Читать книгу Code Name: Blondie - Christina Skye - Страница 5

MIKI OPENED HER EYES and gasped as water spilled into her mouth. She was choking.

When her terror cleared, she realized the water was coming from a broken plastic sports bottle shoved above her seat. She was dry everywhere except for her face.

Outside the plane was a different story. Angry waves slapped against the Cessna’s body, spilling froth over the window.

Vance was slumped forward against the pilot’s seat. Blood trailed down both cheeks.

“Vance, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

When he didn’t answer, Miki tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Her hand came away slick with blood.

His body slumped sideways, stiff and lifeless, and she caught a breath in horror, gagging.

“Dutch, what should I do?”

The big man coughed and Miki saw him wipe away blood with his left hand. His right arm was out of sight on the seat as he fiddled with the Cessna’s controls.

“I’ve been broadcasting a Mayday on our last contact frequency. They’ll have our ID and present position. The radio transponder is set for continuous transmission in case of—” His voice shook as waves buffeted the plane. “How’s Vance?”

“He’s gone.” Miki’s voice shook. “Something hit his head, I think.” She fought to think clearly. “What are we going to do?”

“Stay calm, that’s what. We stay smart and we’ll stay alive until we get picked up. I never should have agreed to use this old plane.” He closed his eyes for a minute and seemed to struggle to breathe. “Get out of your seat harness. Do it now.” His voice was grim. “Head to the cargo door.”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying. I’ll keep the radio alert squawking as long as I can.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Listen, I got us down in one piece, but Vance is gone and my arm’s pretty well crushed by this broken seat. If you stick around, you’ve got no odds, which is just plain stupid. So I’m ordering you to unharness and ditch. You’ve got your flotation vest. Pull the cord once you’re outside. Someone will come eventually. You can tell them to come back for me.” His voice tightened. “Now get going.”

“But I—”

Water hammered high and the windshield gave way. The plane pitched hard, driving Miki back. Suddenly she was fighting to breathe as seawater covered her face, and raw instinct took hold. She clawed free of her safety restraint, kicked past Vance’s lifeless body and managed to find the rear cargo doors. An eternity passed as she searched blindly for the door latch. Water slashed her face, blinding her as she forced open the hatch. She turned back to search for Dutch and felt the plane shake. Engulfed, she lost all sense of direction, unable to see Vance or Dutch. Desperate for air, she kicked in the direction of a dim patch of light, fighting through cold, churning water.

Her face broke the surface. Her first gasping breath was torn away by the howling wind. Then Miki began to sink and realized that she’d forgotten to open her flotation vest.

After her third try, the vest inflated and she bobbed to the surface. Dragging in air, her thoughts flashed to Vance, lifeless and cold somewhere in the water while Dutch bled in the cockpit, maybe dead already.

Another wave crashed into her face. Everything slid away but survival.

Stay smart and you’ll stay alive.

Miki clung to the words as she was yanked up over the lip of a towering wave and dropped mercilessly into a trough.

Someone would come, she told herself. They would. All she had to do was stay alive.

THERE WAS A STIFFER current than Max had expected from the prejump briefing. Even Truman was tired from their long swim. Unfortunately, the drop had left them slightly off course and they hadn’t been able to make up the distance in their glide before chute opening. As a result, their swim to the island had taken twice the estimated time. But they’d made the beach with no more than a few bumps and bruises. The big yellow Lab had come through like a pro in the air and in the water.

Max’s target was a neighboring island separated by half a mile of open sea. This was the spot where recent intel had indicated Cruz was building a covert base. So far Max had found no movement or signs of life, but that meant nothing. Any plan by Cruz would involve elaborate security precautions.

Max put down his binoculars and scratched his canine backup behind the ears. Otherwise, neither moved. The wind was already picking up and gray-green clouds dotted the horizon. The Lab raised his head, ears alert. It was still too early to say if Izzy’s storm predictions would be on target.

Max was about to scan the far side of the nearby island when he heard the muffled cough of a motor. Instantly he swung his binoculars up, but saw nothing in the fading twilight. When he swept the ocean, he saw a dark shape hurtle down, hitting the water too fast. A smaller outline separated, bobbing on the gunmetal waves. Focusing his powerful binoculars, Max made out a figure near what looked like the body of a wrecked seaplane.

An accident here, within earshot of Cruz’s island? Unlucky tourists? Max didn’t buy it. That kind of coincidence only happened in movies.

But if innocent civilians had been forced to ditch at sea, they could be fighting for their lives. He couldn’t let them die without a chance.

Max felt his senses narrow, focused and alert as he grabbed his scuba gear. He wouldn’t go in too close, in case this was a trap, but he had to check out the scene carefully. Cruz himself might be out there.

On the other hand, he might run into twenty drunken tourists. The SEAL bit back a curse at the thought of the possible complications. Civilians would whine and make noise, asking questions and demanding to be taken back to Tahiti or Bora Bora.

FUBAR.

After a silent touch command to his dog, Max waded into the restless water, flipped on his mask and headed west into the night toward the coordinates where he had last seen the downed plane.