Innocent Blood(101)
Christian immediately turned their helicopter into a stomach-dropping dive, trying to outmaneuver the other, but their rental aircraft was a lumbering fat bee compared to the sleek killer wasp on their tail.
Black ocean zoomed toward them.
She sucked in her breath. Jordan clutched hard against her.
Inches from the crests of the tallest waves, their craft finally pulled up, sweeping fast and low over the water. She craned her neck and saw the other helicopter behind them. It tipped up on its edge, dropping sideways toward the sea, then straightened and sped toward them, coming in higher.
They would never escape it.
“Gonna try to reach the rig!” Christian yelled. “Use its bulk as a shield.”
Jordan called up. “I saw three more missiles in its bay when it swept past overhead.”
Three more chances to kill them.
Christian struggled with the stick as if it had a life of its own. The helicopter zigzagged over the water, aiming for the oil rig. Another smoke trail screamed past on the right and exploded into the sea, casting a wave of smoke and water over their craft.
Two more chances . . .
The oil platform loomed ahead, a lamplit skyscraper rising out of the sea.
Erin allowed herself a moment of hope.
Then Nature slapped them down.
An extra tall wave hit the skimming skids. The machine jolted and wobbled like a tightrope walker about to lose his balance. For a sickening second, she thought that it would tip into the sea. Then the helicopter righted itself, climbing out of the waves.
She heaved out a sigh.
“Brace yourselves!” Christian bellowed.
Her throat clutched tightly, knowing they had lost too much speed. They could never outrun this next missile. Erin met Jordan’s eyes—as Christian dove them lower again, this time seeming to drag the skids in the water on purpose.
Erin was thrown against her restraints as their forward momentum braked suddenly. The craft tilted up on its nose.
The missile slipped under their uplifted tail and exploded beneath them.
Fire blossomed up along both sides of the helicopter, flames covering the windows. The world spun in a dizzying wash of smoke, fire, and water. Then the chopper settled on its side in the water. Black smoke roiled into the darkened cabin.
The helicopter hung for one last breath.
Then sank into the sea.
5:37 A.M.
Judas studied the shattered wreckage, the spreading black stain on the dark water. The pilot hovered the helicopter, turning it in a slow sweep of the area, watching for survivors.
“Sir?” the pilot asked.
Judas weighed the odds of anyone surviving that last missile blast. It looked as if the strike had hit the tail of the helicopter square on. Nothing could have survived such a direct hit; even the stubborn bodies of the Sanguinists could not heal after being shredded to ribbons by ripped metal.
Besides—he checked the platinum Rolex Yacht-Master on his wrist—none of this mattered.
Whether there were any survivors, they could never stop him now. Dawn was less than two hours off. Even if the Sanguinists somehow survived, they could not close their lead on him.
Still . . .
“Contact the remaining crew at the rig,” he ordered. “Have them comb and watch these waters.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Then continue to the coast.”
Judas glanced at the boy, who looked ashen after the attack.
No one can save you now.
38
December 20, 5:38 A.M. CET
Mediterranean Sea
A racking cough tore through Erin.
She tasted blood, smelled smoke.
Jordan gripped her hand hard.
Alive—but for how long?
Water swamped the windows all round, as the craft continued its plunge into the cold depths. Red emergency lights glowed, casting the cabin into shades of crimson. Water seeped inside, slowly filling the lower half.
Rhun scrambled and splashed forward with Bernard, reaching Christian, who draped limply in his restraints. They fought to free him.
Following their example, Erin fumbled with her seat harness’s quick release, which thankfully popped open. Jordan did the same, then clicked on a flashlight. He placed a hand against the window.
How far down were they?
The waters beyond the windows were as black as oil.
Jordan moved aside as Rhun came splashing to join them, hauling Christian’s arms. Bernard had his legs. Blood covered the young Sanguinist’s entire face.
Was he even alive?
Jordan pointed to the window. “We need to break out of here. Rhun, do you have the strength to kick out this window?”
“I believe so.”
“No,” Erin called. “We don’t know how far down we are. The pressure could crush us. And even if we get free, I doubt we can make it to the surface in one breath.”
Jordan frowned at her. “We have to try. We’ll drown just as surely by doing nothing.”