Vampire "Unleashed" (Vampire "Untitled" Trilogy Book 3) (23 page)

He slumped into the car seat, crying out in a whine. He tucked his right hand under his chin to try and keep the wound to the crook of his elbow under pressure. He pulled the radio microphone near to his mouth.

The passenger side door opened.

A man jumped in.

It was him…

A gun pointed from the man’s left hand. A hooked knife blade from his right reached over and dug into his belly, breaking the skin, ready to open his abdomen.

“Vorbiti Engleza?” the man asked. Do you speak English?

“A little,” Constantin whispered as he pulled his stomach in.

“I want you to land that helicopter. Tell it, it needs to land to take the wounded to hospital… If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Constantin looked around him. He saw the last of the able officers vanish inside the club. Ahead of him he saw wounded men on their backs, sitting against cars nursing wounds, or like him crawling for help. There was no help. There was no backup. This Englishman had divided them and doubled back. He had literally run a circle around them.

The karambit blade pressed firmly into his side.

“I will tell the controller to do it,” Constantin said. He keyed the microphone and barked instructions placing emphasis on the words ‘elicopter’ and ‘la spital’.

The crackled voice returned saying, “Control, Luga, inteleasa.” The message was understood.

“If that helicopter doesn’t land…” he began saying.

“It is… Look, it is…”

It was true. The helicopter was dropping through the snowfall onto the crossroads at the top of the road, then drifted sideways to avoid the overhead cables for the electric trolley busses.

“Please,” Constantin said. “You said you don’t kill me.”

The Englishman looked at him with black, lifeless eyes then jerked upwards slashing the blade towards him.

For a moment, Constantin thought he was dead, or had suffered a fatal blow. After a few seconds in a flinched and tense position he opened his eyes to see the Englishman running towards the helicopter. He felt his neck and throat for a wound and found nothing, then opened his hand to see he was gripping a microphone with a severed cable. The vampire had kept his word. He had cut the mic cable and allowed him to live.

----- X -----

The helicopter was touching down, throwing the already heavy snowfall in every direction beneath it.

“Get out and assess,” Stefan the pilot called to Razvan. “Triage. Let ground ambulances take the wounded. We’ll take the desperate.”

Razvan unhooked his harness, uncoupled his helmet headset and climbed out of the jump seat. Spectating from above was horrifying. He was watching as man after man was cut down by this psychopath and there was not a damn thing they could do from the air.

Razvan gave a thumbs up as he climbed out of the seat and moved to the back of the helicopter. The Mi-8 was a big transport bird capable of airlift rescue, troop transport, cargo drops. you name it. It was big, it was bulky and it was versatile as hell.

Razvan clicked the button to lower the rear loading ramp and slid open the side door to get out faster.

Someone rushed up the ramp.

Razvan saw a gash open across his blue flight suit. Something oozed out of him that his hands grasped in reflex. He was spun, he saw a boot on his chest kicking him backwards out of the helicopter. He landed hard on his back, the full down-force of the rotors blowing blindingly cold air into his face.

The side door of the helicopter slid closed.

----- X -----

Stefan was still throttling back the turbines when the stranger threaded through the gap between the chairs of the cockpit. A fist caught him square on the nose so hard it rocked his head back. A knife appeared with a curved blade and a hand pulled the coiled cable connected to his helmet. The cable cut with a static burst in his headset as the wires severed.

“Up!” The intruder yelled.

The blade came back and jammed under Stefan’s chin, the point pressing into the skin under his jaw.

“Up, up, up…” The intruder yelled, jerking his thumb into the air whilst pressing the knife blade higher.

Stefan knew that he shouldn’t within seconds of doing it, but he angled the rotor blades and throttled the turbines taking the wheels off the floor.

Think fast.

“OK… up… nu problem,” he said. “Varog… varog…” He pointed at switches on the control panel. The intruder made no move to stop him. Stefan flicked a switch off then on, fuel pumps; he made a display of flicking a switch to pretend to be flying. Another switch, off then on, navigation lights. A third switch on… mayday beacon… the switch was left on. The assailant hadn’t noticed what the switch did.

