“It wasn’t a hand-held weapon that brought the chopper down,” Commander Rojas said, sending a couple of shots out into the dark.
“There was a boat in the harbour with bigger weapons on it,” Hallie said, and felt everyone’s attention move to her for a moment.
“Miss Talbot,” Commander Rojas said. “More detail, please.”
“The boat was painted a grey-blue colour with no insignia anywhere I could see. There were two large weapons that looked like machine guns, one at either end of the boat, and something different on the roof of the cabin. I think Jonah is involved in smuggling.” Hallie’s words were punctuated with more gunfire. Jonah and his men had found some hiding positions, she thought, and they were now in a stand-off.
“That’s helpful,” the Commander said. “Keep laying down suppressive fire,” he said. For a moment, Hallie thought he was talking to her, but when both Girard and Frollo answered with clippedyes sirsHallie realised his attention had moved away from her. There was a soft click and she looked up to find that he was talking into a small black box on his shoulder strap. A short-range radio. She’d seen police officers in low city using them from time to time. “This is Rojas. New orders. Take out the bandits in the forest then move in to the building.”
Hallie wasn’t sure who he was speaking to, or what effect he hoped to gain. She discovered she’d run out of ammunition in the rifle and set it to one side, drawing the handgun instead, then gasping in shock as the dark body of the helicopter moved. Or, rather, people came out of the helicopter, through the remaining wisps of the red smoke. A half dozen, all in the same black tactical clothing as the commander and Frollo. The tac team moved, swarming into the forest in a co-ordinated sweep, firing as they went.
Frollo and Girard stopped firing without a direct order from the commander. Not wanting to hit any of their own people, Hallie realised. She forced herself upright, wincing as her feet encountered some of the shattered stone and chunks of wood.
“The pilot and co-pilot are non-responsive,” Commander Rojas said, voice tense. “As are the two that went down in the woods.”
“Go deal with the hostiles. We’ll see to the flight crew,” Girard said. It made sense, even though Hallie’s skin itched with the idea that someone else was going to fight the battle for her.
“Wait,” Hallie said, contradicting Girard, her eyes on the black-clad tactical team swarming into the forest. “Watch out for the traps.”
“Traps?” the commander asked.
“Yes. There are trip wires and some of those spring traps set up in the trees around the house,” Hallie said. “I’m not sure what the proper name is, but, you know, the ones that snap closed when pressure is applied.” She demonstrated with her hands and saw that everyone around her perfectly understood what she meant.
“Any ordnance?” the commander asked.
“Ah, explosives? I don’t know. I didn’t come across any,” Hallie answered, stomach lurching as she imagined what would have happened if she’d stepped on something that exploded. “And the only electronics or powered stuff I’ve seen has been lights fixed on the buildings. Makes sense, as there’s no electric grid here.”
“Good to know,” the commander said, and muttered something else into his radio that had the black-clad team slowing down. He gave Hallie a terse nod and then headed off after his team, Frollo shadowing him.
With the commander and Frollo out of sight, Girard glanced at Hallie’s feet then out at the sweep of gravel between them and the helicopter. “Stay here. I’ll get the pilot and co-pilot.”
“Not on your own. Give me a minute,” Hallie said, looking around the interior of the house for something - anything - she could use to bind her feet. The door opposite Jonah’s office wasopen and just inside the door she spotted a pair of soft-soled house shoes. She slid them onto her feet, grimacing at the stale smell. They were too large, but they were better than getting her feet cut by gravel. “Ready,” she told him.
Girard didn’t ask any questions, just led the way across the open space to the helicopter, rifle at his shoulder, ready to fire if he saw any of Jonah’s men.
The metal bulk of the helicopter seemed impossibly large when they reached it. The front was dented, the windshield shattered. Girard somehow climbed up the underside of the cockpit and wrestled the door open. He reached down inside and braced himself, pulling something out. No, someone. Hallie couldn’t tell who it was under the flight suit and helmet.
“Here, let me help,” Hallie called up. Girard looked down at her, face pale, and nodded. He dragged the unconscious man out and turned him so that his legs dangled over the side of the beast. Hallie reached up and took hold of the man’s flight suit, bracing herself for his weight and lowering him to the ground as gently as she could. She glanced up to see Girard helping the other man out of the cockpit. This one was conscious and moving, at least. So Hallie took a breath then lifted the unconscious man over her shoulder, much as Findo Trask had lifted her not that long ago and, turning, staggered her way back to the house. The too-large shoes on her feet flapped and threatened to trip her up, so as soon as she was off the gravel she kicked them off. The stone at the front of the house was shockingly cold against her abused skin yet still easier to manage than the shoes and the weight across her shoulders.
As she reached the stone she became aware of Girard and the other rescued man on her other side. Then a third man joined them and she paused to gape at the newcomer. Peredur Roth. Dressed in his normal dull, hard wearing trousers, t-shirt andleather jacket. He had an impressive bruise on one side of his face and a grim expression.
“I didn’t realise you were here, sir,” Girard said.
“Talk later. Let’s get inside for now,” the director said.
Hallie kept going, grateful that no one tried to take the unconscious man from her, letting her do the work. She didn’t want to appear weak.
She struggled up the shallow steps into the house and headed for the office and the sofa that was the nearest space she knew of to lay the man down.
The room was full of deep shadows, and a bitter wind was sliding into the room through the shattered window. It was almost as cold as being outside and she hesitated before laying the man down on the ancient sofa. It was still the safest and best option she knew of just now.
“See if you can find some light,” Girard suggested as he headed for the windows. There were heavy curtains there which he pulled tight. From the clouds of dust that rose from the fabric, Hallie guessed that the curtains might well be original to the house and that Jonah had never used them. With the curtains closed, it was almost impossible to see, but Hallie spotted an oil lantern on top of a wooden crate at the end of the sofa. She turned it on, the soft glow providing limited but welcome light. There was another lantern on Jonah’s desk and she moved to turn that one on as well. The warm glow of the lanterns was a sharp contrast to the glass that scattered the floor in front of the windows and the tension in the room.
“Thanks for the assist,” the man Girard had been helping said, pulling off his helmet. Elyan Gould. The captain. Which meant that the unconscious man was Mourant Hyde.
“I need a field medkit,” Girard said, moving across the room to the co-pilot. He looked across at the director. “Don’t suppose you brought any?”
The director didn’t answer with words, just shed the very large backpack he’d been carrying onto the wooden floor and unzipped it, pulling out a dark green pack with the familiar white cross on it.
