Page 76 of Vaquero
“You want me to hold?” Julio barked. “While I’m in a Blackhawk about to crash?”
“Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I want you to do. I’m gonna contact Warrant Officer Duncan. He’s one of our best pilots. He’ll know what to do. Won’t take me long. Promise. Just need to make that call. Please hold.”
Shit! Now Julio was listening to dead air and sweating. And cussing. A good case of anxiety set in, but not for him. For Meg. He’d told her he’d be back, and he didn’t want to let her down. He’d already done that. There was no way he’d disappoint her again.
A click sounded in his helmet’s headset as another, more mature sounding voice came online with, “Chief Warrant Officer Trevor Duncan at your service, Special Agent Juarez. Sorry to meet under these conditions. I understand you’re piloting Hotrod’s helo, is that right?”
Julio couldn’t believe his ears. “Trevor Duncan? Meg’s brother?”
“Yes, sir, I am, but let’s hold off the chitchat until you are skids on the ground, shall we?”
“Copy that,” Julio breathed. “Yes, sir, Hotrod’s incapacitated, shot with a tranq dart, but he’s alive and breathing. Just… Help me not kill him, sir.”
“Exactly what I intend to do, Agent Juarez. Now sit tight and listen very carefully to everything I say, then do precisely what I tell you. Lucky for you, Hotrod was recently selected to fly the one and only experimental Blackhawk in the fleet. The baby you’re piloting is one of a kind. I’m sure you know by now she’s got cruise control of a sort. You’ll find out just how experimental that bird is real soon. For now, keep sharp. Don’t panic. There’s a toggle switch to the left of your airspeed readout, beside the main flight deck. Do you see it? The needle should be standing at zero. That’d be the vertical needle, sir, not the horizontal. Let me know when you’ve located it.”
That was easy enough. “Got it.” But cruise control? Julio had thought Hotrod was kidding about that. What else?
“Good. In a couple minutes, I’ll need you to toggle that switch to the left and take your hands off the stick at the same time. Both needles will be horizontal at that time. Once I’m in control, do not touch anything, understood? Can you do that for me?”
Julio nodded, his throat still bone-dry at the ramifications of killing everyone on board.
“Can’t hear you, sir,” Meg’s older brother said crisply. “I need audio confirmation. Please say again.”
Julio spoke up this time. “Yes, yes, sir, I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Trevor’s voice switched back into conversational then. “You do know the bird you’re flying is a highly specialized version of Sikorsky’s S-60, don’t you? Agent Juarez, you ought to be proud of yourself. You’re one of the few and the elite now. Not everyone can fly a Blackhawk, but these particular babies are exclusive to the Night Stalker mission. No other spec ops group has them. And Hotrod’s bird is the only Blackhawk with remote capability.”
“Understood,” Julio responded. But he wasn’t flying anything. Not really. Which made him wonder if Hotrod had ever been flying this helo?
A quiet chuckle vibrated in his ear. “I don’t think you really understand, Agent Juarez. I said remote, as in remote-control. Once I give the order, and after you comply, I’ll be flying that bird. Not you.”
The helo’s frame started shaking then, and they were going down in a lazy death spiral, cockpit first. Whitecaps on the Atlantic frothed cold and gray below, and it looked like Julio was going to get that watery grave after all. Didn’t seem fair, dying when he’d finally found someone to live for. Sweat trickled into his eyes. It’d sure be nice if Duncan gave the order to toggle that switch now.
“You still with me?” Duncan asked, his tone just as calm as before. The man had some of that Atlantic ice water in his veins.
“I am,” Julio answered tightly, wanting to believe that Duncan knew what he was doing. But it wasn’t Chief Duncan heading into the Atlantic, was it?
Plenty of muffled chatter came over the connection from Fort Campbell’s traffic control tower, but nothing Julio heard sounded remotely conclusive. Nothing gave him any sense that this disaster would end well. There was too much argument, too many voices.
Dulce Madre de Dios!This was hair-raising. Staring Death in the eye. Relying on someone he’d never met before. Trusting. Wishing he could hold Meg one more time before he died. Trying to breathe. Scared for the first time in his life that this might be the real end.
It seemed like forever, but was most likely only a minute or two, when Duncan’s deep baritone came back with, “Please toggle that switch now, Agent Juarez, and remove your hands from all controls. From now on, do not touch anything but the suicide strap over your head or your ass if you want to kiss it goodbye. Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. I’m in control now.”
“Yes, sir. Toggling now,” Julio said as he leaned forward and toggled that switch. Just as he grabbed the webbed strap overhead, the bird lurched and—Dios!—dived. Then accelerated! This was Duncan helping? Felt more like an extreme roller coaster ride on its way down.
“Jesus,” Trevor hissed, his tone not so convincing anymore. “This bird’s bucking like one of my daddy’s wild mustangs.”
Did he think that was funny? The thought had no more than entered Julio’s mind, when the helo shuddered and picked up another couple knots of air speed. Straight down. Julio checked velocity. The Blackhawk had now reached maximum air speed, and they were in a breath-sucking death spiral, instead of fighting against it. The Atlantic was coming up way too fast. Impact had to be mere seconds away.
The helo started spinning again. Julio couldn’t keep track of how many revolutions the bird made as it plummeted to its death. Instinctively, he leaned back into his seat. Like that few inches would make any difference when this bird hit water.
Trevor growled a hearty, “You son of a bitch, Hotrod! What’d you do to this helo? Where’s your Goddamned rotor brake?”
That didn’t sound good. Expecting death any second now, Julio closed his eyes. Meg’s beautiful smile flashed to mind. The sparkling glint in her green eyes would forever remind him of sunshine breaking through the canopy of the forests of Minas Gerais.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” he whispered. “I’ll always love you.” But he asked her older brother, “You’re flying this bird by remote c-c-control?”
“Trying to, Goddamn it,” Trevor replied tersely. Sounded like he might be sweating as much as Julio was.
