Page 81 of Holmes Is Missing
It was a five-foot drop from the loading dock to the ground.Poe jumped first. Marple next. Then Holmes. Poe led the way around the corner of the warehouse. For a second, he stopped and looked both ways. Then he stared into the middle distance.
There it was.
A concrete platform with an NYPD Bell 206 helicopter sitting on it.
No guards. No pilot.
Holmes was at his side, gripping his shoulder. “Can you fly it?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” said Poe. In his head, he was a lot less confident. He hoped Bell hadn’t updated the controls too radically. He hoped his muscle memory was intact. It had been fifteen years since his last sortie.
Poe shook off his nerves and sprinted toward the platform. He could hear Holmes and Marple right behind him. He vaulted onto the pad and climbed into the right forward seat. The chopper was out of the sight line of most of the assault force, but Poe knew that would only buy him a minute. Maybe less. He strapped in.
Holmes settled into the left-hand seat. Marple slipped onto a cramped bench behind her partners. Poe flicked the battery switch. The cockpit filled with a chorus of loud beeps. The controls lit up. “Full disclosure,” Poe called out above the noise. “I’m skipping some steps here.”
He rolled the throttle to idle and started the engine. The blades started to spin overhead, first in a lazy circle, then in an increasingly fast blur. He looked back toward the staging area. A few officers were paying attention. Some were pointing in his direction.
“Why aren’t we moving?” shouted Holmes as the engine built to a loud whine.
“It’s not an Uber,” Poe shouted back. “It takes a minute.”
His eyes darted across the gauges. He ran through a rudimentary preflight checklist. Generator switch. Hydraulics. Pedal resistance. Altimeter. Fuel level. Good enough.Jesus.He would have been kicked out of flight school for this.
He rolled the throttle to the fly position.
He turned to see a few cops moving in the direction of the pad. He saw arms waving and mouths moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the engine. He clamped his headphones on and signaled Holmes and Marple to do the same. He looked back to make sure the tail rotor was clear. He checked the gauges again. All green. Now or never. He pulled back gently on the stick and feathered the left pedal.
“Go, dammit!” shouted Holmes. “Paul could be there already!”
The aircraft jittered. A few of the cops were running toward the pad now, getting closer and closer. The chopper slid forward, then lifted free, hovering a few yards off the ground.
Poe looked back as the prop wash hit the cops. The next instant, he saw Duff rounding the corner of the warehouse, walkie in his hand, suit jacket flapping. Poe pulled up about fifty feet, turned in a tight circle, and made a pass directly over his head.
He watched as Duff spun and hurled his radio against the warehouse wall.
Poe heard Marple’s voice crackle through his headset. “Too bad,” she said. “We were getting along so well.”
A few seconds later, Poe straightened out and headed south, skirting power lines and rooftops. It was all coming back to him now. He poured on more power and felt the machine come to life. Then he flicked off the transponder.
“How long?” asked Holmes, shifting anxiously in his seat.
Poe checked his gauges again. “About an hour,” he said. “Or until somebody shoots us down.”
CHAPTER87
LESS THAN ANhour later, the chopper touched ground at the edge of a grassy dog run in Lums Pond State Park, a few hundred yards from the street Holmes had pointed out.
Holmes yanked off his headset. He was already out of his seat by the time Poe shut the power off. The blades were still whirring, whipping the leaves on the nearby trees. Holmes dialed his mother’s number again, for probably the hundredth time since leaving Jersey. Still no answer.
As he put his phone in his pocket, he spotted a couple of curious dog walkers strolling toward them with their pooches. Poe pulled out his ID and waved them off.
“Police business!” he called out. “Stay clear.” Overhead, the blades were winding to a stop.
“Let’s go!” said Holmes. He took off at a run in the direction of his mother’s house.
By the time his partners caught up with him, he was already crouched by the hedge at the end of the driveway. The RAV4 still sat in front of the closed garage, as it had yesterday.
“The car?” asked Poe. “Maybe he cut the brake lines?”