Thomas sped past the long line of bright orange lifeboats. A sudden gust of wind pushed him dangerously close to the smoke-belching funnel, and as he brushed past it, the helipad suddenly loomed before him.
At this rate, Thomas was moving much too swiftly to hit his intended mark. He was forced to pull down firmly on the steering risers. As air was dumped from the canopy, he went into a sudden stall that sent him crashing downward.
His feet cleared the helipad’s starboard, Plexiglas windscreen by the barest of inches, and with the white cross of his LZ now in front of him, he yanked down hard on the risers once more. This resulted in an abrupt bleeding off of all forward airspeed, and his feet gently touched down onto the deck, only a few inches from the helipad’s exact center.
Before he could settle down completely, a gust of wind caught his partially collapsed canopy. Unable to hit his harness release, Thomas was thrown violently to the deck, with the chute dragging him aft toward the open stern railing. Now he was in danger of being pulled right off the ship, and he managed to yank the cutaway release mechanism, seconds before the billowing canopy was sucked beneath the rail, with his head less than a foot behind.
As the harness was jerked free of his body, the chute filled completely and shot off downwind. The last view Thomas had of the chute was when it was already well on its way out to sea.
His limbs were trembling from both the bitter cold and the pure exhilaration of this wild ride. It was imperative that he get under cover with all due haste, and he grabbed the rail and shakily stood up.
Thomas followed the advice of the QE2’s former staff captain he made for the deck above, headed for the auxiliary stowage room. He found the forward passageway without problem. After making sure that no one was in sight, he sprinted down the carpeted hallway to the stairwell that had a sign marked kennel beside it.
These stairs conveyed him to a closed hatchway, set into the port bulkhead. He ignored the crew access only sign, and swung open the hatch and stepped outside. This put him in a narrow open access way with the QE2’s funnel behind him. The air was cool and smelled of the sea, and Thomas was aware of the deck’s constant rocking motion.
Anxious to get out of his jumpsuit and begin his journey deep into the bowels of the Engine Room, he located the closed door of the stowage space. He allowed himself the barest of relieved sighs upon finding the door unlocked, and gratefully pushed it open.