and shot Ben a look that said, ?What are you waiting for??
Ben waved the team towards the second craft, paused while Dorenkamp climbed on board, then hauled himself up through the hatch carrying his Flash-Ball. The seats were deep and comfortable. Ben slipped the rubber bullet gun into a space beneath his. Then the co-pilots closed the hatches of the two aircraft, like chauffeurs shutting limo doors. They ran round to take their places and put on their headsets as the shriek of the turbines started up again and the rotors began to spin faster.
In less than a minute, the ground was dropping away from them and Ben watched the ch?teau and surrounding estate shrink to the size of a model. The chopper climbed straight up to four hundred feet, then dipped its nose and accelerated hard towards the horizon. The cabin was well insulated against the noise. Ben barely had to raise his voice to ask Dorenkamp where the aircraft were usually kept. The PA turned and replied that they were stored at a private hangar a few miles from the estate.
Ben nodded and said no more. Out of the window, hills and forests rolled by far below.
Steiner nudged Dorenkamp and pointed at the back of the co-pilot?s head. Ben wondered what he was doing, then saw that he was pointing at the ring the man was wearing in his left ear. Steiner leaned towards Dorenkamp and Ben heard him say in German, ?If that young man wants to continue working for me, he?ll have to dispense with the decorations.?
?Must be new on the staff,? Dorenkamp replied. ?I?ll have a word with Rolf.?
The two men went on to discussing the agenda for the upcoming conference, while Ben watched the alpine scenery. Twisting round in his seat, he could see the second chopper keeping pace behind them, the shapes of his team just visible through the side window.
Just as he was about to turn and face forward again, he saw the other aircraft suddenly give a violent judder, bank and peel off to starboard. Over the noise he heard the unmistakable crack of a rifle shot, and from somewhere down in the rolling fields below the yellow-white flame of a muzzle flash caught his eye as more shots were fired. Then another. Two shooters, using high-velocity semi-auto rifles.
It was happening already.
The rear helicopter veered away sharply, rapidly shrinking into the distance. Steiner?s pilot banked the lead craft hard in the opposite direction, dropping altitude and heading for a thick patch of woodland on the port side.
?Gott in Himmel,? Steiner yelled as the floor tilted dramatically and his attach? case went tumbling away from him. Dorenkamp?s hands gripped the arms of his seat, fingers white against the red fabric.
Ben knew immediately what was happening. The shooters on the ground weren?t trying to bring the choppers down, but to divert their course and isolate Steiner?s helicopter from its escort. It was a crude form of hijack. The question was, how did their attackers plan on forcing the chopper to the ground without shooting it down?
The question was answered a second later when the co-pilot swung round to face them, holding a gun. Not a big clumsy riot stun gun, but a purposeful 9mm Beretta semi-auto pistol. And it was pointed straight at them.
?This is outrageous,? Steiner thundered in German.
There wasn?t much Ben could do without risking his life and those of everyone on board. He sat calmly in his seat as Steiner continued to yell. The pilot worked the controls, bringing the chopper down lower towards the pine forest. Ben could see the green canopy skimming past under them, and the second chopper now far away, just a little dark red dot against the sky.
The crude hijack was turning out to be quite neatly orchestrated. When Ben saw the wide circular clearing in the trees opening up ahead, he knew the pilot had found his prearranged landing zone.
The instant the chopper touched down, the co-pilot was out of the cockpit and tearing open the rear door, still pointing the pistol at them,
Ben waved the team towards the second craft, paused while Dorenkamp climbed on board, then hauled himself up through the hatch carrying his Flash-Ball. The seats were deep and comfortable. Ben slipped the rubber bullet gun into a space beneath his. Then the co-pilots closed the hatches of the two aircraft, like chauffeurs shutting limo doors. They ran round to take their places and put on their headsets as the shriek of the turbines started up again and the rotors began to spin faster.
In less than a minute, the ground was dropping away from them and Ben watched the ch?teau and surrounding estate shrink to the size of a model. The chopper climbed straight up to four hundred feet, then dipped its nose and accelerated hard towards the horizon. The cabin was well insulated against the noise. Ben barely had to raise his voice to ask Dorenkamp where the aircraft were usually kept. The PA turned and replied that they were stored at a private hangar a few miles from the estate.
Ben nodded and said no more. Out of the window, hills and forests rolled by far below.
Steiner nudged Dorenkamp and pointed at the back of the co-pilot?s head. Ben wondered what he was doing, then saw that he was pointing at the ring the man was wearing in his left ear. Steiner leaned towards Dorenkamp and Ben heard him say in German, ?If that young man wants to continue working for me, he?ll have to dispense with the decorations.?
?Must be new on the staff,? Dorenkamp replied. ?I?ll have a word with Rolf.?
The two men went on to discussing the agenda for the upcoming conference, while Ben watched the alpine scenery. Twisting round in his seat, he could see the second chopper keeping pace behind them, the shapes of his team just visible through the side window.
Just as he was about to turn and face forward again, he saw the other aircraft suddenly give a violent judder, bank and peel off to starboard. Over the noise he heard the unmistakable crack of a rifle shot, and from somewhere down in the rolling fields below the yellow-white flame of a muzzle flash caught his eye as more shots were fired. Then another. Two shooters, using high-velocity semi-auto rifles.
It was happening already.
The rear helicopter veered away sharply, rapidly shrinking into the distance. Steiner?s pilot banked the lead craft hard in the opposite direction, dropping altitude and heading for a thick patch of woodland on the port side.
?Gott in Himmel,? Steiner yelled as the floor tilted dramatically and his attach? case went tumbling away from him. Dorenkamp?s hands gripped the arms of his seat, fingers white against the red fabric.
Ben knew immediately what was happening. The shooters on the ground weren?t trying to bring the choppers down, but to divert their course and isolate Steiner?s helicopter from its escort. It was a crude form of hijack. The question was, how did their attackers plan on forcing the chopper to the ground without shooting it down?
The question was answered a second later when the co-pilot swung round to face them, holding a gun. Not a big clumsy riot stun gun, but a purposeful 9mm Beretta semi-auto pistol. And it was pointed straight at them.
?This is outrageous,? Steiner thundered in German.
There wasn?t much Ben could do without risking his life and those of everyone on board. He sat calmly in his seat as Steiner continued to yell. The pilot worked the controls, bringing the chopper down lower towards the pine forest. Ben could see the green canopy skimming past under them, and the second chopper now far away, just a little dark red dot against the sky.
The crude hijack was turning out to be quite neatly orchestrated. When Ben saw the wide circular clearing in the trees opening up ahead, he knew the pilot had found his prearranged landing zone.
The instant the chopper touched down, the co-pilot was out of the cockpit and tearing open the rear door, still pointing the pistol at them,
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