Chapter 19 - The Last Runway
Avery ran toward the eastern apron with Mercer and two investigators close behind. Her boots struck wet concrete. Ahead, a small transport helicopter waited beside a floodlit service road. Its pilot had not lifted off, but the rotors were gathering speed.
Patrick Vale stood outside the aircraft arguing with a mechanic. He wore an expensive coat that looked absurd against the wind. When he spotted Avery, he climbed aboard and shouted for takeoff.
The mechanic shook his head. “Hydraulics warning. We don't fly.”
Vale shoved him aside and reached for the cockpit. Avery stopped twenty yards away, beyond the rotor wash, and used the airfield radio an investigator handed her.
“Mr. Vale, this is Lieutenant Shaw. Your aircraft is not cleared to depart.”
His voice hissed back. “You can't hold me here.”
“The maintenance warning can. I know what happens when you ignore one.”
He looked toward the hangar doors, then toward the soldiers closing the perimeter. His shoulders sagged. For eleven years he'd treated signatures on bad parts as numbers on a balance sheet. Now the consequences had names standing in front of him.
“Your father knew the risks,” he shouted over the rotors.
Avery felt the old anger rise, hot and easy. She could have shouted back. Instead she said, “My father knew his job. You lied about the equipment.”
The pilot shut down the engine. Without its roar, the apron became almost painfully quiet. Investigators led Vale away.
Mercer stood beside Avery as dawn lit the hangar roof. “My brother would've liked how you did that.”
May you like
“Your brother should've gotten to grow old,” she said.
Her phone rang. It was Ward. Avery answered with a sudden smile—until Ward said, “Ben is home. But there's something you need to see before the hearing.”
