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O’Do
The pilot stared. Parker stared. Lamaison stared.
The time of maximum danger.
Reacher could not afford to fire forward. The chance of hitting some essential cockpit avionics was far too great. He couldn’t afford to put a gun down and work on freeing O’Do
Whereas Lamaison was still strapped in his seat. The pilot was still strapped in his. All the pilot had to do was throw the Bell all over the sky until everyone in the back fell out. They would sacrifice Parker that way, but Reacher couldn’t see Lamaison losing sleep over that decision.
Stalemate, if they understood.
Victory, if they seized the moment.
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They didn’t understand. They didn’t seize the moment. Instead O’Do
After that, it got easier.
The pilot stayed frozen at the controls. The Bell hung there in its noisy hover. The rotor beat loud and the whole craft kept on turning slow. The door stayed open, wide and inviting, pi
Reacher kept on sawing away, blindly. One minute. Two. Dixon kept on moving her arms, offering new strands, testing progress. Lamaison struggled harder. He was a big guy, strong and powerful, thick neck, broad shoulders. And he was scared. But Reacher was bigger, and Reacher was stronger, and Reacher was angry. More angry than Lamaison was scared. Reacher tightened his arm. Lamaison struggled on. Reacher debated taking time out to hit him, but he wanted him conscious, for later. So he just worried on at the ropes and suddenly a whole skein of sisal fibers unraveled and Dixon’s wrists came free and she pushed herself up into a kneeling position. Reacher gave her the knuckleduster and his Glock and swapped the SIG from his left hand to his right.
After that, it got a whole lot easier.
Dixon did the smart thing, which was to ignore the knuckleduster and haul herself across the cabin like a mermaid to Lamaison’s pockets, where she found a wallet and another SIG and O’Do
The pilot swallowed and said, “Three thousand feet.”
“Let’s take it up a little,” Reacher said. “Let’s try five thousand feet.”
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The climb took the Bell out of its slow rotation and the open door flapped around for a moment and then slammed itself shut. The cabin went quiet. Almost silent, by comparison. O’Do
Like Swan couldn’t, Reacher thought. Like Orozco couldn’t, and Franz couldn’t, and Sanchez couldn’t.
He felt the Bell top out and level off. Heard the rotor bite stationary air, felt the turbines settle to a fast urgent whine. The pilot glanced in his direction and nodded.
“More,” Reacher said. “Let’s do another two hundred and eighty feet. Let’s make it a whole mile.”
The engine noise changed and the rotor noise changed and the craft moved upward again, slowly, precisely. It turned a little and then came back to a hover.
The pilot said, “One mile.”
Reacher asked, “What’s below us now?”
“Sand.”
Reacher turned to Dixon and said, “Open the door.”
Lamaison found some new energy. He bucked and thrashed in his seat and said, “No, please, please, no.”
Reacher tightened his elbow and asked, “Did my friends beg?”
Lamaison just shook his head.
“They wouldn’t,” Reacher said. “Too proud.”
Dixon moved back in the cabin and grabbed Le
Dixon sat down on Parker’s folded seat. O’Do