Like a quarterback leading his receiver, Stone chose a path that would intersect with the banking aircraft, and hit the gas. He was hurtled forward like a bullet, so fast that the biplane seemed to be standing still. For a split-second Stone feared that he would overshoot his target. The pilot finally noticed him and let out a cry of alarm.
Everything seemed to happen in an instant. Stone released the gas. The pilot took his craft into a dive. Stone, inexperienced with the soaring suit, pressed his arms to his sides. He immediately began losing altitude. Too much altitude.
He soared beneath the fleeing biplane and slammed into its undercarriage. His breath left him, replaced by a flood of pain. The impact sent the plane into a barrel roll. Stone reached out in desperation and managed to hook his arms around the landing gear. The world somersaulted before him and he closed his eyes against the dizzying sight.
The engine whined and sputtered. The pilot spewed a stream of invective. Stone wondered if they would crash. And then he barked a laugh. The Albatross might crash, but thanks to the sailing suit, he didn’t have to go down with it. But no sooner had the thought come to him than the pilot brought the craft out of the roll and righted his course.
“Now what?” Stone said to himself. He was unarmed and clinging to the landing gear. He could do no good from here.
The pilot once again drew a bead on the Flying Wing. Stone’s collision with the biplane had gained the fleeing transport a few precious seconds, but not nearly enough. The fighter plane opened fire. From his position beneath the craft, Stone saw the rain of bullets seem to bend toward their target. A few more seconds and they would shred the transport plane to ribbons. Having no better idea, Stone flipped upside down and pressed the soles of his boots firmly against the plane at a spot he estimated to be underneath the pilot’s seat.
“This had better work.”
He activated the rockets. The impact nearly tore his shoulders from their sockets, but he held on to the landing gear with all his might. The average man would not have been able to maintain his grip, but Stone was not an average man. He held on with muscles that had been honed by years of strenuous training and enhanced in ways he didn’t like to think about. Pain burned through even as the rockets burned through the thin aluminum hull.
It was only seconds, but it felt like hours before the pilot let out a shriek of pure pain and terror. Stone released his grip on the landing gear and let himself fly free. As he sailed away, he glanced back to see the burning fighter plane tumbling toward the ground, leaving a trail of smoke behind him.
The pilot bailed out. He tumbled toward the ground, then activated his chute far too early. He hung there far above the ground as the strong wind began to carry him toward the distant mountains.
This was an opportunity Stone could not pass up. He turned and sailed toward the drifting pilot, who didn’t see him coming. Stone wrapped his arms around the man as they collided, pinning his arms to his sides. Immediately they began to fall, the parachute unable to support his weight.
“What are you doing? You’re going to kill us.” His words cut off in a gurgle as Stone wrapped a powerful hand around his neck.
“Listen carefully. You answer all my questions or I’ll cut your ropes and let you fall. Understand?” Stone didn’t have a knife on him, but the pilot didn’t know that. He nodded and Stone lessened his grip.
“Why did you attack our plane?”
“Orders,” the man grunted. “You’re being tracked. Pilots all over are on the lookout for you. If one of us spotted you, we were to report your location, then shoot you down, preferably somewhere witnesses wouldn’t see.”
“Who did your orders come from?”
“I don’t know.”
Stone once again tightened his grip on the man’s throat.
“He’s called the Warden.”
Stone frowned. “And who do his orders come from?”
“I can’t say for certain. He might have Senior Wardens above him. I wouldn’t know. Ultimately, we all take our orders from the Worshipful Master. And don’t bother asking his name. The only rumor I’ve ever heard about him is he’s a rich guy from back East. That’s all I know. I swear it.”
“Are you Freemasons?” Stone asked.
Even in this perilous situation, the pilot let out a braying laugh. “The Freemasons are children playing at a game they don’t understand.”
“Who are you, then?”
Without warning, the pilot threw his head backward. Pain burst across the bridge of Stone’s nose as skull collided with cartilage.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Stone said, blinking away the pain. Unlike himself, the pilot wore a knife at his belt. Stone pulled it free and began sawing at the parachute cords. The man screamed and fought, but Stone was too strong for him. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t know about you, but the gall is my favorite time of the year.”
He severed the last cord and released the pilot. As the man plummeted toward the ground, Stone spread his arms and let the sailsuit arrest his fall. Spotting the Flying Wing, he set his course, braced himself, and fired the rocketboots. As he soared through the air, he had to smile.
“Alex my friend, I will never doubt you again.”
9- The Newspaper
Seattle was not what Stone had expected. He had envisioned a small coastal town, an oasis on the outskirts of the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest. While the oasis analogy might have been apt, it was a far cry from a small town. Though it was no match for the bustling cities of the east, it was most definitely a city.
Alex had been grumpy since their encounter with the fighter. Although his rocketboots had worked remarkably well, they had burned out just as Stone returned to the Flying Wing. As they walked down the streets, his mood brightened and he excitedly pointed out prominent landmarks. Though he had never visited the west coast, he had studied up on their destination.
“That’s Smith Tower,” he said, pointing his hook in the direction of a skyscraper that dominated the skyline. It was topped by a pyramidal spire that shone in the sun. “It stands 484 feet tall. At thirty-eight stories it is the tallest skyscraper in the city.”
“I can see that,” Stone said.
“I would not want to be one of the men who helped build that thing,” Moses said. “If I’m going to be that high in the air, I want wings and rocketboots.”
“It’s one of the tallest skyscrapers outside of New York City,” Alex said, diverting the subject away from the rocketboots. “It’s the tallest building west of the Mississippi.”
“Actually,” Constance said, “it’s now the second-tallest. The Kansas City Power and Light Building overtook it just last year.”
“Interesting,” Alex said. He’d taken a shine to Constance and she seemed to share his interest, though they’d kept their interactions fully above board. “I hope we’ll get to see the Aurora Bridge. It just opened in February and it’s supposed to be a magnificent representation of cantilever and truss construction.”
“It’s also a favorite of suicide jumpers,” Constance said. “Mostly broken-hearted lovers from what I hear.”
“I can’t imagine anyone would ever be so foolish as to break your heart,” Alex teased.
“The newspaper office is just around the corner,” Stone said loudly, cutting off their cloying banter before it could truly get underway. “You did say Trinity planned on visiting here?” he said to Constance.