SHARPE HAD BYPASSED
the tunnel entrance, just in case he was being watched, then turned downtown on Ninth Avenue. Just a few more blocks, he told himself. He joined the West Side Highway at Thirty-ninth Street and headed downtown. Nearly there. He left the highway at the West Side Heliport and parked the car next to it. He could see the chopper on the ground with Larsen standing next to it. The rotor was already turning, and Hildy and Larsen’s “wife” would be inside.
Sharpe had nothing in the car he needed to take with him. He hated to abandon such a nice car, but the lease was up in a couple of months, so what the hell? He jogged toward the waiting helicopter.
Larsen was holding the door for him, and he jumped in and gave Hildy a big kiss. The chopper rose, rotated a hundred and eighty degrees and began to fly north along the Hudson VFR corridor.
Larsen was pointing down. “What’s that on top of your car?” he asked.
Sharpe looked down and saw the egg splatter on the car’s roof. “I don’t know,” he said. “Vandals, I guess.”
“HE’S NOT
coming out of this tunnel,” the pilot said, “because he didn’t go into it.”
“You’re right,” Stone said. “We’ve been had.” Then he looked across the river and saw a helicopter take off from the West Side Heliport. “Uh-oh,” he said, pointing. “Head over there.”
The pilot turned the machine and started toward the Hudson. “There’s one that just took off,” he said, pointing at a helicopter making its way north.
“I want to see the parking lot,” Stone said, then he pointed. “There’s the Mercedes with the egg on top.”
“The chopper going north is the only one I see in the air,” the pilot said.
“Follow it,” Stone said. “He’s headed for Westchester Airport.”
The pilot made the turn north. “Well,” he said, “I hope it’s the right helicopter.”
“So do I,” Stone said.
“IS THE AIRPLANE
going to be waiting?” Sharpe asked Larsen.
“It’s already there,” Larsen replied. “I’ll call him when we’re five minutes out and tell him to start the engines.”
“Man, oh, man,” Larsen said. “This is really happening.”
“What’s happening?” Hildy asked. “We’re just going to the Bahamas, right?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” Sharpe said.
DINO TAPPED
Stone on the shoulder and spoke through his headset from the rear seat. “What the fuck is happening?”
Stone turned toward the rear seats. “They took a helicopter from the West Side Heliport,” Stone replied, “and they’re headed for Westchester. Just enjoy the view of the Hudson.”
Mitzi spoke up. “Should I call Brian?”
“I guess you’d better,” Stone said. “Tell him to alert the team at Westchester that Sharpe and Larsen are headed there in a helicopter and to arrest them on sight.”
“Will do,” Mimi said.
Stone turned back and looked north. “I don’t see the chopper,” he said.
“I was just about to mention that,” the pilot replied. “I don’t see him, either. He was there; then I looked at my chart for a couple of seconds and when I looked up, he was gone.”
“I heard that,” Dino said. “Now what?”
58
STONE WAS ANXIOUSLY LOOKING UP
and down both shores of the Hudson River. The George Washington Bridge was coming up and the pilot climbed another hundred feet to clear it.
“I don’t get it,” Stone said. “How could a helicopter just vanish?”
“He’s low over land somewhere,” the pilot replied. “It’s hard to spot a helicopter from above when it’s flying low.
Stone began concentrating on looking down. “There … No, that’s a car.”
“See what I mean?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter how low he flies if he’s going to Westchester,” Stone said. “We’ve got that covered, and they’ll see the chopper when it lands.”
“What if he’s not going to Westchester?” the pilot asked.
“What are the alternatives?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know—Albany? Hartford? Bridgeport?”
Stone remembered something. “When I was getting my instrument rating, I flew some approaches at Oxford, Connecticut.”
“That’s worth a try,” the pilot said, flipping through his airport guide. “Five-thousand-foot runway—that’s plenty for a corporate jet. If you’ve got Westchester covered, they won’t miss us.”
“It’s on the way to Hartford,” Stone said. “Let’s at least take a look at it.”
The pilot put the airport’s identifier, OXC, into his GPS and swung right, following the needle.
“How long?” Stone asked.
“Twelve minutes,” the pilot replied.
IN THE
other helicopter the pilot turned and addressed Larsen. “Five minutes,” he said.
“I’ll call the airplane,” Larsen said to Sharpe. He tapped a speed-dial key on his cell phone and listened. “I’m not getting through,” he said.
“We may be moving too fast for the cell phone to capture a tower,” Sharpe said. “It doesn’t matter, we’ll be there in five minutes.”
“SIX MINUTES,”
Stone’s pilot said.
“Has this thing got any more speed?” Stone asked.
“I’ll push it,” the pilot said. Then, a moment later, “Four minutes.” He looked up. “Can you see the airport?” he asked.
Stone looked hard. “No. We’re too low; it just looks like country-side.”
The pilot climbed another two hundred feet. “There,” he said. “Twelve o’clock and five miles.”
“There’s the other chopper,” Stone said, “setting down now, and I can see what looks like a Citation on the ramp.” He turned toward the rear. “Looks like we’ve got ’em, Dino,” he said.
Dino reached into his jacket and produced a Colt .45, 1911 model, and checked it. Mitzi was checking her weapon, too.
“You are wearing your vest, aren’t you?”
She pretended not to be able to hear him.
Stone turned back to the pilot. “Set this thing down right in front of the jet, and keep the rotor turning. He won’t be able to taxi.”
“Got it,” the pilot said, and started to descend fast. He called Oxford tower and announced his intentions.
