Chapter 44
Bronsky seethed in the passenger seat of the station wagon.
Parker had all but promised that he had everything handled and that terminating Dame Felicity would be a simple task. But the whole thing had gone to shit in a matter of seconds. And since Parker had been in charge, he was the one Bronsky would hold responsible.
Bronsky was clearheaded enough to know that payment for Parker’s sin would have to wait until they were somewhere safe and his wound had been tended to.
The injury was just a graze, but it burned like hell, which only helped to fuel his anger.
“We need to get to the mainland,” he said.
“That would be great, but exactly how are we supposed to do that?” Parker asked.
“We take the same boat we came over in.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of a fucking storm! No way I’m going out on the water in this. If you want to take it, I’m happy to drop you off.”
“You said there are three ways on and off the island. Two of them are by boat, the other by plane. Then we go by plane.”
“You think flying in this will be any better?”
“A few minutes of turbulence and then we get above the storm.”
“I see a glaring problem with that,” Parker said. “I don’t know how to fly.”
“Lucky for you, I do.”
Parker was silent for several seconds. “How well?”
“Very well.”
Parker chewed on his lip, then asked, “Where’s the airport?”
Bronsky pulled out his phone and opened his map app.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the airport.
It was smaller than Bronsky hoped and had only three planes, all parked outside and tied down due to the storm.
He pointed at a Cessna 182 that looked like it had been well maintained. “That one. It’s the best of the lot.”
“You’re sure you can fly it in this weather?” Parker asked skeptically.
“Of course.”
“With that injury?”
Bronsky waved him off. “I’ll be fine.”
Parker was able to park right next to the chosen plane.
“You have anything in your tool bag that can unlock the cabin door?” Bronsky asked.
“I’ve never had to break into a plane before, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Then get to it.”
“Any idea where they might have gone?” Stone asked, his voice raised to be heard over the weather.
He and Ed had just finished a quick drive through town.
“They’ll want to get off the island as soon as they can,” Ed said.
“You think they’d try a boat?”
At the moment, the sea was a churning mess.
“Only if they’re suicidal.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“Neither did I.”
“Then they find somewhere to wait it out, I guess,” Stone asked.
Ed grimaced, thinking. “We don’t know how they got here, so it’s also possible they could have flown in.”
“I wouldn’t fly in this weather, and I have a lot of hours under my belt.”
“Would you rather fly or take a boat?”
“If I had to choose one, I guess I’d fly, but only at gunpoint.”
“Which they’re kind of at right now,” Ed said.
Stone headed north, and soon they reached the island’s small airport.
“Isn’t that the Woodie station wagon?” Ed asked, pointing toward the apron.
“It is,” Stone said, surprised. “Wait. Where’s my plane?”
“Where did you leave it?”
“Right next to where the Woodie is.”
He drove over and parked next to the station wagon.
After he shut off the engine, he cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”
Ed listened. “That sounds like…”
“An airplane prop,” Stone finished.
He glanced at the far end of the runway but couldn’t make anything out.
“Here,” Ed said, handing him the Winchester.
Stone raised the rifle and pointed the scope in the direction of the noise.
“They’re stealing my plane!”
The sound of the prop increased in preparation for taking off.
“Give me that,” Ed said, taking the rifle back.
He jumped out of the car and ran to a clear spot on the apron.
Stone stared at him for a moment, then chased after him. “What are you planning to do?”
“What do you think? I’m going to try to stop them.”
“But that’s my plane!” Stone argued.
“If they get away, Felicity may never get the chance to end the threat to her. And I guarantee you won’t see your plane again, either.”
“But…but…”
“If it’s any consolation, I’ll be lucky to get a shot anywhere near them.”
“I’m not sure if I hope you do or don’t.”
Ed raised the rifle and sighted through the scope. “They’re already moving,” he said, then let off a shot. “Miss.”
He tracked the moving aircraft and fired again.
“Miss.”
The plane was approaching the midpoint of its run. Ed shot again.
“Miss.”
As the tires lifted off the runway, he pulled the trigger a fourth time.
“Miss.”
As the plane lifted into the air, Ed sucked in a breath and tried one more shot.
“Did you hit it?”
“Maybe.”
The plane continued to rise and soon disappeared into the stormy night.
“Or maybe not,” Ed said.
A gust of wind jolted the Cessna, sending it sideways, then up several dozen feet, and then down the same before Bronsky could get it back under control.
Beside him, Parker clutched his seat. “How long until you get us above this?”
“I’m working on it.”
The plane wasn’t responding as well as he expected. The vertical climb had slowed considerably, and he couldn’t figure out why.
It could be the storm, he admitted to himself.
It was worse than he’d let on, and in any other circumstances, he would never have left the ground.
He’d also stretched the truth when he said he could get them above the storm.
A light rain shower wouldn’t have been a problem, but this was no light rain, so he had no idea how high the clouds went.
He checked the GPS and frowned. He’d been so focused on gaining elevation that he hadn’t noticed until now that the GPS system wasn’t working. He punched a few buttons, but it remained dead.
He looked out the window, hoping to see something he could identify, but the rain was battering the plane from all sides, making it impossible to locate anything beyond a dozen feet.
He tried to remember how many turns he’d made in his attempt to get higher and thought it had been five…maybe.
Or was it six?
No, it was five, he decided, which meant if he turned forty-five degrees to the left, it should put them on the same path they’d been on when they’d taken off. And another twenty degrees in the same direction would have them on course to the mainland.
He took a deep breath and made the long turn.
As he leveled out, the plane shuddered and began to descend.
“Why are you going down?” Parker said. “We need to go up.”
“I didn’t do it!”
The Cessna shuddered again, and their descent angle increased.
“I-I think there’s something wrong with the plane,” Bronsky said.
“What do you mean?”
Bronsky had seen the flash of gunfire as they’d taken off, but hadn’t heard any impact, so he had assumed the bullets had missed. But between the sound of the propeller and the storm rattling them, he might not have noticed.
He decided not to share that piece of information and said, “It could be a mechanical problem.”
“Well, find out and fix it!”
Bronsky attempted to level them out, but the nose refused to rise.
“Pull up!” Parker yelled.
“What do you think I’m—”
The plane hit the ocean, silencing him and his passenger forever.