The helicopter rose to the height of the tower blocks.

“Do you speak English?” The intruder was yelling. The noise was harsh in the cockpit, but with the back ramp open and dead headphones in his helmet Stefan could barely make anything out.

His intruder was a man in his mid-twenties. He was soaked in blood. Every part of him. His face, his hair, his clothing. Everything was covered. Despite this, he exuded a mechanical calm. A fluidity of movement. He knew exactly what he was doing. He took a position in the jump seat and wrapped one strap of the harness over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to be shaken off his feet. He looked through to the back of the helicopter at the open ramp and signalled to Stefan with a hand sign of snapping crocodile jaws that he wanted the ramp closing. Stefan nodded and pressed a button. The whir of pumps and the pistons of the hydraulics closed the door and shut out a lot of the noise.

The intruder went to his pocket, resting the gun between his legs. He pulled out a GPS keyring and found a preset destination, he showed it to Stefan. It wasn’t far. Just over one hundred kilometres when flown directly.

“Here, take me here… but low… Understand? Low.” the man signalled pressing his palm down with the word.

“I understand,” Stefan said. “But please… If I fly low, there are… electricity, understand, electricity… I must fly very slowly.” He raised his hand to the window to demonstrate the view. Night had fallen, snow was hitting the window. Visibility was zero.

The psychopath covered in blood nodded. “Low and slow,” he said. “low and slow.”

Stefan tilted the TV monitor screen to a clearer angle for himself and punched a button at the side. The camera below the helicopter pulled into a forward position and the display switched to the ghostly green of night vision. They were flying slow and steady into the mountains. Stefan said a little prayer that air traffic control were seeing the mayday squawk on their screens and figuring out how to rescue him.

----- X -----

Paul locked the karambit back into its holster but kept the gun pointed at the pilot.

This was fucked.

This was all so fucked.

With the weight off his feet he began to feel a dull ache in his flank. He dabbed at it with his bloody hands but couldn’t tell how badly he was bleeding. It wasn’t painful. It was surprising. He wasn’t in any pain at all. He opened his jacket and lifted his T-shirt. He could feel a hole in his back where the bullet had passed and come out.

What the hell had happened with those cops? So many men, so willing to start shooting. They had no intention of arresting him. No intention of taking him alive. Their mission was shoot to kill.

There was no way to escape.

It was over.

It was hopeless.

They would never stop hunting him now. They would be looking for the helicopter. You can’t just hijack a helicopter and expect to vanish.

Paul watched the pilot carefully then leaned forward and took the GPS keyring. It ticked over every few seconds showing a new longitude and latitude. Importantly, the distance to the hovel was ticking down. The pilot was heading in the right direction and he was flying low as requested.

“What the hell do you do now, Paul?” he mumbled to himself. “Help me, Ildico. I need you to guide me now more than ever.”

The drop in activity softened his adrenalin and he felt his body relaxing and tiring. He wanted to close his eyes.

The helicopter banked to follow the terrain of mountains.

He would get back to the hovel. Kill the pilot. Get on his motorbike and ride. Go anywhere, go away from here, but he was out of hiding options. Perhaps he should vanish into the forests for a few months. Get into the wilderness and put the survival skills to the test.

It was a nice thought.

It was hopeless. He was shot, wounded, hunted. He needed hospital treatment or he would die. This was the end.

----- X -----

Cornel arrived at Noica’s institute with growing concern. The radio news had begun reporting a terrorist incident in Brasov. They said several gunmen were running through the streets with many police involved. Citizens were warned to stay indoors and report anyone suspicious prowling through their gardens or outhouses. Cornel knew it was just one man. They tried to arrest McGovern and he had evaded them.

He parked his car by the front door and an automated light switched on to light the entrance way.

He got out of the car and spent a moment staring at the wilderness. He was glad he’d come here. McGovern’s threat was too personal, to precise and specific. His scarred face was testament to what McGovern could do with a knife, but from the moment they’d spoken on the phone he was feeling the phantom pain. A memory of when McGovern had rammed a knife into his stomach the moment he opened the door.

