Hypoxia: A Thriller, page 9
“Helena?” he said.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Nice to meet you. I’m one of the Scorpius guys.”
“Great. Uh…is there anywhere I can get a smoke? Outside? I really need some fresh air.” It was lame, but it was the only thing she could come up with.
The man seemed utterly confused.
“Uh…I think we have just a half-hour to get everyone off and get the plane moving again, so if you could just stay here…They’re deploying the airstair now.”
He motioned to the front of the plane, where the airstair was descending from the plane. Twenty-five men or so waited by the front of the plane. Lucky would be down any minute. Sky doubted that he did the grunt work. No, he was in operations.
But if this guy with the beard caused any more problems she’d have to shoot him. With twenty-five men on his team, it would be a losing battle. But her chances would be better than if Lucky happened to catch a glimpse of her alive.
“I’m really jonesing here!” she whispered, trying not to look at the airstair while reaching into her pocket for the revolver. “I need to go outside and have a cigarette. Please, just a minute. I can’t have them see me doing it in here.”
How long would it be before Lucky and his cohorts left the cockpit? Before they realized it was her?
“Oh, and Lucky wouldn’t let you smoke on the flight?” he laughed. “He hates smoking! What a dick.”
“Exactly,” she nodded. “Where’s the closest door?”
The man pointed towards a door behind him, about one hundred feet away.
“Go for it,” he winked. “I promise not to tell.”
“Great.” Sky walked towards the door purposefully.
“Wait,” the guy stopped her.
Shit.
“Yes?”
“Do you want to try some good smokes? I’ve got a fresh pack of nice French ones here. Bought a whole bunch the other day.” He held out the cigarettes.
Sky turned around and walked back towards him. Everything inside of her just wanted to run, but she knew that this was a game of playing calm. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask to see her pack of cigarettes for some reason. Her hand closed around the revolver in her pocket. It was time to get ready.
“Well that sounds amazing. They don’t make ‘em like this anywhere else. I just have this crappy pack of menthols that I bummed.”
Her college roommate had smoked menthols. Sky had never smoked a cigarette before in her entire life. Just tons of pot. She prayed that the Scorpius man wouldn’t use some special cigarette lingo that she didn’t know.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
As she came closer to him, she realized that he was just flirting. Whew. At least she thought so.
“Thank you,” she said, grabbing the cigarettes and doing a slight curtsy. “You are a gentleman and a scholar.”
He laughed. “Ha! Just looking out for a fellow smoker. Hey, are you gonna be on the next project?”
“Yep,” she said. “As long as they don’t catch me doing things I’m not supposed to,” she winked and pointed towards the door.
“Cool. But I might have to look you up before then. Six weeks might be too long.”
“Do that,” she said in a saucy tone, pivoting back towards the door.
She didn’t want to run or draw any unnecessary attention to herself. Stuffing the packet of cigarettes in her pocket, she tried her best to focus on the task at hand.
Just like Everest. One foot in front of the other. As the door loomed closer and closer, Sky felt her heartbeat quickening. She was so close to freedom, so close to safety.
And then she reached it. Opening the door and shutting it quickly behind her, she was relieved to feel the sun on her body. It was a wonderful sensation, but Sky had no time to enjoy it. She was practically on an airport runway. And she needed to make sure that this plane did not take off.
She started coughing as she ran. Her lungs were probably damaged from the flight. Who knew how long it would take for her to feel normal again. Not to mention the fact that she was starving. The airport terminal was directly in front of her. She needed to find someone to talk to, someone who would stop these evil bastards in their tracks. They would pay for what they did.
The first man she saw was riding on a golf cart. Probably a mechanic. She waved wildly until he noticed her. What country was she in again? The people on the plane had said Elba. Elba, Elba…The lightbulb went off in her scattered brain. Italy!
He stopped his cart.
“Signora?”
“Signore!” she gasped, struggling to recall some Italian in her panicked state. “Policia! Policia.”
Her bloody flight attendant shirt drew his attention, and he motioned towards the empty seat next to him.
“Si.”
Chapter Sixteen
16
Elba, Italy
As the golf cart careened around the perimeter of the hangars, the air rushing at Sky’s face flooded her lungs like a heavenly breeze. Just the ability to breathe such oxygen-rich air was a godsend. She sucked it in as deeply as she could, basking in the joy of it. The driver gave her a few strange looks, but Sky didn’t care.
She was free. And she was outside. At sea level.
For the next five minutes, they rode in silence. The man took what appeared to be a sort of back route. As the golf cart dipped and shimmied, the airport loomed closer. They arrived at a tiny police office that was adjacent to it. The mechanic pointed out the correct door, just using hand gestures. Sky thanked him profusely, then popped onto her feet and ran into the office. The man in charge, presumably the police chief, sat at a desk. He was short and corpulent, with a balding head of bushy black hair. He seemed completely unsurprised to see the tall woman with copper hair running into his office.
“Sky Burke?” he said in a thick Italian accent, looking up from his paperwork.
Oh God. How did he know her name?
Something about the way he said it tipped Sky off that this had been the wrong idea.
