Brandt’s hand stilled. He set the phone back down in its cradle. “You’re right. I’ll have Ryan get you the information. It shouldn’t take long.”
Kenzie rose from her chair. “I’ll make sure we get what we need.”
Reese stood up, too. “I appreciate your help with this,” he said to Brandt.
“The pilot, Jake Schofield, was a friend. I was relieved for his family’s sake that the crash wasn’t entirely his fault. I didn’t know Manny Alvarez, the other man who died, but I know he had family. I want the bastard who killed them just as bad as you do.”
NINE
While Kenzie stayed back in the main office and worked with Ryan to collect the information, Reese wandered the area around the heliport. Brandt had given him the names of the two mechanics who had done the most recent maintenance on the chopper.
He glanced up at a noise overhead, watched a helicopter lifting away, thewhop, whopof the blades loud, then fading into the distance as Reese made his way inside a vast metal hangar. A group of men worked on a big blue-and-white helicopter that held at least twelve passengers plus two pilots. The chopper was typical of the ones that ferried the crew back and forth from offshore platforms, though it had been a smaller, eight-passenger helo that had crashed.
He walked up to one of the mechanics, all of whom wore dark blue overalls. This man was older, with a leonine mane of thick silver hair.
“I’m looking for Fernando Ramirez and Otto Kovacs,” Reese said. Kovacs, the lead mechanic, was in charge of the crew here at the Sea Titan terminal.
The mechanic turned and pointed to a bald, barrel-chested guy with arms the size of cannons. “I don’t know where Ferdie is at the moment, but that’s Otto right over there.”
“Thanks.” Reese headed in that direction, stopped a few feet away to watch the big guy work.
“What make is it?” Reese asked when Kovacs paused for a breather.
“Airbus H175. Top-of-the-line. Pretty motha’, ain’t she?”
“That’s for sure.” His gaze slid from the helicopter back to Otto. “I hear you were the guy in charge of maintenance on the chopper that crashed.”
Otto’s big bald head came up, his hand tightening around the wrench he was holding. “I worked on it. So did a lot of other guys.”
“Any of them good enough to file a piece of metal off one of the gears, crash the helo, and not get caught by the NTSB?”
Otto’s jaw hardened. “You better not be saying what I think you are.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m saying. I’m saying it wasn’t just mechanical failure and pilot error. The helicopter was sabotaged. Someone purposely brought it down. From what I hear, you had the skill to do it.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m one of the guys lucky enough not to die, and you had better get used to answering questions, because the crash just turned into a homicide investigation. Sooner or later, you’ll be talking to the FBI.”
Otto’s chest puffed out until he looked twice his size. “A smart guy would get the fuck out of here—before I decide to toss you out myself.” He was tall, big, and burly, and clearly ready to fight.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Reese said blandly.
“You think you can take me, city boy?”
“If you throw that punch you’re considering, I guess we’ll see.”
Otto’s mouth drew into a sneer that telegraphed his intentions as he drew back and swung a roundhouse blow that could take a man to his knees.
Reese easily ducked the punch. “I’m telling you to back off, Otto. That’s the last warning you’re going to get.”
Otto waded in swinging. He was the kind of fighter Reese used to be, using his size and strength instead of skill and brains. Reese ducked Otto’s powerful fist, sidestepped another attempt, and counterpunched, knocking Otto’s head back, then driving a fist into his stomach.
The mechanic was harder than he looked and the fist didn’t bury as deeply as it should have. Reese ducked and dodged out of the way as Otto stepped in and swung again, his massive fist clipping Reese’s cheek, but sliding away without much damage. Reese bounced back with a solid right that connected with Otto’s jaw, driving his head back, threw a couple of left jabs, then another right, followed by a solid left that sent Otto reeling. He hit the wall with a crash and went down hard.
“Stay down, Otto,” Reese warned.
“Fuck you!” Accustomed to winning because of his massive size, the man lumbered to his feet. A crowd had begun to gather. Otto looked at them and smiled. Spurred on by their cheers of support, he charged like a bull, head down, big feet thundering across the concrete floor.
