"Two!"
With the practised discipline of a professional combat pilot, Mason was instinctively looking for an answer to a sudden eruption of warning lights and sirens on the instrument panel. Despite his immediate concerns over remaining airborne with rapidly failing hydraulics, now the 'low fuel' warning light was flashing along with clear signs that the transmission, too, was failing. Mason knew that the machine would soon lose all ability to function and there was little time to get the once state-of-the-art Eurocopter back on the ground in one piece.
"Three!" came the simultaneous bellow.
Morgan lunged at the door, releasing the tenuous hold he had found, and for that split second of transfer from the wheel cowling to the door, he lost all contact with the helicopter. He was suspended in space, his life literally in John Stanley's hands. Just then, a rocket-propelled grenade ripped through the sky, directly across the path of the helicopter.
Mason saw it just in time.
Averting disaster with no flares or any other counter measures on-board, Mason knew this was where the serious flying part started. Spotting the rocket, he put the Puma into a 70 degree bank to port, dumping the collective and heading for some dirt. He knew the ground was his best chance. Steve pulled three G's and using aft cyclic, he established an arc in the opposite direction of the rocket attack. What the pilot didn't know, was that as the helicopter was already passing through an altitude of just over 1000 feet, the spent rocket was at the limit of its range and, having reached the apex of its trajectory, was now tumbling uselessly back to earth. But the extreme manoeuvres he'd used to avoid it almost put his prized beast out of her final misery. With the added Gs and loss of hydraulics, the big machine was becoming increasingly difficult to fly, taking all Mason's effort just to keep the dying Puma alive long enough to get them to safety. Turning his attention to the instrument panel, Steve Mason caught sight of a man flat on his belly in the cargo hold, hanging from his waist outside of the door with the rest of the evacuees on him like a rugby scrum.
"What the fuck's going on back there?" Steve barked. "It's Morgan," somebody cried, "he's fallen."
Underneath the chopper, Morgan dangled from Stanley's arm. Stanley, straining above him, held on firm to Morgan's arm, trying to pull him up to the edge of the door.
"Don't drop me, John," Morgan bellowed, an endless stream of red and grey rushing by hundreds of feet below him. "I'll come back to bloody haunt you, I swear."
"I don't doubt it," Stanley yelled back down. Then Stanley felt somebody scramble over his legs and, looking left, saw Arena jostling into position beside him.
"John?" she yelled.
With a nod to her, Stanley bellowed, "Ari's gonna grab your other arm, then we'll haul you in. OK?"
"OK!" shouted back Morgan, "But hurry, I think I'm going to pass out."
Morgan was racked with pain. Suspended beneath the helicopter by one arm, the full length of his muscular frame was stretched to capacity, threatening to wrench his cracked ribs apart with every roll and turn in flight. Over the engine noise, the wail of the slipstream and the shouting, the chaos of the cockpit found its way down to him. Jesus! More trouble? Mason's flying had become erratic. The pilot was obviously fighting with another problem. Morgan's mind raced, searching for any notion of what emergency might now be confronting Mason at the controls. The helicopter began to yaw and Morgan swung uncontrollably, still clinging for life to the folds of Stanley's tough canvas sleeve. He knew Stanley had him securely, but the prospect of a mechanical fault on-board had Morgan wondering humourlessly if he wasn't better off taking his chances outside.
The chopper felt as though it was about to drop from the sky. "Alex!" called Stanley. "Take her hand."
Morgan looked up to see Ari's big blue eyes as she was stretching down to grab for him.
"Come on, Mister," Ari cried, "take my hand."
Morgan reached up with his right arm and Stanley began to swing him from side to side across to Arena's waiting grasp. Morgan recoiled at the tortuous effort. His ribcage screamed as it expanded to make the grab, the bones tearing at his insides. But after half a dozen gruelling attempts, their arms finally locked solid. Stanley and Arena instantly heaved upwards, launching Morgan straight over them and into the cargo hold.
CHAPTER 25
Morgan catapulted headfirst into the cargo hold, the others cheered. Winded and bloodied, barely able to speak, he made out a sound crossed between a sob and squeal and realized his landing had been softened by Arena.
For a few seconds they lay dead still, worn out, before he rolled off. Arena grabbed him, holding him tightly around the head and shoulders. Then gently, she eased him around, holding his head to her breast, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.