“Come, sit down,” he said, standing up. “People are coming to talk to you in just a minute.”
“What sort of people?” Sky cried. How could this be happening all over again?
Obviously, she hadn’t had any time to tell her story to anyone. So he was on their side.
“Just some friends of ours,” he winked. “You messed up their project a leetle bit. They’re pretty mad at you.”
“I have to leave,” she said, standing up.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he replied, leaning closer to her. His breath smelled like an rancid mixture of coffee and meat.
The man grabbed her right arm, twisting it and attempting to bring it closer to the chair. Sky saw his other meaty paw clasping a pair of handcuffs attached to his belt. The pain shot up her arm as they started to battle, with Sky beginning to succumb to her body’s weakened state. For a moment, it felt like he might snap her arm.
But then she felt the familiar, welcome rush of adrenaline overriding exhaustion. Her highly conditioned arms had been through this many times before, in a different fashion. Clawing her way onto the Hillary Step, holding onto dear life…practice made perfect. Her skin tingled as her heart rate skyrocketed and the strange feeling of triumph over panic took over. It was game time.
Quickly spotting a trophy on the desk, Sky pretended to collapse from the pain of her twisted arm, moving closer to her target. For a brief second, she considered the revolver in her pocket. But using the trophy would seem more amateur, if someone happened to come upon him. Sky knew that being underestimated was one of the greatest virtues she had. And it had already worked that day.
“Are you ready to give up?” he asked her.
“Ow! Yes!” Sky cried out, nodding and doubling over.
His grip loosened for a split second. It was enough time for her to whirl around and grab the trophy. The cold metal felt smooth and heavy in her hand. It looked like some sort of employment recognition award. She used her height advantage to swing it towards the shorter man’s head as hard and fast as she could.
Pop!
The sound of the trophy connecting with the man’s head made a strange sort of hollow sound, and blood began to seep out from his balding pate.
“Ahhhhh!” he screamed out in anguish, his hands flying towards his head to protect himself.
“Too late, asshole,” Sky said, as she pivoted, flying out the door.
As she opened it, she could hear the sound of his body hitting the floor. It would be interesting to find out if she had killed him or not, but unfortunately she didn’t have the time. She pushed the thought of Helena’s demise into the back of her mind as well.
The thought of killing one person was strange enough, regardless of how much the evil woman had deserved it. Two people would have been unbelievable. But Sky was good at compartmentalizing. She’d become an expert at it after her parents died. She’d deal with the strange feelings bubbling up when it was convenient for her, and not a minute sooner.
Once she stepped outside the office, Sky stripped off Helena’s bloody flight attendant shirt and shoved it into a nearby trash bin.
“No one see this, no one see this,” she muttered under her breath.
All of the travelers seemed too caught up in their own situations to notice her. Now she was wearing just the tank top and cargo pants. As quickly and casually as she could, she walked away from the office. She stared at the ground as she moved forward, hoping that no one would notice the strawberry blond amazon in a tank top. Her height was a disadvantage, always making her more conspicuous by default. Especially in Italy. It was difficult not to clutch her throbbing arm, which was pulsing with pain. The nasty policeman had definitely sprained it.
But there was nowhere to go. Elba was corrupt and she needed to get to an American embassy and tell her story. There had to be a way to get off the island. Cars and vans screeched as they cruised around the airport.
A thought suddenly popped into Sky’s mind. She didn’t know from whence it came, but it remained in her head, refusing to take flight.
Where is Corsica?
Her friend, Ginevra Falcone, a former nineties model and now high-paid escort, lived in Corsica. Wasn’t that somewhere nearby? Sky was coming to the slow realization that the lack of geographical knowledge could be a terrible thing.
Ron, her ex-husband, had hated Ginevra. He called her “the whore” and criticized Sky’s friendship with her. But it was his fault that they’d even met in the first place. Ginevra had been involved with one of Ron’s super-wealthy clients, and the man had insisted upon a double date once.
Much to Ron’s dismay, Sky and Ginevra really hit it off. They both traveled a great deal, and Sky had found Ginevra endlessly entertaining. The ex-model was street smart and very savvy. She’d been in the company of incredibly successful men for almost two decades, and that had provided its own unique brand of education.
And Sky didn’t care about her new friend’s job. What did it matter, anyway? Life was hard. Sky realized this more than anyone, and she always argued the point with Ron.
“What’s wrong with taking advantage of the gifts we’re given?” she’d bicker with him. “Who are you, anyway? The Pope?”
But people like Ron would never understand the challenges that others faced. And it wasn’t even like Ginevra ever tried to hide what she did for work.
Sky’s speaking engagements in Europe often coincided with the ex-model’s trips with her lovers, and they were able to maintain a great friendship this way. It wasn’t unusual for the two women to meet in Rome for a gelato, or to see a show in London. Sky recalled that Ginevra’s new boyfriend had bought her an apartment in Corsica, but she didn’t know if her buddy was home. They hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, but Ginevra had been one of the first friends to call after the accident on Everest.
