Counterpoint (20 page)

Bullets tore at the white paintwork of
the ship’s hull, splintering wood and glass all around Collins, who
now lay flat on the deck waiting for more heads to show.

A machine gun on a man’s raised arm
appeared above the steps, raked the deck indiscriminately around
Collins, who calmly aimed and fired at the wrist. The recoiling
machine gun snapped the thread of flesh that attached it to the
screaming man below. His wrist disappeared in a red spray of blood
and bone.

Other gunmen appeared in an instant,
keeping Collins pinned down whilst others climbed up the steps.

The helicopter pilot had just left the
doctor and decided to make a run for it whilst the shooting was
confined to the top of the boarding steps. Max and Carla ran with
him to his machine.

Although pinned-down by Philippe’s men,
Collins spotted the dash for the helicopter and shot the pilot
dead. Max grabbed Carla’s hand and pulled her forward in the
relative shelter of the helicopter. “Get strapped in,” he
yelled.

She protested, “You can’t fly it!”

“We can’t stay here, either,” he
shouted back. “I bet that’s Philippe’s men down there. He wouldn’t
let us off the hook even if he gets the statuette, so take a chance
with me!”

She was not convinced, but could not
think of any alternative.

The crew was still getting their guns,
and Collins could be killed, at any time, she thought.

Max climbed into the helicopter and
assessed the controls. They were the similar as those in the
Organisation’s machine, and he knew what they did. The skill was to
treat them gently and take things steady.

Max advanced the throttle and would
have waited longer for the higher rotor speed, but Collins was now
directing a few shots in his direction whilst holding back,
Philippe’s men.

Max pulled up hard on the collective,
and the machine lifted. Unfortunately, the engine torque caused the
helicopter to spin wildly as it climbed. The ship and sea whizzed
around him, and he started to panic. He focused his eyes on the
instruments in front of him, then gradually turned the joystick
until the spinning slowed. He was still climbing rapidly, but he
must control one thing at a time. The spinning stopped and then
started spinning the other way, so he turned the stick back a
little and controlled the direction as needed.

Way, way below, he could make out the
ship and the distant islands. He eased the collective down slightly
and according to the altimeter, they were no longer climbing. Next,
he looked for the ship and from its position guessed the course to
Malé. He now eased the joystick forward very slightly whilst
adjusting his heading. As the forward speed, gradually picked up,
he noticed his height was dropping. Still, he had a long way to go
down before he needed to worry, so he waited to see where it would
level out.

Now everything was stable, he
concentrated on maintaining his course until he could see the
detail of Malé take shape in the distance.

Carla had not uttered a word. Now was
not the time to have a blazing row, “best wait till we are nice and
safe on the ground,” she thought “then he’s really going to get
it!”

Max eased back on the stick, adjusted
for heading, and lowered the collective in a series of extremely
small movements until they were relatively low over the water and
slowly moving forward. The only clear space to land was a wide
expanse of car park on the seafront. Darkness would soon descend on
them so landing would have to be there, whilst he could still see.
He looked out for street lamps, trees, poles, or wires that could
foul the rotor blades, but everything was clear where he was aiming
for. Some people looked up out of curiosity at the awkwardly moving
machine, but wisely kept away.

“The moment of truth’” muttered Max.
“Just take it steady and it should be fine.”

Hovering over the chosen spot was
extremely tricky; stopping the helicopter from spinning this way
and that was a nightmare. Gradually he lowered the collective and
the closer he came to landing. He thought he was hovering over one
spot, but the ground seemed to slide around under him causing him
to make constant correction.

He was within a few feet of the ground
when he felt he had lost control. He just could not keep the damn
thing stable over the spot he wanted, he was moving about at 15
kilometres an hour in every direction.

He reached down and closed the throttle
causing the machine to drop rapidly with a bone-jarring jolt onto
its skids. Friction between the skids and road rapidly overcame the
sideways spinning motion, and it came to a halt.

Max cut the engine. As the engine and
rotor noise died away, the crowd that had gathered, closed in on
them.

It was obvious to the crowd that the
pilot was incompetent, and he could not leave the helicopter parked
in the road, so they surged forward shouting and clamouring.

“Time to leave my love,” Max urged to a
stunned Carla.

Stepping coolly out Max spotted a hefty
young lad, swept towards him by the angry crowd. Max reached into
his pocket and pulled out coins and dollars. He held up some notes
and beckoned the lad towards him. “Do you speak English?” Max asked
him.

“Yes, ” he replied.

Max gave him the notes and said, “Carry
our cases to a taxi quickly!” He caught on immediately with the
money in his fist and dashed to grab the luggage. Max threw the
rest of the money downwind into the crowd, and they went berserk
chasing after it. Max caught hold of the precious box and moved
briskly away.

“We can get a taxi if we go up here,”
the lad said. He led them in the direction of a side street.

“OK, we’ll follow you!” Said Max.

A few moments later, they came into a
main street, and the lad hailed a battered old car that was coming
towards them.

“This is a friend of mine,” he said to
Max. “He will take you to where you want to go.”

Max and Carla looked inquiringly at
each other, wondering if the old banger would make it to the water
taxi jetty on the other side of the island, then clambered in.

The lad put their cases in the boot and
hopped in the front passenger seat. “My friend doesn’t speak
English,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”

“We need a water taxi to get to the
airport, so please take us to one.” The lad did a translation and
the old car rumbled forward as the crowd from the helicopter came
running towards them. “Phew! That was close,” said Carla.

“Which bit,” smiled Max.

“All of it, you crazy fool! I’ve never
been so scared in all my life,” she screeched.

“Well, it’s better than being dead,”
retorted Max and she calmed down a bit.

