The pilot forced a laugh and set the pliers aside. “I am happy,” he said. “Deeply, sustainably happy. Fear has no place in happiness.”
“He’s one of them,” Silver said contemptuously.
“Yes,” KimKim said with a sigh.
Silver took one quick step and snapped a hard left into the pilot’s face. His second blow was an uppercut that turned the pilot’s legs to jelly. Silver bound the man’s hands and ankles with wire.
“So it’s up to you to fly us out of here,” KimKim said to Silver. “Do you think—”
The door opened. A man was framed in the doorway. An officer. KimKim leapt but the man was too quick. The door slammed back in KimKim’s face.
KimKim threw open the door, but it was too late. There was no one in sight.
“We have about ten seconds to figure something out,” Silver said.
“Get that helicopter in the air!” KimKim yelled.
The three of them bolted for the helicopter. The cockpit was not locked, but the craft itself was tied down to the deck, lashed with padded chains.
“Cast us off!” Silver yelled, and climbed up into the pilot’s seat. Minako hauled herself into the surprisingly spacious and oddly configured backseat, and sat there drenched, teeth chattering. Onetwo-three . . .
When she got the thirteen, her mother was standing outside in the rain. The illusion was perfect. Her mother’s hair was blowing. Her police uniform was turning a darker shade of blue as the rain stained it. The only thing missing was any kind of real reaction to Minako or to her environment. It was as if her mother was a very limited computer program, like the illusion knew how to be affected by the environment, but not how to respond to it.
Fourteen.
And her mother was gone.
“You down there, back away from the helicopter.” It was a voice magnified by a megaphone; even then it was half snatched away by the wind.
Minako leaned forward to look up and out. There. Two ship’s officers in yellow slickers.
KimKim continued throwing off the straps. Silver was flipping switches in the cockpit. Minako pulled the harness belts tight around her but they weren’t made for anyone her shape. She realized, suddenly, that the seat was built for Charles and Benjamin.
The officers were motioning. Men were rushing from aft, from behind Minako’s line of sight.
KimKim aimed fast and fired. A man went down, clutching his leg. That reversed the charge of crewmen.
Minako heard an electrical sound, a sort of whine. A gust made the helicopter tremble.
KimKim was fighting the last tie-down strap, but it was jammed.
The rotor above began to move. Slow… slow… gaining a little speed . . .
How many revolutions per minute? Minako wondered. Was there a set number? Was it a good number?
Suddenly a riot of people, all rushing toward the helicopter. These were not cautious crew, these were residents of Benjaminia and Charlestown.
“No!” Minako cried.
KimKim threw back the last strap. He stood, facing the wave of bodies. He fired the pistol into the air.
No one stopped.
“Oh no, no, no,” Minako pleaded.
KimKim lowered the pistol, took aim, and fired.
A red flower appeared in the exact center of a man’s chest. The man fell backward.