Blue Gold (NUMA Files 2)

“Hell, I was hoping I could take a nap,” the pilot said. “That’s real kind of you.”

Francesca had backed off the aisle to make room for the two men to pass. Phillipo asked her to get some plastic trash bags from under a front seat. Phillipo intended to use the bags to bind the pilot. With Riordan on ice he would only have to deal with the copilot.

The cabin was about twelve feet long. In the tight space Phillipo had to step aside to let the other man pass. He reminded Riordan not to try anything at close quarters, because it would be impossible to miss. Riordan nodded and stepped toward the rear. They were only a few inches apart when the copilot put the plane over on its left side.

Riordan had expected the move, but he didn’t know when it would come or that it would be so violent. He lost his balance and was thrown onto a seat, his head slamming into the bulkhead. Phillipo was lifted off his feet. He flew across the cabin and landed on top of Riordan.

The pilot disentangled his right hand and blasted his big fist into the bodyguard’s jaw. Phillipo saw galaxies whirling over his head and almost blacked out, but he managed to keep a death grip on the gun. Riordan brought his arm back for another punch. Phillipo blocked it with his elbow.

Both men were street fighters. Phillipo clawed at Riordan’s eyes. The pilot bit Phillipo on the fleshy part of the palm. The bodyguard jammed his knee into Riordan’s groin, and when the pilot opened his mouth, Phillipo snapped his head forward, smashing the cartilage in Riordan’s nose. He might have gained the upper hand, but at that point the copilot made the plane yaw sharply to the right.

The struggling men flew across the aisle into the opposite seat. Now the American was on top. Phillipo tried to club Riordan with the gun’s muzzle, but the pilot grabbed his wrist with two hands and twisted it away and down. Phillipo was strong, but he was no match for the double-teamed assault. The barrel swung closer to his midsection.

The pilot had his hands on the gun and was wrestling it away. Phillipo tried to hold on to the pistol, almost had control of it again, but the grip was slippery from the jets of blood flowing from Riordan’s nose. In a wrenching twist the pilot took control of the gun, got his fingertip onto the trigger, and squeezed. There was a muffled crack! Phillipo’s body jerked and then went limp as the bullet plowed into his chest.

The plane righted itself as the copilot put it back into its normal position. Riordan stood and staggered toward the cockpit. He stopped

and turned, apparently sensing something wasn’t right.

The gun he had left behind was propped up on the bodyguard’s chest. Phillipo was trying to steady it for a shot. Riordan charged like a wounded rhino. The pistol cracked. The first bullet hit the pilot in the shoulder, and he kept coming. Phillipo’s brain died, but his finger twitched twice more. The second shot caught the pilot in the heart and killed him instantly. The third went wild and missed him completely. Even as the pilot crashed to the floor, the pistol had dropped from Phillipo’s hand.

The struggle from one side of the cabin to the other had taken only a few seconds. Francesca had been thrown between the seats and played possum as the bloodied pilot was making his way back to the cockpit. The shots sent her down again.

She cautiously stuck her head into the aisle and saw the pilot’s still body. She crawled over to Phillipo’s side, pried the pistol from his bloody hands, and approached the cockpit door, too enraged to feel fear. Her anger quickly turned to shock.

The copilot was slumped forward, his body held in place by his seatbelt. There was a bullet hole in the partition separating the cockpit from the cabin and through the back of the copilot’s chair. Phillipo’s third shot.

Francesca pulled the copilot upright. His groan told her he was still alive.

“Can you talk?” she said.

Carlos rolled his eyes and whispered a hoarse “Yes.”

“Good. You’ve been shot, but I don’t think it hit any vital organs,” she lied. “I’m going to stop the bleeding.”

She retrieved the first aid kit, thinking that what she really needed was an emergency-room trauma unit. She almost fainted at the sight of the blood flowing from the wound down his back to puddle on the floor. The compress she applied immediately turned scarlet, but it may have helped stanch the loss of blood. It was impossible to tell. The only thing she knew for certain was that the man was going to die.

With fearful apprehension she looked at the glowing instrument panel, numbed by the realization that this dying man was the key to her survival. She had to keep him alive.

Francesca retrieved the bottle of rum and tilted it to the copilot’s lips. The rum dribbled down his chin, and the little amount he swallowed made him cough. He asked for more. The strong liquor brought color to his pale cheeks and the gleam of life back into the glazed eyes.

She put her lips close to his ear. “You must fly,” she said levelly. “It’s our only chance.”

The proximity of a beautiful woman seemed to give him energy. His eyes were glassy but alert. He nodded and reached out with shaking hand to flick on the radio that connected him directly with traffic control in Rio. Francesca eased into the pilot’s seat and slipped on the headset. The voice of the traffic controller came on. Carlos asked for help with his eyes. Francesca began to talk, explaining their predicament to traffic control.

“What do you advise us to do?” she said.

After an agonizing pause the voice said, “Proceed to Caracas immediately.”

“Caracas too far,” Carlos croaked, mustering the strength to talk. “Someplace closer.”

Several more moments dragged by.

The dispatcher’s voice came back. “There’s a small provincial airstrip two hundred miles from your position at San Pedro, outside Caracas. No instrument approach, but the weather is perfect. Can you make it?”

“Yes,” Francesca said.

The copilot fumbled with the keypad of the flight computer. With all the strength at his command he called up the international identifier for San Pedro and entered it in the computer.