Hayden winced. Drake knew she would have to send the request up the chain of command and that would only lead to more gibbering. By the time…
Hayden fixed Drake with a stare. “Dudley. Two mercs. Le Brun and Bell, right?”
“Right. We believe.”
Hayden tapped the separate device in her ear. “Caitlyn, can you get anything tasked to tell us how many are in that chopper?”
“It’s not that easy,” Caitlyn said after a minute. “Besides, don’t you have aerosolized plague on there?”
“The scientists told us all three aerosols were stored inside boxes. I’m damn sure they’ll be resilient.”
“Still…”
Drake chewed on a nail. “You do realize how this all fits with the Pythians’ idea, don’t you? The Pandora plague. Engineered in Pandora’s birthplace and then transported in a box. If you didn’t know it before you sure as hell do now — these assholes have more cracks in them than a politician’s promise.”
“Totally apeshit,” Dahl agreed. “Destroy them.”
Karin jumped out of her seat, staying low. “Caitlyn’s right. You can’t risk—”
The pilot cried out and the chopper veered violently at the same time. Karin sprawled head first, smashing her nose against Kinimaka’s shin. For as second the world turned on its side and then they were level again.
“Evasive maneuver,” the pilot said calmly. “They’re firing on us.”
Komodo hauled Karin upright and strapped her in. Kinimaka apologized for his clumsiness. Karin laughed. “Sure, Mano, next time I show my inexperience make sure your stupid shin’s not attached to your leg.”
A second missile separated from the lead chopper. Drake watched as their pilot again dodged the lethal streak.
“Fuck this,” he said. “Get alongside so we can fill ‘em full of holes. Make them force land.”
The pilot threw the cyclic stick at the top speed symbol. The chopper accelerated rapidly and the gap closed. After a minute the lead chopper swung across the landscape, making a sharp turn and Drake saw a gleaming blue expanse ahead.
“The Aegean Sea,” Hayden said. “That can’t be good.”
The reason for the chopper’s maneuver soon became clear as a town began to unfold amid the countryside below.
“Larissa,” Hayden said. “We can’t shoot them down now. Stay close.”
Three helicopters blasted across the skies, heading for the bright, shimmering blue. If Drake had needed any reminder as to the madness of their opponents it soon came as Callan Dudley threw open the side doors of his chopper and pointed a machine gun at them. Laughing, he opened fire, strafing the skies with lead. Their pilot dropped down and back, tucking in behind the mercenary’s bird.
“That guy’s starting to friggin’ annoy me,” Smyth’s voice declared over the comms.
Drake stared at Dahl, then Kinimaka and the entire chopper erupted with laughter. Judging from the noise across their connection the second chopper descended into the same state. Smyth grumped aloud. “What? What the hell you laughing at? Guy’s a total dickhead.”
Drake enjoyed the moment of levity. Sometimes, it was all you needed to gain total focus. In other ways, it reminded you of what you were fighting for. Men like Callan Dudley would never understand.
All three helicopters shot over the town, Dudley loosing rounds into the sky for sport. Drake noticed red blips following them on the radar and pointed them out to the pilot.
“I saw them. They’re the army helicopters.”
“Good.”
“If they land in Larissa with those aerosols…” Mai warned.
Hayden nodded as she listened to her headset. “Already on it. The risk is off the scale. The Greeks…” she sighed, “are trying to come to a decision.”
But the chopper flew fast and straight, arrow straight, with the Irishman firing recklessly toward the rooftops of Larissa and the blue expanse only growing larger ahead. Occasionally Dudley would lean out dangerously and take a potshot at their bird. A bullet glanced off a skid, then some framework. Eventually Dahl leaned out and fired back, peppering the chopper’s body with holes.
Drake glared. “Stop it.”
“Guy’s pissing me off. I didn’t aim for the engine.”
Then Larissa was behind them and a golden coastline opened out. A sandy beach stretched north and south, dotted by leafy parasols and timber-constructed lifeguard stations. Small figures were laid out on sunbeds down there. Children ran through the waves, splashing and brandishing plastic spades and buckets. Life was good for relaxing locals and vacationing travelers.
And then Drake saw it was about to get incredibly, infinitely worse.
“Where the hell are they—” Hayden began and then clammed up in horror. “Oh no.”
Dudley’s chopper dived toward the deck of the biggest cruise ship Drake had ever seen.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Like an enormous floating hotel it sat in the Aegean, several miles offshore. Pure white, its hull shone against the sparkling blue waters. Idling, at ease, it might be offering its passengers a unique view of Mount Olympus, or about to turn around.
But it had no idea of the horrors plunging out of the skies on rotors of black steel. It had no clue what was coming.
Drake did. Everyone did. And there was only one way to stop it.
“Fire!” Dahl cried. “Shoot them out of the skies!”
The pilot’s hand flashed toward the weapons array and then hesitated. “Miss Jaye?”
Hayden spoke rapidly into her mic. Seconds passed. Hayden screwed her eyes up. Their window was closing.
“We’re over the sea,” Komodo put in helpfully.
Hayden turned on him. “Don’t you think I know—” Then she stopped, listened and spoke with harsh determination.
“Fire the missile.”
The pilot reacted instantly, flipping open the red safety cover and covering the button with his thumb. A moment to align and then…
Dudley’s chopper fell hard, perhaps anticipating the missile. Drake heard a hiss and a streak emitted from their undercarriage, marked by white smoke. It shot ahead just as Alicia’s chopper came alongside, offering support. The Englishwoman gave them a thumbs up through the open door.
Dudley’s bird dived, nose first. The missile flashed toward it. The cruise ship grew outlandishly big through their cockpit windscreen, the stunned faces of passengers clearly visible. The falling chopper lurched as the missile struck, an explosion ripping chunks of metal free and sending them tumbling to the decks below.
“Of all the goddamn, appalling luck,” Dahl breathed, fearful for the ship’s occupants.
The enemy chopper slowed and leveled out, visibly reaching for the ship’s lido deck, a flat stretch occupied only by sun loungers to the rear. Passengers fled in every direction, leaving belongings and dashing away on bare feet. Ship’s crew stared in disbelief. The chopper crashed skids first, bouncing and listing for a moment before losing all momentum. Flames flicked out of its left-side door, the metal framework there hanging torn and ragged.
“Get down there,” Drake urged their pilot. “This hell is just beginning!”
Figures jumped out of the stricken chopper. Dudley and one other well-built man. A third dropped through the flames, unmoving. Then a woman jumped to the ship’s deck, falling as she landed hard, followed by a more agile man.
Lauren stared but didn’t need to try too hard. “That’s Nicholas Bell,” she said and shook her head. “He seemed a nice guy, you know? Wrong place, wrong time, that kinda thing.”
“You’re still thinking he could be an ally?” Dahl asked as their helicopter closed in. “Even after this?”
“You’re as bad as friggin’ Alicia,” Russo growled from the other chopper. “And her Beauregard. Bastard can’t conspire with terrorists if he’s dead.”