I hit the ground and see stars. Man, this is hard Texas dirt and doesn't give very much.
The helicopter begins to descend. I try to get up but I can barely feel my feet. As I try to pull myself away my right hand touches a sharp rock.
Thank god I didn't land on that…
I pull my fist into my body as the men retrieve me.
"Okay." Vaughn puts his face right in mine. "We're going to fifteen feet. There's a fifty-fifty chance you'll break something. My money is that you won't. At twenty, it's a guarantee. Thirty and you'll never walk again and you'll tell me anything I want to know as you beg me for another spoonful of apple sauce. What do you say I just save you the trouble?"
"I don't know! Maybe they left it on the station?"
Vaughn shakes his head. "You're a shitty liar."
He begins to lean back to kick again. I try to swing the rock in my hand at his face but the guard on my right grabs my wrist.
Vaughn pries it from my fingers and waves it under my nose. "What the hell is this, David? Did you think you were going to hit me and spill my brains?" He smashes it against my mouth. "Open!"
I don't move.
"I said open your goddamn mouth!"
He nods to his men.
They let go of my arms, grab my head and shove their gloved fingers into my lips to pry open my jaws.
Vaughn puts a foot into my balls, leaving his shoe in my crotch. He smacks my teeth with the rock. "Open your mouth or I'm going to break every goddamn tooth in your head!"
BANG!!!
I can see his eyes go wide behind his sunglasses as he tries to make sense of what happened.
The two armored guards start looking around for the source of the noise.
BANG!!! BANG!!!
Before they can figure out what just happened, I shoot them both in the stomach with Vaughn's ankle pistol.
The pilot is starting to set us on the ground.
I climb over a screaming Vaughn and put my gun to the back of the pilot's head. "Get them and get the fuck out."
"I can't leave this aircraft." He raises his hands off the controls in protest.
I put the pistol near his helmet and fire, shooting a hole through the window inches away.
"Get the fuck out and take those assholes with you!"
He slides out of the cockpit and runs around to the side door. I keep my gun aimed at him in case he tries to pull a sidearm.
He drags Vaughn and the other two men to the ground then raises his hands above his head.
I realize I'm still wearing the hospital gown. "Give me your clothes and your helmet! Kick their weapons away then give me whatever cash they have!"
Out of misplaced pity, I throw bullet wound bandages to him — basically tampons — from the first aid kit as he drags the men to the front of the chopper.
I make him keep his hands in the air as I familiarize myself with the controls.
I've flown helicopters and simulations of the Black Hawk UH-60, but never the actual thing.
This is going to be one hell of a ride.
I finally grab the stick and gradually take to the air. The pilot sees my wobbly ascent and quickly ducks down out of the way to avoid decapitation.
Once I'm airborne, I get a compass reading and try to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do next.
47
Insider
Vaughn isn't even his name. I realize this as I hand the girl at the rental car desk his driver's license and credit card. Both the ID and the black AmEx say Sean Flagler.
I almost don't feel like the worst person in the world for leaving him and his cronies bleeding out in the middle of the desert. Almost.
Yeah, it was a matter of survival, but hell, I still feel awful. I was minutes away from a broken neck no matter what I said, yet I can't just get rid of this guilt. Maybe that's why guys like him are good at his job and guys like me aren't.
Hell. I never thought I would have killed anybody a day ago. Now I may have killed three because I felt justified.
Is that what he thought? Did the assholes helping push me out of the helicopter think they were doing their duty and protecting America?
Were they? I wanted to believe he was on my side. Then he lied about the Moscow phone call — or at least I think he lied. And things escalated from there.
Fuck him. I didn't ask to get thrown out of the helicopter and tortured. Maybe he was just following orders for someone else and had no idea what was really going on, but it doesn't matter. They wanted me to think they were going to kill me. I'm pretty sure that in the state of Texas what I did was not only legal — it was encouraged.
"Would you like insurance on the vehicle?" asks the girl.
"Yeah, sure. Max it out."
She goes back to her keyboard and starts typing away. I figure I've got another hour or so before Vaughn/Flagler's card is no longer good and trying to use it will result in the Texas Rangers showing up.
I chose Eazy-Kar, because of their immaculate spelling and the fact that their cars are several years old and not likely to have any tracking transponders inside of them.
"Thank you, Mr. Flagler," the girl says sweetly as she hands me my keys.
I drive my nondescript Toyota Camry across the street to a Walmart to get groceries while Vaughn's card is still good.
In the hardware section I pick up some random tools with no idea if I'll need any of them. Better safe than sorry.
After I load up my car in the parking lot, I swap license plates with another Camry so I can get a little off the grid. I'll need to do this again when I'm further away to keep covering my tracks.
Although I landed the helicopter in an empty lot on the far side of a shopping mall, and none of the passing cars seemed to be all that interested, I can only count on that lasting for so long.
Vaughn's people have to know something is up and an abandoned Black Hawk helicopter sitting in the middle of El Paso isn't very discreet.
My only hope is that the lines of communication between his quasi-legal Black Site operation and the local authorities aren't exactly streamlined.
Before leaving here for good, I stop at an Arby's drive-thru, load up on sandwiches, then take the 10 east towards Austin.
While I bite into soothing mouthfuls of roast beef, I consider my predicament. I'm in a classic, nowhere-to-go-nobody-to-trust situation.
Considering the last US government employee I dealt with tried to break my spine presumably on the orders of his Russian masters, I'm a little distrustful of going to the cops.
Vaughn may be out of commission, but I don't know if he was acting alone. Capricorn said a highly-placed intelligence official was working with the Russians. Vaughn seemed more like the operations guy working with somebody sitting in an office in DC.
That means that there could be more people out there like him. I really can't trust anyone.
And I can't stay on the run forever. If Capricorn never reaches out to me again, I'm screwed. I need another option.
Who do I trust?
Lots of people.
Who can help me?
None of them.
My parents would just tell me to turn myself in and try to convince me that the government has my best interests in mind. I can imagine what it would be like trying to explain to my father what just happened with the helicopter drop-falls.
"Did you maybe fall out and misunderstand what happened? Could they have been trying to help you?"
I love my parents, but they're a no-go.
I just don't know any powerful, influential people. My boss, Vin Amin, the CEO of iCosmos is connected, but I can only guess what kind of clusterfuck he's trying to deal with right now. He probably wants me dead more than anybody else.
So Vin is a no-go.
That leaves nobody.
I'm screwed.
Stop that, David. Focus.
Who would want to help you? Who is connected to this?