Page 39 of Touchdown
“Spare me the pillow talk,” said the goon. “You gonna use that duct tape for its intended purpose, or you want me to shut him up? Because if it's me, I ain't gonna be gentle.”
“No.” Noah's voice was suddenly firm. Quivering, compliant Noah had completely vanished. “That's not going happen. Slate's right. His position is dangerous enough. He needs to be able to get our attention if he's in distress. And we can't do anything that might interfere with somebody's breathing during takeoff and landing.”
“You don't make the rules around here, buddy. He who has the gun makes the rules.”
“Not trying to make a rule. Trying to use some common sense. Do you want us all to get where we're going alive, or would you rather have a nice quiet grave?”
A bolt of lightning cut through the night. Followed by a crash of thunder so loud it seemed as if it was coming down on our heads.
The storm was moving in.
“We shouldn't take off in this,” I said. “We really shouldn't.”
“The storm's not moving off until noon.” The goon's voice was as hard as non-compliant Noah's. “And we're going to need to be gone by dawn.”
I expected Noah to protest a little more, but he didn't. Probably wise. We were already loaded. The goon could change his mind at any time about leaving us awake. Too much hassle from the two of us, and he'd go back to plan A. Knock us out, put down his gun, and fly out himself.
“The running commentary isn't going to be all that bad,” Noah said. “Once we're in the air, the helicopter noise will keep you from hearing any unwanted wisecracks from the peanut gallery. Strap in, put on your headphones, and let's get moving.”
“Did somebody just call me the peanut gallery?” I asked. “Wait until it's my turn to tie you up.”
Chapter 27
“So you knew about this storm,” Noah said. “Seems like a strange time for a pickup.”
“Emergency extraction,” said the goon. “As if you need to know that.”
Our captor was still talking too much. Still looking ahead to the moment when he'd knock us out. Make us forget everything.
Not gonna happen, fucko.
Noah said something else, and the guy said something else, but I couldn't hear what it was because they'd put on headphones. What about my hearing protection?
I didn't ask, and they wouldn't have heard me if I did, because the clouds chose that moment to break open. The formerly soft drizzle was now pounding on the chopper's roof like the state police trying to serve a felony warrant on a frat house.
The drumbeat of the downpour did more to drown out my so-called running commentary than three layers of duct tape over the mouth. I couldn't even hear myself.
Better not to distract Noah from his piloting job anyway. Did he really know how to fly this thing? It didn't seem to me that earning your wings on a flight simulator would do you much good in a situation like this.
Nobody needed my doubts. Least of all Noah.
It wasn't like he had a choice.
Better to focus on my own job. Escape. I shrugged my shoulders from within the uncomfortable confines of the hogtie. The stupid goon had eagle eyes when it came to watching how Noah bound me. He wanted it nice and tight.
Of course, I flexed as much as I could, swelling my muscles where I was able in order to make my bonds look tighter than they were. Noah had known what I was doing. He made a show of tying me securely, but we both knew I could relax those muscles, stretch and elongate my arms instead of pumping them up, stretch and elongate my fingers...
Unless we were wrong about what we thought we knew.
Unless I couldn't quite get a grip on those knots.
The knot felt large and complex. Noah wanted it to look more complicated than it was.
Unless it really was that complicated...
I rocked and wriggled. The goon glanced back at me a couple of times, then settled in.
We were about to take off. The lightning was striking close enough that it seemed to light up the inside of the cabin, briefly blinding me each time.
