Page 91 of Lord of Justice

I see the shooter by the open hatch, an unconscious Kolya next to him.

I growl.

More bullets hit the helicopter, a staccato spray of holes across the body. They hit the engine, gas spraying out like a cut artery.

Dropping to the ground, I sight the shooter hastily shoving in a new ammo clip. My bullet catches him in the throat. He falls back, his gun flying up, still firing until it drops next to him.

Nikandr sprints toward Kolya, checking his pulse. "He's still alive!"

My pilot rapidly shuts the chopper down. "Sorry, boss," Karolina says, "they hit everything. Gas line, oil."

"Fuck!" I shout to the sky, and we race back down the stairs. "Plan B," I tell Trofim. "We need vehicles. What's here?"

He’s calmed the sobbing nurse down enough that she tells us, "Dr. Crawford's jeep is here. And one of the vans, I think, in the back.”

Five precious minutes are wasted searching forkeys, then on the way out we pass by clusters of pale, frightened girls. Some are heavily pregnant. Some of the girls have only a small bump.

Is that what Iris looks like right now? A gentle swell on her abdomen that I hadn't seen, or was it more prominent, and I was just too self-absorbed to notice?

"Twenty-five fucking minutes to the airfield," I mutter, fists clenched, as my brother and I climb into the Jeep with every man who will fit.

"We'll make it in fifteen," Nikandr promises, slamming on the gas. The van with the rest of our crew falls behind, its engine not as strong as the Jeep’s.

Nikandr takes the tighter turns with only two wheels touching the pavement.

I follow the map on my phone, "Five minutes.” Our men check their weapons. "Same instructions here," I say. "Be cautious of where you shoot. Take down a hostile only if you're certain Iris and Rose are clear. Grigor, you're the best shot. Can you put a couple of holes into the gas tanks without blowing up the plane?"

"There's two sections in the engine housing that would work better," he nods.

"Do it."

Nikandr slows down. In the dark, with the highbeams on, it will be hard for anyone to tell who’s in the Jeep. The van catches up with us as we go through the chain-link gate.

The plane is already on the runway. A scowling man is waiting in the door. As we pull up to the jet stairs, he stalks down to us. "What's the fucking delay?" He snaps. "I had orders to get the cargo to Mexico City as fast as possible."

The second our doors open, he knows we're not from the facility, and pulls his gun. I shoot it out of his hand. His blood splatters the tarmac.

The engine suddenly whines to a higher pitch. The pilot’s trying to take off, probably panicking. I am up the jet stairs and in before the plane can move.

A man is trying to close the door to the cockpit. I shoot him in the face and squeeze inside,shoving the smoking muzzle of my gun against the pilot's head.

The metal is hot and his flesh sizzles. He winces. I press harder.

"Shut the engines down. Now."

"You can't fuck with these people," he stammers. "Do you want money? They might give you money, but you cannot fuck with them. You have no idea who you're dealing with." His face is pale and sweaty, he doesn’t move an inch, frozen withmy gun pressed against his forehead.

Nikandr pushes into the cockpit, angling his broad shoulders to get through the narrow door.

"Iris is here." His mouth is tight, he looks stricken. “You need to go back to hernow.Go."

Chapter Forty-Four

In which on very rare occasions, timeison Andrey’s side.

Andrey…

Don't let her be dead.