Out of the corner of Sky’s eye, she saw the shuttle parked outside the next terminal. The placard in the window was promising.
Canada Tours
Green Group
CORSICA
It was worth a shot. Sky knew that staying at the airport was asking for trouble. How long would it be before they discovered the police chief? And the tall woman walking around with no luggage?
Striding towards the bus, she willed herself to just act normal. That was all she had to do. This van could be a passport to freedom. As she climbed the steps into the bus, the driver stopped her with his hand.
Crap, she thought, her knees starting to tremble. How would she handle this? She had no money.
“No luggage?” the man asked in heavily accented English.
Sky pointed towards the belly of the bus, where she’d seen some men lingering.
“I gave it to them.”
“Ah,” he nodded.
And she was permitted to pass. It was a lucky break; the tour must have been prepaid. The bus was about halfway full, with loud chattering Canadian families. No one paid her any attention. Sky wondered how long it would be before they pulled away from the gate. She settled into one of the empty rows towards the middle and stared out the heavily tinted windows. Police vehicles had started to swirl around, no doubt looking for her.
Damnit.
She willed the bus to leave.
After about a minute, the driver closed the doors and the bus began to rumble forward. Finally. Progress.
Then she saw the blockade.
Chapter Seventeen
17
Elba, Italy
“Crap!” she whispered to herself.
She had been so close to escaping. And now this. For a moment, she contemplated ducking into the back row and hiding. But then she realized that such a move would draw way more attention to herself. No, she would just slump down in her seat and pretend to sleep.
After waiting several minutes, it was their turn. Out of her half-open left eye, Sky could see the policemen waving vehicles forward. The bus driver opened his window and talked to the policeman. Their discussion sounded dramatic, but Sky couldn’t understand a word. Finally, they seemed to resolve whatever dispute had been brewing.
Without another word, the policeman waved the bus forward.
Relief rushed through Sky’s body as she tried to ignore her arm, which still hurt from her altercation with the corrupt police officer.
“What was that all about, eh?” one of the Canadian tourists in front asked the bus driver.
“They looking for a woman!” he said. “She is some sort of criminal,” he shrugged. “I tell him, I got nothing but tourists on my bus, and a ferry to catch. So he let us go.”
A ferry. This bus was dropping them all off at some ferry? Of course. Corsica was an island, and so was Elba. Shit. Of all the rotten luck. Sky shook her head.
She knew that, for survival’s sake, her best bet was to get off Elba as soon as possible. But her circumstances did not make things easy.
Sky had no money. Just the clothes on her back, a cell phone, and Helena’s revolver. Idly, she wondered if she should try to sell the gun to someone, then dismissed the idea almost as soon as it materialized. Selling a gun on the black market in Italy probably wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. She couldn’t even speak the language.
She would have to figure out something once they arrived at the dock. The beautiful Elba countryside rushed by as the bus made its way across the island. If she hadn’t been in such a dire predicament, Sky thought that she would have been blown away by the stunning landscapes.
Her arm still hurt like a bitch, and she was starving.
The bus slowed down, as they drove into a port area.
“Have a wonderful trip, and make sure you have your passports out!” the bus driver called out to them.
“Shit!” Sky exclaimed under her breath.
The thought that Corsica and Elba were islands of two different countries hadn’t even occurred to her. She would, indeed, need a passport to cross. All of the other passengers started to disembark from the bus as Sky fretted. She was the last person to step off.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she continued to mutter under her breath, her knees practically buckling under her as she hopped off the bus.
As if she’d needed an extra challenge after the day she’d had.
“Stupid passports,” she sighed.
There was a long line for the women’s restroom right next to the dock. A wicked idea started to formulate. It was awful, really, but a necessary evil. Sky walked over to the building and shuffled in line right behind a very tall woman with a fanny pack. The woman was obese, but her coloring was somewhat similar to Sky’s.
“You’ll do,” she whispered under her breath, as she waited patiently to strike.
The woman seemed to be a German tourist, and she was having a very animated discussion on her cell phone.
Sky eyeballed the clasp of the fanny pack, which was just inches away from her nimble fingers. Obviously, it had money in it. But would it contain the woman’s passport too? There was only one way to find out, and she didn’t want to be pickpocketing people all day.
The woman’s conversation seemed to be building towards a sort of crescendo. Her voice became even louder, and Sky imagined that perhaps she was yelling at her husband.
It was go time.
Leaning in, she reached forward and delicately pressed the clasps with her fingers.
Bingo.
The fanny pack dangled precariously in Sky’s hand as she waited for the woman to start screaming. But she didn’t even notice; so engrossed was she in her conversation. Gently, Sky swung the fanny pack into her other hand and then slid it into the crook of her arms, carrying it as if it were a baby. She slowly backed away from the restroom line, tucking the stolen item under her arm.
An old woman, standing in line behind her, looked up for a quick second and then smiled. She said something in Italian, probably alluding to the long line. Sky nodded quickly and smiled, trying to seem casual as she walked towards the ferry. The sooner she boarded, the better. If the woman reported her stuff stolen before Sky boarded, she’d be up shit’s creek.
