Page 64 of Operation Rescue
“Seats up to seven plus the pilot,” said the man in a polo shirt bearing a logo that was the same helicopter they were standing next to, with the name Southwest Air Tours beneath it. Rafe had told them this was Matt Russell, the man who’d started this business two decades ago with one much smaller craft and grown it to a fleet of eight and a reputation for safety and efficiency that was unmatched in the area.
“I’m liking the enclosed tail rotor,” Blaine said. “They’re a lot quieter.”
“Fifty percent,” said the man proudly. Then he considered Blaine. “Mr. Crawford here tells me you’re a great pilot.”
“I won’t hurt her,” Blaine promised, patting the side of the craft as if it were alive.
“Wouldn’t matter if you did, if it’ll help Foxworth,” he said. “I owe them…everything.”
“How is your daughter?” Rafe asked.
“She’s doing great. She’ll graduate this year, and she wants to go to work for you guys.”
Rafe’s mouth quirked. “Might just happen.”
The man got into the helicopter with Blaine and started pointing out various controls. After the crash refresher and Blaine pronouncing himself ready, the man gave Rafe a rather fierce handshake, then walked back toward the office and hangar. Erin asked, “What happened to his daughter?”
“She was kidnapped,” Rafe said. “Along with three other girls, by a sex-trafficking ring. Foxworth got a lead and had an in, and ended up bringing her—and the others—home safely.”
Erin just stared at him for a moment. Then, softly, she said “No wonder he just handed a gazillion-dollar helicopter over to you.”
Rafe just smiled, and the quiet satisfaction in it made her remember what Blaine had said about him being happier with what he did now than anything else.
“Go,” he said simply. “Let’s find your son.”
She clambered into the helicopter. Rafe retreated to the Foxworth vehicle, where Cutter was watching with apparent interest. She took her seat beside Blaine, noticing that the craft was built for visibility. Big windows at the sides, and with the front glass sweeping down to below floor level on each side of the trim control panel, giving a full view downward. That was going to be her job, to utilize every bit of that visibility.
She felt a new vigor pulsing through her. In fact, she felt more energized than she had in days, because this felt…real. So much more than blindly driving around looking with no clue to actually follow.
And it felt good. Doing something felt so much better than just…waiting. She needed to think about that a little. And the fact that after last night she just couldn’t imagine going back to life without Blaine.
But now they had to find their boy, so all she gave him was a quick nod. He didn’t smile, just nodded back as he said, “Here.”
He was holding out a pair of heavy-looking headphones. She took them, listened carefully as he pointed out the controls, then put them on. It was a bit awkward, since she wanted to keep one ear clear for the Foxworth phone, but she managed to finally achieve a balance of sorts.
She watched as he readied the aircraft. He was talking to someone she couldn’t hear, and guessed it was the control tower at the small but busy airport. She watched his hands, the hands that had driven her mad last night, on the controls she remembered him explaining to her. More than once, since she couldn’t quite believe it involved not just both hands but both feet as well. The throttle she got—it was like the ones on motorcycles. But that the same stick was also the pitch control —the collective?—threw her. And the main control, the cyclic, boggled her even more. Throw in the antitorque pedals, and she was thinking flying an airplane had to be easier.
A plane wants to fly, it’s designed that way. A helicopter wants to tear itself apart.
It had been a ten-year-old Ethan who’d told her that, with such a tone of glee she’d wondered for a moment about his sanity.
But Dad’s so good it wouldn’t dare.
He’d added that with a blissful pride that had made her grab the boy and hug him, never mind his protests. Their lives had been good then. But just over a year later…
She shook off the painful jab.Focus. You have to focus like you never have.
You can’t rebuild until you have all the pieces.
Chapter 33
It felt good to be at the controls again, even if it was a very different kind of aircraft. One designed not to kill or blow things up, but to carry people having a good time, to beautiful places. Or in this case, to help in a desperate rescue. Which spoke to Blaine on a deep level, making him wonder if he should have focused on medevac work more all this time.
The takeoff went smoothly, and he had to admit he liked how much quieter the closed-in cabin of the craft was, compared to the often open-sided military choppers. And that enclosed rotor made a difference, too. He got them out of the airport traffic pattern as quickly as possible and moved inland, to be able to fly faster than they could near the more popular coastal area. It was only a few minutes before he had it pretty much down, the way the helicopter responded and how he needed to adjust his instinctive moves for the lighter—and unarmed—craft.
Mr. Russell had kindly uploaded a fairly detailed aerial map of the park, making it easier for them to determine where the boundaries and roads were.
“Coulda been worse,” Blaine muttered.
