Out in the field, a high whine came from the helicopter, and its giant rotor blades began swinging slowly. Kehler was about fifty feet from the big machine when it suddenly lurched off the ground. Willie and his men were making up ground fast.
Even over the motor, I could hear Kehler scream, “Shiu, you bastard, wait!” as the ’copter bucked and jerked in the air about eight feet off the ground. The wash from the rotors plastered his clothes against his body.
Shiu poked his head out of the window and waved toward the lake. The helicopter rose another twenty-five feet and slid crablike toward the end of the island. Jakes men were beginning to fire at both the copter and at Kehler. Willie’s group was within fifty yards and closing.
Kehler looked around wildly and ran for the dock at the end of the island. Shiu had guided the helicopter about one hundred yards past the shore, where it hovered about thirty feet above the surface, roiling the water. Kehler reached the dock and vaulted into the boat. He tore the mooring line free, leaned over the big outboard motor, and snapped the cord. The motor roared and the boat bounced off the dock’s pilings and headed out into the lake.
Willie and one of his deputies reached the dock. Willie fired at the helicopter; the other man at the boat. Kehler, bent over the steering handle of the engine, suddenly jerked upright and screamed. Through the glasses I could see a red stain soaking through the back of his shirt.
The boat was directly under the helicopter. Kehler struggled to stand astride the seats, but fell back. Shiu tried to lower the helicopter to water level, but could not match his movements with the boat’s erratic course changes as Kehler groped for the steering handle.
After several tries, a couple bullets plunked into the side of the helicopter. Shiu looked out of the side window and shouted something that was lost in all the noise. He began pulling the ’copter up and away from the boat.
Kehler stood again—this time with the carbine in his hands. He shrieked something at the helicopter, waving the carbine wildly. As the huge aircraft moved steadily away from him, Kehler unloaded the gun into its underside.
The salvo hit either Shiu or the ’copter controls. The ungainly machine bucked violently and threw its tail up.
A puff of flame shot out the side of the helicopter, and the cabin disappeared in a black and yellow ball of smoke and fire. Flaming fragments catapulted out across the lake, sizzling into the water. The largest intact section, the forward third of the fuselage, plummeted downward. It smashed into the boat and carried it steaming under the water.
The deputies, guns lowered, stood watching the bubbles break the surface. Across the water, a trilling song came out of the silent woods. I wondered if Liz knew what bird it was.
CHAPTER 17
The sheriff, Creston, and about half the men who had taken part in the operation remained at the game farm, searching the lodge and combing the grounds from the bridge to the dock, looking for God knows what. Probably just to have something to do until boats and scuba equipment could be brought in for what was going to be the nasty job of recovering the bodies.
One of the state police station wagons was driven in to the lake, and a mattress and blankets brought from the lodge to be laid out in the back, but Frank refused to lie down.
“Come on, people, I’m OK. I’ve been eating regular and ’cept for this beard, I’ve even been keeping clean. Probably healthier for sleeping outdoors in my cage.”
Frank rode out sitting between Liz and me with Phlager riding up front with the state trooper driver. Frank insisted that he be brought up to date on everything that had happened at the CR&P “while I was out of touch,” and Liz and I took turns filling in the gaps for him. He laughed uproariously at Liz’s description of the concert and the immediate aftermath, but shook his head when I told him about the effect on Swift.
“He really was a hell of a newsman, you know,” Frank said. “In another time—eighty, ninety years ago—he might have been in the company of the editors who invented mass circulation newspapers in this country.” He paused. “On the other hand, he was wound so tight he might have flipped his wig anyway.”
Curiously, Frank also seemed saddened by what had happened to Kehler.
“It’s funny… maybe it’s that syndrome that they’ve found in hostages who get to feeling sorry for the people who’ve hijacked their planes or whatever. But really, Kenny wasn’t that nasty to me and after a couple of days we got along pretty well,” Frank said.
“It’s fairly common,” Phlager said. “Kidnap victims, especially if they’re treated halfway decently, sometimes will come back and talk sympathetically about their kidnappers. I’ve even heard of political hostages who support their captors’ causes after they’re released.
“There’s guilt, too, if you can imagine it. People who’ve been in hijackings will sometimes come back sounding like it was somehow all their fault for using that airline or taking that flight—almost as if they believe it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been there.”
“Oh, yes, guilt,” Frank said. “I spent most of my time in that damn cage thinking how dumb I had been—how I invited what happened.”
“Invited it?” Liz asked. “How, Daddy?”
“Wishful thinking. Bob told me that Swift had recognized me, and I pretended there would be no problem if I just left town… ignoring the obvious likelihood that Swift would tell Shiu—that you would be suspect, Liz—and that when you took up with Bob they would start watching both of you. I should have just bagged it right then… told the Center to find someone else for the job.
“But I wanted to do it, and I just ignored the kind of warning flags that in the old days I would have paid attention to. Hell, I forgot elementary stuff like stashing the documents and my notes in a safe place and making backup copies of the stuff. So Kenny got it all from my desk when he grabbed me, and it’s all at the bottom of the lake now. 1 saw them loading the box on the ’copter just before you showed up today.
“But I’m relieved they didn’t come after either or both of you when they took me.”
“Why didn’t they?” I asked.
“I guess because you didn’t have the information they wanted kept quiet. Kenny said they had Bob’s phone tapped and when he reported our last conversation that night, his boss told him getting me out of circulation ought to take care of the problem.”
“Weren’t you worried about what they were going to do with you?” Liz asked.
“When he first grabbed me, sure. He caught me coming back from dinner at the faculty club and stuck a gun in my face that looked like something off the battleship Missouri. I figured he was going to take me out in the country and put a bullet behind my ear. I kept remembering all the stories I covered about hoods who were found in the Jersey swamps, and how many times I wrote about ‘gangland-style killings.’
“But, you know, it became clear quickly that Kenny had been told I wasn’t to be harmed. From the first, when he came up behind me outside my apartment, he kept telling me that I wouldn’t be hurt if I did what he told me. He spent a lot of time tying and untying me those first hours, and he even asked me a couple of times if the ropes hurt, or if I could breathe all right with the gag in my mouth.
“And, it all turned out OK,” Frank said. He smiled and turned to Liz beside him on the back seat.
“Lord, was I surprised to hear you give the towhee call, honey. But what was the mourning dove for?”
Liz’s eyes widened. “What was it for? That was the signal for ‘help coming,’ Daddy.”