How had he done that?

How had McGovern found him in London?

It was impossible. Supernatural.

He rang the buzzer and waited. Lights came on inside the lobby. A woman’s voice, Who is it?”

“Corneliu Latis. I need to speak with Dr. Noica.”

The door unlatched. The woman took him in, took him through the hospital to Noica’s office.

“Cornel,” Noica said on seeing him. “Have you heard what’s happened? McGovern has gone on a rampage. They’ve lost him. They’re hunting high and low in Brasov but he has disappeared.”

“It gets worse,” Cornel said. “He knows of this place and he knows that Popescu is here.”

Noica stood up from behind his desk. “What do you suggest?”

“I think until he’s captured we should all go somewhere that he won’t ever think to look.”

“Where? Where do you suggest?”

Cornel shrugged. “Anywhere… He has nowhere to go right now. He killed the Albanians with a… God knows how, but he caused a huge explosion. He has access to explosives. He telephoned me, said he would kill me then he mentioned Popescu and guessed she was here and I… without meaning, I confirmed it.”

“But what action should we take right now?” Noica reiterated.

“I’m going to drive into the countryside and stay at a guest house until this is over. You may want to do the same, but mostly I think we should remove Popescu.”

Lucian Noica sat down again and rested his elbows on the table, fingertips together against his lips in contemplative prayer. “I’ll stay here. But I agree it’s a good idea to remove Ildico and the baby if you can do that. If Paul is crazy enough to come here I don’t want any emotional triggers put in his way… We need to talk to her. We need to tell her what’s happening.”

“Let’s just get her out of here.” Cornel said. “I’ll explain it to her on the way.”

----- X -----

Paul was looking out of the helicopter windscreen into blackness. The only real difference between the blackness of the ground and the blackness of the night sky were the stars that sometimes came out between clouds.

Paul checked the GPS again. He was five kilometres from the hovel.

He looked at the night vision screen and saw something fading into view.

Noica’s hospital.

Was it worth it? Was it worth giving up all choices to be safe? He had a bullet wound through his left side and police chasing him. Was it better to die in a hail of gunfire, or surrender and be locked away and studied.

What was the reality of the situation? No bullshit, what was the reality? The bullet wound through his side called back with a dull ache. He was shot. He needed medical care. He was finished. This really was the end of the road.

“Here… Aici, aici,” he yelled at the pilot whilst tapping the building on the screen.

“Here?” the pilot reiterated. “You want land here?”

“Da,” Paul said pointing the gun firmly at the pilot. “You land here.”

The helicopter banked slightly and cruised towards the building, dropping altitude all the way. There was a moment of correction as the pilot saw the electricity cables running along the side of the road in the night vision monitor.

They came close.

The helicopter prepared to land throwing up snow and shining a powerful bright light ahead. At that point the door to the hospital opened and three people came out. Two men, one woman… the woman was holding a baby. They stopped and shielded their faces in the downdraft of the helicopter, caught in the glare of its landing light.

The helicopter touched down. The pilot throttled back the turbines then looked expectantly at Paul, his expression one of bravery in the face of execution.

“Go,” Paul said waving the gun in resignation. “Go.”

The pilot never took his eyes off him as he opened the door and backed out, jumping down onto the road as the rotors wound down. Paul followed him, keeping the gun pointed at him. “Go… run, that way.” He pointed along the long road in the middle of nowhere. He didn’t need a second offer.

Paul eased out of the helicopter and watched as the blue flight suit and oversized white helmet of the pilot sprinted away into darkness.

----- X -----

Noica had lead the way. Ildico was holding Alina’s hand and the baby was setting the pace as they crossed the lobby. Cornel had said little, other than promise to tell Ildico everything once they were on the road. He said they were moving to a hotel but he had no idea where they were going.

Noica opened the front door to the sound of the helicopter turbine.

“Who is this?” Noica asked.

“It’s a police helicopter,” Cornel responded. The aircraft was in the way, it touched down flush in the middle of the road. The pilot got out of the helicopter and ran. Then another man climbed out clutching his side. Was he… was that a gun?