***

Philippe saw the crazy way the
helicopter took off. He thought the pilot had been wounded as he
lifted off. As a superb pilot himself, he believed a crash into the
sea was only moments away. He had lost the statuette again. By the
time he could dive on it and recover the box, the aviation crash
investigators would be crawling all over the wreck, so it was out
of his reach, again!

He told his remaining men, “pull back,
and let’s get out of here.”

He called up his own pilot to airlift
them off his escaping cruiser before the authorities could catch up
with them.

***

Collins knew the helicopter was not
being controlled by a qualified pilot, he had just shot him. He
could not believe anyone would dare to try to fly it unless they
knew what they were doing. He had been told it was easier to
balance a ball on another ball than fly a helicopter. The way the
machine was spinning it was totally out of control and was bound to
crash any moment. He saw the statuette slip from his grasp the same
way Philippe had.

Collins next problem was how to escape
with his life, caught between Philippe and the armed crew.

Philippe’s men stopped firing, and
moments later, the cruiser roared away from the ship. Collins leapt
over the side of the ship into the sea before anyone could stop
him. They never saw him surface and assumed he had drowned. Collins
lay on the far side of his water-filled launch, under the curve of
its hull, out of sight. As night fell, he climbed up the anchor
chain and unseen, hid aboard the ship.

The Captain reported back to The
Organisation and was surprised to learn that Carla had already done
so. He could not believe they had been able to land safely. What a
lucky couple he thought, did not even say goodbye!

“What about the authorities?” Asked
Captain Steel, “How do you want me to deal with that?”

"No problem," said Sam Leighton “Say
you were boarded by pirates.”

“What about the dead pilot and his
stolen helicopter?” Persisted Steel. “Max’s prints will be all over
the helicopter.”

“Well they might find them, but I bet
everyone in the area climbed all over the machine, so I doubt they
will bother to dust for them.” Sam added, “You don’t even need to
mention Carla and Max were aboard.”

“OK!” Said Steel, “I’ll play it that
way then.”

Captain Steel called the authorities
and they confirmed they were already on their way. The owner of the
abandoned helicopter was told by the Police where it had landed,
and they were now looking into its theft.

***

It was an immense relief, when Max and
Carla boarded The Organisation’s executive jet; they felt safe at
last. Carla put her arms around Max’s neck and hugged him hard.
“Thanks for getting us out from that mess,” she said softly. “I
know we would have died at Philippe’s hand, if he had caught us. I
know my death would have been slow and painful, I don’t know why,
but he certainly doesn’t like me.” Then she sniggered and gave her
cheekiest grin.

Max joked, “Knowing you, you would have
claimed to have discovered he was really your father, and charmed
your way out!”

“God, how awful, I
can’t bear to imagine being a child of his. He is pure evil. That
would be
bad seed,
” she said.

Max pondered, “I wonder what brought
Stan Peters into the equation? If it hadn’t been for him trying to
make off with the helicopter, we would have been well away by the
time Philippe arrived on the scene.”

“Perhaps he was sent by the buyer of
the statuette to recover it,” replied Carla. “I can’t think of
anyone else who would chase after it. Mind you!” She added, “If he
hadn’t kept Philippe at bay, we wouldn’t have got away. I wonder
how he escaped from the storeroom?” she went on. “Must be a
slippery character I reckon.”

“Well the crew are not trained to be
guards, so I wouldn’t credit him with too much skill and cunning,”
concluded Max.

Carla silently held her opinion about
Stan Peters; she knew the type extremely well and wondered if their
paths would ever cross again. Men like that do not just give up at
the first setback.

She also thought Max was getting a bit
out of character, as well. He was no cunning fox like Philippe or
Peters, though he was acting as if he had saved the world. She did
not like this new Max very much.

As soon as they boarded The
Organisation’s Lear Jet, the flight attendant seated them and
prepared some refreshment. They studied the brief about the urgent
mission Sam Leighton had just given them.

The assignment was apparently
straightforward, and their involvement was possibly unnecessary,
but The Organisation knew best and did not waste money.

Sam wrote:

“I want you both to go to the address
below, in Cairo. Meet Professor Rubin and he will teach you
everything you need to know about Egypt, in the context of this
task. He is an authority on ancient Egypt as well as the current
political climate. He is one of us, but be careful what you say
about things here, that do not concern him. No need to be secretive
with him though.”

“He will go with you to a construction
project of ours out in the desert called the C.N.W.D. Corporation.
It is an extension to a chemical and nuclear waste storage and
disposal plant. There is a vast solar array there large enough to
be visible from the moon. Other development will transform the
desert around it into a fertile area growing crops and producing
electrical energy.”

“The resident firm of architects and
engineers are unaware that during excavation they may have
uncovered some archaeological site. Peter Gibson, our resident
project manager for the site phoned in the problem to us 12 hours
ago, and he stopped work on the pretext of a labour dispute.
Nothing distracts the attention of the workforce quicker than the
chance of more pay.

If it is the case that some tomb or
other has been unearthed, we do not want anyone else to hear of it,
particularly the Authorities, until we have evaluated the
implications. The pay dispute will turn out to be a
misunderstanding and work will restart after the weekend.

Max, because you know about
construction, you will be seen to take an interest in the progress
of the scheme with a view to reporting to the shareholders.
However, I want your opinion as to how to handle the problem,
whatever it is. I obviously do not want the other technical staff
involved yet, or the problem will soon be common knowledge, and we
will not be able to control the situation.

If this is some tomb or Egypt sensitive
problem, Professor Rubin will advise you accordingly.

Carla, you are in charge because you
are familiar with how we work. Being so young and attached to Max,
you will pass as his personal assistant. You will also be able to
pick up any gossip amongst staff indicating a leak of information.
Professor Rubin may be recognised, he will be known to the
shareholders as the political advisor.

Your bags have been packed with all you
will need and are on the Lear.