“Jump!”
“I’m not leaving without…”
Hawke coiled his leg back and kicked her from the chopper. She screamed on her way out but he knew she’d survive. She was an experienced skydiver and now she was safe.
He knew the helicopter had no more than three or four minutes before it was nothing more than a fireball somewhere down in London. If it landed in a built-up area it meant more innocent deaths, and more blood on Kruger’s hands but there was nothing he could do to control the beleagured AgustaWestland now.
It would be a miracle if he could save himself.
Kruger ordered Vermaak to kill him while he strapped himself into one of the parachutes. Vermaak fired again, and emptied the USP’s mag but Hawke dodged the rounds, leaving nothing for it but to go mano-a-mano. Now the commando from Joburg was crawling along the angled floor on his way to Hawke.
As Vermaak lunged at him. Hawke knew if he wanted a parachute then he was going to have to fight him for it, and now he was struggling against the man’s incredible strength. Unlike the former SBS man, Vermaak had been a serving commando until a few weeks ago and it showed. His stamina was impressive and he was using it to force Hawke toward the open helicopter door. When they reached it, Vermaak hooked his feet out from under him and Hawke slammed down on his back with his head hanging out the open door.
The Englishman strained with all his might to push the man’s hand up away from his throat and managed to elbow him in the face. Vermaak recoiled and this bought Hawke a few seconds to get his breath back. He sucked the air into his lungs as the howling air whipped his hair around and buffeted against his ears.
Vermaak’s response was aggressive and fast. He slammed his fist down into Hawke’s stomach and punched every last breath of air from him.
Hawke’s eyes bulged as he strained to draw some air into his lungs. In the corner of his eye he saw Dirk Kruger pulling himself up the aisle of the luxury business chopper. He was safely strapped into his parachute and holding the other one in his hand. In his other hand he held the bag containing the sword. They must have lost at least ten thousand feet by now, and time was running out fast.
“I must bid you farewell, Mr Hawke,” he said, his thick Afrikaans accent cutting through the howling wind like a serrated dagger. “Adem here has orders to kill you and then join me on the ground.”
Vermaak’s hand was now wrapped around Hawke’s throat, stopping him sucking the air back into his empty lungs and slowly Hawke felt the life draining out of him.
Reaper navigated the chopper over the buzzing London metropolis as he tried to handle the various ATC demands to identify themselves. They could still see the AgustaWestland in the sky ahead of them and now it looked like it was in serious trouble.
Reaper pulled the chopper closer to the other helicopter but kept a safe distance. “We’re almost there now. Look — the chopper’s in a lot of trouble. Mon Dieu… I hope they’re all right.”
“How the hell can they survive that?” Kim said.
Scarlet shot her a stern glance. “Hush, darling. We don’t talk like that in ECHO. If there are two people in this world who can get out of a situation like that then it’s Joe and Lea. Never say die.”
Kim looked suitable chastened. “I’m sorry.”
“I see a parachute!” Ryan said.
“That’s the way!” said Mack.
Reaper shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Only one though. That’s not good. That helicopter can’t have more than a couple of minutes to live and soon there won’t be enough time to make a safe jump.”
“Maybe that’s the second parachute and the other one is already safely on the ground?” Devlin said. “Chin up!”
“Whatever the hell is going on,” Scarlet said, “you can guarantee Hawke is on top of things. Every time.”
“If you say so,” Kim said.
Kruger stepped over Hawke and crouched down so they were face to face. “Please allow me to say fuck you very much for all the trouble you have caused.” He punched Hawke in the face and laughed.
The Englishman felt a tooth break and spat it in Kruger’s face in a spray of blood from his split lip. “You’re very welcome, Dirk.”
Kruger pulled a machine pistol from his bag and put it in Hawke’s mouth. “So this is how you want to go out? Knowing that I can catch up with your girlfriend and do what I want with her because you’ll be underground?”
Vermaak took the other parachute and slid inside the harness. While he was tightening the straps Kruger pulled the gun out of Hawke’s mouth, leaned out of the door and fired it at the AgustaWestland’s tail boom. The bullets shredded through the rotors and punched a line of holes all over the rest of the boom. “Just to make sure you go out the hard way,” he said with a sneer.
The Agusta responded immediately, lurching even more violently to the right and going into another steep inverted dive.
“Enjoy the ride, you bastard,” Kruger yelled. He grinned at Hawke and leaped over him and through the small door.
Hawke was still on his back on the chopper’s floor with his head hanging out the door. He watched as Dirk Kruger tumbled over a few times before stabilizing himself and settling into a controlled skydive over London.
As he watched him fade from sight, Hawke’s head spun with the beating he had just received at the hands of Adem Vermaak. He was aware that his throat was filling up with blood. The muzzle of Kruger’s gun had gouged a deep cut in the roof of his mouth, and now he leaned over and spat more blood out on the carpet.
Vermaak drew his boot back and powered it into his stomach, and then again in his face before leaning forward and drawing a hunting knife. “Nighty, night.”
Hawke raised his arms to protect himself and used the blade to slash open the cable ties. Vermaak leaped back and readied himself for a third kick when the AgustaWestland stalled and dropped back into a steep dive, throwing him against the bulkhead at the rear of the aircraft.
Hawke saw a chance and climbed up to his knees, but Vermaak was too fast. He pushed past him and jumped out of the aircraft, taking the last parachute with him.
Hawke saw Vermaak’s move coming and made a split-second decision. Grabbing the man’s legs as he exited the chopper he was sucked out into the air without a parachute of his own, but it was his only play. Kruger had utterly annihilated all of the AgustaWestland’s control surfaces and there was no way to stop it smashing into the ground at hundreds of miles per hour. It was no more than a flying coffin, so Vermaak was the only way out now.
Two men, one parachute.
Hawke knew they had been cruising at around twenty-five thousand feet, and he estimated that thanks to the dive they had left the AgustaWestland at around ten thousand feet. He also knew terminal velocity was one hundred and seventy-six feet per second. It didn’t take Albert Einstein to know that without the parachute he was hitting the ground in fifty-six seconds. He didn’t know what kind of chute Vermaak was using, so he had to allow around a thousand feet of free fall for the chute to open. That gave him nine thousand feet or fifty-one seconds.
Fifty seconds.
These were all serious concerns, but the main problem was that Adem Vermaak also wanted the parachute.
Then Vermaak lashed out with his leg in a bid to smash his boot into Hawke’s face.
The wind howled around them as Hawke pulled his head back but maintained a cast-iron grip on Vermaak’s khaki cargo pants. The South African kicked out with his legs as he desperately tried to kick Hawke away, but the Englishman wasn’t letting go for anything, and took the blows as he unclipped the other man’s harness and wrenched it from his body.
Vermaak’s eyes widened with terror as Hawke coiled up his legs and wedged his boots in the South African’s stomach before kicking away from him with the parachute firmly in his grip.