Stone watched as people began to get out of the helicopter and hand baggage to a uniformed pilot. He turned back to Mitzi. “As soon as your cell phone works, get hold of Brian and tell him we’re at Oxford, Connecticut.” He made cell phone motions.
Mitzi nodded and began trying her cell.
“What’s your plan?” Dino asked. “As if you had one.”
“We’re going to set down in front of the Citation so that he can’t taxi, jump out, arrest anybody who moves, shoot anybody who produces a gun.”
They were half a mile out now.
“Why did you want me to bring the .22 target pistol?”
Stone looked at him. “I want you to shoot Hildy Parsons.”
“What
?
”
“Don’t kill her, but make sure she’s not able to run for the jet.”
“You’re crazy. I’m not shooting her!”
“Don’t let her get on that airplane, Dino!” Stone turned back just in time to see them set down twenty yards from the Citation. Dino was already getting out of the copter, followed by Mitzi.
Stone unbuckled his belt and started moving toward the door. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud, “we’re not close enough to the jet.”
By the time he made it onto the tarmac everybody on the other copter was running toward the Citation. Sig Larsen produced a pistol and got off a couple rounds. Somebody—Dino or Mitzi—shot him, and he fell to one knee. Derek Sharpe grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the Citation. Hildy had gone back to the other helicopter for her purse and was not yet running toward the Citation, which had its engines running and was making a sharp turn to the right to clear the helicopter’s blades.
“Shoot Hildy!” Stone shouted to Dino, who was closer to the airplane, then pulled his own gun and began firing at the nosewheel of the Citation, missing on the first two shots.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hildy go down. Then he aimed again at the Citation’s nosewheel and saw it go flat. Sharpe had dragged Larsen aboard the airplane and was trying to close the door. Hildy was screaming at him from the tarmac and trying to drag herself toward the airplane, which was still moving, even with the flattened nosewheel.
Stone ran to the airplane, jerked the half-closed door open, got hold of Sharpe’s jacket lapel, and jerked him off the airplane, spilling Larsen out as well. The airplane stopped moving, and the engines began to spool down. Dino produced handcuffs and went to work. Stone looked around. Where was Mitzi?
Stone turned and looked back. Mitzi was lying on her back, propped up on one elbow. “Oh, God!” he shouted and began to run toward her. He got a glimpse of Hildy and saw blood on her skirt. Dino had put a .22 slug into her ass.
Stone reached Mitzi, got an arm around her, and pulled her into a sitting position. He realized immediately that she wasn’t wearing a vest. “Where are you hit?” he shouted over the noise of the helicopter, whose rotor was still turning.
“I’m not hit!” she cried. “I broke a heel and fell!”
Stone looked at her feet and saw the shoe with the missing heel. He helped her to her feet. “Call 911 and get an ambulance; we’ve got two down, Larsen and Hildy. Then call Brian again.”
She grabbed her phone and began dialing while Stone ran to help Dino.
“Well, you finally hit the nosewheel,” Dino said, snapping cuffs onto Sharpe. “How many rounds did that take?”
“One,” Stone replied. “The first two were practice.”
59
STONE WAS BACK
at his desk late that afternoon when the phone buzzed.
“Bill Eggers on one,” Joan said.
“Hello, Bill?”
“You
shot
Hildy Parsons?” Eggers said with outrage in his voice.
“Certainly not,” Stone said. “There were bullets flying everywhere, and if you’d like to check the bullet that struck her against my gun, you’re welcome to.”
“Were you carrying a .22?”
“Of course not. You’re not going to stop anybody with a .22. I was carrying a 9mm.”
“Hildy Parsons was shot with a .22. Cops don’t carry .22s.”
“My point exactly,” Stone replied.
“Then who shot her?”
“Maybe some hunter in the woods. It’s a rural area, you know; lots of hunters up there.”
“What would a hunter shoot with a .22?”
“Squirrels? Rabbits? Probably some kid.”
“Philip Parsons is livid.”
“Hildy Parsons is alive.”
“But wounded.”
“If she hadn’t been wounded she might have made it to that jet, and Philip Parsons wouldn’t have a daughter anymore. You might explain to Parsons that Sharpe and Larsen were carrying a couple of million in drugs and that much more in cash, and if they had made it, his daughter would have been a fugitive from justice, and he would be spending millions fighting her extradition. As it is, she was just an innocent bystander. I’ve seen to that.”
Eggers thought that over. “Did you hear that, Philip?”
“Yes, Bill, I did.”
“I didn’t know I was on a conference call, Philip,” Stone said, “or I would have been more politic in my statements. Maybe.”
“I’m glad you were blunt, Stone,” Parsons said.
“How is Hildy?”
“They’re keeping her in the hospital tonight for observation. She’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Have the police questioned her yet?”
“No, it was smart of you to have her taken to New York Hospital.”
“It might be a good idea if I have a conversation with her before she goes home,” Stone said.
“Now would be a good time,” Larkin said. “I’m with her.”
“I’ll be right there,” Stone said.
STONE TOOK
a cab to the hospital and found the room. There were two bored-looking detectives sitting in the waiting room.
“Come in, Stone,” Philip Larkin said.
Hildy was propped up in bed in a large, sunny room overlooking the East River, and there were flowers everywhere.
“I don’t want to speak to him,” she said to her father, pointing at Stone.
“Shut up, Hildy,” Philip replied.
Stone stood by the bed. “You don’t have to talk to me,” he said. “In fact, it’s better if you don’t. You just have to listen.” He dragged up a chair and sat down. “You’re up to your neck in this, Hildy, and the only way you can get out of it is if you do exactly as I say. There are two police detectives waiting outside to see you …”
“I’m
not
going to talk to the police.”