"Fuck me!" he cried.
All he saw was rotor blades.
The nose of the POLAIR Kawasaki BK-117 was almost kissing the stern of the Sea Ray, the rotor blades slicing through the air directly above the rear deck. Chuck, moving in as close as he dared, was overwhelmed by the drastic surge in weather that had brought the two machines so dangerously close to impact. It was like riding a bucking bronco. He instantly wrenched the chopper back to port then surged forward, once again closing alongside the Sea Ray. The winds were hurling the chopper up and down in the sky, and Chuck was struggling to keep her steady, but the starboard side cargo door of the chopper began to open.
Morgan was braced in the door. Sutherland was at his side.
"You crazy bastards!" Chuck cried from the controls, shaking his head. "We'll never manage this!"
"Just get me over that boat!" came Morgan's chilling response.
Lundt's mind was racing. Surely this wasn't it? He could just make out the side door opening and the men inside. Were the cops about to board him? He couldn't fail now. He was so close - so close to making his escape with the girl.
There was only one solution: cut your losses, Victor, old boy! Cut your losses!
CHAPTER 63
The searchlight thrust a piercing white circle upon the Sea Ray with the intensity of an interrogation lamp. The boat bounced recklessly in and out of the spotlight, across heaving waves.
Hanging from the door, Morgan saw it all: the Sea Ray racing across the white-topped water; the Opera House, its billowing white sails luminous against the ominous grey of the storm; and, dead ahead, the world's most famous coat hanger, the Harbour Bridge. At the controls of the POLAIR chopper, Chuck Bowler's jaw tightened.
Bowler knew that there was only 50 metres of clearance for shipping below the main span of the bridge. Flying at high speed over water in the middle of a raging storm, 50 metres might as well have been five. To complicate matters even more, there were at that moment, three passenger ferries negotiating their way into Circular Quay, squeezing through the same 600 metres of space between the bridge's north and south pylons. Chuck was forced into urgent edge-of-the-seat manoeuvres. He jammed the cyclic forward and the chopper's nose dived. He fought against the winds to bring the bird level, skirting the waves and skimming beneath the bridge's 50,000 tonnes of steel, eight lanes of traffic and commuter trains. Everybody on-board POLAIR held their breath, hanging on tight to whatever they could reach at the sudden, rapid drop in altitude.
Morgan could see Arena, cradling herself on the rear deck of the cruiser. Lundt was at the wheel, struggling to keep control. Get me closer, Morgan willed the pilot. Get me closer!
Lundt left the wheel. It looked as though he had set the craft to cruise and was rushing back to Arena. The boat was hurled up and down, out of control without anyone at the wheel. He was grappling with her, lifting her roughly to her feet. She fought against Lundt, taking him on, punching and kicking with ferocious determination. Arena was strong, but she didn't stand a chance. Lundt was a killer, a man who would act without compunction. The fact that Arena was a woman was of no consequence to him. He hit her hard, as hard as he would a man, deep in the centre of her solar plexus. The last of her air expired and she crumpled to the deck. Then the Sea Ray was hit by another big wave. Lundt, too, fell to the decks, but recovering fast he was upon her again, dragging Arena to the side. Morgan's sheer helplessness compelled him to act.
"Come on, Chuck!"
Finally the chopper was in position. Morgan leaned forward, hands braced either side of the door, selecting the precise moment to make the jump. Then, disaster.
"No!" Morgan cried.
Lundt had Arena around the waist, and without remorse tossed her into the deadly swirling waters. She disappeared instantly beneath the waves, swallowed by the grey mouth of the raging storm.
"Dave, save her!" Morgan bellowed, and then, without hesitation, Dave Sutherland fearlessly plunged into the churning sea after Arena. At the same moment, Alex Morgan leapt for the surging deck of the cruiser.
The waters pulled at Sutherland as he dived for Arena. Chuck kept the chopper directly above. With the spotlight on them, he guided Sutherland towards Arena's body, floating face down. The Observer strapped herself into a safety harness, manipulating the rescue winch behind the pilot.
* * *
Morgan landed on the deck of the Sea Ray with a boom, the impact shuddering first through his knees and then jarring his body. The enraged Victor Lundt could scarcely believe his eyes.
"You fucker, Morgan! I should have known!" he screamed through the rain. "Won't you ever die?"
"You've had your day, Lundt," Morgan spat the words. "It's over."